I am determined to visit and revisit everything and everyone during my final week in Moshi. I am eagerly awaiting my mom’s arrival but my last few days here will be bittersweet. It’s hard to believe that in just seven weeks I have become so deeply immersed in a culture so different than my own. At the same time, I realize how much there is still to learn from the traditions, the people, the lifestyle, and the country.
Last Sunday was a day of cultural firsts. There have been few opportunities to sleep past eight in the morning (even on weekends) and I was looking forward to a few extra hours of rest. However, despite dreading the early alarm, I eagerly accepted an invitation to one of the largest churches in Moshi. Catholicism is one of three dominant religions here (interestingly, Lutheran and Muslim make up the other two) so it was no surprise that we attended mass. Luckily Nie (from TAFCOM) offered to accompany us to the English service, not only helpful for obvious language reasons but an abbreviated service as well (no sermon). I couldn’t help but chuckle as we waited outside of the enormous sanctuary surrounded by hundreds of female students from the private Catholic school – an English medium school where both languages are taught – as the earlier mass ran late. Even the priest seemed to run on TFT (Tanzanian Flexible Time)! The church itself was modestly decorated, but it was by far the largest church I had entered. The seemingly endless rows of pews quickly filled with hundreds (we estimated over 500) of people joined to sing, pray, and worship. I was relieved to see a few other white visitors scattered amongst the locals, all looking as awkward as we did during the endless singing. With no bibles, bulletins, or hymnals to follow along, I took to swaying and humming, simply enjoying the beautiful music. There were traditional drums rather than an organ, and the occasional yelp or scream was mildly reminiscent of the tribal ceremonies I had previously witnessed. It is difficult to compare this service to a Catholic mass in America as this is not my religion, but from what I gathered, it was similar hymns and prayers with an African twist. I was grateful that we had decided to attend.
Upon returning to CCS, we kindly excused ourselves from lunch in order to accept the gracious invitation extended by Mama Angela to join her in her home. Mama Angela is a nurse at Bondeni Dispensary, where two of my friends volunteer. She lives only a short 15 minute walk from CCS, so after picking up a flour, oil, and sugar as a gift (culturally respectful here), we headed to her home. She is incredibly generous and sweet, welcoming four of us (two of whom she had never met) into her home. She served us rice, beef, and spinach, a very traditional meal, and of course served us bottled soda as well. Although apparently normal, it felt rude as the four of us were served and ate without the family, who left the room to give us privacy. After, we conversed with her for quite some time before politely excusing ourselves. This was the first time I visited a home as a guest for a meal, and again I was glad to have this experience. Mama Angela has invited us all back for Konyagi (incredibly cheap gin that is often referred to as the drink of Tanzanians) and beers on Friday, so we shall see what this grandmother has in store for us!
To cap off the day, three of us joined several staff members at a local hospital to celebrate with Beatrice (part of the kitchen staff) the birth of a beautiful and healthy baby girl. This was my first trip to a hospital here (which is a huge relief), and the maternity ward was far from U.S. standards. However, I was too distracted by the beautiful one day old in my arms to assess the medical facilities (or lack thereof). Don’t worry, I have pictures to share! I realize I have yet to refer to her by name, and that is because even now the mother has not decided on one. Rather peculiar by our standards, but apparently normal here.
On Monday I was the only volunteer at TAFCOM office, a bizarre feeling since only a short time ago there were six of us! It was nice to spend the day with Nie though, running errands around town and talking. To my great excitement (and to theirs as well), Jonas announced that he had purchased his first order of cement blocks to begin construction the new children’s center! Although his proclamation was modest, I could sense his immense pride. He is eagerly waiting to show me the work that has begun on the building; no longer is it an overgrown empty plot but is now officially the future of TAFCOM. I share in their pride as well, realizing the success of our event two weeks ago funded this huge step forward.
Tuesday entailed a brief orientation for the new CCS volunteer who arrived last weekend. We discussed the goals, projects, and future of the organization, and of course I showed her around the area (obviously pointing out the delicious bakery). We visited the children’s center, which had recently received a much-needed makeover. No longer is the front of the building a stark, uninviting white wall, but through the artistic efforts of a past volunteer (back for the summer) and her family, it is now a colorful and cheery array of animals and trees. It looks amazing to say the least. Despite the addition of the new entrance, the center was lacking a key ingredient: the teacher, Catherine. Unfortunately she was hospitalized with a serious illness over the weekend, and after losing lots of blood, was stable and resting in the local hospital. While the “substitute teacher” Joseph is perhaps the most entertaining man I have yet to meet here, the children definitely missed Catherine. Of course, at the sight of mzungus, you can almost guarantee a overzealous welcome and screams of joy. Let me tell you, entering a school yard full of kids does wonders for your self esteem. Suddenly you become the greatest site in the world!
Today we went on home visits. It was important to me that we revisit the home of Amose and Happiness. I have not gone a day without thinking of him, knowing that even the greatest medical care in the world will not cure him but still feeling so helpless. It feels so trivial to arrive with rice or milk to this home, but there is little to offer. The slight improvement in his health was brief, and Amose looked even thinner. Even his garbled responses seemed to take every ounce of strength to produce, and we listened as his wife explained his medical complications. His catheter had somehow loosened, and rather than collect in a bag, the urine would soil his bed sheets. To further the problems, we learned he had developed a serious bedsore that had become infected. It was obvious this man was in need of immediate medical care, and Nie provided the family with money to transport Amose to the regional hospital for care.
Only a few steps from Amose’s home lives Veronica, another TAFCOM client. Again, her situation is grim. Her age (well over sixty five) prevents her from maintaining a reliable small business, and caring for her two grandchildren coupled with her recurring asthmatic problems leaves her in great need of assistance. Despite her own needs, it was unbelievable to listen as she encouraged us to tend to Amose and his family. Her words embodied one of the best examples of a selfless human being; here is a woman who does not know when her next meal will be, suffering from severe breathing issues, and living in extreme poverty only concerned with the health and well-being of a neighbor. Moments such as this have an indescribable effect on you.
My last two days at TAFCOM will be spent with the children, playing, dancing, laughing, and celebrating. I am not yet ready to reflect on this entire experience because that would require me to accept it is coming to an end, but I imagine that the three days I spend in Zanzibar will be spent journaling. I hope to find time to update my blog one final time before I leave Moshi, since I do not expect to have internet access until I return home. I doubt it will be lengthy, but I will be writing things down, so expect a summary of my final two weeks once I return.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Reuben's Treasure Hunt...
