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Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Hi all
Well, I am winding down with mixed emotions. Today. I started the goodbye process. I said goodbye to the students at the OKAT School. They did some songs for me which were beautiful and made me cry. One of the songs was "Goodbye Kristy, Goodbye. Welcome again, welcome Kristy". It was done with lovely, unique African harmonies.
Tomorrow is the last day at the orphanage. Then, I will have a going away party at Jesca's Fri. Sun I fly out of here. I, of course have mixed emotions. I am looking forward to seeing my family, friends, my home and my dog. I am looking forward to a hot shower with pressure. I am looking forward to chips, salsa and a margarita on the rocks with salt. I am looking forward to a soft bed into which I don't have to tuck mosquito net. I am looking forward to a smooth ride in a car, without getting a herniated disk every three miles. I am looking forward to cooking - but not cleaning up. I am looking forward to not smelling like bug spray and finding dirt on my bath towel after my pseudo-shower. I am looking forward to yoga class, playing in my church group and a double, tall, skinny, Carmel latte. Mostly, I am looking forward to seeing my family, my friends, my dog and my home. I know I already said that, but it bears repeating. And this paragraph does not even come close to all I am looking forward to seeing, hugging or doing. And some just cannot be repeated for the general audience anyway.
I will miss seeing how Mt Kili looks different every day, seeing people walking everywhere with babies on their backs and a load on their head. I will miss ten little bodies on my lap, pulling my hair, using my pants as a hankie, my legs as a climbing pole and the world at large as a toilet. I will miss little kids screaming "Mzungu" when they see me, rushing up to me to hold my hand, hug my legs or just stand and giggle. I will miss my Tanzanian friends and my fellow volunteers. I will miss 85 degree weather. I will miss the rice, beans, chipote bread, fresh fruit, Nutella, ugali and mandazi. I will miss everyone greeting me on the street. I will miss the group of junior high girls I see every day on the road who call out "Christina, Christina". I will miss feeling like the Queen of England when I'm a guest in their homes. I will miss how everyone holds my hand and kisses both of my cheeks.
I am happy and saddened about leaving. I am encouraged about the progress that is being made here by local people and volunteers which in Mama Lucy's words "Will lift this place up." I am also overwhelmed about what needs to be done.
I am so grateful and blessed to have had this experience. Also, I really want to thank you for your encouraging e-mails. I would receive one just at the right time and when I needed it most. and, you would have always said the right thing at the right time to help me get over some hump I was trying to climb. Also, thanks to all of you because every person on this e-mail list has encouraged me either while here or before the trip.
Take care and I will see you soon!!!!!Africa Journal # 8
Monday, March 21
Uneventful at the orphanage…
At work, it was actually rather uneventful, which is a-okay. There are still quite a few sick kids, stuffy noses, coughs, etc… The kids were inside today, but I have found another inside place to take some of the older kids to color. So, I took Basa Lisa, Lillian and Lucy to color. This was very fun because I like being able to do something a little extra with the kids. These older kids are often bored and need a little extra stimulation. They like it when I write a number one or draw a stick figure on their page. I had originally done this so they could try to copy it, but actually, they just enjoy having me write something on their paper. I think they are starved with any type of individual attention. This causes me to think back on the days where felt guilty for not being totally attentive to my daughters. I remember sometimes having laundry to do, or a meal to cook and telling them "Just a minute" when they asked me to color with them, play Barbie or house, etc… Now, I realize just how much love and attention Gerry and I did give them. I realize how fortunate they were to have a mom and dad who had even a little time for such things. Let alone, a mom and dad who were alive and able to keep them in a home with their own bed, toys, clothes and comforting hugs and kisses to send them off to sleep. So, if I ever get hit with any pangs of guilt over not being attentive enough, I will remember these kids and how much they relished even the slightest attention from a stranger who was so temporary in their lives.
Spot light on a kid…
In these last days here, I want to write a little something specifically about each child. I'll start with one of the older girls.
Lillian is four-years old and it took her about three weeks to start warming up to me. Almost as if she has figured out that we all eventually leave her. She is a small, wiry girl with a tiny face with huge, intense eyes. She looks like a forty-year old in a little girl's body. Lillian is smart and has figured out I don't speak Swahili, so she sometimes laughs at me and some times tries to help me. She is really bright and likes to count in Swahili and in English. She also loves when I pick her up, spin her around, turn her upside down, etc. When I pick her up, she snaps her legs around my waist in a death grip. She is like a little monkey and has a boisterous, growley laugh when I spin her around. She is one of my favorites and I will remember her wearing the pale purple dress with muli-colored triangles over it.
Pascalie is also four and I think of him as Pascal the Rascal because he is always looking for mischief. And, I don't blame him because he is smart, a good athlete and bored to death. I can sometimes see him looking, studying the area and proceeding to knock something over, aggravate someone or try to escape the area. He does not really like to be cuddled, but sometimes, I feel a hand on my leg or grabbing for mine and look down and there he is. He leans in on me and sucks his thumb. At those times, I am just there with him. I don't go and seek him out, but do try to be there when he seeks me. He likes to play soccer and when I can get him one-on one (rare) he loves to pass the ball with me. I worry more about him, because he does not seem attached to any of the other kids or nurses. He seems like he is lonely and I hope someday he can have someone who is close to him that he can trust to stay and love him. He is a very cute boy and has a nice smile when he breaks it out. I'll remember Pascale wearing a pink puff sleeved shirt, pants and white girl's sandals.
My date…
As I mentioned toward the end of my last journal, I had agreed to go to Tukumpasy's mud hut to pick up her and Simon at 2:00 to walk to Rau Primary School and get him registered. I was wondering if they would remember and if with the language barrier, we had understood the same thing about our meeting. But, when I got to their home, Simon and Clara came rushing out to greet me. Clara had on an Easter looking dress with a broken zipper, but I could tell it was her good dress. And Simon had on a pair of worn, but cute navy shorts and a blue Nike T-shirt. I could tell they were freshly washed and ready to go. And, when Tukampasy greeted me again, she thanked me and told Simon to thank me too.
We held hands and walked the mile to school. None of us really spoke the other's language, but overall, we communicated with the few words we did know and body language. I was teaching Simon and Clara words in English and they would tell me the Swahili version.
When we arrived at school, the classrooms were teaming with kids. Each classroom had it's doors and windows open. And, I heard a few kids calling my name through the windows – kids I had met on one of my outings through the village.
We went into the office of the headmaster to get Simon signed up for school. He was a very nice man who spoke pretty good English. I explained that I wanted to sponsor Simon for school He said that he really believed that education was important. He has had two sisters who have died, leaving a total of five kids. This man is sponsoring or helping to get money for the education of all five of these kids. He told me "You are doing a good thing for this boy. God bless you and guide you." So, I paid the twenty dollars for two years of school. A receipt was given to Simon's auntie, Tukampasy. Then, it was explained that we would need to go to the tailor across the street – a mama who knew how the uniform was supposed to be made. The headmaster said that Simon would need a school sweater, exercise books, black shoes, rain boots and pencils. Also, he said it would be fine for Simon to start school without a uniform. We agreed to meet the next morning at 7:30 to meet and walk to the tailor to measure for his uniform.
