The Little Things

I’ve been really struck over the last couple of weeks at how little, unexpected things can bring such joy.  Mum has been sending me bits and pieces to use with the kids.  One of these was ‘Sparkle World’ – an activity magazine for children.  I took it to the orphanage and the kids’ eyes nearly popped out of their heads.  I would never have anticipated the excitement and pleasure it could give – we’ve spent hours doing puzzles, playing games, sticking stickers and reading stories.  £2:45 incredibly well spent!  There are no gender issues either, the boys have loved it every bit as much as the girls...

The bike rides to and from the orphanage have become one of my favourite parts of the week.  You see so much of life going on along the roads – women & men labouring hard to widen the road, children playing in the new ditches, students coming from school and practicing their English greetings (usually “good morning” even at 6pm).   I particularly love the part of the route through the bush – I’m passing at a time when the Masai pastoralists are driving their animals home, so I often have to give way for the cows and goats which saunter across my path.  There are also women making their way home with their loads on their heads or farming their small plots.  The whole journey is spent exchanging greetings most often “salama” (peace). 

When I arrive at the orphanage, there are always a couple of kids at the gate – not waiting for me as much as for my bike, which is promptly commandeered and ridden round the enclosure with numerous kids aboard.  Even the older girls love their turn.   Annunciata likes to accompany me part of the way home – she’s trying to get me to perch behind her, which I just can’t master, so I end up having to peddle with her behind, resulting in the two of us veering at bizarre angles across the road!   

A couple of weeks ago one of these jaunts led to an unfortunate meeting with a thorn bush and by the time I got to the tarmaced  road, my back tyre was completely flat.  Luckily there was a fundi right at the side of the road.  (Fundis are wonderful menders-of-all-things.  Nothing is ever thrown out here – there’s always a handy fundi to fix the seemingly unsalvageable).  So, I ended up perched on a log at the side of the road while the fundi fixed my puncture, rapidly becoming a specimen of extreme interest for the local children.  I had foam animal stickers with me which they were really excited to put on their clothes.  After we’d swapped names, I’d taught them the animals in English and they’d taught me them in Kiswahili, I was running out of ideas so we ended up singing “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” – much to the amusement of the fundis and the gathering adults.  The next week as I went past, a small crowd gathered clapping & waving as I cycled past puncture free! 

These little things, the unexpected connections and the easy fun will stay with me as much as the safaris and the beaches I am sure.

Safari Shenanigans

We went on safari to Mikumi national park last weekend.  The DIY nature of our escapade meant that the whole thing only cost £60 but also that there were a number of mishaps/ adventures along the way.  On Friday we skived work, packed up the Jesuits’ elderly Land Cruiser and headed to Morogoro.  About half way there we got a puncture, so we all piled out while Martin changed the wheel.  In Morogoro we stayed at a Salvatorian seminary where one of the Dodoma community is teaching – it’s in a beautiful situation at the foot of the Uluguru mountains.  We had a good evening at a local restaurant, followed by a bit of star gazing!

On Saturday we headed to Mikumi where we managed to find a bargain motel with, luxury of luxuries, air con in each room!  Even before we got into the park, we’d seen giraffes, elephants and baboons along the side of the road.  The park itself is teeming with life, much of which proved to be obliging when it came to posing for photos!  It was amazing to be so close to the animals in their own habitats.  The natural habitats became less alluring however when we inadvertently drove through an area infested by tsetse flies.  A frantic killing spree ensued after which the Land Cruiser was liberally splattered with blood – killing those things is not pretty!  We then sweltered our way out of the area with all the windows closed, only to emerge with another puncture.  Changing this in the park while in search of lions made the second change of tyre a particularly swift operation!

 

After dinner that night, we returned to my room for Konyagi (local gin) only to have Erin jump on my bed and the whole thing collapse!  By the time the staff had hammered it all back together again we’d nearly finished laughing.  Erin’s bruises are still serving as amusing reminders however...

Sunday was a very early start in the continuing quest for the illusive big cats.  This time we took a guide with us but even he didn’t manage to locate them.  Still, we did find a beautiful spot to have Mass – lovely to celebrate together amidst the early morning sights and sounds of the park.   

