milk or cottage cheese, its hard to tell ...

this post is destined to be less anecdotal in light of the obstacles facing our project ... fasten your seat belts (as if they have those in tanzania).  november has thrown us a bucket of lemons.  between my malaria (which returned with a vengeance only a week after completing my first round of medication) and the headway we had already made researching sunflower oil production and profit margins, we were indescribably frustrated when the expected "vuli", or short rains, continued to elude us.  rightfully so, the farmers in kikundi resisted our request that they continue cultivating their land for sunflower planting, saying that the sun was simply drying out the soil and there was little hope of precipitation in sight; however, we saw a need to prepare the land in advance of said rains, should the come.  so we began a waiting game ... it was too early to give up on the idea of sunflower, yet all signs were pointing toward this need.  as of december, we decided that even if the rains arrive, january and february will be so hot (ugh) that it will stunt the plant's growth and therefore "haribiko", or destroy, the crop.  and thus, our project idea was suffering the same fate as the maize currently wilting in the fields. 

but one invaluable piece of information derived from the month of november was our observation as to the shift in work amongst the farmers in kwakiliga.  we had become accustomed to a large group of men sitting underneath the community tree at the center of town during the heat of the day, in between their morning and evening "shifts" in the field ... and to women and children selling beautiful produce from baskets at dusk ... and to men eating at the hotelini for breakfast in anticipation of the hard labor they were about to endure ... and to the kikundi members showing up in a timely fashion to our weekly meetings.  yet the heat put an end to these habits.  the produce being sold is small and tired ... and the need to weed or plant is suspended with the change in weather ... and men are opting to sit in the shade of their homes rather than in hotelinis or under the community tree ... and the kikundi members are becoming "no shows" one by one.  we have therefore identified an imperative need to shift the community's mindset, as heat and crop failure needn't be correlative.  we are currently working with kikundi to pivot the group's momentum in a new direction which unifies the ideas of "homesteading" and "permaculture" through the use of household waste water ... abdicating their dependence upon rainfall.  we are in the midst of planning the installation of said plots, and i shall discuss the idea at greater length once the planning "curtain" has been dropped.

to offer something comedic in this post ... we have developed a horrid rat problem which is somewhat of an inevitability given the gaps in our corrugated metal roof.  they've eaten the hot peppers in the kitchen.,chewed through the rope i use to hang cards in my room, and even used my mosquito bednet as a play area.  when rolling over in bed a few weeks ago, i accidentally punched one only a few inches from my face and twice now they have run directly between my feet.  yes, i shrieked.  but a smarter person than myself would have realized that a rat infestation equates to a second and larger problem ... hold your breath!  last week, while i was in korogwe buying rat proofing supplies, sarah called me in a bit of a panic.  she was in the middle of writing a letter to hey boyfriend when she heard a rustling and looked down to see a large, gray, four foot snake slithering between her feet and, in one fell swoop, ran out the front door yelling "Saidi! Njoo! Nyoka! Kubwa!" which translates to "Help! Come! Snake! Big" and the group of men constructing a house next door started running at full speed towards the house with sticks and knives.  they searched for fifteen minutes before finding it in the guest room, astonished as to its size and speed and frantically beating it.  after the head had been severed and the men stood out back smoking cigarettes and congratulating each other, one approached sarah and said "nyoke, mbaya.  mbaya SANA" meaning "snake, bad.  VERY bad."  the experience, however, has given me great appreciation as to the seriousness with which the kwakiligan community values our safety.  lets hope snakes don't travel in twos!

to lighten the seriousness of those sorts of shenanigans, we have adopted a new game we like to call "things you can't explain to a tanzanian", which is proving to be rather hilarious.  um, votives?  sporks?  skydiving?  life is full of practicalities here, so the superfluousness of Western possessions is comedic even to me.  for instance, two days ago i spent the afternoon eating ugali and greens with a woman named joes keah (joes is their spelling for joyce) who kindly offered me milk at the end of my meal.  i accepted, assuming she meant in conjunction with tea as per usual, but instead watched her pour what appeared to be large curds of cottage cheese into a plastic cup ... fat.  in light of this, i think it is safe to add "non-fat milk" to the game's list.  to her, it is a source of energy and sustenance, but to me it is a texture i had to force down despite my gag reflect and, later, apologize to my body for having subjected it to something unpalatable.  stomach of steel!

here's what malaria is like...