I had hoped to write an mid-week entry, but as usual, the week flew by and here I am, forced to reflect on the busy past six days and share with you all that I learned and experienced. My mornings at TAFCOM were consumed by trips to Pasua, visiting clients at home as well as the adorable children at the center. I have no idea where most of my afternoons went, but somehow my final weekend in Moshi is now halfway over.
Before I share my tales from the week, I thought it would be best to explain the title of this entry. I returned a few hours ago from a short day trip to Machame. With depleted funds and a tight budget, five of us turned to a Tanzania guidebook to plan our own excursion. We hopped on a dala dala in town to take the thirty minute commute to a village, not sure what to expect or where we would end up. To our surprise (and relief), the book was pretty accurate. Our 80 cent bus ride had brought us right to our destination, and we were looking at the blue building with a Tanzanian flag, just as the book had described. To clarify one thing first, we did call this mysterious Machame Cultural Tourism Center yesterday to confirm its existence, receiving the rather enticing promise that the experience was full of “treasures”. So, there we found ourselves, staring at this run down building, padlocked and unopened. After a few minutes of staring at one another, clearly looking like lost tourists, we were greeted by a friendly man who ushered us inside (after disappearing for a good ten minutes in search of keys). From the looks of the office, not many visitors made their way up here. For a minimal fee of about ten dollars, we hired our guide, Reuben, to show us these treasures. Reuben claimed to be 49, but his interesting stories accounted for his significantly aged appearance. Our first treasure was some sort of plant leaf that doubled as a note pad on which Reuben etched a random note to Mary. He proceeded to reveal along the way a natural pharmacy, not only pointing out but also demonstrating how numerous plants served as cures and treatments for a wide variety of ailments. We chuckled as Reuben cupped his hands to drink from our third treasure, a rather small waterfall in comparison to others that we had seen. The advertised caves were not much of a treasure, as he pointed in the distance to a hole in the side of a rock formation. The mzungu parade continued past local homes to a primary school (where Reuben boasted he was the headmaster) and a random simulated Chagga hut. After a lengthy and tiring hike up a rocky hillside, we came to our last treasure, another entrance gate to Kilimanjaro National Park. The day was interesting at the very least, and any form of exercise is worthwhile in this country. Plus, we can boast to have mastered the public transportation in Moshi, a claim of fame shared by few back in America.
Now to share my weekly experiences. The children’s center reopened on Monday and the kids eagerly returned. We visited them on Tuesday, greeted by the cute welcome song (in English, although I am convinced they have no idea what they are actually saying). Of course I have recorded plenty of their songs and dances on my camera with a dreamy expectation to one day earn YouTube fame. I am sure most of you aren’t surprised to hear this. We brought muffins and lollipops, two of their favorites, and coloring pages. We helped them color with crayons, went through a few dances, and then reviewed numbers in both Swahili and English. As always, the kids were just as thrilled to have mzungu visitors as we were excited to see them. We returned again on Thursday, of course with more treats. This time, I was grateful to see Kelvin’s smiling face. To refresh you all, he is the six year old dwarf with HIV. He was absent in the beginning of the week and we later found out he had been sick. Sadly he has already experienced several opportunistic infections, indicating that the disease has progressed to AIDS. It is unlikely that Kelvin will ever make it into his teens, but despite his frequent illnesses, dwarfed stature, and poor prognosis, he is lively and full of energy. His story alone makes my time here worthwhile.
On Wednesday we made home visits to four TAFCOM clients. We brought each family a bag of flour (used here to make two dietary staples: ugali and porridge) and a kilo of sugar. We also presented a small pack of biscuits (cookies) to each child, a rare delicacy for each. All four women were HIV-positive single mothers or grandmothers, struggling to earn enough income from their small businesses to meet their family’s basic needs. We first entered the home of Fortunata, an older woman who has recently suffered from health problems that have limited her ability to walk. Immobility is a frequent consequence of HIV-related ailments, and perpetuates the cycle of poverty for several reasons. For example, Fortunata supports her family by brewing and selling banana beer (trust me, it is not as appetizing as it may sound). When her feet and legs swell, she is unable to go to the market to purchase ingredients. However, even worse, Fortunata is unable to travel elsewhere to sell her beer. The immense stigmatization coupled with lack of knowledge about the disease results in limited business from neighbors and the local community. This is a huge concern of most of our clients, who must relocate their businesses to areas where their positive status is unknown. Catherine, an upbeat grandmother of two, also struggles to generate enough capital to maintain her maize business. However, her health has improved dramatically over the past year, attributed to daily adherence to government-issued anti-retro viral medication. Despite the language barrier, it was obvious in her tone, demeanor, and humor that she maintained her pride despite her daily struggle. While the stories of most of our clients are all painfully similar, hearing, seeing, and talking with each individual is equally emotional each time. I suppose, however, that there will never be a day that such an experience fails to generate sadness, empathy, and even anger.
Friday was the last day for the other two remaining volunteers at TAFCOM. Unfortunately, Nie was ill and despite our plans to return to Pasua for more home visits, we spent most of the time in the office. Jonas did arrange a brief trip to visit Amose. Since our visit last week, I couldn’t help but fear that his condition had worsened. While his prognosis is certainly not good, we requested to return to his home with more food to nourish the family. We found Amose in better health than the previous visit, although still far from healthy. He did speak a little and we were able to greet him, but his frail limbs, tangled in an old blanket, and raspy voice were an overwhelming reminder of the fate of those infected with this horrible disease. I vowed to return again next week, and for the first time, I was not able to stifle the rush of sadness I felt. Embraced in a hug with his wife and sister, it was as if I could feel their sorrow and grief radiate through their skin. Despite the fact that I will leave this community behind in one short week, it provides little relief from experiences such as this.
I have begun to reflect on my time here, knowing that my final week will fly by. I know that is impossible to undergo a dramatic transformation and that once home, I do not expect to become some saintly hero. However, it would be a lie to say that the people I have met, stories I have heard, and experiences I have had will not resonate for a long time.
Since I have probably lost you all by now, I will conclude with this: I believe that every person is this world has an obligation and responsibility to serve someone else, in some way. Whether this be as small as spending one day in a soup kitchen or traveling as I did, it is impossible for me to ever describe this feeling in a way that gives it justice. This may seem incredibly cliché, but I assure you that once you have helped one, ten, or a thousand people, you will be changed for the better.