A dilemma…
Jessica had picked up her form to register for the exam at the Mary Gorette School. Since this school is so exclusive, they have their own entrance exam and don't rely solely on marks from previous school years or the score on the national exam. The exam is scheduled for March 26th – next week. The dilemma was that Jessica needed a signature from the headmaster from her previous school along with her marks from that school. Her previous school was in Dar Es Salaam – a seven hour bus ride from here. I talked to Grace – the CCS staff person and mom to all of us. I asked if we could express mail the form or fax it. She said that there would be no fax at the school and mail would be too slow. The other option was for Jessica to make the fourteen hour round trip just to get a signature. This seemed so absurd to me because this should be such a simple problem – not so in Africa. So, after much discussion, someone came up with the idea for sending the letter with a bus driver, having Jessica's schoolmate from Dar pick the letter up at the bus, go get the signature and send the latter back with another bus driver. So, Jessica called and was able to get her friend to agree to do this. So, she had to be at the bus station at six AM to get her letter off.
Night out at Deos…
I had not been down to Deo's in a couple of weeks. It is the little bar/grocery store, which is a block away from CCS. I went down, had one beer and realized that the day's activities had caught up with me, so returned to take my cold, presureless shower and get into my mosquito netting for bed. I tried to read a little of my book, but my eyelids weighed twelve pounds apiece and I hadn't the eyelid muscular endurance to keep them up, so turned out my night light and konked out. Oh and by the way, I brought along ten books on this trip because I thought that I would be reading voraciously with the long trip here, and a lot of free time. Well, so far, I have read in total one hundred and fifty pages of the original book I started out with on the plane. A small case of being clueless on my part. Perhaps I will be more realistic now that I am older and wiser than a few weeks ago and set a goal of possibly getting two thirds of this book done by September 2005.
Tuesday, March 22
This morning I met Simon and Tukampasy at the office of the headmaster as planned. We walked over across the street to the tailors. After much discussion in Swahili, I saw the tailor get into a car and leave us in her front yard. The headmaster explained that she was going to afuneral and we would have to go into town to get material and go to a different tailor. So what had seemed like a simple task had turned more complicated. A recurring theme for this past eight weeks. We went back to the school, and he recruited a teacher to go with Tukampasy, Simon and myself into Moshi to the market. I did not ask who would be taking over her class while she was on the errand, and I was grateful to have her since I had no clue where to go and Tukampasi speaks very little English. The teacher's name was Martha and coincidentally, I had met her before because she is a neighbour of Jessica's family.
Shopping with the locals…
When we got to town, we went into the areas where the locals do their shopping. This was interesting for me. Some of the shops were just sidewalk displays while others were indoors. We had to go to seven different fabric shops to get the royal purple fabric. First, it is rather difficult to find this color, which they call maroon, and second, if we found the fabric, it was either not up to Martha's quality standards or the price was too high. If we found the right color, I was relieved and thought "Good, five dollars, let's buy it." Next thing I would know, Martha was saying in a disgusted voice "Hapana" (no) and doing an about-face and walking out. I did appreciate the fact that she was trying to conserve my money, but was getting doubtful about coming back to she school with cloth in hand. But, eventually she found both price and quality satisfactory and we bought it for $3.00. We also got white cloth for shirts, two pair of white stockings, five exercise books, pencils and pens. We did not get shoes, rain boots or a book bag because Martha was too disgusted with the prices. So, we were going to have to go to another village called Kebelerone which has market three days a week with second-hand items for good prices. I was wondering how I would negotiate that with Tukampasi, who knows little English and myself who knows kidogo (small) Swahili.
After our outing at the market, I still had time to get to Upendo for a little while to work. Today, Toni and Ali, my roommates who are from Minnesota who are both artists were working on painting a wall mural in the new playroom. The mural is in the traditional tinga-tinga African style. It is of giraffes, elephants, zebras and other animals who live in Africa. It looks amazing. There were also two local artists who were donating their time helping. One of them was a 16-year boy named Juvinalle. He is an artist at the Mbkumbo Youth Arts Group. This is a center for the education of young artists. They also have a shop where they sell their artwork, which provides funds to keep the program going. The other artist is a forty-one year old man named Abas, who has his artwork in an area called the Carving Huts.
Abas is someone who makes you happy just to be around him. When I came it to see the progress on the mural, Abas was painting and dancing. Someone commented on his cheerfulness and his reply was "Why should I make you sad? Why should you make me sad? We are here to make our brothers and sisters happy. If not, why live?" And I have to say, Abas accomplishes his goal every day. There is another new playroom at the orphanage and Toni and Ali have no time to paint a mural. I asked Abas and Juvenille if they would be able to donate some more time to paint the next room also. Toni said she would buy the paint and they agreed to do it next week. Also, they want to return to Upendo to volunteer with the kids.
Getting Simon suited up…
After lunch, I had planned to meet Simon and his Auntie across the road at the tailor's. Mama Nelson is the woman to whom we have all gone to have our African clothing made. It is interesting that here, it is so cheap to have clothing custom made and at home, it is terribly expensive. Anyway, Mama Nelson is a lovely woman, who has three children and two tailors working for her. They set up their black, antique sewing machines on the front porch. Next to the machines is a huge box, which is a muddle of fabric. It is amazing t me how they keep it all straight.
Clara, Simon's cousin and Auntie Tukampasi were also there. Simon was just beaming. He got measured and we decided to go to Kebolerone to get the rest of the items needed. I was unsure how this outing would go without an interpreter, but as they say "Make hay when the sun shines." We were all together, I had the time and today was one of the three days the market was open.
Local market day…
When we arrived, the scene was just wild looking to me. Crowds of people and a hundred booths with items from household cleaners, rugs, tablecloths, bras and undies and tons of clothes. Most of the items are second-hand. We went from place to place and Tukampasy was like Martha in that if a price was too high, she turned on her heels and left the booth. Occasionally they would call us back and offer a better price. So, we got Simon two pair of black shoes, a pair of rain boots, a book bag, two pair of shorts and two shirts. I saw that there were girl's shoes and dresses too, so I offered to buy Clara a dress and shoes and a shirt for Tukampasy's older son, also named Simon. Clara is so sweet and a little mother hen toward little Simon. She was wearing a worn conga and a pair of clogs with her heels hanging off the back. I couldn't bear not to get her anything. We found her a really cute, slightly too-big black dress with crème flowers and a ruffled collar for one dollar. Also, a pair of nice black shoes for three dollars. We celebrated our purchases with an ice cold orange Fanta. I have not drunk so much soda in the past five years as I have in these few weeks in Africa. And on this particular hit day, the cold soda actually hit the spot.
Teaching at the OKAT School…
Today I was scheduled to teach at OKAT at 3:00. I walked into the classroom and found that it had grown from the original six or so students I had taught three weeks ago to around twenty-eight. These kids have been telling their friends and they are coming. In the purest form, this proves the theorem; "If you build it, they will come."
I had brought my flute to entertain he students. I played about three songs and they giggled. I am sure they did this to show appreciation for my talent. I passed around a sheet of my music and explained that this was how people knew to play these songs. Also, I was asking them if anyone had ever seen a flute. Evidentially, Renneva thought I was asking for a volunteer to try to play the flute, so she hesitantly, with a shy smile came up to the front. I thought "Well, why not"? So, I put the flute to her lips instructing her to blow. First, she pursed her lips, then hummed into the flute. She realized right away that this is not the intended sound, so we all laughed with her. Then I showed her again and she got a sound. I held my fingers on a couple of keys and did a trill while she blew, which delighted her.
After my concert, they politely clapped. Then I was to teach the use of the words behind, over, under, on and in. I have realized that due to the wide range of ability in understanding English, I needed to do a lot of demonstrating. So, I put a book on Edista's head and said "The book is on her head." Then I stood in front of the blackboard and asked "Can you see me?" They said "Yes". Then I got behind the blackboard and said "Now can you see me?" They laughed and said "no". I said "I am behind the blackboard." I continued with this line of instruction, then wrote the ten exercises questions on the board for them do write in their exercise books and complete. I went around to help and found that there was a wide range of levels of understanding. Mama Lucy had hired three teachers now, with plans to get rid of Mr Ngumo, the awful wife-beating, alcoholic headmaster. They plan to split the class into two groups for more effective teaching.