its actually not as bad as you might think.  but i might be saying this as one of the lucky ones that avoided strong waves of nausea, which is the PITS!  after six days of being away from Kwakiliga, i was feeling rather guilty at my malaise and time spent indoors until it dawned on me i was tired. really tired.  first, my lymph nodes started swelling and i had an outrageously sore throat (no amount of drinking, eating, or speaking was done without pain).  second, i started waking up later than normal, but still climbing back into bed around 9:00 a.m. after being up for only an hour or two.  third, i had numb headaches and annoying body aches (mostly below the waist).  fourth, i developed a fever that rose 0.1 degrees every 10 minutes or so until i finally reached 101.9 and knew it was time to visit the doctor. 

and that was when i fell in love with kwakiliga all over again.  sarah ran through town asking people if they had rice and beans we could purchase so i would have food in my belly and, since news travels quickly, the town was already well aware of my condition and need for sustenance.  so they practically led her from hotelini to hotelini, duka to duka, until one man in our farmer's group named Yuberi (who LOVES saying "andrea na sarah") took her to a duka and explained "andrea is sick!  she needs food!"  which resulted in a plate of food in an otherwise sparse town.  and in my final few minutes of gathering my belongings before departing, i was approached by both hordes of little kids who were concerned as to my health and also Mzee Adamu (the  sweet farmer who didn't know how many days were in a week), who not long ago offered Sarah some of his land so that she and her "husband" might stay indefinitely, and just yesterday offered to take me in and care for me.  in fact, he seemed surprised i hadn't requested it already. 

the "hospital" was at the former mission and consisted of several rooms, each of which you made a visit to without really knowing the purpose.  reception?  prognosis?  diagnosis?  i came armed with my own sterile needles just in case a blood test was necessary, but luckily the joint was generally quite clean.  and the lab technician, though standing in a random hallway to draw blood samples, wore snazzy shoes ... which is a silly thing to reflect upon but a reliable means of gauging one's professionalism.  ten minutes later, with a piece of paper written in scribbles none of us could understand (despite understanding the language) i reported back to room number two and was diagnosed with malaria ... and told not to look so happy when reporting to the doctor.  smiles are not okay.  its now been 18 hours since my first dose of medication and my fever went from 102.1 last night to 98.5 today ... and my biggest obstacle now is continuing to rest which, to anyone who knows me, is a challenge. 

swim at midnight, sunrise at dawn...

oh, how the mighty blogger has fallen!  sincere apologies for the delay in posting, we've been in the thick of project development and i've resorted to letter writing as opposed to blog writing for my literary outlet.  what else can one do by candle light?  shame on me, you might say ... except if you're amongst the lucky ones to have received said letters in which case thanks for being my comedic (or emotional) outlet.

where to start.  lets just let the picture to the right permeate the forthcoming entry of this blog, which has the following emphasis:  R.E.L.A.X.A.T.I.O.N. 

one of the benefits of a three month Tanzanian visa is the need to cross the Kenyan border in order to renew it.  and what better excuse than this to spend a few days away from the rough and ready lifestyle of Kwakiliga ... 36 hours with little more than a bikini, bottomless tropical fruit smoothies, and turquoise waters.  the current tumultuous political climate seems to have people at home more concerned that the westerners currently residing in Kenya (or at least those living in Mombasa which is perhaps too far south to suffer an attack from Somalia) and i, personally, felt little more than stress leaving my muscles.  it was an eight hour journey (including a border crossing in which we must disembark the bus, check-out of Tanzania and then walk 100 yards into Kenya where we must check-in.  the whole time i was picturing one of those films about refugees who are making their final walk into the country of safe harbor.  except in my version you can buy fresh coconuts on the sidelines from people who speak english).  the beach was splendid, though equatorial sun is rather intense and i now have a bow-shaped mark on my back from my bikini tie.  awkward.  on our final night we managed to dance on the beach until 2:00 a.m., take a dip in the Indian Ocean on the walk home (imagine black water fading into black skies, with fog blurring the horizon line and little more than strong starlight and fishing boats providing light), and awake for a striking sunrise at dawn.  and i ate a lot of cheese. 

and now ... the sunflower saga.  ages ago (really less than a month ago) we finally persuaded a few of the members of the farmer’s group to travel to Handeni with their bags of sunflower seeds to a machine that processes seeds into crude oil, the purpose being to collect the numbers necessary to calculate the profitability of the endeavor ... before structuring a loan to the farmers for the coming season (as many are unable to buy seeds).  to get there, we awoke at 4:30 in the morning and waited at the bus stand (bear in mind this is just a small tree with rocks beneath it) for a passing car to haul us and our loot.  ironically, sitting atop bags of dried fish and onions in the back of a lorrie with a bunch of young Tanzanian men wasn’t an awful way to spend a wednesday morning … better than the jam-packed bus ride i endeavored this morning which was smelly, sweaty, and full of masai herders who insisted upon asking questions and laughing at my expense (until the conductor told them to shut their pie holes because they were hurting his ears).  the information we gathered was this:

