Pole Pole, Hamna Shida!

"Eh, Mazungu, unakwenda wapi?" (Hey foreign white person, where are you going?) The villagers yelled to me as I passed by. "Nyumbani", I replied while continuing on my way. Nyumbani... home. That is a word I haven't had the opportunity to use in a while, unless reminiscing about the United States. "Home" has up until now referred to one of two places- my hometown of East Brunswick, New Jersey, or Marist College in Poughkeepsie, New York. On this trip, life has been essentially nomadic. My friends and I have gotten used to waking up unaware of in which direction we were facing, confused as to why the tops of our tentes were always soaked, even in the dusty savannah. Klub Afriko, our "hotel" in Arusha has become a safe-haven in the midst of a city filled with prying eyes and ancient toothless women, desperately begging for handouts. That is the life of a tourist in Tanzania, and it became our comfort blanket. No matter what challenges we faced, at the end of the day, we had each other. Last week, we all had to let that blanket go (temporarily, anyway). Ready or not (and in my case not), it was time for homestay. The home I spoke of before, my new home, is Bangata- a village located just outside Arusha, near the slopes of Mount Meru. As with my other two homes, I am not simply talking about 4 walls and a roof- I have become part of a new family. Here, when I say Mama, I don't mean my biological mother- I have a new Tanzanian mother (don't worry, Mom, you'll always be #1). After years of informing my sister Erin (much to her displeasure) that I wanted a brother (I meant in addition to her, but she apparently took it to mean she didn't complete my sibling-ly needs), I now have two. This really means, of course, that I have 3 new mamas, 5 new brothers, 2 new sisters, 10 new cousins, 5 new aunts, 2 new uncles, and a new father. If you want to know how a mother and two brothers turned into all of that, ask me in person if you have an hour or two. I'll be happy to explain. Homestay for a person like me has not been the easiest adjustment. I'm used to doing things for myself, whenever I want. Being so reliant on complete strangers is a totally foreign concept to me. I got lucky though, because unlike some of my friend's families, mine speaks English, so at least (for the most part) a language barrier hasn't been a problem. Despite that, sleeping under a mosquito net, no stove, no oven, being called Dada (Kiswahili for sister), hand washing laundry, and bucket showers are all new to me, and let me tell you, bucket showering is an art. Although it has taken a while to get adjusted, I really like my family. My brothers are great- extremely inviting and fun. They have bother taken a liking to my camera, and we spent much of last weekend taking pictures of friends and family. I taught them back bends and how to make fortune tellers, and they've already taught me so much more than I can recount here. In our spare time, we watch Merlin, the Chronicles of Narnia, and Xena (my friends are all beyond jealous of our DVD player). One night when the power was out, we sat down and read the first chapter of Harry Potter together. They told me that they liked it, but they haven't asked me to read it again, so I'm not so sure. Mama is a truly great chef. I hate eating cooked spinach, but somehow she can make even that delicious. Sometimes I help her cook, but usually just by chopping fruits and vegetables. There is no electricity in the kitchen, so she makes dinner by way of a flashlight. I want her to teach me how to make Tanzanian food, especially chapati and ugali, before I leave so I can introduce them to my family. She promised that we could learn to make cake together this weekend. While in Bangata, I have been taking intensive Kiswahili classes. I'm definitely absorbing it, but I still get really nervous when I try to speak to people. Kiswahili is a very phonetic language, which is nice, but it also puts together letters that English (to my knowledge, anyway) never does (like ng in ng'ombe (cow), or mw as in mwanafunzi (student)), which can make pronunciation difficult. I also have a habit of flipping vowels, which can be VERY bad. I've had some interesting conversations with my mother's 18-year-old... cousin (?), Joel, about American and why we Americans do things the way we do. Tanzanians seem to ask why a lot. On Saturday, I said "it's such a nice day!", and both my brother Erick and our cousin, Richard, demanded to know why. When I justified my statement by saying "because there is not a cloud in the sky", they laughed. On Thursdays we have focus groups with Bangata villagers, and we get the chance to ask them questions, and vice versa. They were shocked to hear that I don't know some of my neighbors at home. Relationships with family and friends are really stressed here, and people are always walking in and out of the house. It is nice to sit down with people and get to know them instead of being constantly absorbed in technology, like at home in the States. That is one of the many things I love about Tanzania. At the same time, being here is also making me appreciate things at home more- things you wouldn't expect. For example, being able to go to a cafe and come out an hour later without worry that they shopkeeper who escorted you there is still waiting for you outside. Assimilation into Tanzanian life is not always "Hamna shida" (no problems, as Mama always says). I absolutely abhor being called mazungu, but aside from that, pole pole (slowly slowly) I am getting more comfortable. I haven't started telling people "mimi si mazunga, mimi ni mtanzania!" (I'm not a mazungu, I'm a Tanzanian!) yet, but I think I might...

