Iméhé-zing

Wow, it's been a week since my last post, and a lot has happened. The main thing being that I've started walking out to the different villages where PIUMA has members, which is why I haven't had much time to write. These trips have been amazing, and have really helped me to understand the area a lot better. I'll write about visiting Imehe yesterday, because that has been my favorite so far.

Bulongwa is one of many ridge-top communities in the Southern Highlands. I believe the people here build their homes high up because the lower valleys, being warmer and closer to rivers and streams, are better agricultural land. My house is on Lupasso street, which runs along the top of a ridge that fingers off from the center of town. Past my house, the finger drops into a valley, and peaks rise in all directions around. For this reason, I had never been past my home, only traveling in the direction of town and beyond, but Imehe is perched on one of those overlooking peaks, so off we went.

The hike to Imehe was incredible: two hours through fields and forest along a single-track trail, occasionally joining up with an old horse trail, built by the Germans in the 1890's. The trail snakes down the fairly steep walls of the valley, hopping over small cliffs and winding through trees, then follows a narrow river before clambering up to Imehe, much like the descent. This would have been a great hike, but unfortunately I can't call it that. My hiking boots, my backpack and waterbottle, all of these were out of place. Upon arriving, I found out that this technical trail is actually the only access to the village. So, really, this was just a daily commute. I should have been wearing flip-flops and a blazer, carrying a briefcase or a basket of fruit on my head if I wanted to fit in.

One of the members I met lives at the furthest South end of the village, offering incredible views of Lake Nyasa in the distance, and the jagged, rocky peaks of the Southern Livingstone range, almost within reach. These mountains are steep and remote. There is no visible agriculture or houses, and from Imehe, they look like piles of dark sand.

The best part about these walks is the people. Everyone is so appreciative of the effort made to greet them that they treat me like an ambassador. They offer me food, they show me their homes, introduce me to their families and always offer gifts. Being peasants for the most part, their gifts are what they are farming - ranging from sweet potatoes, to assorted greens, or, my favorite, a sunfish! This was given to me today in Makwavuta where a bunch of members have gotten together to work on group projects, one of them being a nursery. Even though they forgot to bring a net when showing me the ponds, they wanted so badly to give me a fish that two of them dove in with one of the women's shawls, skimming the water for almost an hour before finally catching one.

But aside from the friendliness of the people, I've gained a much more realistic sense of my surroundings. My tiny Bulongwa is a bustling metropolis compared to some of these villages. From Lupasso, Imehe is barely visible, but from Imehe, Bulongwa looks heavily manicured, with neatly arranged plots and dotted with houses, of sheet metal, not grass, roofs. Futhermore, the electricity I took for granted (and cursed when it went out every few hours) is extremely rare. Not only is this one of the few towns in the district to have power, the PIUMA office is a rarity even in Bulongwa. Road access is almost as sparse, and the guys I work with have told me stories of having to walk to villages to physically carry sick members back to Bulongwa for treatment.

I probably should have noticed this sooner. Since I arrived in Njombe, almost 3 weeks ago, everywhere I go I'm asked to give a speech. People here don't seem to understand that I'm just another stupid student. In my speeches, which have started to become natural and familiar now, though quite uncomfortable at first, I usually give a description of why I'm here and what I'm doing. The tell-tale sign should have been that my line, "I'm here to help set up a website," takes more than five minutes to translate!

What has become overwhelmingly apparent to me is that Tanzania is very fragmented. The gap between the rich and poor is continually widening. The further you get from Dar the worse things get for people, and the less opportunity there is for that to change. Kids either grow up to become peasant farmers like their parents, or they somehow scrape together enough cash to get to a city, where they'll likely sell crap on the street, sending a pittance home for their parents' retirements. But, it has been jarring to see how much people can accomplish, even when disconnected from everywhere but their village, and how surprizingly modern they are. It's easy to joke around and carry out conversation (with translator of course) and we seem to understand each other, even though we should have nothing in common. Not to mention, as far as I've been, cell-phone reception is always 4 bars or more - if only the same were true back home.