After teaching, I gave Mama Lucy $300.00 which was donated by my music group friends for philanthropic use. She was overwhelmed with gratitude. She said "We will lift this place up." I really want to write Orphan about Mama Lucy and the school. I think what she is doing is amazing and she is such an intelligent, articulate woman and is such a hoot, she would steel the show.
On the way back to CCS, I talked to Anna, the attorney from the UK who is helping Mama Lucy get the school organised and getting government approval to operate. One of the projects has been to interview each of the students to create a profile. Anna had done all the interviews with students along with an interpreter. Next, the plan was to take Irene, the 21-year-old teacher and about five students at a time and go to their homes. Anna came up with the brilliant idea of taking a bag of sugar, salt and packets of tea to each household to break the ice. Today, she had gone with the girls who were from the village of Sranga.
Anna told me she was near tears the entire time, because the situations of some of these kids was absolutely, devastatingly pathetic. One girl, named Veronica was living with her brother and grandmother. Her parents had died of AIDS. They live in a two room, mud hut with no electricity and no running water. Veronica told Anna that she doesn't want to marry, but just wants to stay with her grandmother. Anna said that the grandmother looked very frail. Anna plans to set up an account not only to sponsor Veronica, but to take care of her and her brother when the grandma dies, so they can live until she finishes school and can earn a living.
Wednesday, 23
The harsh real world…
I have had a really eye opening last few days. I am sitting here and not really even sure on how to describe this experience. In my weeks here, I have seen the sadness of kids who have been left behind due to death or abandonment. I have seen drunken men walking home from the bar at three in the afternoon because they have no hope and way out. I have seen a beggar on the street who has only stumps for fingers and toes. I have seen tiny, dark mud huts that serve as homes. I have seen little kids with flies all over their faces. I have seen a lovely little girl named Mary who will not see more that another couple of years of life due to AIDS. I have heard of abuse of women and children, girls getting raped, people with no money to feed their families or to get medical attention. But, this week, another, deeper layer has been exposed. This exposure has peeled away another layer of the hardness which had surrounded my heart and the ignorance which had fogged my brain. And, this week, I have not even seen the poorest of the poor or the most hopeless of the hopeless. But, what I have seen this week is not even the tip of the iceberg of the difficulties suffered not only in this corner of the world, but in so many others as well. And if I did get exposed to those, would so many layers of me be pulled off that I would be nothing but air? I know that at this moment, I have to digest that I have seen to date before I dig any deeper. But, someday, I will resume digging. Who will grab a shovel and come along with me?
More about the OKAT school…
In doing these visits to the families, I have learned more about the school. It was started by a student program at the University of Georgia last year. Students worked with mama Lucy to get the program started. The deal was that as long as a certain percentage of the students stayed enrolled, they would provide funding. But, due to the fact that parents pulled kids out due to family problems and needing them at home, they lost the funding and the school floundered for a few months. Mama Lucy taught the remaining seven students herself and got volunteers form the village to help. Right around the time I started to teach, she hired Mr Ngumo as headmaster. Then, Anna started her work. With no funding, Mama Lucy is paying for all of it including lunch for the students. She has now hired three additional teachers. Over the past three weeks, by word of mouth, the school has grown to 25 students. They will have to cap in because they cannot keep up eight the growth and she cannot afford an indefinite number of students. Anna had to break that news to Mama Lucy, who doesn't want to turn anyone away. But, both she and her husband Dr. Orangu see the realism in capping the number at least for now.
They are looking for sponsors for the students at a rate of $30.00 a month. This will subsidise for the kids who cannot pay anything. The goal for the school is to continue to educate these kids who cannot afford to go on in school. They want to get them to the point where they can pass their exams to go on to secondary school. They will also aid the kids in finding sponsors to help them continue in the secondary school in their village. This school helps full the kids out of the cracks into which they have fallen. Many are bright, motivated students and are so grateful for the chance to go on in their education.
Mama Lucy sees the broad picture of the cultural problems in Tanzania. She feels that education is the way to lift it up and I completely agree. She is a woman with vision and the brains and perseverance to make it happen.
Going visiting in the village…
This morning, I decided to go do some work with Anna for the OKAT School. She is continuing to visit the families of the students and I really want to help with that. So, this morning, we had six families to visit. We then planned to return and visit another five. So, with the bad roads and the unknown factors which always slow things down here immensely, we were keen to start as soon as possible. But, of course, this was not in the cards. First, Mama Lucy had prepared tea and cheese and tomato sandwiches and there was now way to turn that down. So, Anna and I resigned to sit and eat, while thinking the day was not getting any younger. Anyway, the cheese tasted yummy – it is a rarity in Tanzania and I have missed the staple of my American diet – along with Ben and Jerry's.
So, finally, at 10:00, we started the process of considering the possibly leaving to go on the visits. Anna had paid for ten packets or tea, 2 kilos of sugar and a loaf of bread to take to each family as a gift. So, Antonette – the woman from Nairobi who has been working for Mama Lucy for the past two month was finishing measuring and scooping the sugar out of a huge bulk bag. Then, the kids whose homes we were visiting piled into the back of a white, flat bed truck. Irene, one of the young teachers came along to translate for us and to meet the families. The truck is an old clunker, a loud, rough running diesel. Also, I'm not sure why, but something underneath the front seat heated up the entire seat and blew hot air on my legs – I was sitting in the middle, straddling the gear shift. So, after my day of travels, I can truthfully say that I have the hottest ass in Tanzania.
Today, the kids we were visiting were from the village of Shia. This one was about a twenty-minute drive from Sranga – where Honey Badger and the OKAT school is located. The village is situated in the start of the foothills of Mt Kili and the view was amazing. It is hilly, of course, green and panoramic.
On the visits, the student indicated to the driver where to stop and would then lead us to their home. Most of the time, we would park on a "main road". I use this term loosely to describe the rough, dirt pathways on which we drove. Most of the time, we met mothers, grandmothers, sisters and small kids, but no fathers. They parents overall were very grateful for the work the school was doing and we had more blessings bestowed on us than deserved. I say God bless them for the way they work, struggle and hang together and keep it together – even if it is barely day-to day.
The visit this morning that was the hardest was the home of Sila. This is a boy who is a very bright, motivated student and a handsome, nice boy. Basically, he lives with his aunt and uncle. His mom ran away and lives in Dar. His dad is an alcoholic and forgot to feed him or to care anything about him, so he left and went to live with the other relatives. But instead of going to the uncle's home, Sila wanted us to go to his dad's home. To get there, we had to hike up a mildly steep trail. And when we got there, we didn't find his dad. The man who came to greet us asked Sila where he was living. He said he had not seen Sila for awhile. We asked it this was his dad and Irene told us that it was another uncle. We explained the school situation to the uncle even though he was obviously not involved in Sila's life. The uncle did seem like a decent man. He thanked us for what we were doing and went and picked some avocados off his tree to send as a gift to Mama Lucy. I had to wonder how Sila had turned out so well with absolutely no guidance in his life.
Rain delay…
After the morning visits, we planned to have lunch and then go to Majengo to see five more families. But, after lunch, the skies opened up. It had been raining off and on for the past several days since the rainy season has officially arrived. So, since the kids were riding in an open bed truck, it would have been an uncomfortable ride in pouring rain. We had a great lunch – chicken wings, spinach and carrots, ugali (maize mashed potato-like dish) and fried potatoes.