Erick, Piu, Me, Eliza, Mama

Erick and Emmanuel

Emmanuel, Mama, and Erick

"The Vampire Diaries"

I spent the past week high in the Usambara Mountains at the Mazumbai Forest Reserve- a patch of rainforest protected by the devious Mr. Mrecha, unknown to most Arusha city-goers, but by far one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever had the privilege of exploring. The car ride was long- 8 hours, mostly spent being narcoleptic (duh), playing car games, singing, and listening to Luke make up songs about Mary having to pee, Thea’s new haircut, and the infamous dusty cucumber. The final three hours of the ride were spent waving to villagers who seemed to be fascinated by the presence of “Wazungu”- being that it is pretty hard to access, it’s not surprising that seeing actual tourists was a new event to them. When we finally stepped out of the land rovers onto the lawn of the Swiss Chalet, tired and completely covered in dust, Baba Jack announced that it was time for boot camp. After a week of being confined to the vehicles, it was a welcome event. Boot camp continued all week, and I don’t think I’ve been more sore since field hockey tryouts freshman year, but I guess it has helped us combat the voluptuousness the camp crew is attempting to impose on us, a trait so prized in Tanzania, yet somewhat unwelcome by American standards. The next morning, we reported to the living room of the Swiss Chalet to hear what the morning’s mystery activity was. Assuming it was something academic, I was quite surprised when Baba Jack told us that he wanted us to go into the forest, completely alone, no watch, no camera, no water, and let it teach us. With that he turned us loose, and I spent three hours bushwhacking down a slope to the waterfall (later I found out there was a path…), climbing trees Mulan-style (guess there really are several uses for a khanga), and rockclimbing up the waterfall. I can’t even put into words how it felt to be so free in such a glorious place. You’re just going to have to try it yourself. The rest of the week involved learning techniques for data collection in the forest, a presentation on the concept of horizontal stratification in the tropical rainforest (I won’t bore you with the science mumbo-jumbo), trading valentines with rather colorful Swahili phrases, finally having my craving for cake satisfied, interviewing locals about traditional medicine, and realizing just what it takes to have conservation be a life mission… kind of scary. Now I described the head forester, Mr. Mrecha as being devious. That is no lie. But before I go into that, I should explain my post title. After spending the day in the village with the locals, Baba Jack cleared up why they seemed to be so interested in us. It is not because we’re tourists- no. It’s because they think we’re vampires. Yup, real blood-sucking beasts. The fact that it was daylight made it fine to be in our presence, but if they were to encounter us at night… well needless to say no one wanted to find out what would happen. I woke up early one morning to go for a run, passing by several locals on the way back. They smiled and said hello, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how they must have thought I was on my way back from the forest after a… delicious… night in the forest. Mr. Mrecha is of course, well aware of the wazungu stereotype, and used it to his advantage for forest conservation. Many years ago, he went to the local village and purchased a khanga (a traditional wrap skirt worn by women in Tanzania) and two pints of blood from the local butcher. He waited until sunset, ripped the fabric, covered it in blood, threw it near the entrance to the forest, and spilled the rest of the blood on the foliage around it. The next morning, locals found it, thought it was the work of forest vampires and, needless to say, stayed FAR away from the forest for a VERY long time. He is also known for informing locals that some of the birds in the forest are actually cameras, and that if they were in the forest cutting wood or taking plants, he would know. I never thought that conservation involved such deception, but as I learned this week, it takes a big stick, a big mouth, and a big carrot to make a difference in this field. Safari is now officially over for a while, and my friends and I are all about to head off on a three week homestay. I’m pretty nervous, but hopefully I’ll assimilate into Tanzanian life relatively well… Here’s hoping!

Colleen, Carson, and I after our hike up to the tallest peak near Mazumbai

My favorite tree in the forest

The gang's all here! (almost)

Never Thought I'd Say it, But I Miss the Mosquitoes.

The SIT group and I spent the past week on our first safari! The topic we are currently going over is the effectiveness of "small" national parks. That being said, our first stop was Tarangire National Park- one of the most visited of the Tanzanian parks, although I'm sure to most, it has fallen under the shadow of the Serengeti. To those who have heard of it, however, one thing comes to mind- Tembo. Tembo? Elephants! Tarangire National Park is famous for its elephant herds. Although it is "small", the whole of the Netherlands can fit within the boundaries of Tarangire- just goes to show how big Tanzania really is! Days at the park were divided into two parts- in the morning, we split into four groups based on classes of animal (birds, non-ruminants (warthogs, zebras, carnivores, etc.), ruminants (members of the antelope family and giraffes), and elephants), learning different methods of data collection, and evenings were spent behind our cameras as we all embraced the tourist role. I went into each day with a specific animal that I wanted to see but always ended up far exceeding my expectations. The very first day the park lived up to its reputation as we were greeted by a herd of elephants trampling the dirt road five feet from the front of our land rover. We saw more giraffes than I could count, many of whom stopped to make eye contact before galloping away with their somehow graceful, yet slightly awkward gait. I gained a lot of respect for the mongoose, as we observed a tawny hawk swoop down out of nowhere and grab one a member of their family, and end up being chased by the rest of the group, up a tree even, because the mongoose were simply unwilling to lose one of their own. Throughout our time there, I learned how to identify several bird species, saw a small pride of lions, two families of cheetah, jackals, tons of impala, waterbucks, dik-diks, and warthogs, to name a few. Unlike the seclusion of Ndarakwai, our campsite at Tarangire was in the wild. I learned to play a Tanzanian game called "Last Card" from one of my teachers to the chorus of lions roaring, and several of the other kids were awoken by "the smell of death" and sniffing, that indicated hyena activity around our tents (Don't worry Mom, it was safe). Sadly, I had no hyena stories to swap with the others come sunrise... One not so welcome aspect of Tarangire life was the presence of the vicious beast, the tsetse fly. Those suckers don't respond to any kind of bugspray, and managed to get into our cars every safari. People started keeping a tab of how many they killed and considered it a game. As opposed as I am to killing bugs, those things had to go. It is safe to say that they have officially beaten mosquitoes as my least favorite insect. On Thursday we bid Tarangire "Kwa Heri" and moved on to Lake Manyara National Park and the village of Mto Wa Mbu. Our first activity was a cultural tour where we explored the village and became acquainted with the 30 varities of banana grown there, the technique behind African carving and different styles of painting (I got to try both!), and even attended the local disco. Lake Manyara was much smaller than Tarangire, and encorporated more of a rainforest feel. It was stunning, and I saw my first hippo. Tomorrow we are moving onto the Usambara mountains to see the real rainforest. Best prepare for the 8 hour drive!