Before I share my tales from the week, I thought it would be best to explain the title of this entry. I returned a few hours ago from a short day trip to Machame. With depleted funds and a tight budget, five of us turned to a Tanzania guidebook to plan our own excursion. We hopped on a dala dala in town to take the thirty minute commute to a village, not sure what to expect or where we would end up. To our surprise (and relief), the book was pretty accurate. Our 80 cent bus ride had brought us right to our destination, and we were looking at the blue building with a Tanzanian flag, just as the book had described. To clarify one thing first, we did call this mysterious Machame Cultural Tourism Center yesterday to confirm its existence, receiving the rather enticing promise that the experience was full of “treasures”. So, there we found ourselves, staring at this run down building, padlocked and unopened. After a few minutes of staring at one another, clearly looking like lost tourists, we were greeted by a friendly man who ushered us inside (after disappearing for a good ten minutes in search of keys). From the looks of the office, not many visitors made their way up here. For a minimal fee of about ten dollars, we hired our guide, Reuben, to show us these treasures. Reuben claimed to be 49, but his interesting stories accounted for his significantly aged appearance. Our first treasure was some sort of plant leaf that doubled as a note pad on which Reuben etched a random note to Mary. He proceeded to reveal along the way a natural pharmacy, not only pointing out but also demonstrating how numerous plants served as cures and treatments for a wide variety of ailments. We chuckled as Reuben cupped his hands to drink from our third treasure, a rather small waterfall in comparison to others that we had seen. The advertised caves were not much of a treasure, as he pointed in the distance to a hole in the side of a rock formation. The mzungu parade continued past local homes to a primary school (where Reuben boasted he was the headmaster) and a random simulated Chagga hut. After a lengthy and tiring hike up a rocky hillside, we came to our last treasure, another entrance gate to Kilimanjaro National Park. The day was interesting at the very least, and any form of exercise is worthwhile in this country. Plus, we can boast to have mastered the public transportation in Moshi, a claim of fame shared by few back in America.
Now to share my weekly experiences. The children’s center reopened on Monday and the kids eagerly returned. We visited them on Tuesday, greeted by the cute welcome song (in English, although I am convinced they have no idea what they are actually saying). Of course I have recorded plenty of their songs and dances on my camera with a dreamy expectation to one day earn YouTube fame. I am sure most of you aren’t surprised to hear this. We brought muffins and lollipops, two of their favorites, and coloring pages. We helped them color with crayons, went through a few dances, and then reviewed numbers in both Swahili and English. As always, the kids were just as thrilled to have mzungu visitors as we were excited to see them. We returned again on Thursday, of course with more treats. This time, I was grateful to see Kelvin’s smiling face. To refresh you all, he is the six year old dwarf with HIV. He was absent in the beginning of the week and we later found out he had been sick. Sadly he has already experienced several opportunistic infections, indicating that the disease has progressed to AIDS. It is unlikely that Kelvin will ever make it into his teens, but despite his frequent illnesses, dwarfed stature, and poor prognosis, he is lively and full of energy. His story alone makes my time here worthwhile.
On Wednesday we made home visits to four TAFCOM clients. We brought each family a bag of flour (used here to make two dietary staples: ugali and porridge) and a kilo of sugar. We also presented a small pack of biscuits (cookies) to each child, a rare delicacy for each. All four women were HIV-positive single mothers or grandmothers, struggling to earn enough income from their small businesses to meet their family’s basic needs. We first entered the home of Fortunata, an older woman who has recently suffered from health problems that have limited her ability to walk. Immobility is a frequent consequence of HIV-related ailments, and perpetuates the cycle of poverty for several reasons. For example, Fortunata supports her family by brewing and selling banana beer (trust me, it is not as appetizing as it may sound). When her feet and legs swell, she is unable to go to the market to purchase ingredients. However, even worse, Fortunata is unable to travel elsewhere to sell her beer. The immense stigmatization coupled with lack of knowledge about the disease results in limited business from neighbors and the local community. This is a huge concern of most of our clients, who must relocate their businesses to areas where their positive status is unknown. Catherine, an upbeat grandmother of two, also struggles to generate enough capital to maintain her maize business. However, her health has improved dramatically over the past year, attributed to daily adherence to government-issued anti-retro viral medication. Despite the language barrier, it was obvious in her tone, demeanor, and humor that she maintained her pride despite her daily struggle. While the stories of most of our clients are all painfully similar, hearing, seeing, and talking with each individual is equally emotional each time. I suppose, however, that there will never be a day that such an experience fails to generate sadness, empathy, and even anger.
Friday was the last day for the other two remaining volunteers at TAFCOM. Unfortunately, Nie was ill and despite our plans to return to Pasua for more home visits, we spent most of the time in the office. Jonas did arrange a brief trip to visit Amose. Since our visit last week, I couldn’t help but fear that his condition had worsened. While his prognosis is certainly not good, we requested to return to his home with more food to nourish the family. We found Amose in better health than the previous visit, although still far from healthy. He did speak a little and we were able to greet him, but his frail limbs, tangled in an old blanket, and raspy voice were an overwhelming reminder of the fate of those infected with this horrible disease. I vowed to return again next week, and for the first time, I was not able to stifle the rush of sadness I felt. Embraced in a hug with his wife and sister, it was as if I could feel their sorrow and grief radiate through their skin. Despite the fact that I will leave this community behind in one short week, it provides little relief from experiences such as this.
I have begun to reflect on my time here, knowing that my final week will fly by. I know that is impossible to undergo a dramatic transformation and that once home, I do not expect to become some saintly hero. However, it would be a lie to say that the people I have met, stories I have heard, and experiences I have had will not resonate for a long time.
Since I have probably lost you all by now, I will conclude with this: I believe that every person is this world has an obligation and responsibility to serve someone else, in some way. Whether this be as small as spending one day in a soup kitchen or traveling as I did, it is impossible for me to ever describe this feeling in a way that gives it justice. This may seem incredibly cliché, but I assure you that once you have helped one, ten, or a thousand people, you will be changed for the better.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Bar talk can be valuable...
With only two weeks of volunteering left, I realize how difficult it will be to say goodbye to the friends I have made, people I have worked with, and the culture I have grown to appreciate. This past weekend three of my closest friends left for home. I really had not anticipated how difficult this would be, but looking back, I have spent practically every waking hour with them. In particular, it felt odd to say goodbye to Nicole, who I have lived with, worked with at TAFCOM, and socialized with. It was a shared joke that we spent 24 hours a day together, but in fact this was true. I think that many of the people I have met here share the same commitment to service and passion for volunteer work, and I think that my experience with CCS has enabled me to feel more comfortable with my future ambitions.