• lorries are more expensive for white people than native Africans
• it costs 150 shillings per kilo to clean your sunflower seeds prior to crushing, or 50 shillings for the crushing itself (this seemed illogical until we opted to do the cleaning ourselves and, four hours later, were covered in dust and suffered the same soreness felt after you’ve completed a maddening round of those little arm circles they make you do in gym class)
• each bag of seeds weighs roughly 50 kilos and, once crushed, produces 25% oil (i.e. a 50 kilo bag yields 12.5 liters of oil)
• people in Tanzania don’t necessarily plan for journeys such as these. one farmer neither cleaned her seeds before coming nor helped clean her seeds once in Handeni nor recalled that it was necessary to bring buckets to haul her oil … thus she purchased two and depleted her meager profit
• if you don’t sell your crude oil on the spot, the machine operator won’t offer a second sale since he’s unsure if the oil’s been tampered with
• if you opt to refine your oil further with a second machine, it costs 2,000 shillings a bucket and a second trip to Handeni (which defeats the purpose as you’ve paid for double the journey and must wait 3 days for the dirt to settle on the bottom of the bucket before refining … yet the dirt is redistributed throughout the oil after the rather bumpy second journey to Handeni) 

with the information we gathered, we determined the likelihood of profitability in good and worse conditions and, because we are offering a “group” as opposed to “individual” loan, calculated that even if a small percentage of farmers do well (i.e. 5 out of 16), they are able to cover the loan costs of the entire group and still have a small profit margin.  thus, we drafted a two page document outlining every possible scenario which might affect the sunflower crop or the group’s ability to pay back our loan  and  ... you know what's hard? TRANSLATING LEGAL JARGON ON THE FLY IN SWAHILI TO A GROUP OF GENERALLY UNEDUCATED FARMERS.  baby steps, as bob wylie might say.  

but at the end of the day, its faces like those in the photograph at left that make us thrilled.  that's zuberi ibrahimu,  treasurer of the farmers group and the clint eastwood to our kwakiliga.  upon completing his field cultivation and receiving his seeds, he said "give me one week and return here, i will have my seeds planted".  now that's a good sport.  speaking of good sports ... one last anecdote before signing off.  in an attempt to both better understand the lives of the farmers in Kwakiliga and prove our dedication to improving them, we bought jembays (hand hoes) which were fashioned by a 200 year old man named saki dahi (picture at right) and have been taking to the fields on a daily basis (don't believe me? ask for a picture of my callouses).  on one fateful day, i took a swing with the hoe and heard a faint chirp, only to see a tiny, featherless, newborn bird lying on the ground with one wing distorted and beak open from stress.  what does one do in this situation?  CRY.  CRY LIKE A LITTLE GIRL.  i very seriously considered taking it home with me, as though my actions had earned me the responsibility of keeping the sweet thing alive ... that is, until the farmer whose land i was working said "why are you crying?  that bird will grow up and eat my sunflowers!"  can't argue that point.

hurt my arse on an armrest...

i simply couldn't think of a better way to encapsulate last week's journey to Korogwe than with that "title".  it marked the first day in weeks that we were able to board a bus which a) arrived at a convenient hour and b) wasn't packed to the brim, though i did find myself sitting in the very back row, left corner seat, right above the wheel well and unable to shake the outkast lyrics "back of the bus" from my mind.  now, this road is normally bumpy but this trip redefined the term and, having grown accustomed to the regularity of being tossed from my seat due to the proximity of the wheel wheel and the bumpiness of the roads, my fellow teenage passengers and i were caught by surprise when we were launched a good two feet up out of our chairs (emphasis on "up") ... and i landed upon my arm rest.  got the bruise to prove it.

the last few weeks have been both trying and rewarding, as they have catapulted me into a sense of self confidence and comfort in Kwakiliga that i previously strove for.  having come to terms with the reality that no matter how swimmingly sarah and i get along, we need an identity apart from each other as well as continued contact from our support network back home (this would be a passive request for more regular contact, folks, as empty inboxes are becoming depressing).  so in a few short weeks, i have  found ways to feel more empowered ... such as locating a running path through the remote farmlands at the edge of town. each and every time i feel as though i'm doing a strip tease as i shed my skirt and expose the leggings beneath.  the news of my kukimbia (running) has spread like wildfire through the village and i can only assume the select farmers and bikers i pass on my otherwise secluded trail have spread rumors.  