A warm welcome

The elephants Tarangire is famous for

Me and my spirit animal!

Poa Kichizi Kama Ndizi Kwenye Friji.

Officially, we’ve only been in Tanzania for about eight days, but it feels more like a month (probably because our clothes smell like it’s been…). Although our Kiswahili is lacking, everyone on the program and I have started on the fast track to assimilation into Tanzanian life. On Wednesday, we moved from Ndarakwai Ranch to the big city of Arusha. With the move, we lost the stars and our cadre of escares (guards), but we gained some luxuries- cold drinks, access to laundry soap, and even a “real” shower (complete with 50° water)! We all became responsible for getting ourselves to the city center for a lunch of rice and beans each day, which involves navigating the local transportation system called “dala dalas”- 16 seat vans that, no matter what, will always have room for one (or 10) more. Needless to say, we are getting very close. Kiswahili classes started on Thursday. We have five teachers who are all incredibly patient and fun. One of their favorite methods of teaching is by making us sing. While we may not be ready for Broadway (yet), our rendition of Hujambo Bwana is not too shabby. I think that the highlight of Arusha so far has been attending a send-off ceremony for a Maasai woman, headed to Dar es Saalam for her wedding next weekend. One of our teachers had connections and managed to get us the invite. It was a wonderful night of showing up underdressed, attempting to fake Swahili ability and failing, yet being accepted anyway, giving up my vegetarian diet in order to not offend new friends Maureen and Fatima, and getting pulled onto the dance floor by some locals, despite the fact that I made it clear that I couldn’t dance. I was hesitant to go to the party at first, but the experience helped me feel so much more connected to Tanzanian culture. While we will all remain “mzungus” forever, for now, we are poa kichizi kama ndizi kwenye friji- cool as a banana in the refrigerator. Well, we’re trying anyway. We leave tomorrow for two weeks on Safari in Tarangire National Park and the Mazumbai Forest Preserve. I can’t wait!     
 

Dala Dala

City street

Kila Wakati Ni Wakati Wa Chai!

Meeting up with my SIT group upon arrival at JRO airport was a breeze. It’s not too difficult to recognize a group of 20 girls (and a boy), standing around with backpacks and dazed expressions that clearly told the world that it had been 32 hours since their last night of sleep. We expressed our expectations and confusion over what the program would entail as we were fingerprinted and cleared for entry into the country by immigration representatives, who looked less than thrilled to be there. We collected our luggage and were introduced to program director Baba Jack and his assistant, Oscar. They piled us into a bus, threw our luggage in the back of a land rover, and we hit the dusty trail- literally. The pavement lasted for about 1/3 of the drive, and then we turned onto a bumpy dirt road that bisected a sunflower field. The drive alone assured us all that we were in for quite the adventure. The first couple days at Ndarakwai Ranch did not disappoint! The ranch was situated in a valley between Mount Kilimanjaro and Mount Meru. The views (especially at sunset) were breathtaking. We received our first gifts of khangas (traditional attire of Tanzanian women), went on a night safari drive (I saw my giraffes!), embarked on countless nature walks, visited a Maasai village, and learned, already, more than I think I would in an entire semester of normal schooling. The staff is great, as are the other kids on the program. Tanzanian life is (obviously) very different from life in the US. There are so many things to get used to- bucket showers, removing sunglasses in the presence of elders, sitting on the left hand so as not to use it at meals, and drinking boiled water that tastes faintly smoky. Another thing to get used to is the idea that, kila wakati ni wakati wa chai; every time is tea time! Baba Jack informed us the first day that the best things that the British did for Tanzania were introducing land rovers and daily tea time twice a day. I guess I’ll be developing a taste for Kilimanjaro black tea before leaving! 

Giraffe at Ndarakwai

Dancing outside the local church

View of Mount Kilimanjaro

One of our teachers, Crazy Mike, sitting on an elephant skull and my favorite Escare, Jackson.