Today was “graduation day” and we only had a half-day before I needed to catch a bus, so the time crunch really sunk in. We started early and they made a battle plan of who would make a map of what area, which they were working on when Julie and Conrad returned from the Udzungwas. The original plan was that we’d leave as soon as they arrived, but of course we were behind schedule. We all tried to subtly move things along, but finally I had to insist that it was time for me to give them their certificates so we could catch the bus. We went right outside the building and I handed them each their certificate in our brief ceremony while Julie took pictures. Then we grabbed our stuff and I paid our bills at 2 separate offices on our way out. The bill for the classroom was much higher than what we’d agreed to via email before I arrived, which had caused me to be resentful that morning after all I had done to help them by coming and teaching, but Boniface was able to smooth that out. He also offered to drive us to the bus stand rather than calling and waiting for a taxi, which sped things up.
On our way out of SUA, we kept running into faculty that knew Conrad so it was a good thing we hadn’t bought tickets in advance. Our final drive through Morogoro allowed me to see what people do during the daytime—other than our lunch foray I’d only been through at night when most shops were closed. There were no chain stores and it seemed like so many of the same type of store—stationary, tailor, pharmacy, cell phone, etc. I think this is what happens when people don’t drive to stores. Walking distance allows for more duplication to be closer to their customers. I also saw lots of people on bicycles, and that everyone else was black, and most walls were painted with advertisements for cell phone companies or paint vendors. The bus stand was such a chaotic place, as Morogoro is where the main highway branches to take passengers to the capital Dodoma or further inland to Iringa. There were several bus companies with people trying to get you on their bus, not to mention all the vendors hawking their wares. I was so grateful to have Conrad and Boniface there to ensure that both we, and our things, made it onto the right bus. We were the last three to board and ended up squeezed into vacant seats in the last 2 rows. For a bus in Tanzania I can’t complain. It was cozy, but the seats were clean and I felt safe. They even had a movie to watch during the drive called “The Raid Party”. It wasn’t a good movie and I wanted to watch the landscape instead, but it was still hard not to watch it occasionally. We also had in-ride entertainment from our fellow passengers/vendors. Some sold drinks, some sold snacks, and towards the end one woman stood up and starting selling toiletries. Rather convenient, had I needed soap or toothpaste. I also took advantage of sitting next to a local to learn a new Tanzanian phrase—Duka La Dawa. I’d seen it all over Tanzania, and learned it means Drug Store (Duka = shop). I’ve learned a few Tanzanian words and phrases, but the grammar is so tough I’m content to leave it at that for this trip.
The bus arrived in Dar just in time for rush hour, so the taxi ride from the bus stand to the hotel felt like it took ages. It doesn’t appear they have any freeways in Dar es Salaam so every road was clogged and side street shortcuts are just as clogged as the main roads. We were going to meet the rest of our group in time for “sundowners”, but it was dark by the time we arrived at the hotel. Still, it was nice to see familiar faces from DC—John Watkin (the ringleader of this trip, and the one who made it possible for me to be here in the first place), Kim, and Kristina. They all looked so fresh, having arrived just the day before and spending the day relaxing in the air-conditioned hotel. Meanwhile, I felt like the country bumpkin who was so excited to have electricity and flushing toilets again. I took the longest shower and actually shaved my legs, which sorely needed it, before we headed out to dinner. Rita, an old friend of Conrad and John’s who used to date another coworker and is currently living in Zambia, joined us. It was tasty and good to connect with everyone, but the long week of little sleep made it hard to stay awake. It didn’t help that I needed to repack and the next day would come too early.
20 February 2009
19 February 2009
Tanzania Tidbits: Day 6
Today I introduced the class project, and we got as far as them agreeing to it. Lunch was the SUA staff cafeteria again, but this time I decided to eat “local style”. The menu was always the same—either rice or Ughali with beef, chicken, or fish. The beef was like beef soup but the chicken was scrawny and difficult to eat without using your hands. Ughali is like stiff mashed potatoes made with maize flour and is as bland as it sounds. You roll a bit into a ball in your right hand and use it to pick up your meet or dip it in the sauce. Everything is served with lime wedges and thinly sliced chili peppers. I actually liked it, but my hand isn’t that skilled so almost as much would end up on my palm as in the ball. I do pretty well with our “refreshment” breaks, though. In the mornings it is usually fresh fruit and chipati (like a greasy tortilla) that you use to pick up beef bits and deep in the broth—with lime as always. They’re always drinking tea and today I thought I could at least drink the milk they put in their tea to blend in. Turns out they like their milk hot, so I ended up drinking a cup of warm milk. I don’t even like cold milk, so I added heaping spoons of sugar to make it palatable, but that wasn’t something I’d drink twice. The woman who prepared our food all week had never said a word to me, but when she delivered the receipt for the driver I finally introduced myself and learned her name was Teddy. When she returned with my change she left a note with her contact information in the hopes we could become pen pals. So sweet, but so shy!