For our last night out altogether, we first went out to dinner, and then spent the remainder of our evening at our usual hangout, the Watering Hole. Usually the outdoor bar and deck is crowded with various groups of volunteers, huddled together in exclusive clusters with minimal interaction with strangers. However, since we arrived early several of us began to talk to three men who appeared to be of Indian descent. Eventually others went their own ways, but I became engaged in an intriguing conversation with one of the men. He explained that he was in Tanzania on business, but was born and raised in Nairobi, Kenya. His life and story were perhaps one of the most interesting that I’ve heard, not because it was so unusual but because it was so unreal. He admitted he was born into a wealthy family, tended to by maids and nannies his entire life. He learned to iron his own shirts while attending a university in England, but once returning to Nairobi, he again was treated like royalty. Now in his mid-30’s, he recently purchased a shoe company and continues to be quite affluent. Over and over he reiterated the corruption that dominates Africa, admitting he too is guilty of perpetuating the crime and injustice of government. He was rather arrogant in some ways, justifying his monthly payoff to the chief of police as the only way to survive. In Africa, he claimed, everyone shares the same mindset of every man for himself. He felt no pity for the poor women who he employed as his maids or cooks, laughing that he didn’t even know the names or faces of the “poor girls from the slums”. Here I was, talking to a well-educated, powerful businessman that cared about nothing or no one except himself. We talked for nearly an hour, not just of his own lifestyle but of various topics or questions I posed. We talked about crime and violence in places such as Nairobi and Johannesburg, two of the most infamously dangerous cities in Africa. We discussed governmental polices such as disability, unemployment, and Medicaid in America. This man was full of knowledge and had experienced firsthand many of the dreadful things portrayed in the media, but as horrible as he agreed it was, he had no expectation that things would ever change and even worse, felt no responsibility for instilling these changes. While I certainly learned a lot from this conversation, in a way I felt disgusted by this all too common mindset and sadly, felt a bit useless that my efforts to empower the vulnerable people of Moshi seemed ineffective in the long run.
On a lighter, more upbeat note, the weather this weekend was some of the best since I arrived. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and even better, Kili was picture-perfect. At one point during the day we could see the entire mountain, from base to summit and including Mawenzi, a small peak rarely visible. I think I have said this in past entries, but even after a month here, every glimpse of the mountain is just as breathtaking. Since the weather was so nice, we were antsy and determined to get out of the house. On Sunday we decided to organize a day hike to spend some time away. We decided to arrange a visit to a hot spring and take a short hike in the area around Boma, a region between Moshi and Arusha. It is amazing how different the climate is in just a brief hour drive from the homebase. It is incredibly dry, with few trees or vegetation, and the dust not only covers your skin but when stirred up, it is enough to choke you. The drive, apart from the now expected bumps, was almost as entertaining as the hike itself. We were picked up by a custom-built dala dala, complete with a full system of speakers and subs that produced a near-deafening bass. Abraham, who was also my guide on the Kili day hike, entertained us with his singing and dancing the entire way. The hot spring was a deep, rather random pool of luke-warm water surrounded entirely by dense vegetation. It seemed almost like an oasis, out of place among the dusty backdrop. The water was crystal clear and the pool was deep enough to dive in to. It provided for a perfect swim after our short hike through the area. I finally saw my first crocodile, and although he was off in a pond swimming the opposite direction, most of us in the group were tentative to get too close to the edge, fearful of any of his friends that may have been lurking in the thick brush. The entire day the gorgeous snowcap of Kili loomed in the distance, a wonderful sight to see.
I am looking forward to seeing the kids at the Children’s Center this week. I can’t wait to share stories and pictures with you all soon! Check back later this week for another entry, and not to get prematurely excited, see you in one month!
For our last night out altogether, we first went out to dinner, and then spent the remainder of our evening at our usual hangout, the Watering Hole. Usually the outdoor bar and deck is crowded with various groups of volunteers, huddled together in exclusive clusters with minimal interaction with strangers. However, since we arrived early several of us began to talk to three men who appeared to be of Indian descent. Eventually others went their own ways, but I became engaged in an intriguing conversation with one of the men. He explained that he was in Tanzania on business, but was born and raised in Nairobi, Kenya. His life and story were perhaps one of the most interesting that I’ve heard, not because it was so unusual but because it was so unreal. He admitted he was born into a wealthy family, tended to by maids and nannies his entire life. He learned to iron his own shirts while attending a university in England, but once returning to Nairobi, he again was treated like royalty. Now in his mid-30’s, he recently purchased a shoe company and continues to be quite affluent. Over and over he reiterated the corruption that dominates Africa, admitting he too is guilty of perpetuating the crime and injustice of government. He was rather arrogant in some ways, justifying his monthly payoff to the chief of police as the only way to survive. In Africa, he claimed, everyone shares the same mindset of every man for himself. He felt no pity for the poor women who he employed as his maids or cooks, laughing that he didn’t even know the names or faces of the “poor girls from the slums”. Here I was, talking to a well-educated, powerful businessman that cared about nothing or no one except himself. We talked for nearly an hour, not just of his own lifestyle but of various topics or questions I posed. We talked about crime and violence in places such as Nairobi and Johannesburg, two of the most infamously dangerous cities in Africa. We discussed governmental polices such as disability, unemployment, and Medicaid in America. This man was full of knowledge and had experienced firsthand many of the dreadful things portrayed in the media, but as horrible as he agreed it was, he had no expectation that things would ever change and even worse, felt no responsibility for instilling these changes. While I certainly learned a lot from this conversation, in a way I felt disgusted by this all too common mindset and sadly, felt a bit useless that my efforts to empower the vulnerable people of Moshi seemed ineffective in the long run.
On a lighter, more upbeat note, the weather this weekend was some of the best since I arrived. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and even better, Kili was picture-perfect. At one point during the day we could see the entire mountain, from base to summit and including Mawenzi, a small peak rarely visible. I think I have said this in past entries, but even after a month here, every glimpse of the mountain is just as breathtaking. Since the weather was so nice, we were antsy and determined to get out of the house. On Sunday we decided to organize a day hike to spend some time away. We decided to arrange a visit to a hot spring and take a short hike in the area around Boma, a region between Moshi and Arusha. It is amazing how different the climate is in just a brief hour drive from the homebase. It is incredibly dry, with few trees or vegetation, and the dust not only covers your skin but when stirred up, it is enough to choke you. The drive, apart from the now expected bumps, was almost as entertaining as the hike itself. We were picked up by a custom-built dala dala, complete with a full system of speakers and subs that produced a near-deafening bass. Abraham, who was also my guide on the Kili day hike, entertained us with his singing and dancing the entire way. The hot spring was a deep, rather random pool of luke-warm water surrounded entirely by dense vegetation. It seemed almost like an oasis, out of place among the dusty backdrop. The water was crystal clear and the pool was deep enough to dive in to. It provided for a perfect swim after our short hike through the area. I finally saw my first crocodile, and although he was off in a pond swimming the opposite direction, most of us in the group were tentative to get too close to the edge, fearful of any of his friends that may have been lurking in the thick brush. The entire day the gorgeous snowcap of Kili loomed in the distance, a wonderful sight to see.
