Saturday, May 17, 2008
Usafiri (travel)
Yesterday:
Awoke at 4:40 am and finished packing my bags. In a taxi to the Dar es Salaam bus station with three other volunteers by 5:15 am. On a bus by 5:50 am, on my way to Arusha by 6:15 am. We pass Tanga region, Moshi, Arusha. But clearly, Arusha isn't far enough in one day (actually I just hate spending the night in hectic, hassle-filled Arusha). So I continue to the town near my village. Arrival time in town: 7:15 pm. Arrival time at my sitemate's house: 8 pm. Nimechoka! [I'm tired!] Thanks god for sitemates who live in town and cook delicious dinners :-).
Today: Reach town from my sitemate's house at 10:30 am. Race to a town 35 minutes away to buy fruit tree seedlings for my school; daladala driver wants me to pay fare for myself and the heavy box of trees despite the fact that the car is half empty; I argue and almost lose my temper. (a sure sign that I'm sick of travel, but it worked, I only paid one fare). Carry the heavy box of trees the 2 minute walk to the village car. And if the car leaves on time, I'll be headed back to my village 15 minutes from now. It will be nice to be home. And I would say, it would be nice to rest, but there are clothes to wash, lessons to plan, neighbors who will want news . . . ah well, at least school vacation is only a few weeks away.
Awoke at 4:40 am and finished packing my bags. In a taxi to the Dar es Salaam bus station with three other volunteers by 5:15 am. On a bus by 5:50 am, on my way to Arusha by 6:15 am. We pass Tanga region, Moshi, Arusha. But clearly, Arusha isn't far enough in one day (actually I just hate spending the night in hectic, hassle-filled Arusha). So I continue to the town near my village. Arrival time in town: 7:15 pm. Arrival time at my sitemate's house: 8 pm. Nimechoka! [I'm tired!] Thanks god for sitemates who live in town and cook delicious dinners :-).
Today: Reach town from my sitemate's house at 10:30 am. Race to a town 35 minutes away to buy fruit tree seedlings for my school; daladala driver wants me to pay fare for myself and the heavy box of trees despite the fact that the car is half empty; I argue and almost lose my temper. (a sure sign that I'm sick of travel, but it worked, I only paid one fare). Carry the heavy box of trees the 2 minute walk to the village car. And if the car leaves on time, I'll be headed back to my village 15 minutes from now. It will be nice to be home. And I would say, it would be nice to rest, but there are clothes to wash, lessons to plan, neighbors who will want news . . . ah well, at least school vacation is only a few weeks away.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Mshamba
Mshamba is the Tanzanian word for a country hick. An mshamba is the kind of person who gazes in awe at a shower and has never used a computer.
I think I've become an mshamba.
Admittedly, I have used a computer. And while I'm pleased to be taking showers instead of bucket baths in Dar, I'm not at the gazing-in-awe stage yet. That said, here's proof of my transformation into an mshamba:
1) Instead of buying food for the trip from my village to Moshi, I brought three cobs of boiled corn wrapped in paper bags. One cob came from my garden; two from my neighbors garden. Both were given to me by a neighbor who was concerned I'd be hungry in Moshi, and was insistent that I had to take two corn cobs from her, one could never be enough. I pulled out these corn cobs to snack on in Moshi (one fellow volunteer: "You can buy cookies out the bus window, you know.").
2) There's a ceiling fan? A light switch? Oh . . . I should probably stop sitting here in the heat and dark. (I've gotten better about remembering the light switches since I've been visiting my sitemate, but I definitely forgot about the fan).
3) A thought that popped into my head: there are a lot of cars in Dar!
I have the feeling that my transformation to an mshamba has only begun. Actually, I think it's fate (maybe that's why I've always liked country music?). But that's okay, I'm at peace with my fate: I like boiled corn, prefer my tranquil cornfields to the hassle of cars and crowds, and would choose the occasionally annoying knocks of neighbors and acquaintances at my door over the anonymity over the city any day. Though I'll admit, I may be alone in this: I've met a lot of young rural Tanzanians who want to go live in Arusha or Dar es Salaam. As they say, the grass is always greener on the other site of the rural/urban divide.
I think I've become an mshamba.