and, at the risk of sounding elementary, i'm making friends!  swahili is finally progressing to a point that i'm receiving compliments on my understanding and, better yet, am able to shoot the proverbial "you know what" with the ladies in town.  they are fierce.  one spitfire named mayassa mussa was sitting on our front porch, despite it being covered in gravel and red dirt which is a BIG "no no" in tanzanian culture.  like many before her, she hassled us to sweep so she could kupumzika (rest) on the cement  during the heat of the day and the hilarity that ensured is hard to due justice in words alone.  we explained that the little terrors (i.e. kids) in town spend hours playing in the dirt in front of our house and, no matter how often we clean, they destroy our efforts by building roads and canals out of sticks and gravel by the time we've walked back to the house.  one of them walked by the back door a few days back with a perfectly gray goatee, and it took me a moment to realize he had been eating unused cement mix.  what's more, we facetiously reenacted the children throwing rocks beneath our door, leering through the windows asking what we're cooking, lying on their bellies to see us in the hallway and narrate our activities, etc.  mayassa, diva that she is, called over the two oldest girls and said, in swahili of course, "tomorrow, you will come here and sweep this porch.  then you will bring water and clean it.  you will do this."  then looking at us, "they will do this."  if all else fails, ain't no shame in hitting them., right? when in tanzania ...


now ... for some bullet pointed anecdotes about tanzanian culture. 

• men seem incapable of zipping their flies
• even 6 year olds are able to peel an orange with a knife in a single long strand
• one woman, Joes (i.e. Joyce) Keah makes tea that tastes like the milk left over from a bowl of fruit loop.  and her biceps rival Mike Tyson
• the Swahili clock operates 6 hours behind, so when people tell you its 10:00 it is actually 4:00
• the first time i saw another white person, i flipped my sh** and understood why people stare at me
• the shirts are priceless, mostly ironic ones you'd never see worn back home.  case in point: button-up collared shirt with a repetitive pattern of Saddam Hussein's face
• most homes are made out of mud bricks, and alarmingly often people pick off pieces and eat it.  our favorite is a woman, 9 months pregnant, who calls it "nutritious" and "good for the baby"

how many days are in the week, you ask ...

its proving to be a bit of a challenge to write two weeks worth of happenings into a single post.  the obstacle is less about the volume of information and more about my short term memory.  but this i can tell you without question: i. am. lucky.  i remember this often, and not just in terms of relative wealth ... but that people PAID for me to be here!  this reality never ceases to amaze me, like the the other night when i rode on the back of a pikipiki at dusk ... out of the plains and into the foothills with blue skies above and red dirt below.  

Kwakiliga continues to be a source of rejuvenation. the community members are a delight and it seems as though i have a new favorite each day.  Mariamu, a curvy lady with an infectious smile, operates the hotelini next to my home and puts a skip in my step most mornings.  don't be deceived by the word "hotel" in "hotelini" as it stands for 1) an inn 2) a restaurant 3) a community sitting space 4) a bar and so on ... yet it consists of only one small table, two benches, and a coal stove.  she came to our house one afternoon to teach us to make a tortilla-like bread called chapati, which is one of the most involved preparatory culinary adventures as of late and, naturally, we make it daily.  (davis folks:  it's reminiscent to the micaela tortillas out of woodland and yes, Danny and Lexi, i can buy coarse salt, avocado, and lime).  Adamu, my newest favorite, lives at the village's edge nearest to the farmlands.  he seems highly uneducated, or at least i presume since he was unable to answer the question "how many days are in a week?"  and  has  only a few front teeth which makes it rather difficult to understand him.   in hindsight, i harbor a bit of guilt for naming his dog "Theo" ... or "Seo" as he pronounces it.


the kids are also constantly teetering between being unbearably annoying and utterly endearing, which makes it all the more difficult to be angry when they are little you-know-whats.  since we continue to be more regular fixtures in the community, they are a little less enthralled by our presence, and thus tend to leer through the windows with less frequency ... and they are increasingly comfortable with initiating conversations, which is a dramatic improvement from the following:  THEM: "Andelea" ME: "bei" (meaning the feminine "yes") THEM: silence.  it also means they tend to take us a little less seriously, especially since unlike their parents we won't abuse them when they misbehave.  one little boy in particular likes to test us by taking a plastic bottle and dragging it against our cement porch to make a sound worse than nails on a chalkboard.  when we yell "toka" meaning leave, he simply laughs and says "sitoki" meaning i won't leave.  though with all of their attempts to try our patience, there are a handful that i'm planning to stick in my pack and bring home after i've freed up some room.