After lunch, it was still pouring, so Mama Lucy ordered me to find a bed in her house and lay down. I told her I was doing fine and didn't need a rest, but she thinks I work too hard and was worried that I had been sick last week. This is ironic since she probably works twelve-hour days. But anyway she was insistent, am I am not one to turn down the opportunity for a sanctioned nap, so off I went. And do you know that with the cool breeze, the rain patter sound and my after lunch drowsiness, I had an absolutely blissful nap?
Visiting the downtrodden…
After the rain slowed, Irene and I took the five kids to go to Majengo to meet their families. Anna was very tired because she has really been working hard and had an emotionally draining day, so I told her I was ready to manage the visits myself. So, we took off at 2:30. The morning visits had been eye opening. These families are very poor – though some are better than others. But this afternoon, I saw some unbelievably pathetic things, which I know, are not even the worst of the situations here in Tanzania. I was in or near tears too many times to count. It didn't help to bite my cheek to hold back the tears because the pain of what I saw today numbed any internal pain I might have felt myself.
Majengo village is more urban than Shia, where I was this morning. The neighbourhood has several shops and businesses. Also, the homes are much closer together. This area appeared much better off from the exterior, but within, well that was a whole different story.
The visits went as follows:
Halima
Halima is about fifteen years old. Her house seems nicer than most. It had more space and was made of block rather than mud or volcanic brick. I met her dad who is a chef in town. He said that he could pay the 6,500 TSC a month toward school fees although he supports ten kids and grandkids.
Veronica
Veronica has an obvious eye problem. Her home is a tiny, very poor looking two-room hut with a tin roof. She lives with her grandparents. While we were explaining the school, they told us that the granddad has chest problems and can no longer work. They try to make mandazi, which are bits of fried bread to sell for 10TSC (one cent) to make money. Veronica's mom died and the dad has disappeared. They also have three more grandkids from different parents they are trying to support. They can't afford to keep them in school. Veronica had cataract surgery in 1993, but still has very poor vision. She has trouble learning due to that. Her grandparents asked me to sponsor these kids and I am not sure what to do. Mama Lucy told me that I have to harden my heart a little to work for the overall good. She says, "You have to do number one first, then number two, then number three." I understand what she is saying because it is so overwhelming to see each of these situations and not to get involved with each one individually. But, I thought, for about $80.00, I could sponsor all three of the other grandkids for school. When we left, they said "God bless you – we will pray for you."
Edista
I left Veronica's house near tears, but still holding it together. When we approached Edista's house, I felt a sense of relief to see a nice appearing home with a man outside in front making iron grillwork for windows. I was thinking, "Okay, this is a better situation." But, this was quickly shattered. Inside the house, I learned that the man and his wife have only known Edista for a year. Last year, their kids were at a shop and found her sitting crying beside the road. She had been abandoned by her dad and her mom was dead and she had no other family. So, these kids brought her home and they decided to take care of her. They seem to love her. She is a really sweet girl, a genuinely motivated student and I understand she had some hearing loss. I have to wonder if she was abused, leading to her hearing problem. These people, like many others said "God bless you for what you are doing." I tried to say "God bless you for taking a stranger into your home and caring for her" But my throat had locked up and the words would not come – but the tears did. They were so sweet to Irene and Me..
Posted at 10:02 am by rubybegonia
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Sunday March 27, 2005
" Heri Ya Pasaka" (Happy Easter)!!!!
I woke up to a beautiful, sunny eighty degree day. I was the only volunteer there for that day, so it was quiet. I had a quite an agenda of visiting lined up for the day. Also, I was looking so forward to a phone call at 9:30 PM from Gerry and the girls. I have not talked to the girls since I left in February. I had bought some gum to hand out to all the kids for Easter and a few pens to give to school kids. If you ever go to Africa, bring pens to give away, they love those as gifts. Especially ones with some type of American advertising.
First, I had plans to go with Jesca to mass to witness the baptism of baby Glory and celebrate Easter with their families. Jesca was excited to be the Godmother to this beautiful, miracle girl. In an earlier journal I told the story of how Glory's mom, Lucy, who is Jesca's aunt, lost her first baby during labor and almost died herself. So, this baby whose full name is Glory to God, is a much cherished girl.
Oh, and as a side story, I have such difficulty keeping everyone in that family straight. Jesca's grandfather, who was Digna's father, had two wives and many, many kids. So, for example, I was introduced to a boy named Richard who is about nine years old, who is Jesca's uncle, because he is the young brother of Digna (who is 45 and has a twenty-three year old daughter). And, a twelve year old girl named Rose, who is a young sister of Digna. Both Richard and Rose are from a different and apparently much younger wife of Jesca's now deceased grandfather. And no wonder he is dead, he just plain wore himself out. Anyway, Mama Tumaini and Lucy are sisters also to Digna, along with several others whose names I cannot remember. These siblings are from the same mother as Digna.
Okay, back to Easter. In a typical African fashion, there was not a set time fro Jesca to come and fetch me to escort me to the festivities. As of the previous night, she still had not learned the time of the baptism. So, I woke up with the rooster alarm, cleaned up, put on my sunscreen, laid my Easter frock on the bed and went to enjoy the sunny day and eat a little breakfast. My Easter dress was one which for I had bought fabric early in my trip and had just recently taken to Mama Nelson to have made into a long, sleeveless, fitted dress. It was fully lined and with the fabric and tailoring, $12.00.
Around 9:00, Jesca came to pick me up with her cousin, Baby, to escort me to Mama Tumaini's house. Mama is Lucy's sister and the host for the baptism celebration. Jesca was wearing a beautiful pink suit that her mom had sewn at the tailors for her. She looked lovely in it. We walked the half-mile to the Tumainis. Little Simon lives along the way to the Tumainis and as always, he and Clara rushed out to greet me. He had a nice little short set on, yes, a little worn, but spanking clean. Clara had on tulle, white dress and a foam visor with "Kilimanjaro Marathon, 2005" printed on it. I had given her this visor a week ago. I had to giggle a little over the combination of frilly dress and cheesy visor. I had Jesca ask her if she had worn it to church this morning and she proudly said "Ndio" (yes). Tucampassi came out and insisted we come in to eat. Nut Jesca told her we had to go to the baptism, so she understood. She was wearing a skirt I had brought from home. I had purchased it for $15.00 from the boutique that Jacqueline works in. The skirt was originally $80.00. Simon and Clara escorted us to the Tumainis, where we said good bye and Heri ya Pasaka" (Happy Easter).
The first thing I saw at the Tumaini house was this little white fluff and inside it was baby Glory. Now, her mother Lucy is a beautiful woman, and baby Glory is a miniature of her. Just a little doll. Then, though I had already eaten breakfast, Mama Tumaini insisted that at least I eat some buttered bread and have some chai. I have learned not to show any resistance, because it is futile and only results in a small scuffle that I will not win, so I ate and drank another breakfast. Had I planned ahead, I would have saved roommate my first breakfast, but I thought we were proceeding straight to church.
After a half hour or so, they all started making movements to go. Mama's husband, Andrew is a taxi driver, so they have a car. Her son drove Jesca, Lucy, Glory, Agnes Baby and the mzungu to the church. The rest had already gone to Easter mass and stayed behind. Apparently they realized that there would only be so much room in the car and elected to walk to their own church which was closer.
