Settling in...

Every time I speak to someone on the phone, I always tell them that I'm finally settling in and getting used to it here. The truth is, the first few days were pretty difficult, and though every time I say that I'm starting to get it I mean it, the fact that it seems even more true the next day, says I'm probably not there yet. However, I think I'm now approaching that turning point.

The first days saw me traveling hundreds of kilometers from Dar to Bulongwa, staying a night or two here and there. In Njombe, I toured around local villages with the NGO, Chakunimu, feeling more like a flag than anything else. Being the only white person (or Mzungu) around, and a foot taller than everyone I've met, makes me stand out like crazy, and no one lets you forget that. People stare, try to swindle you into buying some dollar store item, beg you for money, kids yell "Mzungu! Mzungu!" and more than once I've been asked to help someone get a passport, referred to as "my friend" before launching their request. I have found this very difficult for two reasons. One, I'm just trying to do my thing and, unsure of local mannerisms, not to stand out too much. Two, it really bothers me that I'm looked to with envy, or hope that I can 'save them' from their situation. I've always thought of equality as the most important principle, and to find I'm considered almost superior here is quite disconcerting. It's as if our ideas of tolerance and respecting diversity haven't reached here, and what's left is an acquired sense of self-depracation (for example, Tanzania is not called a developing country here, they call it Third World.). I think, though it's easy to say now, I would find rage or resentment towards me a less frustrating response.

Once in Bulongwa, laying my bag to rest so to speak, I was much more at ease. Having something to work towards was great for me. But soon enough, I found that my job was going too well, a lot of my responsibilities moving forward quickly, leaving me with not much to occupy myself. So, I was getting a little bored, and also a little frustrated that aside from my project, nothing was really getting done in the office. Obviously, I started to take initiative and to try to get people on track and figure out what projects they should be working on. Then, someone told me that many cultures differ from Canada's in that they're not as goal oriented, and progress works on mutual consent, with directorship usually scorned. Shit, now I really didn't know what to do.

Things are going up again now, though. I think I'm now understanding how they work here, and with a few helpful hints from my Canadian connection, I know which projects should take precendence. I also feel like I understand how to get them going. I'm not sure if they work on unanimous consent, but more on lengthy discussion before doing exactly what you wanted to do before! Every party has to feel consulted, but the outcome is almost not debated. I'm also starting to get to know the people I'm working with, and to become friends with them - particularly the clinical officer, Juma, who also lives at Lupasso, and my translator, Izack, who's amazingly friendly and outgoing.

Another thing that has really helped has been trying to learn the language. Not only has it given me something to work on (being the goal-driven westerner I am), but people are so appreciative of the effort, and I'm even beginning to connect with the rest of the staff who speak English as well as I speak Swahili - our broken conversations are absolutely hilarious!
eg. "I you want to rice?"
"Yes, satisfied tea morning thank you, afternoon, see you."
(translation: "Would you like to have lunch with me now?" "No thank you, I'm still full from breakfast. I'll eat later.")

Kapuscinski, a Polish journalist, writes of his first trip to India:
"Language struck me at that moment as something material, something with a physical dimension, a wall rising up in the middle of the road and preventing my going further, closing off the world, making it unattainable. [...] Cast into deep water, i didn't want to drown. I realized that only language could save me."

A little melodramatic, but he's got a point. You can only get so far without being able to communicate, and I think traveling in English in a Swahili country distorts your perception. It could be that what I took for reverence of western culture might actually just be the structure of the English people have been taught.

What a cock!

Of all the creatures that roam around Lupasso (name of both the street and my office building), this rooster might be the ugliest.

As you can see from the picture, he's got these big bulgy eyes, dirty ruffled feathers, and a lanky balding neck. And despite this, he walks around slowly, arrogantly raising his head and bearing that gross neck of his.

Every morning, this gangly little fella flaps up onto my window sill and salutes the rising sun. At 5:30 a.m.. For two hours. Then his brothers from across the valleys echo back, competing for territory, American Idol style.