Dinner that night was with Åschel (Kristian had left to return to Norway) and a new guest at the hostel, a former Peace Corp volunteer who was in Morogoro to interview people for her thesis about poultry vaccinations and its effect on people’s diets. Ned Horning was kind enough to drive us to dinner, and at his suggestion we ate at the Morogoro Hotel. The Indian food was fantastic, though I made the mistake of ordering too much without the means of enjoying leftovers since it was my last night. The water still wasn’t back on, but to make things even more “rustic”, the power was out in my room. Not the entire guest hostel, just my room. Thankfully Conrad made this sound like a common occurrence in TZ so I’d packed a candle, but I was also grateful this was a 1-night novelty. Bucket showers by candlelight are fun the first time, but I would gripe if it became an unscheduled, regular occurrence. I also washed all my underwear by hand as best as I could. I’m rubbish at hand washing so I gave my shirts to the hostel staff to do for me, but I feel like I can fake it better with my garments.
Dinner that night was with Åschel (Kristian had left to return to Norway) and a new guest at the hostel, a former Peace Corp volunteer who was in Morogoro to interview people for her thesis about poultry vaccinations and its effect on people’s diets. Ned Horning was kind enough to drive us to dinner, and at his suggestion we ate at the Morogoro Hotel. The Indian food was fantastic, though I made the mistake of ordering too much without the means of enjoying leftovers since it was my last night. The water still wasn’t back on, but to make things even more “rustic”, the power was out in my room. Not the entire guest hostel, just my room. Thankfully Conrad made this sound like a common occurrence in TZ so I’d packed a candle, but I was also grateful this was a 1-night novelty. Bucket showers by candlelight are fun the first time, but I would gripe if it became an unscheduled, regular occurrence. I also washed all my underwear by hand as best as I could. I’m rubbish at hand washing so I gave my shirts to the hostel staff to do for me, but I feel like I can fake it better with my garments.
18 February 2009
Tanzania Tidbits: Day 5
Again, the early morning drill to prepare course material and again, only enough material for the day. These lectures are starting to feel like manna! But in some ways, this has been for the best because it has allowed me to adapt the lectures to best meet their needs. A comment from Conrad resulted in an extra lecture on quantitative symbols, and a question from them resulted in a lecture on georeferencing. I’m sad to say it also helped that the sister of a colleague passed away, which necessitated them going to give their condolences and taking more time. This was also the day when Julie and Conrad left me to go into the Udzungwa Mountains with another CEPF grantee, Francesco. John had made him sound like Roberto Bernini, so I was surprised to see how mild-mannered he was. I was sad to loose my DC support, but by this time felt comfortable with the SUA guys and actually a little protective of “my boys” and their education.
We had an extended lunch today for a field trip downtown. The Dutch girl had given me the name of a boutique someone had recommended to her, and the guys offered to take me there during our lunch break in the hopes that I could find a beautiful outfit like all those Tanzanian women. Alas, their focus was on western wear—the clothes either had a dated look or were formal enough to wear to prom. At least lunch was a success! We ate downtown at a place called the Blue Room, with some tasty food and a good view of daily life in Morogoro. It was also nice to be inside during yet another short downpour, but the street didn’t drain as well as SUA’s campus. After lunch we waded across the street to a stationary store so I could buy an anniversary card for mom and dad. Conrad had mentioned they like cheesy greeting cards here and this store didn’t disappoint. Unfortunately, the best ones were all romantic ones featuring sappy lines and pictures of couples from the 80’s. Still, the one for my parents was pretty good. This resulted in a late finish and I opted to stay where there was internet to continue working on the next day’s lectures until it was time for dinner. They only have dial-up internet, which has been a real challenge to download files from our ftp site, not to mention checking email. I suppose it teaches me patience, but since some of the lecture slides depended on it I really just learned frustration.
The guys treated me to a local joint on the outskirts of town called Glonnency 88. The neighborhood is called 88 and refers to their Farmer’s Day, August 8th. We ate tasty roasted goat, again with lime juice, but the entertainment will remain the most memorable. I have nothing against Lionel Richie, but hearing “Stuck on You” performed by a guy and his keyboard with an original tempo was…special. The rest of the music was mostly African so I can’t comment on it, other than to say it was a little to loud at some points and involved the synthesizer at others. His cover of a Harry Bellefonte song actually wasn’t that bad. It was nice to see the guys relax, unwind, and get into some more personal conversation. I was also this close to getting a dance party out of Japhet, but it didn’t happen. His car has a big sticker saying “Real Men Love Jesus” on the back, which led to some good discussions with him. Again, something about the religious bond allows me to feel more comfortable. I didn’t mind having the room to myself for the night so I could work late, but upon my return discovered a bucket of water outside my door. Turns out all the rains caused them to shut off the pipes to prevent them getting mud-clogged. I can appreciate that, but if I wasn’t already aware of all the water I consumed by drinking, I was now aware of how much I spent flushing the toilet—and how important that is to keep a room from smelling. Good emergency prep experience, I guess, and I’m glad I had my facial wipes on hand for the night’s bathing.
