Happy Spring!

I hear nice weather has finally arrived; this is my favorite time of year in Florida and I wish I could be there to enjoy it. The rainy season has finally arrived here though and brought nice cooler weather with it. It’s in the mid 80s without torturous humidity. With the cooler weather comes millions of mosquitoes but bring it on….my 100% deet will keep them away. It will also eat through my clothes and give me cancer but hey, at least I won’t get malaria this month!

In February myself and three friends ventured to the Usambara Mountains in the northern part of the country in order to escape the heat. The enjoyable six hour car ride allowed me to see Tanzanian countryside that I hadn’t yet experienced. The mountains were beautiful; the air was cool and lacked the crippling humidity that was present in Dar. There had recently been rain, so the vegetation was green and lush and the air was silent but for the birds chirping in the distance. We stayed the first night at a Swiss run farm on the outskirts of town. The man who ran it did so with exact Swiss efficiency that hadn’t waned in the last 30 years that he has lived in Tanzania. The chalet in which we stayed was beautifully decorated with wooden Alpine furniture and a fireplace and was impeccably clean (a treat here in Tz). The food was amazing and the views rejuvenated the soul.

Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication about price and after some quick money pooling and calculations, we realized that we did not collectively bring enough money to stay for two more nights. With happy stomachs and sad hearts we set out down the mountain to the town in the valley and found accommodations at a Lutheran hostel. This was ¼ of the price of the last place and most certainly was not Swiss. The cleanliness was questionable, the toilet ran the entire time we were there, water from the shower was considered a luxury and therefore could not be counted on, and when it was working it smelled like a stagnant pond with decaying animals. I began to wonder if I would get a bacterial infection through my pores. Thank God for Wet Ones- the Wal-Mart wipes that are good for cleaning everything from your apple to your body!

We spent a day and a half led by our amazing guide, Kelvin, hiking through the Usambaras learning about its history, local plant uses, and insight into the life of the villagers who call the mountains their home. A huge majority of the local Tanzanian produce is grown in these mountains. As we walked through corn fields, carrot farms, and pear orchards is was sobering to see people who were obviously lacking nutritional stability and needed these crops but were forced to sell them to hotels and restaurants in the big cities in order to make a living.

Some points in the hike were steep uphill climbs. I wheezed and grumbled under my breath during these arduous moments as I clambered up the mountain cursing the Snickers bar I ate the day before (and the day before that too). As fate would have it, these instances were exacerbated by the sudden appearance of four or six small children, all under the age of twelve, who, while balancing baskets laden with fruit or cloth, would scamper past me, oblivious to the sheer physical exhaustion I was suffering. Every one of them did the same thing: they would pass me and then turn around to wave and smile as if to say “So long, sucker” before continuing on their journeys undaunted. The little brats—hadn’t their parents taught them not to brag?!

The momentary bodily exhaustion was given some relief, however, during other parts of the hike. The scenery was breathtaking; with hills and valleys that seemed to sing their own beauty and praise their creator. Every hour we would walk through a small mountain village of no more than fifty people. The children were always the first to detect our arrival and would run to the center of the dwellings to announce our entry. They lined up giving out high fives as if to say “Glad you FINALLY made it up that little ole' hill we saw you on three hours ago!”

I absolutely adored our base town of Lushoto and look forward to venturing to the mountains again. Next time Kelvin, our guide, said he would accompany me on a multi-day hike through the mountains and we could stay in the villages where I can learn all about the daily lives of the people who live there. I’m looking forward to my next visit!

I want to make a quick shift and share one of my favorite things about Tanzanian people: their true compassion and anguish when someone is ill. When a Tanzanian learns that I am not feeling well, he or she will immediately cease all other activity, look me in the eye with a grieving face and say “ pole sana” which roughly translates to “I’m very sorry.” It’s startling different than it is in the states because I know that they truly are incredibly sorry, almost painfully so, even if they don’t know you. I appreciate the care and concern that even strangers have for each others in regards to ones health and well-being. And now for the complaint…

Growing up in Florida where sandals are worn nearly year around has made me accustom to people not picking up their feet when they walk. Nevertheless, it always has been and will continue to be one of my biggest pet peeves. It drives me crazy when I hear the constant shuffle as one walks around. I want to use my ‘teacher voice’ and sternly yell ‘PICK UP YOUR FEET!’ as my eyes widen faces grimaces. I never would have believed it could get any worse but I am now here to tell you: it can and it has. People here are masters of the Tanzanian Shuffle. Everywhere you go the sound of shuffling feet blasts at you from all directions. The other day I was walking down a road and a half dozen people were 200 feet away but walking towards me. Their collective feet dragging made it sound as if a gigantic street cleaner was sweeping the roads. I wish it were--then it could sweep them away!

