Periodic Reflections

August 9, 2013

Lately I’ve been counting days in remaining anti-malaria pills.  People here seem to be sick a lot.  My host father had malaria last month, my host mother has typhoid fever, and now I’ve just gotten over the worst stomach sickness of my life (gosh darn chai at Nane Nane made with milk that probably wasn’t fully boiled).  My time in Tanzania is quickly winding down.  Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and then I leave on a three day safari before I do a garden day with the Watoto Foundation, take a bus to Dar and then fly to Delhi, India.  As soon as I feel like I am getting a handle on things here, it’s time to leave.  I still I have people I want to talk to and things I want to do/see.  I wish the agricultural trade show Nane Nane had been in June instead of August.  It sparked so many ideas and generated a long list of organizations I would have visited if time had permitted.  But I think I am ready to leave.  There are things about this country that I am not going to miss: the church that disrespects people’s personal space (like can’t you play your music a little more softly or get walls?!  Okay, not funny because they probably can’t afford them, but seriously).  And yesterday, when it was raining (one of the few times it’s rained here because it’s the dry season), my stomach was still rebelling and I was in a sour mood since I had an hour ride on the dalla dalla to look forward to.  But a little perspective goes a long way.  I saw one of Helen’s TRMEGA group members as I approached the bus stand.  He’s one of the men in the wheelchair and a small child was pushing him from behind and helping him navigate the stony street and muddy ground.  I wondered where he was going on such a crappy day with such limited mobility.  “Going to collect grass for the goal,” he grinned with that infectious smile of his.  It hurt my heart.   How could I complain about anything when this man was disabled and looking for fodder in the pour raining?  It made me feel both horrible and also instantaneously boosted my mood as I imagined his ear to ear grin.  And a funny story from later today: I was asked if I had “been saved,” as in by Jesus.  I went to an NGO a few villages away and I decided to walk part of the way back.  Let me tell you that distances are distorted when you are riding a speeding minibus down the “highway.”  The walk was much farther than I expected and my Patagonia ballet flats were the worst shoes I could have been wearing.  But walking almost 2 hours today was welcomed exercise and let me observe the roadside sights intimately, in a way that would be been impossible in a vehicle.  And that’s when I saw the group of three men coming towards me.  I didn’t feel too threatened, as it was broad daylight, but hoped that nothing would happen because they could have easily overpowered me.  The opposite occurred.  They stopped me and asked earnestly, “Have you been saved?”  They were welcoming me into the nearby Pentecostal church.  When I replied with, “I hope so,” they didn’t find my joke very funny.  

August 11, 2013

I am really in disbelief that I only have eight more days in Tanzania.  Tomorrow I will visit a commercial farm down the road and hopefully an Australian commercial farmer in the afternoon.  With only one appointment left with Farm Radio International and the Slow Food Thousand Gardens inauguration celebration at the Watoto Foundation, that about rounds off my time in Arusha.  I really don’t know what to say or think.  I feel ready to go but am finally getting used to life in Tanzania.  I’ve come to learn so much about the current state of agriculture here, a bit about the politics and history, and unfortunately, only a small fraction of the language.  But still, I feel full with both ugali and information.  There are still things to learn here and leaving also means being alone again.  Helen and her family have been so generous to me – opening their hearts and home to a complete stranger.  Today, my host father took my backpack into town so good tailor could properly mend it, and he also got my watch battery replaced for me.  When I first arrived, my host sister helped me get a modem USB internet stick, and Helen helped me set up appointments and showed me how to get around on a dalla dalla.  Things would have been so difficult without their assistance.  And heck, things have still been hard at times, even with their help.  Part of me is scared to leave and another part is ready to take on the next adventure.  Today I felt lonely and realized I don’t really have any friends here.  I never really hit it off with my host sister (we don’t have much in common though she’s so sweet) and I’ve been busy with appointments and field visits almost every day.  And sure there have been a few persistent men who want to “be my best friend,” but I question their motives and also just didn’t have an interest.  And yesterday, I had made plans to go to the movies with Helen’s niece, but the weather was so perfect I couldn’t bear the thought of spending two hours inside a movie theater.  So serendipity would have it that when I went to mail a package and the post office was closed, which left me wandering around clock tower round about looking for an Internet café.  Someone gestured hello and I impulsively asked him if he knew the location of Hot Bread Shop.  He showed me to another café and I learned he is a safari guide.  He said he could bring me on a walk to Mr. Meru waterfall for $30, so I agreed.  I was craving sunshine, exercise, and recreation.  And again, I paid for companionship, ha.  In hindsight, good thing I trusted my gut and that my instincts were correct because I spent four hours with him, 26-year-old Julius.  We took a dalla dalla toward Tengeru village, ate lunch together (rice, beans, greens, and an avocado), and walked two hours to the base of Meru where he led me to the falls, but not before identifying tons o birds and trees along the way, as we weaved our way through little villages, past gardens and cultivated fields.  I think my dad would have loved it and thoroughly enjoyed Julius’s company because of his interest in flora and birds.  And fortunately, the falls were gorgeous and well worth the walk: a single band of ethereal mist pouring down into a tiny pool.  This is a main source of drinking water for Arusha, so swimming isn’t permitted, and we had to pay/register with the water authorities.  I was shocked that no one was here; apparently few people know about it and not even my host father who works in conservation, which was shocking.  Julius was a wonderful guide.  He built a path of stones for me to walk on so I wouldn’t eat it in the river (my camera was in my bag) and we headed back towards town.  I was exhausted at this point, but we proceeded to talk two boda bodas (riding with three people on one motorcycle is kind of hilarious), and a dalla dalla to Lake Duluti, another nearby site.  We had a quick soda since it was getting dark, and Julius even accompanied me back to my homestay.  He really hit it off with my host mother – although she interrogated him a bit in Swahili, she decided that he has good intentions and now they want to collaborate on medicinal herbs and other uses of indigenous plants.  Funny how these sorts of relationships are forged.  Following this day of intense personal contact, I was feeling a bit lonely.  I sought out previous Watson Fellow blogs out of curiosity, and Sara Bates came to the rescue again.  The same wonderful person who helped me formulate a packing list, gave me contacts in Tanzania, and answered all my questions about visas etc.  She spent her year studying midwifery culture around the world (including New Zealand, Indonesia, Tanzania, Ethiopia, Italy, and Cambodia).  Reading some of her early and later posts was comforting.  Those about Tanzania and about being sick and feeling lonely resonated with me.  I suddenly didn’t feel so alone.  It sounds silly, but just the thought of knowing that there are so many other people who have done this before (not the same exact journey of course) but in general, I suddenly felt like I had a large family of relatives I hadn’t yet met, cheering me on silently from all corners of the world, some unspoken Watson camaraderie.  I must thank Sara again when I return and hope I can pass on assistance and comfort to fellows to come.