I opted to spend part of the evening counting out my millions—literally. I needed to pay for the driver and the room we were using for the course in cash, so with the exchange rate of ~1/1,300 I was literally a Tanzanian millionaire for a few days. If I hadn’t felt sketchy flying with that much money in $100 US bills, I did when the exchange bureau lady handed me a 2-inch stack of 5,000 notes. Kinda ridiculous to have a pile of money to roll around in, and I must say the older notes had a funny odor and I didn’t want to know the cause.
We had an extended lunch today for a field trip downtown. The Dutch girl had given me the name of a boutique someone had recommended to her, and the guys offered to take me there during our lunch break in the hopes that I could find a beautiful outfit like all those Tanzanian women. Alas, their focus was on western wear—the clothes either had a dated look or were formal enough to wear to prom. At least lunch was a success! We ate downtown at a place called the Blue Room, with some tasty food and a good view of daily life in Morogoro. It was also nice to be inside during yet another short downpour, but the street didn’t drain as well as SUA’s campus. After lunch we waded across the street to a stationary store so I could buy an anniversary card for mom and dad. Conrad had mentioned they like cheesy greeting cards here and this store didn’t disappoint. Unfortunately, the best ones were all romantic ones featuring sappy lines and pictures of couples from the 80’s. Still, the one for my parents was pretty good. This resulted in a late finish and I opted to stay where there was internet to continue working on the next day’s lectures until it was time for dinner. They only have dial-up internet, which has been a real challenge to download files from our ftp site, not to mention checking email. I suppose it teaches me patience, but since some of the lecture slides depended on it I really just learned frustration.
The guys treated me to a local joint on the outskirts of town called Glonnency 88. The neighborhood is called 88 and refers to their Farmer’s Day, August 8th. We ate tasty roasted goat, again with lime juice, but the entertainment will remain the most memorable. I have nothing against Lionel Richie, but hearing “Stuck on You” performed by a guy and his keyboard with an original tempo was…special. The rest of the music was mostly African so I can’t comment on it, other than to say it was a little to loud at some points and involved the synthesizer at others. His cover of a Harry Bellefonte song actually wasn’t that bad. It was nice to see the guys relax, unwind, and get into some more personal conversation. I was also this close to getting a dance party out of Japhet, but it didn’t happen. His car has a big sticker saying “Real Men Love Jesus” on the back, which led to some good discussions with him. Again, something about the religious bond allows me to feel more comfortable. I didn’t mind having the room to myself for the night so I could work late, but upon my return discovered a bucket of water outside my door. Turns out all the rains caused them to shut off the pipes to prevent them getting mud-clogged. I can appreciate that, but if I wasn’t already aware of all the water I consumed by drinking, I was now aware of how much I spent flushing the toilet—and how important that is to keep a room from smelling. Good emergency prep experience, I guess, and I’m glad I had my facial wipes on hand for the night’s bathing.
I opted to spend part of the evening counting out my millions—literally. I needed to pay for the driver and the room we were using for the course in cash, so with the exchange rate of ~1/1,300 I was literally a Tanzanian millionaire for a few days. If I hadn’t felt sketchy flying with that much money in $100 US bills, I did when the exchange bureau lady handed me a 2-inch stack of 5,000 notes. Kinda ridiculous to have a pile of money to roll around in, and I must say the older notes had a funny odor and I didn’t want to know the cause.
17 February 2009
Tanzania Tidbits: Day 4
This was an early morning for me, stumbling in the dark to the common room to prepare my lectures without disturbing Julie (we shared a room). Turns out the guard sleeps in the common room, so he scared me and I scared him when I opened the door—too early for such shenanigans. Wouldn’t you know, Boniface was early—what happened to TZ time? Well once again, teaching went well and thanks to exercises and time for them to play with the software, I had enough material to get through the day. A lucky break also came in the form of attending Conrad’s presentation, though we were late due to a short downpour. It was quite intense, but they had an impressive drainage system so I waded through standing water going into the building but not coming out.