the pictures i've included in this post are from an event at Mama Halima's house ... for those of you who aren't aware of our trying relationship with the woman, we somewhat facetiously refer to her as our "mother in law" ... a name she earned when she began disapprovingly sweeping our unkempt floors.  she stopped by one morning asking if we'd like to come to a singing event at her house and, thinking it was just another rendition of the traditional Islamic songs practiced nightly in our backyard, we loosely agreed.  i.  was.  wrong.  her entire yard was covered with mzees (elders) and watoto (children) and it wasn't until sitting in the living room with the somber women that we began to question the purpose of the festivities which ... up until that point ... we thought were celebratory.  when we asked Mama Halima she said "baba, alikufa".  with jaws dropped, we realized that her father had passed away and this was his funeral.  its moments like those that make us value this community because even when facing hardship and strife, they exude cheer.  i could learn a thing or two (as could we all).

those weren't lentils, they were beans...

gosh.  it's approaching two in the morning but i can't tear myself away from the computer as it's the first time in weeks that my internet stick is shining "blue" meaning "fast" connection.  i'm jubilant at notion that i've just  completed my list of online "to do's" in a single sitting, a task which until this evening was stagnated by my standard measurement of time: one page loading per five minutes of thumb twiddling.  my patience is both being tested and built!

with one month out of eight under my belt, i can hardly wait to begin digging into project development in kwakiliga.  i've adapted quickly to the environment (thanks dad, for  preparing me with our somewhat torturous and extended camping trips) as well as our daily routines: get buckets of water from the spiggot at the center of town.  get laughed at by women and children capable of carrying said buckets on their head rather gracefully while i lug mine off balance.   prepare three meals a day on a kerosene stove and identify where raw ingredients (if any) can be purchased.  practice Swahili both in the comfort of my unfurnished home and by initiating conversations with community members who are patient enough not to laugh when I say something as eloquent as "you.  maize.  good?"

the village itself is poor in income but rich in culture.  it is Tanzanian custom to welcome people ... to the country, to the town, to the store ... I can hardly walk a few feet without someone saying "karibou nyumbani" meaning you're welcome to our house.  the danger is depending upon the hour of the day, you may well be convinced to stay for dinner and served a seemingly large portion of food, which is actually the amount consumed by their entire family.  hunger is very present.  there is one particularly innovative farmer in the village named Mzee Mcharo, our "baba" or father, who seems to be able to provide for himself and others who are less fortunate through innovative and diversified farming.  some of my favorite mornings have been spent with his family under the shade tree on their property.  their youngest daughter Magdalena was shy at first and i wondered if teaching her tic tac toe might set her at ease ... so, grabbing a stick, i drew a game in the dirt and made her observe as my partner Sarah and i played.  not only did she understand AND get excited, but she taught us a Tanzanian version that is FAR superior and will certainly be coming home with me.  

this past week also marked the end of Ramadan and, as the majority of our village is Muslim i have been woken most mornings at 5:00 a,m. by young boys from the community rising people for prayer.  but on the sikuku (meaning holiday) i awoke at 12:30 a.m. to drums and singing right outside my window ... the enthusiasm of which permeated even the following day's activities.  it's like Muslim Christmas!  everyone gets new clothes, eats an absurd bounty of food (i had four carb loaded meals before the afternoon), and celebrate together with song, dance, and a heated shirts vs skins soccer match.  we felt fortunate to be so welcomed to a celebration quite different from the previous weekend's three hour church service (like i said, building patience) and are feeling more integrated into the community daily ... though i've hardly forgotten the community i've forged at home and hope that any readers will send letters my way:

PO Box 506

Korogwe, Tanga

Tanzania

East Africa

Kwakiligan eve, recapping the travels...

now that i'm finally adjusted to the time change in Tanzania and have a wee break from my Swahili studies, i'm going to do my damnedest to share my stories from East Africa thus far.  i made it to Dar Es Salaam on Friday morning (last week) and though i'm no stranger to long flights, this one seemed especially taxing.  the summer had been a whirlwind of preparations before my departure and to add to my already exhausted state, i began my journey with two nights of near sleeplessness (a mere three hours of snoozing between them).  the first leg was delayed and the second and third legs were long but i had the amazing fortune of seeing my friend Carlene for lunch in London ... we've not seen each other since her wedding four years ago this April. 

landing in Dar Es Salaam was a bit of a shock, as the city (dare i say) has little redeeming value.  at least that's my impression from the two day's time i was afforded.  the airport is small and cramped but apparently the pride of the city.  the taxis all have broken seats and doors that won't open without the proper manhandling.  the city center's streets are both unpaved and pockmarked, so the rains turn it into an smelly and sloshy mess.  with what i've since learned about Tanzanian history, i wasn't the least bit surprised to learn that India has a strong presence in the country in general and Dar in specific.  its coastal locale along the Indian Ocean trade route landed many Indian immigrants in Dar and it isn't uncommon to meet a person of Indian decent whose family spanned seven generations of Tanzanians.  the streets remind me very much of Chennai, as does the traffic: buses whose aisles are uncomfortably packed with people, bicycles hauling seven layers of eggs or bags of charcoal, and modest dress that shows neither shoulders nor legs.  on our first day, we did little more than eat dinner and beetlenut digestives (also an Indian regularity), but on the second day we traveled to  Kariakoo, Tanzania's largest market.  it is three stories of goods, the basement of which houses some of the loveliest produce and, incidentally, some of the strongest odors.  one of the 2Seeds project teams will be stationed there for the purpose of increasing the lines of communication between small subsistence farmers (like those i'll be working with in Kwakiliga) and vendors ... capitalizing on a connection pioneered by one of last year's teams whose farmers altered their entire production system upon seeing the high prices an urban market can reap.  therein lies the power of information sharing.