I felt a little like an interloper. What more right did I have to attend this special occasion than did the family? Also, Lucy and her husband actually live in Dar es Salaam, which is a seven to eight hour bus ride away. She has been staying for the past eight weeks with her sister, Mama Tumaini to recover and visit family. I was surprised that her husband had not come to the baptism, but I realize that logistics probably took precedence over desire to attend and he had to stay home. Lucy did mention that she was looking forward to going home and that she missed her husband. I asked Jesca later if he was a good man and she said "Yes, I love that man. He like second father to me." I was happy to know that there are good men out there (and actually, I have met many) and there are women who don't fear their husbands and love them despite mistreatment.. Such a problem in that society.
Anyway, it took us thirty minutes to make the three minute drive to the church. This was of course due to the horrendously bumpy roads and now, we had a group of dressed up women and a baby on board, so this called for extra carefulness in driving. But, at one point, there was a huge hill and the car could not make its way up it with all in the car. So, the three young girls had to get out and walk. I started to get also and they would not hear of me walking. This is due to the fact that I am a Mgani (visitor) and my age. Now the age thing is funny, because I could walk ten circles around most of these people and still not be tired, but since I am older, I must be pampered. So, they walked the quarter mile up the hill, while the car labored up with the rest of us inside and we rejoined at the top of the hill.
We pulled up to the church and I just watched the crowds walking toward the narrow opening to get into the gate. I loved watching the cute, little girls in their frilly, swooshy Easter dresses and the dapper little boys, uncomfortable, but proud in their suits. As usual, the majority of the crowd was women and children.
The church was hot and packed to the brim. We sat on the front row due to the fact we had a baptism. The mass was at least two hours and in Swahili. Now, I have to admit, that even if mass is in English, I have sometimes work to bring my attention away from things like "Oh, I have to remember to send three birthday cards this month" "I had better schedule an appointment for an oil change". "Oooh, my finger nails look a little scraggly". Sorry Father Jack and Curt – no offense to you – just my A.D.D. kicking in. So, I did struggle to stay in the moment during mass. Unfortunately, I was not able to partake in a truly entertaining activity, which would have been studying each and every person there because obviously, I was already a little conspicuous, being the one and only mzungu in church. So, craning my neck during the homily, gawking during the Lord 's Prayer or outright staring during communion was ill-advised and probably even downright rude..
But, I did sneak several peaks at the choir in the back of church. They had an organ which sounded like the ones at baseball games. Once I was able to gat around this, I really enjoyed their truly joyful and impressively well-rehearsed music. And, once, when I wasn't looking, I suddenly heard this high pitched voice above the rest of the choir. I realized that it was probably coming from their prima-soprano. She was singing "li li li li li li li li…..liii." This is a sound the women often make in celebration. It is a combination of a primal sound, but in a controlled way. There was a lot of clapping and joining in of the "li li lis" and I even ventured a couple of "li lis" myself.
The rest of the mass and the baptism was the same as in the USA. Also, the family had hired a photographer who took pictures of baby Glory in her glory. Jesca told me that part of the homily was about how badly the women are treated in Tanzania. The priest talked about how Mary was a revered woman. He talked about how the country needed to improve the rights and conditions for women. Jesca is all about that and so am I. We were both so happy to hear that the church is addressing that issue. Too bad only about forty percent of the husbands were at mass to hear it. He was literally preaching to the choir. The people of Tanzania are very religious and even the men who were not at church are reverent toward church. So, hearing that message might help make a difference – but pole pole (slowly)
And speaking of the topic of how women are treated, we had to walk to the priest's office after mass to pick up the baptism certificate for Glory. The church is part of KCMC (Kilimanjaro Christian Medical Center), so the office was in the hospital. As we were walking down the corridor, there were a few patients being wheeled in on gurneys by family members. One older woman was half sitting up and we made eye contact. I said "Pole" (sorry) and she said "Asante" (thank you). As I have mentioned before, anytime you see anyone any type of hardship, even a stranger, it is customary to show sympathy. Anyway, as we proceeded, there was a younger woman on a gurney who had a black eye and a swollen, bloody nose. I could not imagine any other way she could have had that particular combination of injuries from a source other than a direct blow to the face. Happy Easter to her.
After getting the certificate, we piled into the car and drove back to the Tumaini's house. As we pulled in, Lucy's brother honked the horn in a rhythm, people came out of the house and clapped the rhythm back. Then, more rejoicing li li's. In the back of the house, on the hard dirt yard, there were five people preparing Easter lunch. I have been eating this type of food for weeks now. As I watched Mama Tumaini preparing a coleslaw type dish, scooping her hands through and through it, I realized a few things. First, I have never seen anyone wash their hands with anything but water poured out of a pitcher. Second, I know that if I were preparing this food at home, I would have washed my hands. And third, I have been eating this food for weeks and have had little or no problems with illness. So, do we really need all this antibacterial, prolonged hand-washing?
I also watched them prepare one of my Tanzanian favorites; Chipote bread. They take these balls of dough, roll it into a long roll, then coil it into a circular shape, then take a Serengeti beer bottle and roll it flat. Then it is fried in a flat pan over a fire. Jesca was helping in the "kitchen" and since her pink skirt was longer, she got some grease and ashes along the hem. She did not seem at all dismayed and I'm sure it never occurred to her not to help so as to not get soiled.
When lunch was served, they insisted that I go first. Again, this felt wrong and this time, mostly due to the fact that although I am "mgani", Lucy should have the privilege. But, I know better than to protest, so I helped myself to modest helpings of rice (pila), cukuku (slang for chicken), chipote, coleslaw, mango and beans. All delicious. One thing I noticed is that many people in Tanzania do not use utensils to eat. And frankly, they get along just fine without. First, the rice as a little sticky, so can be balled up a little and eaten. There is a dish called ugali, which is a mashed potato like dish made from maize. It is stiff and can be formed into a scoop to pick up or absorb hard-to-eat with the fingers like food.
After lunch, we enjoyed a cold soda. A treat. I was offered a beer and I explained that if I had a beer, I would have to go "la la" (no, not pee you people, sleep). The Tumainis are a fairly comfortable family and own a TV, so a soccer game between the South Africans and another African team was turned on. But, after a few minutes, they lost their signal and that was the end of that. Afterward, I walked back to CCS to rest until the next round of "Easter Eat-fest, 2005".
At around 5:00, I walked the mile or so to Jesca's house. They had a big crowd there of family and neighbors. There were two women there whom I had met before. One was Martha who was the teacher at Simon's school who had taken us to the market that day and helped me purchase material for his uniform. The other woman was a banker in town and a neighbor of the family. Both women speak English, so that made it nice for me. Otherwise, these visits often consist of greetings in either limited Swahili or limited English, followed by lots of smiling and sometimes awkward silences. Sometimes, when I am at someone's home like this, everyone is taking in Swahili around me. I am trying to see if I can pick up a word here and there, which I sometimes do. Otherwise, these time spans can get a little tiresome for me. And they are not at all trying to be rude. First, they know limited English and second, they are not going to ignore the rest of the guests just because one person can't converse. And of course, that would be by far the most uncomfortable for me. So, sometimes, I would just go inside myself, with half an ear open for times where I needed to tune in. I would have liked to get up and help in the "kitchen", but they won't allow a guest to do so. So, I remained rooted to my seat, and waiting. Sometimes, I have left these type of functions more fatigued than if I was an active participant.
After dinner, I had been invited to go over to Mama Nelson's home for a late visit at 7:00. She is the lovely woman who lives across the road from CCS. She has a very nice husband and three children. It was about 6:30 already and I was getting tense that I was not going to be on time for my next stop. Jesca told her mom that I needed to go there at 7:00, and as I was visiting with Martha, I was called into the house. They had put the food out for me at a separate place so I could eat early. Jesca and her mom joined me in eating.