This night’s meal was at the Oasis Hotel (pronounced o-AHH-sees), one of the nicer places in town, with Conrad, Julie, and our 2 Norwegian friends. The restaurant’s specialty was Indian and it didn’t disappoint. It was also the first time I tried Tangawizi, a ginger ale with an intense flavor that comes in a brown bottle so you blend in at happy hour. Kristian introduced me to it the night before, and he loved it so much he always ordered two bottles at once. While dining I had an idea about a class project—together, we could make a series of PowerPoint slides for the CEPF workshop. This would give them a goal and a useful product, not to mention helping me along. This was a safer ride home, but sadly not much earlier so it was a late night again, combined with an early morning. This time Åschel, the other Norwegian, joined me for the night shift. As we sat and worked I kept getting distracted by the TV that was showing music videos. Again, the American music they’re currently listening to surprises me—some recent things, but no fear of Michael Bolton. There was also a healthy dose of African music, though I’m not sure which countries.
This night’s meal was at the Oasis Hotel (pronounced o-AHH-sees), one of the nicer places in town, with Conrad, Julie, and our 2 Norwegian friends. The restaurant’s specialty was Indian and it didn’t disappoint. It was also the first time I tried Tangawizi, a ginger ale with an intense flavor that comes in a brown bottle so you blend in at happy hour. Kristian introduced me to it the night before, and he loved it so much he always ordered two bottles at once. While dining I had an idea about a class project—together, we could make a series of PowerPoint slides for the CEPF workshop. This would give them a goal and a useful product, not to mention helping me along. This was a safer ride home, but sadly not much earlier so it was a late night again, combined with an early morning. This time Åschel, the other Norwegian, joined me for the night shift. As we sat and worked I kept getting distracted by the TV that was showing music videos. Again, the American music they’re currently listening to surprises me—some recent things, but no fear of Michael Bolton. There was also a healthy dose of African music, though I’m not sure which countries.
16 February 2009
Tanzania Tidbits: Day 3
This morning, I awoke to the Islamic call to prayer. I’d heard the night before that there was a new mosque nearby with a good speaker system, but didn’t realize how good…or how early (around 5:30 AM). It was beautiful, but then the guy kept talking. His monologue may have been reading the Koran, but it didn’t sound as melodic. I actually appreciate it being so early, because it meant I could go back to sleep afterwards.
When my alarm finally went off, I nervously primped for my first day of teaching. I’ve assisted various staff one-on-one numerous times and even gave my girlfriends a brief intro to GIS once, but never did anything like this before. I consciously chose to wear the lavender blouse that an old roommate from BYU, Josie Johnson, had given me. Josie was the best roommate I’ve ever had, and was killed when a car hit her while riding her bike a few years after we graduated. Somehow I’d like to think she’d appreciate this adventure and is cheering me on. Boniface came to pick me up a few minutes late (“Tanzanian time”) and when we arrived, had a bit of time getting everyone there and the projector set up. My class consisted of Boniface and Japhet (the two faculty who worked on the change detection analysis), as well as Ludovic, Emmanuel, and a few students who came part of the week.
Mercifully, they were able to set up a network GIS license so they could all follow along with my demonstrations and then experiment with it on their own. This is such a better way to learn than just following my presentations. The curriculum I’d decided on was parallel tracks in Thematic Cartography (i.e. the theory behind mapmaking) and an Intro to ArcGIS 9.2. They were familiar with GIS concepts, but the version they were using was so old it had a completely different interface and it not capable of producing high-quality cartographic products. This way, they would learn the principles behind good map design, and how to do that using this software. The problem was that I’d only had enough time to prepare the first 2 modules, and only test 1 of them, before leaving DC. Again, mercifully the delays meant that I had time to prepare some more material, which I got through completely that first day. One of the participants requested exercises, which was a brilliant suggestion because it meant that they had more hands-on experience and I wouldn’t have to prepare as much material.
After teaching, I insisted on walking home with Conrad and Julie rather than being driven so we could enjoy the beautiful weather. SUA is at the base of the Uluguru Mountains, so in terms of its location I guess that makes it almost the BYU of Tanzania. As we walked up the road towards the guest hostel where we were staying, you could see fires on the mountainside as they cleared more forest for farming. Only the tops have native vegetation, and it gave a renewed sense of purpose and urgency to what the SUA staff and my colleagues are trying to do. I must admit, though, I was impressed they were able to work on such steep slopes. I loved that our hostel was off a dirt road and involved walking past a small grove of banana trees. It consisted of 5 separate rooms and a kitchen/common area surrounding a courtyard. After a brief pause, we again set out to meet up with old friends of Conrad’s. The walk took us through small groves of trees, down rural (to me) tree-lined lanes, past cows and a soccer field, and past the small single-story buildings where the locals lived. We heard the evening call to prayer and saw the sky get gradually darker. The walk wasn’t long, but it was a late start so by the end we were walking down dark roads, shielding our eyes from any passing cars. Our first stop was Joel’s house, which was also on the hillside in an area of nice compounds and houses owned by foreigners. Joel works for a tobacco company, and after over 10 years in Morogoro is about to move to Switzerland. A Frenchman whose nickname was “Slash” then joined us, and his work involved rural produce markets. As they reminisced, I could sense that things changed quite a bit in the few years since Conrad had left and others had as well. I think that’s inherent in any transient area or situation: you go through effort to make friends and enjoy the most of the situation, but when those people move and new people won’t be there for long either, it’s difficult to muster the enthusiasm to try and engage with an ever-new crowd. By the same token, rarely can you recreate a situation—going back to the location isn’t enough. Better to take advantage of the moment and enjoy it while it lasts.