I am looking forward to seeing the kids at the Children’s Center this week. I can’t wait to share stories and pictures with you all soon! Check back later this week for another entry, and not to get prematurely excited, see you in one month!
Friday, July 10, 2009
Sweet Success...
After countless hours of planning, advertising, and preparing for the TAFCOM fundraiser, let me paint you this picture: imagine a enormous outdoor restaurant decorated with vibrant banners, posters, photographs, and displays, numerous local vendors displaying their artwork, jewelry, clothing, and sculptures, a buffet of traditional African cuisine, a band playing local music, and ten workers busy at work. Now fill the space with over 120 guests, laughing and swaying to the music. The room itself is alive with energy and excitement. Welcome to the TAFCOM fundraiser.
As you can probably infer from my description, the evening was a success. It was incredibly rewarding to greet the continuous flow of guests and admire the scene, knowing how hard we all worked in preparation. Perhaps the most exhilarating feeling, however, came as I watched Nie, Jonas, Teddy, Catherine, and other staff members smile uncontrollably, laugh with joy, and dance in celebration. While the profits of the fundraiser are in essence disposable, I sensed that to them, the night brought a renewed sense of hope for the future. The vision, goals, and projects of the organization were no longer just their own; they were received by all in attendance who now could understand what this incredible organization is all about. It may sound as if I am being poetic, but I too wore a proud grin on my face throughout the evening. I am not one to boast but our hard work definitely paid off.
To refer back to my previous post in which I expressed frustration towards the safari company, let’s just say we refused to let their disloyalty take away from the night’s success. While their donation would have more than doubled our profits, we measured our success not on what could have been but what was possible. Our profits will allow our children’s center to provide porridge for the year, a goal that was very important to us. In addition, TAFCOM will be able to continue to support the women’s tailoring group. Although this conflict was disappointing, I realize that not everyone shares our good intentions.
I will post again soon, but I wanted to share my excitement. Enjoy your weekend!
As you can probably infer from my description, the evening was a success. It was incredibly rewarding to greet the continuous flow of guests and admire the scene, knowing how hard we all worked in preparation. Perhaps the most exhilarating feeling, however, came as I watched Nie, Jonas, Teddy, Catherine, and other staff members smile uncontrollably, laugh with joy, and dance in celebration. While the profits of the fundraiser are in essence disposable, I sensed that to them, the night brought a renewed sense of hope for the future. The vision, goals, and projects of the organization were no longer just their own; they were received by all in attendance who now could understand what this incredible organization is all about. It may sound as if I am being poetic, but I too wore a proud grin on my face throughout the evening. I am not one to boast but our hard work definitely paid off.
To refer back to my previous post in which I expressed frustration towards the safari company, let’s just say we refused to let their disloyalty take away from the night’s success. While their donation would have more than doubled our profits, we measured our success not on what could have been but what was possible. Our profits will allow our children’s center to provide porridge for the year, a goal that was very important to us. In addition, TAFCOM will be able to continue to support the women’s tailoring group. Although this conflict was disappointing, I realize that not everyone shares our good intentions.
I will post again soon, but I wanted to share my excitement. Enjoy your weekend!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
The Big Day...
So here we are, the day of the big fundraiser. Let’s just say that we are all in a bit of panic mode. We feel confident that the word has spread through the volunteer organizations, hostels, and hotels in Moshi, but it’s frustrating to know the rest is essentially out of our control. We have had around 70 people RSVP, but we are hoping for at least 100 guests. All we can do is wait and see! There is much to do today as you can imagine (but if you are wondering why I had time to write this entry, rest assured I wrote most of it the evening before).
To get our minds off the fundraising mayhem, we decided to go on home visits yesterday. Unfortunately, none of us were prepared for our first client. We visited an elderly couple named Amose and Happiness, both HIV-positive. The disease had progressed rapidly since his diagnoses only seven years ago, and Amose was ailed by one medical problem after another. Already completely blind, he recently underwent a serious kidney operation funded entirely by TAFCOM (using the money raised at our last fundraiser). Although initially he appeared to be recovering, Amose has been bed-ridden and severely ill for several weeks now. While Happiness’ condition is much better, her husband’s condition demands round the clock care, leaving her unable to work. Thus, the family has had little or no means of income for several years, and with no way to purchase food, they both are unable to regularly take their medications. Upon entering the small, dimly lit room that the couple called home, I at first did not even realize a human being was wrapped in the tattered pile of sheets on the bed. Amose was unbelievably emaciated, and the few words he mumbled were incoherent. Some of his family members were visiting and gathered around his bed, all recognizing that their father, uncle, cousin, or husband was in the late stages of AIDS. While I stood silently listening to Nie counsel and comfort the family, I couldn’t help but feel entirely helpless. Again I was overwhelmed with a strong desire to offer my assistance but the only way I knew how was with money. It is a sad reality but no amount of money would cure the hurt felt by this family as they watched Amose slowly pass away. While we only had sugar and soap to offer the family at the time, one volunteer left money to purchase milk to feed Amose. The rest of us vowed to return later with more food. Despite our essentially useless gift at the time, Happiness gripped each of us tightly in a sincere hug as we left. To her, it was enough to see that others cared about her family. Upon returning to Moshi, Nie took us to a small grocer where we bought rice, flour, oil, and other staples to nourish not only Amose but also Happiness. I suppose temporarily relief in the form of food would at the very least solve one immediate problem.
After an emotional start, the rest of the visits came as a relief. We visited another client named Mama Veronica, the self-proclaimed “oldest women in Pasua”. It was evident her life had been immensely difficult, and despite her tired body, her spirit was full of life. It was frustrating to have to again rely on Nie’s translations to understand her, but it was obvious she continued to have hope unlike many affected by the cycle of poverty. After her son and his wife passed away from HIV-related complications, Mama Veronica took in her two grandchildren and is now raising both in her small home. She suffers from severe asthma, and her respiratory problems leave her unable to leave bed some mornings. Nie, who had visited her the day before, brought her one of her own coats after Veronica had confessed that her condition was aggravated by the cold nights. Despite her dreams to afford the education of both of her grandchildren, she currently relies on begging as her only source of income. I couldn’t help but fear what would happen to the two children if their grandmother also passed, but I was comforted by Mama Veronica’s incredibly positive demeanor and contagious smile.