after my travels of late, Kariakoo didn't seem nearly as overwhelming as we were warned, however i was keenly aware of how conspicuous we were arriving as a bus of "wazungus" without 45 Tanzanians crammed into our aisles or some derivation of a Jesus Christ logo hanging from the bumper.  or even worse, how excessive it was being parked in front of quite honestly the skinniest man i have ever seen  who was confined to a wheelchair because his muscles were too weak to carry him and his face was so taut he couldn't close his lips.  i became quite concerned that this foreshadowed my future in Kwakiliga and it is a thought i continue to fear and harbor. 

after Dar was a long bus journey to the north, specifically to the town of Korogwe which is most commonly known as half way point (and bus depot break) between Dar and the wealthier urban city Arusha.  love.  it.  here.  the town is small, the people are friendly, the size is manageable, and the baby goats are cute as all heck.  i've already been here a week and am regretting not having posted a blog sooner ... since much can be forgotten in one week's time, but truth be told we spent most of our days learning Swahili and eating vegetable curry on repeat so i can narrate the best stories in a few short anecdotes.  on Wednesday, we traveled by truck to Magoma, the site of last year's successful school shamba (farm) project that converted a few acres of unused land into a profitable venture that subsidized meals for the school children.  it is hard to gauge poverty be any normal standard, because visuals are counter-intuitive to the smiles, enthusiasm, and generosity so seamlessly exuding from the villagers.  they will quite literally offer you everything they have and do so with a smile, because your presence is a blessing.  i hear this often.  the children are hams, and as it is common to hold hands in Tanzanian culture (most often men and men, occasionally women and women) i could hardly walk without having a line of 5 kids on either side of me and another 20 bringing up the rear.  my favorite trick was to answer the Kisambaa tribe in their own dialect, which is lesser known, and brings the loudest laughter even amongst the elderly. 


just yesterday, after an exhausting day at the sokoni (market) i spent the afternoon with our Korogwe babu (grandfather) and before meeting him, i was warned he would hug me aggressively and might grab my face ... and then slap it.  which is exactly what happened.  a jovial muslim man no larger than 5 foot 2 who could not stop giggling at my laugh and how it reminded him of a German missionary named Andrew Mischnik who passed through years ago.  for the next hour, whenever i so much as smirked, he would either grab my chin  at the most awkward of moments, slap my back, stick my head in his armpit while slapping my face, or any combination thereof ... all with a hearty laugh.  Sarah, to whom babu referred to as "marsoom" f(rom an old Tanzanian dialect meaning cherub or angelic baby) and i have decided to cease calling this blog "the kwakiliga project" and instead call it "the adventures of Mischnik and Marsoom".  quite rightly.


on the eve of my journey to Kwakiliga, i feel ready.  i feel as though preparations have been so extensive that i want to "live" it rather than hear about it.  the last two days of gathering supplies and food and home furnishings was an exhausting endeavor with my rough and unconfident Swahili, but with my trusty partner Sarah by my side we managed to acquire everything from millet flour to kerosene, local candles to nascar drinking glasses, sunflower oil to curtains.  oh, and did i mention seeing a Saddam Hussein shirt in the process?  with that, i'll be incommunicado for 2 weeks, and wish dearly i could both write more frequently and upload photos to the blog (korogwe and internet speed are in a bit of a disagreement, i fear).  in the meantime, please do send comments and words of encouragement, as i'm shortly entering a village with language barriers, regular water shortages (the taps quite literally run dry), and a dearth of "me time".  positivity welcome!

fundraising event details...!

many of you have been inquiring the details for this event, my apologies for the delay as i've been fixated on my exit exam!  but to those who want to attend, here you are:

WHEN: july 30th

WHERE: 292 townsend street, san francisco, ca 94107

WHAT: silent auction and general farewell "do"

the location is the newest addition to the bloomspot workspace (bloomspot was my employer these last 3 months) and, incidentally, a former art gallery.  we've had one work related event there to date and it is just asking for good times.  my lovely friend jennifer has arranged for three DJs to spin over the course of the night and we have all sorts of goodies up for auction and general sale.  here is a list to give you an idea:

• gift certificate to boulevard (SF) ($100 value)
• gift certificate to monk's kettle (SF) ($50 value)
• gift certificate to allsaint's spitalfields (SF) ($25 value)
• one hour photo session with Katie Jewell-Colomb ($85 value)
• dinner for four (food only) provided by Meg Goldsmith ($250 value)
• two night weekend (three night weekday) stay at lovely bodega bay home ($600 value)

as for refreshments, we will have cookies and brownies for dessert and bruschetta made with  fresh tomatoes and basil from the UC Davis student farm.  i'm working on getting a keg donated, but if worse comes to worse i might purchase one in the hopes of recouping some money from the auction.  so come!  spend money!  and send me to Africa in style!

two weeks...

i'd be lying it i said i was entirely at ease with the impending departure.  there is much to do, much to resolve, and much to accomplish in these final two weeks and if the mental preparatory battles weren't mountainous enough, i'm knee deep in studying for my master's exit exam.  much to my own surprise, i'm finding much pleasure in preparing for it, though the limited time and abundant material aren't exactly complimentary.  so while writing this, i am calming my nerves by eating my body weight in chunky monkey ice cream and watching bad (emphasis on bad) television.  oh, and using piles of academic papers for a blanket.

this past week has been quite interesting with respect to the TZ preparations.  it is quite rare to be so intimately involved in a non-profit in its foundational years and it is both rewarding (to see how much value is placed upon your input) and frustrating (to see how many holes are within the existing system).  and with so many project coordinators being in their early 20's, i feel somewhat isolated in my concerns regarding health care coverage, student loan payments, and a number of other parts of life that not even i dealt with five years ago.  but just as i felt the weight of these issues bearing upon me, i had a chat with the two participants in Kwakiliga last year and heard the warmth in their voices when describing the people we are soon to meet.  little did i know how many there would be: the village numbers 1,000!

and as always, a remarkably humble "thank you" for the continued donations.  without so much as a peep from yours truly, another $600 come in through the pipelines!  $4,087 to date and we STILL have the  event on July 30th!

over half way...

reuters just released an article regarding the worsening famine conditions in East Africa in the coming year, specifically Kenya and Somalia.  the current, flawed favoritism towards using "big" agriculture to combat food shortages is often at the expense of climate health and the  [fiscal] survival  of small family farms who need profits and sustenance most.  but having gauged the amount of arable land relative to growing food demands, the U.N. recently released a statement that "small farms [are the] key to global food security".  read up! it will help you to better understand the need to improve the efficiency of subsistence farmers with limited resources.  wait...i'm doing that!

as for fundraising ... rock on, folks, we've reached $3,487 which means we're well over the $2,000 minimum required before my departure on the third of august.  talk about stress alleviation ... the proverbial mercury is a-rising!  in other news, we're collecting donated items for two different auctions: one is through bidding for good which is currently "live" with 2Seeds items, and the other is for a fundraiser scheduled for july 30th in san francisco.  if you have any goodies (i.e. gift certificates, coffee beans, time shares, etc) please offer 'em up for the sale!

bake sales work. who'd a thunk it...

never would i have presumed that the "third grade bake sale" fundraising approach would actually be a worthwhile event, but let me eat my words when saying i made $140 by selling 28 goat cheese/chocolate truffles and 21 rosemary shortbread cookies to my coworkers at bloomspot (priced at $2 and $1.50, respectively). 

for you inquisitive souls, if you did the calculation you'd realize i should have generated just under ninety dollars.  having made nearly double my anticipated amount, i don't know what to say other than this: i was worried to even announce my departure for fear that i'd get the professional axe, but instead i've earned nothing but prolific support, financial and emotional, plus some super hilarious comments such as "you're way more interesting than i thought".  cherish those.  

cooler still is the CEO's excitement at the prospect of hosting a fundraiser pour moi at our new facility: a super chic art gallery in SOMA.  keep your eyes peeled for details...and if you're at all artistically, musically, or culinary inclined, we're hoping to provide food, drink, music, and an abundance of art for a silent auction.  

lastly, the incorporated photo is of Father Komba, our closest contact in Korogwe who i had the good fortune to meet while at the Boston orientation.  his smile is infectious, and his love for tanzanian food seems all too prevalent in this tomato - centric photo.

fundraising progress...

its been a while since i've given a fundraising update, so in honor of my T - minus six week departure date, please allow me to share the good news that i'm  now a wee bit past 1/6th of the way to my goal!  huzzah! 

the truly phenomenal thing is a modest handful of generous folks were responsible for this humbling sum, and to those thirteen people I THANK YOU!  (you even get capital letters to show the depth of my gratitude).

