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!