Dinner at Jesca's was much the same menu as lunch. But, there was a new addition to the menu – fried chicken feet. I really have to say that I have been really game to embrace the culture and make the foray into unknown territory, including the food arena. But I just could not bring my hand down, scoop up a chicken foot and put it on my plate. I know you must be thinking "Picky little shit, aint ya". I also have realized that although fortunately I do like bananas, I do not like fried bananas. So, I try to sneak by them without taking one. Sometimes I am caught and sometimes, I escape notice and make it to my seat safely.
Once, Digna noticed I had not taken one and said "Banana?" I indicated that my plate was already so full. A couple of minutes later, her little granddaughter, Irene came over with an extra plate for me, containing a nice, generous helping of fried bananas. I of course gagged them down. When I was a little girl and protesting to eating peas, etc, my mom would say, and this is no joke, "Do you know how many starving kids there are in Africa.? I of course never knew just how prophetic that question really was. And today, I did feel like that little girl who was left at the dinner table, trying to gag down her lima beans. And I don't know what it is, but the foods I find the most disgusting take the longest to chew and to swallow. Why can't ice cream or chocolate chip cookies do that?
After dinner, I was offered a beer. And they had bought it especially for me, so I had to drink it – trying to fit it into a body which had all its food compartments filled to the brim. Catherine, when she was little would always say how full she was. But, as soon as desert would come out, she was first at the table. We would say "I thought you were full" She would say "I have a little room in my neck". Well, today, even my neck was full and I really felt that were fattening my up just like the Easter ham.
After dinner, it was about 7:30. Jesca was going with me to Mama Nelsons and so she would not have to walk back by herself in the dark, her brother Baraca, her sister Judy and her cousin Baby accompanied us. When we got there, I greeted the kids. They were in casual clothes. Then they disappeared and came out in their Easter clothes. This family also does well financially. Mama Nelson, has her tailoring business and is also a meat inspector. Her husband has a farm about thirty miles outside of town, so they have enough income to feed, educate and cloth their family. The house is really nice and though they currently live in it, they are still in the process of finishing it. They do this as they can afford materials.
Jesca explained that we had already eaten, but not surprisingly, Mama Nelson said that she was just going to prepare a "kidogo" (small) dinner. Now at this point, I could not imagine stuffing even a crumb of food into my mouth, which itself was still feeling full of food. But, I did take a small amount on my plate – mostly the same fare as my other two Easter dinners. Very tasty, except that flavor of the chicken feet would still remain a mystery to me as I was able to escape notice and not take any on my plate. I told Mama Nelson how much I appreciated dinner and she said "But you didn't enjoy it very much, you hardly ate anything." I felt badly, so put a couple of cucumber slices and pears on my plate and ate "kidogo".
As we ate, we were talking about her family. They have an eleven year old son named Nelson, a twelve year old girl named Oceanna and an eight year old named Irene. That night I l learned that Oceanna (love that name) is really her sister's daughter, who died. I didn't ask where her father is. There are so many families who have this type of situation. Children abandoned by death, alcoholism or poverty and being raised by relatives. My already high admiration for this very sweet lady just raised itself another notch.
Also, Nelson, who probably speaks the best English of the family was asking what my family does in America for Easter. I was explaining how it is very much the same as in Africa. We wear special clothes, go to church and spend time eating and celebrating with family and friends. I also explained how we paint boiled eggs, hide them, find them and eat them. They asked "What if you never find them?" I said that my husband usually knew where they were hidden, so was able to help. I also tried to explain about the Easter bunny, Easter baskets, the candy ect. They were amused by the whole story.
When I had gotten to their home, I had explained that I needed to leave by 9:00 and that my family from America was calling me at 9:30. They acknowledged the importance of that as they, and at around five till nine, unbeknownst to me, had handed Nelson some coins and sent him down to Deo grocery to buy me a Serengeti beer. They did not do this to be malicious or to disrespect my time commitment, but there, they don't really have a time urgency as we in America do and had no idea that it was going to be a near impossible feat for me to not only pour a beer into an already full tank, let alone do it in enough time to get back in time for my phone call. So, just as I had been about to get up and gracefully say goodbye, he came in with my surprise beer. Mama Nelson had it opened and in a glass before I could even think to protest.
Miraculously I was able to sip it down as quickly as I could without appearing to rush and without vomiting or exploding all over their good living room. And, without crying out of frustration, because it was dawning on me that I might just barely make my much anticipated phone date. Then, at 9:20, I had taken my last sip and was able to say goodbye and thank you. After all, it was very gracious of them to have this stranger into their home on Easter night, bring out still more food and get a beer treat for me. So, I was appreciative, but was getting that sick feeling that I was going to miss the call I had looked forward to all day - no all week. So, they escorted me across the street to CCS, although I could certainly negotiate the one-hundred feet alone, said another goodbye and I entered the gate at 9:25 – a little time to spare. Just in time for Mary, the CCS staff who was babysitting me for the weekend to say, "Oh, Mama Krrest, you just missed a call from your husband."
So, all the food in my stomach just got heavier and dropped a few inches lower. I wanted to call my family and tell them to call me back – because it is a lot cheaper to call from the US, then vice-versa. And this turned out to be no small matter. First, Mary did have a cell phone, but no phone card minutes left. So, I went to my room, came up with 5,000 TSH, she gave it to the night guard who walked down to Deo grocery, bought a Celtel card, returned to CCS, Mary programmed it into her phone and I called my family. I held my breath as I waited for someone to pick up. Catherine answered and agreed to call me back.
But, in the fifteen minutes between their initial call and my coming home and finding a way to call them debacle, they had started cooking their Easter dinner. I was happy to hear that they had planned and executed a really nice meal. Salad, steak and cranberry jelly. They had hid eggs and the girls had hunted. Now, in our family, with our rather competitive girls, the Easter egg hunt is a full contact sport fraught with cheating, trash talk and ultimately sore losers. But, somehow, they always look forward to it – even as adults. Gerry had put together nice Easter baskets for them. Catherine had e-mailed me a day before Easter to see if I had done a basket for Gerry or should she do it. I told her to go ahead, So I hope Gerry had some good treats for Easter too.
A few weeks later, when I got home to Minnesota, Gerry brought out three bags of my favorite malted milk eggs. These only debut once a year and I probably consume nine bags of them each year. And, these bags are always meant for the girls or Gerry's baskets, but I always crack them open with the thought that I will buy more for them. So, I appreciated that Gerry had remembered my Easter malt ball craving/binging and had saved them for me.
Back to Easter, it turned out that they had rushed out of mass early and not even greeted anyone at church to get home to call me and find me not there. So, they had started making Easter dinner. Jacqueline had wanted to go visit her boyfriend, Jakes family that afternoon, so they had a time crunch. Consequently, we did have a little visit, but a few minutes after we finally connected, their steaks were ready and they had to say goodbye. I think that this may have been one of my hardest and most frustrating moments in Africa.
Usually, the pace and lack of planning of the people there did not really effect me. Sometimes I even found it refreshing that they were not so concerned with time, but always had time to visit or to help another person. But today, in this circumstance, as I was at my last two dinners, I found myself getting increasingly tense as things seemed to move more and more and more slowly. And though I relished being at their homes on a holiday and appreciated the fact that I had somewhere to go so I would not be alone in a foreign country on a holiday, I did find myself getting a little irritated. And each time I sensed that feeling, I would do what I could to move along and also tell myself "Kristy, these people are doing a nice thing for you, calm down, it will work itself out."