Our third and final stop was at the home of a new client, a family of four. Fatuma, the elder of the family, currently rents a tiny, windowless room, with her daughter and two grandchildren. Mama Fatuma was diagnosed this year as HIV-positive after a lengthy hospitalization for malaria, but her cell counts are not low enough to make her eligible for government medication. Although this means she is currently healthy, ARV’s would ensure her healthiness. Despite her positive status, however, Fatuma possessed an uncharacteristic quality of many Tanzanians with the disease. While most of those infected with HIV/AIDS take great measures to keep their status a secret, Fatuma was open and expressed no fear of the stigma and discrimination that would follow the reveal. I must note that it is assumed that volunteers such as us (white people, that is) usually enter the homes of the sick. While welcoming organizations such as TAFCOM into their homes brings the benefits of numerous forms of support, it is also accompanied by community exclusion. Fatuma and her daughter currently rely on a small vegetable and fish selling business to meet their basic needs. It was upsetting to hear Fatuma admit that once her status becomes known in the community, she will have to relocate to another area. It was comforting to hear that Fatuma not only recognized but also was preparing for the future.
I am looking forward to my last two weeks; since the fundraiser will be over we will be going on home visits more regularly and of course be spending a few days each week at the children’s center. Ok, it is time to get to work, but expect a report about the fundraiser in the next few days! Hope life in the USA is worry free.
To get our minds off the fundraising mayhem, we decided to go on home visits yesterday. Unfortunately, none of us were prepared for our first client. We visited an elderly couple named Amose and Happiness, both HIV-positive. The disease had progressed rapidly since his diagnoses only seven years ago, and Amose was ailed by one medical problem after another. Already completely blind, he recently underwent a serious kidney operation funded entirely by TAFCOM (using the money raised at our last fundraiser). Although initially he appeared to be recovering, Amose has been bed-ridden and severely ill for several weeks now. While Happiness’ condition is much better, her husband’s condition demands round the clock care, leaving her unable to work. Thus, the family has had little or no means of income for several years, and with no way to purchase food, they both are unable to regularly take their medications. Upon entering the small, dimly lit room that the couple called home, I at first did not even realize a human being was wrapped in the tattered pile of sheets on the bed. Amose was unbelievably emaciated, and the few words he mumbled were incoherent. Some of his family members were visiting and gathered around his bed, all recognizing that their father, uncle, cousin, or husband was in the late stages of AIDS. While I stood silently listening to Nie counsel and comfort the family, I couldn’t help but feel entirely helpless. Again I was overwhelmed with a strong desire to offer my assistance but the only way I knew how was with money. It is a sad reality but no amount of money would cure the hurt felt by this family as they watched Amose slowly pass away. While we only had sugar and soap to offer the family at the time, one volunteer left money to purchase milk to feed Amose. The rest of us vowed to return later with more food. Despite our essentially useless gift at the time, Happiness gripped each of us tightly in a sincere hug as we left. To her, it was enough to see that others cared about her family. Upon returning to Moshi, Nie took us to a small grocer where we bought rice, flour, oil, and other staples to nourish not only Amose but also Happiness. I suppose temporarily relief in the form of food would at the very least solve one immediate problem.
After an emotional start, the rest of the visits came as a relief. We visited another client named Mama Veronica, the self-proclaimed “oldest women in Pasua”. It was evident her life had been immensely difficult, and despite her tired body, her spirit was full of life. It was frustrating to have to again rely on Nie’s translations to understand her, but it was obvious she continued to have hope unlike many affected by the cycle of poverty. After her son and his wife passed away from HIV-related complications, Mama Veronica took in her two grandchildren and is now raising both in her small home. She suffers from severe asthma, and her respiratory problems leave her unable to leave bed some mornings. Nie, who had visited her the day before, brought her one of her own coats after Veronica had confessed that her condition was aggravated by the cold nights. Despite her dreams to afford the education of both of her grandchildren, she currently relies on begging as her only source of income. I couldn’t help but fear what would happen to the two children if their grandmother also passed, but I was comforted by Mama Veronica’s incredibly positive demeanor and contagious smile.
Our third and final stop was at the home of a new client, a family of four. Fatuma, the elder of the family, currently rents a tiny, windowless room, with her daughter and two grandchildren. Mama Fatuma was diagnosed this year as HIV-positive after a lengthy hospitalization for malaria, but her cell counts are not low enough to make her eligible for government medication. Although this means she is currently healthy, ARV’s would ensure her healthiness. Despite her positive status, however, Fatuma possessed an uncharacteristic quality of many Tanzanians with the disease. While most of those infected with HIV/AIDS take great measures to keep their status a secret, Fatuma was open and expressed no fear of the stigma and discrimination that would follow the reveal. I must note that it is assumed that volunteers such as us (white people, that is) usually enter the homes of the sick. While welcoming organizations such as TAFCOM into their homes brings the benefits of numerous forms of support, it is also accompanied by community exclusion. Fatuma and her daughter currently rely on a small vegetable and fish selling business to meet their basic needs. It was upsetting to hear Fatuma admit that once her status becomes known in the community, she will have to relocate to another area. It was comforting to hear that Fatuma not only recognized but also was preparing for the future.
I am looking forward to my last two weeks; since the fundraiser will be over we will be going on home visits more regularly and of course be spending a few days each week at the children’s center. Ok, it is time to get to work, but expect a report about the fundraiser in the next few days! Hope life in the USA is worry free.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
No cookouts or fireworks this year...
It is a huge relief to have a relaxing weekend of doing absolutely nothing. The week started slow since Nie was feeling poorly and there wasn’t much office work but the boredom quickly turned into frustration. I suppose there are always problems that arise when planning a fundraiser, but none of us anticipated this. TAFCOM has relied heavily on the financial support of a safari company here in Moshi. It just so happens that they essentially have monopolized the traveling business among CCS volunteers, so of course it is a huge selling point to point out that a cut of their profits are donated to a CCS-supported organization like TAFCOM. Therefore, it didn’t take much the first week to convince all 20 of us to travel with them when they promised to again donate 15% of the safari profit to the TAFCOM fundraiser. However, one month later we have yet to see the check that was promised. Therefore, between the four volunteers at TAFCOM, including myself, we have been forced to front the costs of the event. In reality it is not a huge issue since other volunteers have done it in the past and been repaid afterwards, and I suppose the costs are far less here in comparison. However, without the donation that we budgeted for, the profits from the fundraiser will be significantly less. I suppose we are all so frustrated because we are so committed to meeting our goal, a goal that would enable TAFCOM to feed the 35 orphans at their children’s center each day for a year, allow the women’s tailoring group to continue, and support daily running costs of the NGO. I am not sure whether to classify my tendency to become so deeply involved as a strength or a weakness, but it does lead to disappointment in situations like this.