I had originally planned on buying a car but once I arrived and witnessed first hand the ungodly amount of traffic on the small, underdeveloped streets I decided it would usually be faster just to walk. This has proven to be true. I also have neighbors with cars and can get a ride with them at times. When I do need to get somewhere myself I can call a Tanzanian man named Deo any hour of the day or night and he will come and give me a lift- he’s a sort of unofficial taxi driver. He has also filled in as my body guard, translator, errand runner, and shopping expert at times.

If I do want to go somewhere by myself and I’m in no hurry to get there and don’t care if I arrive smelly and disheveled (if I'm so lucky as to arrive at all), I will take one of the Tanzanian ‘delights’ known as the dala dala. These minibuses have seats for about 16-18 people, however the seat counts mean nothing here. I think that there is a secret competition amongst its travelers to see how many people (and sometimes animals) we can get into the bus. The highest counts I have so far experienced has been 25 plus 2 goats, produce headed for the market, and the 3 cardboard boxes filled with everything from cd cases to fire extinguishers. Some ride that was! The toll collectors for each bus stand at the door and are called ‘mpigadebe’ which literally translates to ‘a person who hits a debe’ (a 4 gallon container used for transporting gasoline). This title was given because of their habit of keeping the door open and hanging themselves out while hitting the roof and side of the van to attract customers and also to signal to the driver that passengers are at least nearly aboard and the journey can commence.

The cargo is stuffed between legs, under chairs, on top of laps, rested atop heads, or any other place it can manage. People are sitting, standing, and sometimes even lying across others (I’ve seen it done- no lie!). I once was at a stop and when the dala dala approached it seemed to be bursting at its seams. Rule number one for the mpigadebe though is NEVER to turn away a passenger. After 30 seconds of all passengers inhaling and throwing arms and any other movable object out the window, a spot big enough for me to stand in was created—I just had to remember not to exhale too strongly! Actually, I shouldn’t inhale more than I have to either. Living in a place with heat like Florida in July amongst residence who do not bathe regularly, have only 1 outfit that is not often washed, and do not use hygiene products makes for a clash of smells that reminds me of a porto potty, meat packing plant, men’s locker room, fish market, rotten eggs, and a garbage can all clashed together.

The way that these busses roar through the streets is another unbelievable feat all together. The drivers have more road rage than any testosterone-driven man on a Hollywood car chase scene. I think they truly become the devil reincarnate, out to get as many casualties as they can. As they rumble down the roads at speeds not conducive to balancing the dozens of passengers they weave unyieldingly in and out of every unweavable spot; running off the road as many vehicles and pedestrians as possible. It does not help the situation when, across the front or back window, they display names such as ‘Titanic’, ‘One More Try’, and ‘Allah Help Us’. If you come and visit me I will surely take you on one of these memorable adventures; it’s something you’ve got to do once in your life. I still don’t know why I even dare riding on these things. Near, far, wherever you are, know this: if I continue riding on the ‘Titanic’, I believe that my heart will not go on….

Sometimes people try to jump on or off while the dala dala is moving through traffic. Here the police man sits and watches.

Well, that’s enough writing for me tonight. I started this blog a few weeks ago and then got caught up with work and forgot about it until yesterday. Since I started writing this post I have actually spent a week in Zambia for my Spring Break. My next blog update will tell you all about it and will finally include some pictures of my house and classroom! In the meantime, use the link below to explore pictures I posted on Facebook from my trip to the mountains that I talked about earlier. I’ve also posted 5 pictures of Mount Kilimanjaro as seen from my airplane window. I can’t wait for my attempt to summit it in July! As always, I hope that you have enjoyed reading and would LOVE to get feedback from you either through a post comment or e-mail!

Mountains:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2540529&id=5132789&l=c5e3583225

Kilimanjaro:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2546829&id=5132789&l=34f3f386f5