I never realized that those cartoon images of roosters crowing at dawn were actually not exaggerations.

At the same time, these pests might actually be useful as alarms (and eventually food). My life here is much more governed by daylight hours than I ever imagined, and when I look out my window at 5:30, people, mostly women, are actually getting up, setting fires and beginning to boil water. Dusk comes early near the equator, and with scarce electricity, day actually ends with the sun. Staying up until midnight means enduring 6 hours of darkness, with not much to do but maybe go for a beer, read by candle-light, or (as I've been told, this might be the central reason for its prevalence here) spread HIV. So getting up early is the only way to maximize time.

Transportation

I seem to be writing a lot about the state of Tanzania's infrastructure, but I think I can explain why it's been so important to me.

When Canada first began to form, the two most important tasks were to populate the West and to unite it via a railroad, and eventually the TransCanada highway. What I've always taken from this is to unite a people, they have to be able access each other.
While Tanzania doesn't have the same distances to cover, with its current infrastructure, the geographic obstructions to travelling are definitely greater than Canada's. It's visible with everyone you encounter, particularly in the Southern highlands. Most of the older generations had never left their community, and many now cannot afford (money or time) to get to other villages more than a couple times in their lives. And yet, people overwhelmingly feel Tanzanian.
The only way I can explain this is Julius Nyerere, Tanzania's first president, who ruled with a padded iron fist for nearly 20 years.
Nyerere did some terrible things to the country. As a quasi-communist leader, he took a country with enviable resources - agriculture (using only 10 percent of arable land with inefficient small-scale farming, TZ is still a net food exporter), great hydro-electric potential, rich deposits of diamonds, gold and iron, and vast forests great for building material and energy creation - and turned it into one of the top five poorest countries in the world. But in doing so, he did some things that really promoted national unity.
He created a school program that transferred students to different areas of the country for secondary, breaking up the typical tribal boundaries, and he unified people with Swahili as the sole language. His socialism caused the retreat of foreign presence, without violence, and he stripped people of all their belongings, leaving most equally poor.
All of these are awful things, but among the nine countries on its border, Tanzania is one of the only never to lapse into civil war - something Tanzanians are very proud of, and probably something that's been difficult. Originally having strong tribal zones and deeply divided among religions (Muslims and Christians are about equal in population), peace has been a feat.
However, it's easy to see things are starting to change. Since Nyerere's retirement in '85, the West has slowly crept into the country. Most can remember when coca-cola became a household name, but now bilboards for it are found in the most remote places, alongside cellphone towers that stand on every peak. Radio and TV play American hits, and everyone is now looking for money or to get out of the country (although, I can't say I know what it was like before, I've often been asked for help to enroll in a Canadian school, or to help get a passport). I would think this transformation has broken the generally level footing of Tanzanians under Nyerere and has begun to create a class of haves and have-nots. Or at least this segregation has become increasingly clear to residents of more isolated villages.

I'm not saying business is bad, though. In fact, I think it has huge potential to get people what they need. The PIUMA clinical officer says everyone here is suffering, and while I don't think that's necessarily true, people are doing little other than getting by, and are clearly yearning for more. As long as pressure is put on new business to help develop infrastructure - build roads, hospitals, pay decent wages - then amazing things could happen here. The country-side is by no means a blank slate, but a little money and vision could go a long way here. The majority of people are unemployed and really itching to obtain the sort-of lifestyle they associate with Western. The unfortunate truth is that, with the state of government corruption, disorganization and the general disenchantment with it, when (and if) investment comes to these parts, it will likely not be socially vigilant.

Going to the bank

I had no idea what to expect as I moved from Njombe to Bulongwa. All I knew was that Njombe appeared on maps, while Bulongwa did not. One thing that should have occurred to me was to take out money before leaving.