Nie and Jonas have not necessarily expressed the same level of disappointment, however. It is reality in this country that things move “pole, pole” (very slow) and sometimes never at all, and the idea of TFT (Tanzanian Flexible Time) is reflected in every aspect of their culture. As frustrating as this makes situations, I suppose it is a good lesson in patience. We often remind ourselves that our time here is rather brief and our impact perhaps short-lived, so we focus on what we can control while volunteering. I am eager to begin home visits again next week, and even more excited that the Children’s Center will re-open for my last two weeks. My passion is working with people, and I have come to realize in this short four weeks I am not at all interested in the business aspect of non-profit work. I’ll stick to the community outreach and interaction and leave the number crunching and office work for someone else.
Five of my friends ended their program this weekend, and the house is pretty empty since almost everyone else is traveling. To celebrate their final night in
It felt odd to “celebrate” the 4th of July in a country where the day was no different than any other. The Watering Hole promoted a party, offering a free drink to those who sported an Obama kanga or shirt. Luckily I was well prepared and was dressed in my patriotic wrap skirt complete with a campaign shirt I brought from home. All of the locals that we encountered were amused by our Obama wardrobe, but other than that, it was a pretty uneventful birthday party for
I realized I haven’t talked much about the weather or food since my first entry, so since I have some time this weekend I will give you all an update. I have completely abandoned my visions of scorching heat, dry, desolate land, and weight loss. First, despite claims that the rainy season has passed, there has been an unusual number of random showers. While it usually rains at night, this is problematic since the roads are dirt. It often makes our “morning commute” quite muddy. Strangely it is cloudy here, a lot. It usually gets sunny for a few hours in the afternoon, but wearing a skirt and t-shirt every day means that the only slightly tanned body parts are my arms, ankles and neck. So much for losing my seemingly permanent soccer tan lines. Locals claim that it will begin to warm up in the coming weeks, and I hear it will be really hot by the time my mom and I travel to the Serengeti. As for fears of wasting away in hunger, rest assured my diet here is based solely on carbohydrates, fruits, and vegetables (primarily rice, bread, bananas, and avocado). I don’t anticipate losing much weight either, especially since I found this awesome bakery right down the street from the TAFCOM office. They have delicious donuts with chocolate icing, and after introducing all the other volunteers to them, we have agreed to ration ourselves to one a week. Last week was stressful, so I had two, but who’s counting anyways. As some of you may know, I have broadened my consumption to include a much greater selection of vegetables. I doubt my family will believe that I thoroughly enjoy this green bean and tomato salad that we have rather frequently. As I found to be the case in Belize as well, produce here tastes much better than back home, so don’t get your hopes up that I will come home eating much differently. I am contemplating taking pictures of me actually eating these dishes so that people will believe me!
I am going to enjoy the few rays of sun this afternoon. I hope you all had an extra hotdog in my honor yesterday. I hope to have time to post once before the fundraiser, but if not, wish me luck on a successful event!
Saturday, July 4, 2009
"If you can't climb it, drink it." (Kilimanjaro Beer Motto)
*I wrote this entry earlier this week but never found time to post it. I will post another entry later today or tomorrow. Happy 4th of July!
Now mid-way through my fourth week in Tanzania, it is funny to look back on the past month and see how quickly it’s gone by. I can’t believe I have only three weeks left with CCS and a little over five weeks left here. The thought of American cuisine, television, and an actual mattress are indeed appealing, but I will have finally settled into this life when it will be time to leave it all.
On Sunday morning we arranged a coffee hike with Oscar, a charismatic guide around our age and full of knowledge about his country. Most CCS volunteers opt to take this day trip, not only because the price is unbelievable (only $25 for the day, including a box lunch) but also for the experience itself. I must admit we all struggled to wake up after a night at the Glacier, a local bar that was featuring a popular reggae band called the Warriors from the East. One would think that our 11PM curfew would deter wild nights, but with beer bottles one and half times as big for half the standard U.S. price, we were all feeling pretty good. Exhausted and probably a little dehydrated, the hour long van ride in a “pimped out” dala dala (complete with a sound system, interior black lighting, and magazine photos of hip-hop stars like Jay-Z pinned to the interior) along a very bumpy, muddy road did not help. To make matters worse, a steady rain the night before made part of the road impassable, which meant an extra hour of hiking.
Once we got started, however, the fun began. The dirt here is reddish in color and clay-like, so the mud that covered our shoes acted like a suction. It was an exhausting, up-hill trek for a good two hours but the scenery was amazing. We stopped periodically for water and the breaks in the dense banana trees that lined the roads revealed valleys lined with farmers’ huts. It was beautiful. One particular part of the path we took was very steep, and distracted by my friends wipeouts, I managed to take the worst fall. I slipped and face planted, saved from a muddy face by the brim of my hat. Of course the boys at the top of the hill caught the whole fall on video, just the moment I want to re-live! We finally arrived at Oscar’s family home, a few modest huts surrounded by tall banana trees who’s large leaves protected the coffee beans that grew below them. Oscar showed us the entire process of coffee production, which was far more elaborate than I ever imagined. It was fun to take part in each step and more impressively, I drank my first cup of coffee EVER! It smelled and tasted better than any cup back home and I even enjoyed it!
The sun came out after lunch and thankfully began to dry up some of the mud, making the rest of the day less slippery. We trekked for another hour to the most amazing waterfall I have ever seen. I may have said that a few weeks ago on my first waterfall trip, but this waterfall made the first look like a creek rapid. It was breathtaking. I have never been one that has been too attentive to landscape, but I have found so many times here I cant take my eyes off the sights before me. We took a different trail back to the main road, and luckily the heat of the sun allowed our van to make it up the hill, shortening the trip back.
Monday marked the two week countdown to our big TAFCOM fundraiser. Most of the work is done but there are many last-minute things to get done to make the event a success. We distributed the flyers and invitations, hanging the signs in restaurants, internet cafes, and shops most frequented by mzungus (since most people who will attend our other volunteers). We have met many large groups who have assured us they would attend, so we hope to have well over 100 guests. We had to postpone home visits because Nie has not been feeling well, but we hope to reschedule later this week to check in on our clients. On Wednesday we went into Pasua to “tour” the one-room tailor shop that TAFCOM supports. We met several of the young girls who are currently in their final months of an extensive two year training program. Catherine, the volunteer teacher at the Children’s Center, was a familiar face and as always, we were welcomed with smiling faces. It was odd to see that the self-powered sewing machines used here are used as decorative antiques back home, and the entire process seems far more complex than the simplified electric sewing machines back home. We were all measured and left fabric to have dresses made, and of course my length measurements generated a good laugh from the ladies. Even here I can’t escape the jokes about my height!