Dinner was at a relatively new place owned by some locals that were friends of Joel’s. The guy had gone to school in the Netherlands and married a Dutch girl, but was determined to return and brought her with him. Sounds romantic, but by the same token I don’t envy her position of a new culture with little job prospects on top of a new marriage. Our meal was Mishkaki, small pieces of meat roasted on a metal skewer and served with lime juice squeezed on them. They were tasty and each one only had a few bites, so I lost count of how many I ate. I’d intended to make it an early night to prepare the next day’s lectures, but it was late by the time we even got our food and I lost track of time. It didn’t help that no one else was in a hurry, but I soon realized I needed to leave before the others. I asked one of the guys to call me a taxi, but when it didn’t show they made another local guy drive me home. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but he didn’t plan on being the designated driver and Tanzania apparently has nothing against drunk driving. Possibly the most unnerving thing was how experienced he seemed at doing this. Thankfully Kristian, one of the Norwegians, also came with me. As the guy drove us, glass of beer in one hand, we heard his life story and his regret of not getting all the education he wanted. As we were getting out of the car at the hostel, Kristian said a few encouraging words to him that hopefully made him feel better. This started a conversation with Kristian where I learned he was a devout Lutheran and had even been a missionary at one point. There’s something about conversing with someone who also has a testimony of Christ that creates an instant bond for me, and I told him a little about my church before I needed to call it a night to (finally) begin work on the lectures. I decided to call it a night when Julie returned, which necessitated getting up uber-early the next morning.
When my alarm finally went off, I nervously primped for my first day of teaching. I’ve assisted various staff one-on-one numerous times and even gave my girlfriends a brief intro to GIS once, but never did anything like this before. I consciously chose to wear the lavender blouse that an old roommate from BYU, Josie Johnson, had given me. Josie was the best roommate I’ve ever had, and was killed when a car hit her while riding her bike a few years after we graduated. Somehow I’d like to think she’d appreciate this adventure and is cheering me on. Boniface came to pick me up a few minutes late (“Tanzanian time”) and when we arrived, had a bit of time getting everyone there and the projector set up. My class consisted of Boniface and Japhet (the two faculty who worked on the change detection analysis), as well as Ludovic, Emmanuel, and a few students who came part of the week.
Mercifully, they were able to set up a network GIS license so they could all follow along with my demonstrations and then experiment with it on their own. This is such a better way to learn than just following my presentations. The curriculum I’d decided on was parallel tracks in Thematic Cartography (i.e. the theory behind mapmaking) and an Intro to ArcGIS 9.2. They were familiar with GIS concepts, but the version they were using was so old it had a completely different interface and it not capable of producing high-quality cartographic products. This way, they would learn the principles behind good map design, and how to do that using this software. The problem was that I’d only had enough time to prepare the first 2 modules, and only test 1 of them, before leaving DC. Again, mercifully the delays meant that I had time to prepare some more material, which I got through completely that first day. One of the participants requested exercises, which was a brilliant suggestion because it meant that they had more hands-on experience and I wouldn’t have to prepare as much material.
After teaching, I insisted on walking home with Conrad and Julie rather than being driven so we could enjoy the beautiful weather. SUA is at the base of the Uluguru Mountains, so in terms of its location I guess that makes it almost the BYU of Tanzania. As we walked up the road towards the guest hostel where we were staying, you could see fires on the mountainside as they cleared more forest for farming. Only the tops have native vegetation, and it gave a renewed sense of purpose and urgency to what the SUA staff and my colleagues are trying to do. I must admit, though, I was impressed they were able to work on such steep slopes. I loved that our hostel was off a dirt road and involved walking past a small grove of banana trees. It consisted of 5 separate rooms and a kitchen/common area surrounding a courtyard. After a brief pause, we again set out to meet up with old friends of Conrad’s. The walk took us through small groves of trees, down rural (to me) tree-lined lanes, past cows and a soccer field, and past the small single-story buildings where the locals lived. We heard the evening call to prayer and saw the sky get gradually darker. The walk wasn’t long, but it was a late start so by the end we were walking down dark roads, shielding our eyes from any passing cars. Our first stop was Joel’s house, which was also on the hillside in an area of nice compounds and houses owned by foreigners. Joel works for a tobacco company, and after over 10 years in Morogoro is about to move to Switzerland. A Frenchman whose nickname was “Slash” then joined us, and his work involved rural produce markets. As they reminisced, I could sense that things changed quite a bit in the few years since Conrad had left and others had as well. I think that’s inherent in any transient area or situation: you go through effort to make friends and enjoy the most of the situation, but when those people move and new people won’t be there for long either, it’s difficult to muster the enthusiasm to try and engage with an ever-new crowd. By the same token, rarely can you recreate a situation—going back to the location isn’t enough. Better to take advantage of the moment and enjoy it while it lasts.