Admittedly, I have used a computer. And while I'm pleased to be taking showers instead of bucket baths in Dar, I'm not at the gazing-in-awe stage yet. That said, here's proof of my transformation into an mshamba:
1) Instead of buying food for the trip from my village to Moshi, I brought three cobs of boiled corn wrapped in paper bags. One cob came from my garden; two from my neighbors garden. Both were given to me by a neighbor who was concerned I'd be hungry in Moshi, and was insistent that I had to take two corn cobs from her, one could never be enough. I pulled out these corn cobs to snack on in Moshi (one fellow volunteer: "You can buy cookies out the bus window, you know.").
2) There's a ceiling fan? A light switch? Oh . . . I should probably stop sitting here in the heat and dark. (I've gotten better about remembering the light switches since I've been visiting my sitemate, but I definitely forgot about the fan).
3) A thought that popped into my head: there are a lot of cars in Dar!
I have the feeling that my transformation to an mshamba has only begun. Actually, I think it's fate (maybe that's why I've always liked country music?). But that's okay, I'm at peace with my fate: I like boiled corn, prefer my tranquil cornfields to the hassle of cars and crowds, and would choose the occasionally annoying knocks of neighbors and acquaintances at my door over the anonymity over the city any day. Though I'll admit, I may be alone in this: I've met a lot of young rural Tanzanians who want to go live in Arusha or Dar es Salaam. As they say, the grass is always greener on the other site of the rural/urban divide.
Dar es Salaam
The first thing you notice when you arrive in Dar is that it's hot. Really hot. You go out shopping at 8:40 in the morning, and it's already hot. By 10 am you're covered in sweat, but it's so humid that the sweat doesn't help.
The second thing you notice is the people. Everywhere. There are the endless lines of taxi drivers who are convinced that all white people on foot must want a taxi. There are the beggars that are found in every city, though one can't help but notice that their physical problems here are often worse than those of the beggars in America. And then there are the every day people: shopkeepers, shoeshiners, sellers of newspapers, sellers of cell-phone vouchers, watch repairmen, businessmen, people who are running to catch a daladala to somewhere and people who are just sitting and watching the traffic go by. There are blacks Tanzanians, of all tribes, mostly in modern dress, occasionally in tribal dress. There are Indian Tanzanians who speak Swahili and whose families have lived in Dar es Salaam for generations. And there are the occasional wazungu (white people), tourists or students or expats who work in Dar.
Coming into Dar after 7.5 months in Tanzania, it doesn't feel foreign. The palm trees no longer seem exotic; Kiswahili sounds more natural than English. It seems perfectly normal for people to walk around selling clothes, bottles of water, and random knickknacks. When coming into Dar after living in a Tanzanian village, what strikes one is not how exotic it seems, but how developed it is. The roads are paved! There are supermarkets! And bookstores that sell novels! Not to mention ice cream, Indian food, Lebanese food, and coffee that's not powdered.
Dar es Salaam is certainly not New York. There are power outages. Tap water has to be boiled before drinking. Public transportation consists of crowded small minivans (daladalas), most of which are far beyond their prime. The city probably has a host of problems which will never be noticed by a Peace Corps volunteer who's merely passing through. Despite the existence of supermarkets, paved roads, and ice cream, Dar is no doubt dealing with the problems of development facing cities throughout Africa.
But. Living in a village definitely puts things in perspective. Things like electricity, pavement, and well-supplied stores suddenly seem more rare and exotic than banana trees and mangoes. After months in rural Tanzania, Dar doesn't feel like an undeveloped foreign country. It feels like America.
The second thing you notice is the people. Everywhere. There are the endless lines of taxi drivers who are convinced that all white people on foot must want a taxi. There are the beggars that are found in every city, though one can't help but notice that their physical problems here are often worse than those of the beggars in America. And then there are the every day people: shopkeepers, shoeshiners, sellers of newspapers, sellers of cell-phone vouchers, watch repairmen, businessmen, people who are running to catch a daladala to somewhere and people who are just sitting and watching the traffic go by. There are blacks Tanzanians, of all tribes, mostly in modern dress, occasionally in tribal dress. There are Indian Tanzanians who speak Swahili and whose families have lived in Dar es Salaam for generations. And there are the occasional wazungu (white people), tourists or students or expats who work in Dar.