But that night, after I hung up the phone with my family, I was overwhelmed by all of that and felt unwittingly cheated. And I felt lonely, isolated and homesick. Even though I could logically talk myself out of it, the feeling remained until late Monday. This was part of the challenge of being in a different environment, with little control over my own schedule and not wanting to offend anyone. But damn it, I had wanted to talk to my family on Easter. So, I had a little emotional temper tantrum. Poor, rich American lady abroad.
Monday, March 28
Feeling down…
I woke up during the night around four AM and could not go back to sleep for a couple If hours. I have not done this since the few days before my trip. Anxiety is the usually cause. I was thinking about my phone conversation with Gerry and the girls. It made me think that I have missed a lot at home and am so far behind in their lives. Jacqueline is in the exciting process of finding a job and Catherine is stressed due to a huge workload at school. And, neither will be able to come home when I get back due to work or school projects. I just feel uneasy because I wonder if coming here has caused me to pull away support they needed at this time.
Upendo – good day
I went to Upendo and had a really nice day, which did a lot to lift me up. The kids were still in these beautiful Easter clothes from Sunday since in Africa, they celebrate Easter through Monday. The kids are adorable in saggy, worn, wet old clothes, so of course they were adorable in the beautiful, but cast aside clothes from a little British, German, or American kids too.
I have tried to do some extra activities with the kids and had gotten the idea to take them out to see the cows, pigs, goats, chickens and dogs. Well, this turned out to be less than successful. Most of them panicked when they heard moos, barks or oinks and although they love singing these animal sounds in "Old McDonald, they did not like them in real life. It made me sad that most kids around here roam freely among these creatures and these kids have probably never seen them and are frightened of them. How will the rest of the world look to them when they get out of here?"
A really happy note…
I was telling Mary Pendo, who the next group of kids was that I wanted to take to see the animals. One of them was a four-year old boy named Esto Meini. Mary said "No Esto". I asked "Quanini" (why) She said in English "Esto went home". I knew that his babou (granddad) visited him every week, and was so happy for him that he was returned to his family. As I have said, a lot of these kids have a father or some extended family. And, when they drop them off at the orphanage, they sign a contract stating their visitation plan and plan to take them home. But, often, they are never heard from again.
I used to think it was awful that these father s in particular could take their kids and dump them off like this. And, though I think they get decent care and some affection here, it is not how any parents would want their children to spend their tender young years. But since, I have learned that a tin of baby formula, which lasts for four days costs $7.00. When you take into account that some families spend about $1.50 a day to feed the entire family, this is an impossibility. So, although I did realize that it must feel terribly desperate to have to leave your child in an orphanage, there was a part of me that felt judgmental about it. But, this concept shed new light. And today, a success story – Esto gets to go home for Easter – to stay!
Lunch at Jesca's…
Since they are still celebrating Easter in Tanzania, Digna had insisted that I come over for lunch today. When I arrived, Jesca was wrapped in a Conga and wearing a t-shirt. Usually when I see her, she is dressed in a Western style skirt or dress. She was sitting at a table set up in their new, partly-finished home and studying for her exam for entrance into St Mary Gorrette on Tuesday.
She had really been studying hard and was really getting high hopes that the slim chance she had for this school would widen with a good exam score. Last Saturday, she had gotten up at four Am to plant maize with her family. This was after staying up until midnight the night before to study. Then, she returned home to help prepare lunch and studied a few more hours. She is such a diligent, hard worker. Today, she was studying Tanzanian history, particularly the time of British and German rule. I was able to quiz her and help her study, which was helpful to me. Some of it had to do with how the Germans and British set Tanzania up for poverty.
Whoops – digression coming…
I have learned that though I have seen some heartbreaking situations do to poverty and lack of education, that I have not even seen close to the worst there is. A few weeks ago when I visited the homes of OKAT students and saw some of the saddest things I had ever seen, I came back to CCS in tears. Simon said "Mama Kreest, what is the matter?" I told him right away that I had just seen some really sad situations today. But, I think he was worried that something bad had happened to me, so he quickly ushered me into Moses' office. Moses is our country director and a very wise, funny, educated and compassionate man.
So, he sat me down and asked me to tell him what had happened. I choked out the stories of the various families I had visited that day. The man who had list his wife after their baby was born and had to take the baby to Upendo for a few years. The mom who was very sick with malaria, whose husband had deserted her with two kids to raise and had no money for medicine. The very elderly grandparents who had lost a couple of adult kids and were struggling physically and fanatically to raise multiple grandkids. The girl named Edista with the sweet smile whose dad had made her leave the house and was taken in by the kindness of strangers. And there was so much more.
After I finished telling him, Moses said "Kristy, you have seen the troubles of Africa." I myself , when I go into the poor rural areas, react the way you have today. It is almost too much to bear." He went on to explain that in some rural villages, there are very few adults who are still living. There are many grandparents and youth, but the moms and dads have died of AIDS. He said that he was in a village like that and met a brother and sister who were abandoned and just living on their own. He and his wife adopted them and now they are healthy, loved kids who are doing well in their family and school. I knew Moses had a big heart, but to add more kids to an already large family, I was overwhelmed with admiration for this man. And on this night, I felt his compassion. He didn't even try to sooth the situation or take it away, but acknowledged the heartbreak of it and just shared it with me.
Back to Monday after Easter…
After I got back to CCS, it had started raining. And, I enjoyed a blissful nap. I have found that I have not required as much sleep here as compared with home. And do not feel the need to nap often. But today, it felt pretty darned good.
Later, I was thinking about the way my time was winding down while the amount of work I wanted to accomplish was building. I wanted to continue to help set the foundation of the OKAT school. I wanted to work toward more permanent change for the orphanage. And, so much more. But, there has to be an endpoint to what I can accomplish here and I would have to make some choices and be realistic.
Tuesday March 29th
Getting Jessica to her exam…
Jessica had to be at the St Mary Gorette School at 8:00 this morning to sit for the exam. She has hardly slept these past few days due to studying for the exam. <
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Wed, MArch 30th
A really nice day with the kids…
I went to Upendo after leaving Jesca. The kids were all in the new playroom. The new donated toys were out and the kids seemed pretty thrilled. It was a nice day though and unfortunately the students did not take them outside. So, I took groups of four to six kids at a time and went to the playground.
I held the toddlers and walked them in their little footie sleepers around the courtyard. When it was time for lunch, I helped feed Baraca – a little boy who is physically and cognitively delayed. He really enjoyed his porridge with beans, carrots and potatoes. Then, it was time for me to go.
Simon, our wonderful CCS van driver took me over to Honey Badger so I could continue to help get the student profiles completed for the students. It turned out that they were just finishing the last of the student interviews. Mama Lucy suggested I take the afternoon off and get ready to do some more village visits in the next afternoon.
Day off…
Cara, a volunteer who is from South Carolina and I decided to go into town to run errands. So, we walked down to the market. This is the area where the local people shop. There are many shops which are temporary looking booths. Then, there is an inside area which had a very strong odor. After we entered, we quickly realized the reason for the offense to our nostrils. There were many cuts of meat hanging on hooks at the first booth. Many of the other booths had huge bags of beans, sugar, maize, rice and salt. Also, there were tools, cooking utensils and so much more. It was interesting, but we didn't linger due to the fact that we were ready to vomit and felt that mzungu upchucking in the middle of the market would lend our a kind a bad reputation.