Dinner was at a relatively new place owned by some locals that were friends of Joel’s. The guy had gone to school in the Netherlands and married a Dutch girl, but was determined to return and brought her with him. Sounds romantic, but by the same token I don’t envy her position of a new culture with little job prospects on top of a new marriage. Our meal was Mishkaki, small pieces of meat roasted on a metal skewer and served with lime juice squeezed on them. They were tasty and each one only had a few bites, so I lost count of how many I ate. I’d intended to make it an early night to prepare the next day’s lectures, but it was late by the time we even got our food and I lost track of time. It didn’t help that no one else was in a hurry, but I soon realized I needed to leave before the others. I asked one of the guys to call me a taxi, but when it didn’t show they made another local guy drive me home. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but he didn’t plan on being the designated driver and Tanzania apparently has nothing against drunk driving. Possibly the most unnerving thing was how experienced he seemed at doing this. Thankfully Kristian, one of the Norwegians, also came with me. As the guy drove us, glass of beer in one hand, we heard his life story and his regret of not getting all the education he wanted. As we were getting out of the car at the hostel, Kristian said a few encouraging words to him that hopefully made him feel better. This started a conversation with Kristian where I learned he was a devout Lutheran and had even been a missionary at one point. There’s something about conversing with someone who also has a testimony of Christ that creates an instant bond for me, and I told him a little about my church before I needed to call it a night to (finally) begin work on the lectures. I decided to call it a night when Julie returned, which necessitated getting up uber-early the next morning.
15 February 2009
Tanzania Tidbits: Day 2
Never has getting to church in a foreign country seemed so easy in theory, only to be so difficult in practice. I’d carefully written down the information from the Church’s website while in the US, only to discover the addresses were either incomplete, or the phone numbers were wrong or missing a digit. After engaging the hostel’s staff in the challenge, we managed to find a correct number in the local phone book. They gave an address, and I was on my way with the taxi driver. As we turned the corner I could see the steeple and got so excited—the Church’s name was in Swahili, but I recognized the design. We turned the corner and…the door was locked, the parking lot empty. The guard came to the door explaining that they were meeting at another building that day—district conference. What happened during the next half hour I didn’t fully understand until afterwards, but basically the guard’s brother is also LDS so he came and the two of us, along with another member who showed up during the wait, took my taxi all the way to the other chapel across town. I’m always interested in seeing new sights, but really just wanted to get to church and wasn’t sure I’d brought enough money for the extended trip. Along the way we passed through a woodcarving district and saw beautiful dressers, bed frames, and even coffins. A little hard to fit it in the luggage, though. We also passed many non-LDS churches and it seemed like everyone else was also on their way to church. Hard to tell sometimes, though, because Tanzanians always seem dressed up, but even more so on Sundays. The women wear such beautiful dresses and matching skirt-blouse sets. I tried to find one at the western marketplace on Saturday, but no luck. As we kept driving I had to ask myself “Why not just attend one of these churches instead?” The answer came down to the simple fact that I belong to the only church that has the priesthood—the authority to act in God’s name. These other churches are good and have many truths, but the LDS church has more truth. We finally arrived at the other chapel and it was so worth it! Everyone there was so friendly and kindly greeted me. Just being in a place where they weren’t trying to sell you anything or take advantage of you because you were a foreigner was nice, but worshiping with those who hold your same beliefs was the best. Everyone in their district is a black Tanzanian, including local leadership, so the only other white folks there were the mission president and his wife, one of his counselors and his wife, and a senior CES missionary couple. Needless to say, I stood out a bit. I was grateful the meeting was in English because the talks were excellent and just what I needed before these next few weeks. Afterwards I met all the leadership and explained my plight. The senior couple actually lived near my hostel, and drove me home after a brief leadership meeting. During that interval I meet a few of the youth up near the organ. Turns out they have a player organ—you enter the hymn number and if you want it to be on the piano or organ, and it plays it for you. So handy! The drive back was a great chance to chat with them, and makes me excited to be a senior missionary with my husband someday.