When we finally gave up on our simba search, we headed back to Morogoro and our 3rd puncture.  The spare wheel hadn’t yet been mended, so poor Martin had to roll it miles back down the road to have it fixed.  Fortunately someone gave him a lift back on their motorbike. 

After a meal and tyre fix in Morogoro we left for Dodoma and puncture number 4 – in the pitch black for variety!  There then only remained the requisite stop by corrupt police who were hard pushed to find a reason for bribery until they hit on the fact that the interior light wasn’t working.  Kiarie played the priest card and eventually we were ‘let off’ again.   So we’re back with happy memories, great photos and exhaustion we’re hoping isn’t sleeping sickness courtesy of the tsetse flies..

Land of Contrasts

The longer I’m here, the more I become aware of the many layers and contrasts of life in Tanzania.  The greatest joy of being here is the emerging relationships and friendships and the fun and sharing arising from these. 

A couple of weeks ago Mira was really ill and the care, concern and practical help offered to her and us as she struggled to get a diagnosis and treatment was remarkable.  At the same time, the reality of inadequate health provision was brought home.  Mira was eventually admitted to a private clinic.  ‘Private’ in this instance was misleading – although she had a private room it was extremely basic and the actual medical treatment available was limited.  For a ‘real’ hospital you need to make the 7 hour journey to Dar Es Salaam.  They diagnosed her with Typhoid and Malaria (as they apparently do with almost everyone, the theory being that these are likely culprits for most symptoms, so treat for them and hope for the best). 

Almost as soon as she was admitted people started to visit from the Cheshire home where she works.  They came bearing freshly baked bread, juice and fruit.  We soon realised that you don’t get and food or drink in hospital here – friends and relatives provide.  Even Consolatha, a delightful 13 year old from school appeared at our house, helped me make soup and raided my craft pack to head up the production of get well cards. 

The rallying round didn’t seem enough though when we arrived in the evening to find Mira had accidently pulled out her drip, was covered in blood and rehydration fluids and was unable to get the attention of a nurse.  Plus of course, you’re very aware that even this standard of care is beyond most people who have to take their chances at the over-crowded government clinics, or simply go without.

Another eye opener was while playing a ‘Snakes & Ladders’ type game with the kids at the orphanage.  The game encourages the practice of English by giving a topic to talk about on each square.  One of the topics was ‘family’ which I was nervous about but thought we’d stick to siblings.  It turned out that a number of the kids also talked about their parents though.  When I asked the sisters about this later, they explained that lots of the children do have one or both parents but they can’t afford the HIV drugs, so they send them to the orphanage where they know they’ll be given the anti-retrovirals and diet they need.

The contrasts were even more evident last weekend when a now fully recovered Mira, Erin & I enjoyed a fabulous couple of days at Kipepeo beach just south of Dar Es Salaam.  Being surrounded by white tourists and travelling types felt a bit strange at first, but the beautiful beach, warm Indian ocean, good food and mojitos saw off any scruples pretty fast! 

The trip came about as two of the Jesuits were going to Dar to collect a new school bus and we went along for the ride – a ride that was on a bus run by a Muslim company and as it was Friday, we were subjected to 2 hours of loud Arabic chanting & prayers over the radio!  It turned out the ‘new’ school bus is a 1989 Japanese model which they still had to pay £15000 import duty on. (The widespread corruption is incredibly frustrating.  I first encountered it when collecting a parcel for Erin from the post office.  Despite the duty slip saying the equivalent of about 60p was owing, it was not released until I’d handed over £12).  Even after the port officials had been satisfied, we were stopped on the journey home by police who accused us of being a commercial vehicle travelling illegally at night.  The paperwork showing purchase that day did little to persuade them otherwise and they spent an hour trying to extract a bribe.  Eventually they came on the bus and quizzed Erin, Mira & me for a bit in Kiswahili.  We answered what we could and attempted to look as if we understood the rest.  The police then decided we had nice smiles, told the Jesuits they should get us home and let us go without payment.  Can’t imagine quite what they were looking at as I was hard pressed to manage anything like a smile to them!