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!