there are still a few fundraising tricks up my sleeve, so keep checking those in-boxes for some fun and inclusive events that might entice you to leave the house and enjoy the sunny weather that is upon us.  until then, keep up the enthusiasm and support ... its contagious in the best of ways.

but wait!  upon hearing of my progress, my lovely friend and co-worker Renee Grelecki donated $10 ... so let's make that $1315! 

progress. in several regards...

my sister lauren and i had moderate success at our craft table at the winters outdoor quilt festival, especially since our booth was awkwardly placed in a patch of rose bushes.  the highlight may well have been spending the whole day together and eating lox - caper - cream cheese bagels, but on the bright side we were pleased to contribute $90 to the 2Seeds fund from our sales and the kind souls who pulled donations directly from their wallets.

because we still have much that we'd like to sell, both lauren and i will continue to donate 100% of our profits on any sales made between now and my departure. journals?  terrariums? jewelry?   check out these pictures of our craft table and let us know if you're interested in purchasing anything or finding out more about our handmade items.

in other news, i officially have my departure date: august 3rd.  let the countdown (both excitement and freak out) begin! the first two weeks i'll be in korogwe with the other project coordinators practicing our swahili and acclimating to a culture quite foreign to our own.  after that point, each of the project coordinators scatter to their respective sights and begin assimilating to their new communities...families...and homes.  to introduce you to mine, here's a bit of info about my team:

sarah pontier: born and raised outside kansas city, she to ohio (miami university) to complete a degree in international studies with a concentration on african studies.  she's a traveling fiend, having been to almost all 50 states and several other exotic locales including mali, africa and fiji.  and she, much like myself, is an organizational fanatic and avid cooker, reader, writer and consumer of music...but unlike myself, she has a self-confessed pitiful memory.

fatma mnimbo: her home town is arusha (tanzania), but she moved to dodoma to complete a degree in geography and environmental studies.  she is the baby of five siblings, one brother and three sister and her interests are as broad as her siblings: reading historical books, experiencing new cultures and languages, music and film.  she, as a tanzanian, is thrilled to be involved with 2Seeds Network and make a positive chance in her community.

fundraising progress...

thank you to the generous few who have made donations already!  i am so very appreciative of your selfless support, and hope you "pioneers" set an example for the folks who' are still considering donating.  as with all things, the beginning is the hardest part, but growing momentum is on the horizon!  

if you live in the Davis or Sacramento area, please come visit me at the winters outdoor quilt fest where my sister and i will be selling wide selection our crafts and donating 100% of the profits to 2Seeds Network.  pictures of the products will be up shortly, but details of the event are as follows:

saturday, june 11th

10 a.m. to 4 p.m

rotary park (corner of railroad and main streets)

winters, california 

best of all...it's outside!!!

  

and the preparatory journey begins...

before anything, allow me to thank you for visiting this blog because it means that you have an interest in me, my project, the community i'm soon to be living in, or any combination of the three!  the decision to commit to a nine month program that confessedly lacks the luxuries of home is a hard one to make...or is it?  the moment the option was given to me, it became all but impossible to say "no" since doing so would place my comforts on a higher totem than those living beneath the poverty line.  and so i, and by extension you through your generosity in donating, hope to make a calculable and irrefutable improvement in the lives of those much less fortunate than myself.

for those of you visiting this blog in the hopes of learning more about the 2Seeds Network and their mission, please allow me to introduce you!  there are a multitude of well intentioned development organizations in existence, though few understand the importance of community involvement starting from project inception and ending with project execution.  without local support, they risk being perceived as  foreigners imposing what they think is best in a community that is hesitant to oblige; there are countless relics of past development projects such as empty schoolhouses or rusting irrigation apparatuses that prove this method's shortcomings.   instead, with a completely novel approach, 2Seeds Network focuses upon the strong community ethics unique to the tanzanian culture and uses it as a fulcrum for initiating and maintaining sustainable development projects.  the tanzanians are the inventors, the workers, and the managers...i (or we) am merely offering a new perspective they might not otherwise see and, as a result of their management, improvements in food and income security can continue well beyond my departure.  in short, the opportunity to both participate in and donate to a project as unique and wholly selfless  as this one is rare indeed, and i am honored to be one of the few that participates in its realization!

on that note...for those of you benevolent friends and family members wondering how to make a donation, please visit the 2Seeds Network donation page where you will find a paypal link as well as information about the organization at large.   my goal is to raise $6,000 which is no easy feat, so your generosity is appreciated as well as needed.  there are other project coordinators participating in the fundraising process, so please be sure to specify my name so that i can both keep a tally and send you my thanks properly!