After four weeks of asking my wish to play soccer was granted. We arranged a visit at the Amani Center for Street Children, a huge orphanage and school only a short walk away from our homebase. The center opened only a few years ago but its beginnings were much like TAFCOM today. Through hard work and generous donations, they eventually were able to build and support this incredible property. The building itself is enormous but none of us expected what was hidden from the road. Behind the center is a child’s paradise, complete with a basketball court, soccer field, playground, and toys of all sorts. A lot of the orphans were out for the day, but the soccer coach organized a 7v7 match. The kids were all between the ages of 9 and 15, but they were quite talented. Despite their bare feet, they ended up beating us with the help of their coach. It was a blast! The kids, most of whom were boys rescued off the streets after being abandoned by their parents, were awesome. I had a soft spot though for one girl named Elly who was the only female who played soccer at the center. She was 16 and spoke almost perfect English, and she loved to see another girl out there playing soccer on their field. I hope to get back there a few more afternoons before leaving here, but I’ll admit the hour-long match left me pretty sore.
The rest of this week will be devoted to putting final touches on projects for the fundraiser. Five of my friends here leave on Saturday, so we are planning a night out on Friday. Since the 11PM curfew limits our fun, we are probably going to sign out for the night and get hotel rooms in Moshi. I hope to write again later this week, but if not, enjoy a hotdog for me on the 4th of July.
Now mid-way through my fourth week in Tanzania, it is funny to look back on the past month and see how quickly it’s gone by. I can’t believe I have only three weeks left with CCS and a little over five weeks left here. The thought of American cuisine, television, and an actual mattress are indeed appealing, but I will have finally settled into this life when it will be time to leave it all.
On Sunday morning we arranged a coffee hike with Oscar, a charismatic guide around our age and full of knowledge about his country. Most CCS volunteers opt to take this day trip, not only because the price is unbelievable (only $25 for the day, including a box lunch) but also for the experience itself. I must admit we all struggled to wake up after a night at the Glacier, a local bar that was featuring a popular reggae band called the Warriors from the East. One would think that our 11PM curfew would deter wild nights, but with beer bottles one and half times as big for half the standard U.S. price, we were all feeling pretty good. Exhausted and probably a little dehydrated, the hour long van ride in a “pimped out” dala dala (complete with a sound system, interior black lighting, and magazine photos of hip-hop stars like Jay-Z pinned to the interior) along a very bumpy, muddy road did not help. To make matters worse, a steady rain the night before made part of the road impassable, which meant an extra hour of hiking.
Once we got started, however, the fun began. The dirt here is reddish in color and clay-like, so the mud that covered our shoes acted like a suction. It was an exhausting, up-hill trek for a good two hours but the scenery was amazing. We stopped periodically for water and the breaks in the dense banana trees that lined the roads revealed valleys lined with farmers’ huts. It was beautiful. One particular part of the path we took was very steep, and distracted by my friends wipeouts, I managed to take the worst fall. I slipped and face planted, saved from a muddy face by the brim of my hat. Of course the boys at the top of the hill caught the whole fall on video, just the moment I want to re-live! We finally arrived at Oscar’s family home, a few modest huts surrounded by tall banana trees who’s large leaves protected the coffee beans that grew below them. Oscar showed us the entire process of coffee production, which was far more elaborate than I ever imagined. It was fun to take part in each step and more impressively, I drank my first cup of coffee EVER! It smelled and tasted better than any cup back home and I even enjoyed it!
The sun came out after lunch and thankfully began to dry up some of the mud, making the rest of the day less slippery. We trekked for another hour to the most amazing waterfall I have ever seen. I may have said that a few weeks ago on my first waterfall trip, but this waterfall made the first look like a creek rapid. It was breathtaking. I have never been one that has been too attentive to landscape, but I have found so many times here I cant take my eyes off the sights before me. We took a different trail back to the main road, and luckily the heat of the sun allowed our van to make it up the hill, shortening the trip back.
Monday marked the two week countdown to our big TAFCOM fundraiser. Most of the work is done but there are many last-minute things to get done to make the event a success. We distributed the flyers and invitations, hanging the signs in restaurants, internet cafes, and shops most frequented by mzungus (since most people who will attend our other volunteers). We have met many large groups who have assured us they would attend, so we hope to have well over 100 guests. We had to postpone home visits because Nie has not been feeling well, but we hope to reschedule later this week to check in on our clients. On Wednesday we went into Pasua to “tour” the one-room tailor shop that TAFCOM supports. We met several of the young girls who are currently in their final months of an extensive two year training program. Catherine, the volunteer teacher at the Children’s Center, was a familiar face and as always, we were welcomed with smiling faces. It was odd to see that the self-powered sewing machines used here are used as decorative antiques back home, and the entire process seems far more complex than the simplified electric sewing machines back home. We were all measured and left fabric to have dresses made, and of course my length measurements generated a good laugh from the ladies. Even here I can’t escape the jokes about my height!
After four weeks of asking my wish to play soccer was granted. We arranged a visit at the Amani Center for Street Children, a huge orphanage and school only a short walk away from our homebase. The center opened only a few years ago but its beginnings were much like TAFCOM today. Through hard work and generous donations, they eventually were able to build and support this incredible property. The building itself is enormous but none of us expected what was hidden from the road. Behind the center is a child’s paradise, complete with a basketball court, soccer field, playground, and toys of all sorts. A lot of the orphans were out for the day, but the soccer coach organized a 7v7 match. The kids were all between the ages of 9 and 15, but they were quite talented. Despite their bare feet, they ended up beating us with the help of their coach. It was a blast! The kids, most of whom were boys rescued off the streets after being abandoned by their parents, were awesome. I had a soft spot though for one girl named Elly who was the only female who played soccer at the center. She was 16 and spoke almost perfect English, and she loved to see another girl out there playing soccer on their field. I hope to get back there a few more afternoons before leaving here, but I’ll admit the hour-long match left me pretty sore.
The rest of this week will be devoted to putting final touches on projects for the fundraiser. Five of my friends here leave on Saturday, so we are planning a night out on Friday. Since the 11PM curfew limits our fun, we are probably going to sign out for the night and get hotel rooms in Moshi. I hope to write again later this week, but if not, enjoy a hotdog for me on the 4th of July.
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