In some ways, this reminds me of parts of India—tiles floors everywhere, the auto rickshaws (“tuk tuks” here), the overcrowded minibuses (“Dala dala”) with slogans on the window, the smell of charcoal and burning trash, roadside stands selling anything imaginable, etc. Things I haven’t seen as much before—goats and chickens wandering around (no cows spotted until we were outside Dar), open sewers/gutter trenches for the monsoon rains (how did I miss those in India?), and the occasional Masai walking along in their traditional dress. I’ve learned that in this part of Tanzania (central and southern) they wear purple fabric, and that their dress has nothing to do with income. Many wear it to remind them of their heritage and are actually well educated. Tanzanian women’s clothes are gorgeous everywhere, and everyone dressed up so much for whatever church they attended on Sunday in Dar. They may not have running water in their homes, but they still manage to look immaculate and spotless. The biggest difference from India is that we don’t have a local family to look after us. At least I’m not alone. Julie and I flew in together, and the next night Conrad arrived. He lived in TZ and taught at Sokoine for a few years, so it’s nice to have him show us around. The kids we’ve seen are cute and come up to ask, “How are you?” in English before running away. I tried to learn some Swahili phrases on the last leg of our flight, but being tired didn’t help it sink in. I can give a polite greeting, say thank you (“Asante”), tell them I’ve come from America, and I think I can ask where’s the bathroom (hopefully something like “Wapi Msalisi”).
After church, I returned to the hostel for a quick lunch with Julie and Conrad before a driver from SUA picked us up to drive us to Morogoro. Exponentially more expensive than taking the bus, but it seemed necessary before I knew Conrad was coming along and it was still worth it. As usual, I found it interesting to “read the landscape”—at least when it wasn’t raining so you could actually see it. They sell everything by the side of the road. If you can buy it in Tanzania, you can buy it on the street—the biggest surprise, literally, was seeing couches out in the open for sale. Of course we saw poverty everywhere, but it was interesting to see that it was worse on the outskirts of Dar than in the rural areas, where they seem a little more self-sufficient. I saw all the typical fruits of the tropics growing: mostly bananas, but also mangos and papayas. I saw pineapples for sale hanging by their stem, but not where they were grown. We also saw where all the charcoal comes from. The road between Dar and Morogoro was paved within the last 20 years in partnership with the Danish, which opened up the area to more settlement and degradation. It was sad to see areas decimated in a system you knew couldn’t continue long-term. Even in the current conditions, it means women spend a significant part of their day collecting firewood, only to waste most of the energy in the wood by burning it down to charcoal. There has to be a better way. Even with charcoal, there are efficient ways to produce it and fuel-efficient stoves that can be used, but getting people to accept that may be difficult. Most of the homes were all built the same way: stick framework walls filled in with mud, additional mud added and sometimes plastered, with roofs of thatched palm branches or corrugated metal held down with rocks. Electrical lines ran parallel to the road and over their homes, but none were connected to the grid. We finally saw cattle with the neck hump like I saw in India and roadside stands selling beautiful stacks of mangos and tomatoes. Upon our arrival in Morogoro Boniface, our main partner at SUA, greeted us. He saw us settled into our rooms and arranged for Ned Horning to take us to dinner. Ned, an American who is there for a year with his Malagasy wife and their two sons took us in their minivan to a popular hangout serving wood-fired pizza called Dragonaires. Conrad raved about the pizza for weeks before we went, but had to miss it to catch up with an old faculty member he worked with. The pizza was wood-fired and very good, though I wasn’t up to trying “The Four Seasons”, whose toppings included eggs and olives. Through Ned, we met several expats there—a Swede who’s opening a horse riding school and training camels to take tourists into the mountains, a Norwegian researcher studying birds, and a few other Norwegians. Upon returning, we met our neighbors in the guest dorms—Norwegian masters students studying water filtration methods for rural homes. Everyone here has such random backgrounds and they all seem to be here for a least a month. Oh, and Michael Bolton’s music is alive and well in Morogoro.
(note: the district president I met in Dar was mentioned in an article on the back page of February’s Ensign)
In some ways, this reminds me of parts of India—tiles floors everywhere, the auto rickshaws (“tuk tuks” here), the overcrowded minibuses (“Dala dala”) with slogans on the window, the smell of charcoal and burning trash, roadside stands selling anything imaginable, etc. Things I haven’t seen as much before—goats and chickens wandering around (no cows spotted until we were outside Dar), open sewers/gutter trenches for the monsoon rains (how did I miss those in India?), and the occasional Masai walking along in their traditional dress. I’ve learned that in this part of Tanzania (central and southern) they wear purple fabric, and that their dress has nothing to do with income. Many wear it to remind them of their heritage and are actually well educated. Tanzanian women’s clothes are gorgeous everywhere, and everyone dressed up so much for whatever church they attended on Sunday in Dar. They may not have running water in their homes, but they still manage to look immaculate and spotless. The biggest difference from India is that we don’t have a local family to look after us. At least I’m not alone. Julie and I flew in together, and the next night Conrad arrived. He lived in TZ and taught at Sokoine for a few years, so it’s nice to have him show us around. The kids we’ve seen are cute and come up to ask, “How are you?” in English before running away. I tried to learn some Swahili phrases on the last leg of our flight, but being tired didn’t help it sink in. I can give a polite greeting, say thank you (“Asante”), tell them I’ve come from America, and I think I can ask where’s the bathroom (hopefully something like “Wapi Msalisi”).