So, there I was in Bulongwa, realizing now that it was just a conglomeration of subsistence based farming huts, with essentially one small store, two tiny bars/restaurants, and a market on Saturdays where effectively the entire county population arrives to purchase their weekly food supplies. But no bank. With a team of PIUMA members heading to Mbeya last Friday - Mbeya being the closest bank - I took the opportunity to ride with them into town.

Just so you understand, there is one car in Bulongwa. You leave when they leave. So, we were told to be at the car for 4:30 am. In typical Tanzanian fashion, the car only left at 6:30.

Mbeya is about 50 to 60 kms away, along a dreadful dirt road, making the trip last about 6 hours. Part of the problem is the road, the other problem is the car is a relic of the 60's I think: an old Land Rover with a left-side driver side, despite Tanzania's British road system. Packed with well over 20 people, you're lucky if the car can break a trot on flats, and up hills, people walking whiz by you.

Nonetheless, the ride, as with all my others here, was spectacular. The road snakes through the rolling farmlands of the Livingston mountains dropping into one valley after the next before climbing way up onto a plateau. This part was amazing. On one side of the road, golden alpine tundra extends indefinitely, and on the other, steep jagged cliffs and peaks fall into the clouds below, where warm air off Lake Nyasa coats everything in a rich tropical green. It makes you realize how high up you are. The clouds are far below, and further is the lake. Lakeside tempertatures average near the 30's, and on this plateau, directly above, it's barely 15 degrees. With temperature falling about 1 degree with every 250 meters of altitude, even a conservative estimate puts you up well over 10 000 feet. What's Whistler? 7000 feet?

Eventually the road drops back down to Mbeya - a real city - set on a desert flatland and surrounded by dramatic orange peaks. It's a nice place, complete with several banks, tarmac roads (some of them at least), and a cool market area that sells everything imaginable. It felt great to be back in an urban setting, and I finally feel like I'm getting the hang of it. In Dar, I was overwhelmed by the amount of people soliciting me for various things, but now, with my minimal Swahili, I understand how to turn them away if I have to, and how to figure out what they're really after.

Since, the car's return was only in the morning, I spent the night in town. My room had its own bathroom and shower - a luxury! Unfortunately only cold water... still beat bathing out of a bucket though! The nearby market at night is a little intimidating with no lights, but once you get used to the atmosphere, it's really a cool place to walk around. The food is all delicious, but Safari beer tastes like turpentine.

Despite the incredible lengths it takes to get to a bank, the trip was well worth it. Don't get me wrong, I'm still really hoping the money I took out will last my stay.

Finally Home!

Well, after almost a week of traveling, I'm finally here - Bulongwa, my base camp for six more weeks.

It's been an interesting ordeal getting here. Traveling 600 kms or so in this country is a five day affair, particularly if you're doing it the budget public transit route! In Swahili, any sort of trip from one place to another is a "safari," which then becomes translated to "journey." At first, i found it striking when people would ask how my journey was, but now I understand that it's the right word to use. Here's a quick sketch of my journey here:

Montreal - Amsterdam - Kilimanjaro - Dar Es Salaam: 27 hours (MD11, 777)

Dar Es Salaam - Njombe: 11 hours (Soviet era coach bus, complete with vomiting children, broken windows, seats, everything... and stopping every few kilometers because of flipped or broken down trucks blocking the one-lane asphalt highway)

Njombe - Makete: 3 hours waiting for the daladala to fill, 7 hours travel (Daladala: gutted 1980's Toyota version of a VW van, now sits 30 uncomfortably piled up against rusty door pannels that fall off if opened too wide, or sometimes on the incredibly large potholes along the dirt road)

Makete - Bulongwa: 2.5 hours (Toyota Landcruiser, also from the 80's, filled with 17 adults, 3 children, and 4 men hanging off the bumper and roof-rack)

* Picture taken at a PIUMA meeting. The building in the background is my home and office - they love watching foreigners follow local custom and eat with their hands!