Coming into Dar after 7.5 months in Tanzania, it doesn't feel foreign. The palm trees no longer seem exotic; Kiswahili sounds more natural than English. It seems perfectly normal for people to walk around selling clothes, bottles of water, and random knickknacks. When coming into Dar after living in a Tanzanian village, what strikes one is not how exotic it seems, but how developed it is. The roads are paved! There are supermarkets! And bookstores that sell novels! Not to mention ice cream, Indian food, Lebanese food, and coffee that's not powdered.
Dar es Salaam is certainly not New York. There are power outages. Tap water has to be boiled before drinking. Public transportation consists of crowded small minivans (daladalas), most of which are far beyond their prime. The city probably has a host of problems which will never be noticed by a Peace Corps volunteer who's merely passing through. Despite the existence of supermarkets, paved roads, and ice cream, Dar is no doubt dealing with the problems of development facing cities throughout Africa.
But. Living in a village definitely puts things in perspective. Things like electricity, pavement, and well-supplied stores suddenly seem more rare and exotic than banana trees and mangoes. After months in rural Tanzania, Dar doesn't feel like an undeveloped foreign country. It feels like America.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
On the road again
It strikes me as ironic that the Peace Corps wants us to stay at our sites and integrate with our communities, and that they stress over and over again at seminars that we should stay at our sites and integrate. I want to stay at my site and integrate. Really, I do. You can ask my fellow PCVs: they call me a site rat because I never come and visit them. But while I would be perfectly happy to stay at my site, eat the now ripe corn from my garden, and continue keeping an eye on the papaya tree that's about to have ripe fruit which will probably be stolen while I'm gone, the Peace Corps keeps dragging me away from my site for training.
And so, I'm on the road again. This time I'm going to Dar es Salaam for training. I wasn't particularly happy to get this news: I don't like Dar, partly because it's humid and partly because I'm not a fan of big cities. But since I'm travelling anyway, I do plan to enjoy myself, catch up on errands, and take full advantage of the free Internet at the Peace Corps office. It should be fun catching up with all the other PCVs who will be in Dar, some of whom I haven't seen since the end of November, and some of whom I've never met.
The timing of the travelling is unfortunate: we only have three weeks of teaching left in the semester, followed by a week of finals. Since there are no substitute teachers in Tanzania, I've spent much of the past week preparing work for the students to do while I'm going. On Wednesday morning, during the 1.5 hour religion period, I biked to the catholic mission to get some notes I'd written photocopied for my chemistry students. For my biology students, I gathered together all the biology books I could find, as well as 18 pieces of flip chart paper, 18 markers, and a large amount of masking tape. On Friday I divided these materials between my three classes. If all goes well, I'll come back to walls covered with beautiful pictures of the eye, ear, skin, endocrine system, and reflex arcs. (If all doesn't go so well, there will be no pictures, all my marker pens will be dead, and I'll never be able to recover my books. I expect the true outcome to be somewhere in the middle.)
I'm currently in Moshi paying for internet, so I'll leave this update/rant for now. More news and stories coming when I reach the free internet in Dar.
And so, I'm on the road again. This time I'm going to Dar es Salaam for training. I wasn't particularly happy to get this news: I don't like Dar, partly because it's humid and partly because I'm not a fan of big cities. But since I'm travelling anyway, I do plan to enjoy myself, catch up on errands, and take full advantage of the free Internet at the Peace Corps office. It should be fun catching up with all the other PCVs who will be in Dar, some of whom I haven't seen since the end of November, and some of whom I've never met.
The timing of the travelling is unfortunate: we only have three weeks of teaching left in the semester, followed by a week of finals. Since there are no substitute teachers in Tanzania, I've spent much of the past week preparing work for the students to do while I'm going. On Wednesday morning, during the 1.5 hour religion period, I biked to the catholic mission to get some notes I'd written photocopied for my chemistry students. For my biology students, I gathered together all the biology books I could find, as well as 18 pieces of flip chart paper, 18 markers, and a large amount of masking tape. On Friday I divided these materials between my three classes. If all goes well, I'll come back to walls covered with beautiful pictures of the eye, ear, skin, endocrine system, and reflex arcs. (If all doesn't go so well, there will be no pictures, all my marker pens will be dead, and I'll never be able to recover my books. I expect the true outcome to be somewhere in the middle.)
I'm currently in Moshi paying for internet, so I'll leave this update/rant for now. More news and stories coming when I reach the free internet in Dar.
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