After church, I returned to the hostel for a quick lunch with Julie and Conrad before a driver from SUA picked us up to drive us to Morogoro. Exponentially more expensive than taking the bus, but it seemed necessary before I knew Conrad was coming along and it was still worth it. As usual, I found it interesting to “read the landscape”—at least when it wasn’t raining so you could actually see it. They sell everything by the side of the road. If you can buy it in Tanzania, you can buy it on the street—the biggest surprise, literally, was seeing couches out in the open for sale. Of course we saw poverty everywhere, but it was interesting to see that it was worse on the outskirts of Dar than in the rural areas, where they seem a little more self-sufficient. I saw all the typical fruits of the tropics growing: mostly bananas, but also mangos and papayas. I saw pineapples for sale hanging by their stem, but not where they were grown. We also saw where all the charcoal comes from. The road between Dar and Morogoro was paved within the last 20 years in partnership with the Danish, which opened up the area to more settlement and degradation. It was sad to see areas decimated in a system you knew couldn’t continue long-term. Even in the current conditions, it means women spend a significant part of their day collecting firewood, only to waste most of the energy in the wood by burning it down to charcoal. There has to be a better way. Even with charcoal, there are efficient ways to produce it and fuel-efficient stoves that can be used, but getting people to accept that may be difficult. Most of the homes were all built the same way: stick framework walls filled in with mud, additional mud added and sometimes plastered, with roofs of thatched palm branches or corrugated metal held down with rocks. Electrical lines ran parallel to the road and over their homes, but none were connected to the grid. We finally saw cattle with the neck hump like I saw in India and roadside stands selling beautiful stacks of mangos and tomatoes. Upon our arrival in Morogoro Boniface, our main partner at SUA, greeted us. He saw us settled into our rooms and arranged for Ned Horning to take us to dinner. Ned, an American who is there for a year with his Malagasy wife and their two sons took us in their minivan to a popular hangout serving wood-fired pizza called Dragonaires. Conrad raved about the pizza for weeks before we went, but had to miss it to catch up with an old faculty member he worked with. The pizza was wood-fired and very good, though I wasn’t up to trying “The Four Seasons”, whose toppings included eggs and olives. Through Ned, we met several expats there—a Swede who’s opening a horse riding school and training camels to take tourists into the mountains, a Norwegian researcher studying birds, and a few other Norwegians. Upon returning, we met our neighbors in the guest dorms—Norwegian masters students studying water filtration methods for rural homes. Everyone here has such random backgrounds and they all seem to be here for a least a month. Oh, and Michael Bolton’s music is alive and well in Morogoro.
(note: the district president I met in Dar was mentioned in an article on the back page of February’s Ensign)
14 February 2009
Tanzania Tidbits: Day 1
We arrived safely in Dar es Salaam last night and spent our first day acclimatizing and fighting off jetlag. I slept soundly that first night but was still tired--I’m not sure if it was because of the heat, or the time change. My expectations for the day were low, with every minor task feeling like a major accomplishment. The only success was buying a SIM card for my phone, which required walking about a mile on the dirt shoulder of a paved road and attempting to ask the locals for directions. We only found a place when a man called out to us and I asked them where to go--the shop sold cosmetics and women’s clothes for all I could tell. Nothing has a price tag on it and bargaining is expected, but I had neither the will nor the energy for it. We also took a trip to a “western” marketplace and saw the Indian Ocean with huge cargo ships sailing towards the horizon. Apparently Valentine’s Day made its way here because we saw several roadside stands selling flowers and other favors, or decorated with red and white bunting. A few even chose the day for marriage, and we saw their cars driving around decorated with ribbons and flowers. An Italian NGO operates the hostel we’re staying at and the food they serve is delicious! I thought it was amusing that their outlets are all Italian, so we needed a converter for our TZ converters to work. The room next door had a group of German guys. I never figured out how many stayed in that room, but every time I went outside there was a different guy on their hammock. This is the hottest time of the year in Dar, but mercifully our hostel had AC and I’m grateful to be walking on dusty roads rather than muddy (monsoons should come next month). That being said, Julie and I still aren’t used to the metric system—especially when it comes to temperature. We set it too low our first night and both got up separately to turn it up “a few degrees”. In Celsius, this resulted in our either turning the AC off or actually heating up the room. Either way, not going to make that mistake twice!
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