We were approached many times by people who felt strongly that they should become our personal shoppers for the day. They come up, say "Hallow mama, what are you looking for?" And they don't apparently understand the nature of women who are just looking at the items for amusement, there fore would not take "We are just looking" as a signal to back the hell off. So, we were constantly being coerced into various booths to look at items we had absolutely no interest in buying. So, at this point, we broke into a fast mzungu-pace walk and tried to outrun them. This frustrated and confused them to the point that they gave up.
Back at the ranch…
The volunteers had decided to go out to the Panda Chinese for dinner. They had invited Jesca (I have now realized that Jessica is spelled Jesca) to go with us. So, as we were getting into the cab, I said "Shing gapi Panda"? (how much for Panda). Jesca and the cab driver laughed at my question. I wondered what was possibly funny about that perfectly legitimate question. But, Jesca explained that with my accent, it sounded like I said "Shing gapi upendo"? (how much for love?). So, it appeared that I was soliciting love for money. We set him straight and went on to have a nice dinner.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
At Upendo…
Today was a bright, sunny day so I insisted that the kids go outside to play. When it was almost time for lunch, I started singing a song which I was making up extemporaneously. I was singing a peppy little tune "Kula, kula chakula. Kula, kula chacula. Kula, kula chakulla, nzuri sana, kula chakula." Now this has really deep meaning "Eat, eat your food. Eat, eat your food. Eat, eat your food, really good, eat food. Probably didn't really even make any sense, but it had a catchy tune and the kids heard me and started singing it with me.
Sister Immaculatta came up to me that day and said they had sad news. A five month baby named Mary had died last night. She had been in the hospital several times with pneumonia and this time, her body could not kick it. She seemed really sad about it. I hugged her and said "Pole sana" (sorry much). Even though I know she was sad, she felt stiff in my hug and I wondered why. Was it the fact she was trying to be strong and not cry, was it that she is a catholic nun and needed to be dignified about it?
Later that day, I finally read the journal written by previous volunteers about Upendo. The journal contains tips and also just a little about previous volunteers experience working at the orphanage. I had heard that a lot of it was negative and that reading the journal had given a false negative feeling about Upendo. So I had decided to wait to read it.
I read that a year ago, when CCS first started having volunteers at Upendo, that the nurses hit the kids with sticks to discipline. Also, that when feeding them, if they were uncooperative, they would just shove the food in until the child gagged. Then they could hit them for gagging. Also that they left the kids wet with urine and there was urine on the floor. That the kids would tip over the plastic pots and drink the urine because they were thirsty and didn't know not to do it.
So, there was one volunteer in particular – Mama Pam who really turned things around there. Now, there are no sticks, although I did sometimes see nurses hit the hits on the hand and sometimes the head. I would correct them if I saw it. Also, they do not feed the kids until they choke now. There is still a problem with cleaning urine and changing pants, but no one drank any that I ever saw. So, even though I could not see a tangible change or effect of my being there, I did realize that my very presence at the least helped them form slipping back to old, abusive habits. I have emphasized with CCS and they have agreed that they need to do everything they can to make sure we always have a volunteer at Upedno.
Honey badger and OKAT School…
John and I spent time typing up more of the student profiles for the school. I had heard that although Mama Lucy had told Mr. Ngumo, the awful headmaster for the school, not to come back after Easter, he had indeed shown up. Not only that, no one even knew he was there until later in the morning. He had gone straight into the school and proceeded to teach like nothing had happened. Pretty damned gutsy. Anyway, Mama Lucy had heard he was there from one of the other teachers and she and Dr. Renju had gone and told him to leave and to come back tomorrow to collect his back pay. Why they didn't just pay him on the spot and be done with it, I don't know, maybe they didn't have the cash. They don't pay people in Tanzania by check.
So, today, when John and I arrived, Mama Lucy was sitting at her plastic table outside her shop talking to the terrible man. After about thirty minutes, she still had not come into the house and back to her office. So, I suggested to John that he go and just sit with her in case Mr. Ngumo was giving her any trouble. John said "What should I do? I said "Just sit there. Men in Africa often disrespect the women - even strong ones like Mama Lucy, so just go and sit quietly to intimidate him. And if he continues to give any trouble, come get me and Dr Renju."
A half hour later, John came back. Mr. Ngumo had been arguing and being disrespectful with Mama Lucy, but she finally got him paid and off her property. She later said "Thank God John was there. He had a presence there which helped me".
Tomorrow the plan is to do five home visits. I was also going to bring soda and cookies to the kids and say goodbye.
Walking home from Moshi…
This section just describes a little about Moshi and the general area. If you are uninterested, feel free to skip ahead…
Moshi is a busy village, which is really a city. There are bars, restaurants, shops, bakeries, office supply shops, banks, safari companies, office buildings, beauty salons, barber shops, street vendors and lots of cars, people and bikes. No animals. My biggest fear here was getting hit by a car. Here, though it is a serious thing if you hit someone, they don't make a big attempt to avoid it. Anytime a car comes upon a pedestrian or bike, they honk out a warning for them to scurry out of the way.
Moshi has two "Round abouts" Which are terrible circular drives. I never really did figure out which way to look for traffic coming on these, so just usually followed a local to cross them. The streets of Moshi are mostly paved and in decent shape.
But, after passing the second round about, the car traffic thins gradually and the roads coincidentally get worse. There are still tons of people and bikes. Also, various businesses, a couple of hotels and a couple of schools line the road to Rau, my home village. The walk from Moshi was about two miles. It cost two dollars to get a cab, but due to the fact that I like to walk and the principal of the matter, I didn't take cabs often.
As I walked toward Rau, if it was not cloudy and there was not too much pollution, I could see Mt Kili ahead. It seemed to look different every day. On days it had rained, the snow cap looked bigger. Or if there were just a few clouds around, it looked more dramatic.
As I made the final turn into Rau, there were more animals, children and very few cars. Not many people own cars here. And that is a good thing given the road conditions, already terrible pollution and horrendous driving skills. One of the funniest store names was "The Man Shop". Also, there was "The Ladies Quick Hair Salon". Is that desirable or even possible?
There are increasing numbers of children on the road to Rau, coming home from school, running errands for their parents or just running around. I am amazed that the kids can just run so free here. The traffic alone would be such a worry. But, they always seem to be safe and everyone looks out for everyone else's kids. Once, when I was walking with Jesca, we saw a two little boys scuffling. Jesca said "Basa" (stop) and Hapana, hacha (no, stop it). I asked her later if she had know them and she said "No, but if see something wrong, I have to say something" I think that here, the "It takes a village to raise a child" concept is practiced in the truest sense of the word.
As I walk the final half-mile down my street, I see a mosque. The mosques here have their prayers over the PA at various times of the day and night. I only heard this one a few times in the wee hours of the morning, but have heard various other mosques chanting their prayers at many different times.
Lining the road are lush, green bougainvillea vines with vivid pink and purple flowers. These lovely plants have huge thorns and line all the roads and properties for security. There are also small maize fields and at this time of the year, the maize plants about eight inches high. I guess on a good year, they good several feet high and you can't see the houses or road if you are behind a field.
In the dirt yards, I see lots of animals, goats, hens and chicks, dogs and more kids too. Also, there is always colorful laundry on the line. The animals wonder the roads too and I always wonder how people know which animal belongs to them.
Evening activities…
I spent the evening doing some winding down activities. Going through my stuff and getting rid of unneeded items. Some, were going to be left to remaining volunteers; lice shampoo (fortunately un needed), bug spray, sunscreen, amodium, hand sanitizer and other misc. things. I had decided to give some of my clothing to Jesca or to Tucampassi. Jesca got my boots – good for walking in the mud, a few shirts, a couple of pants, socks, lotion and other misc. She later told me that her family and friends took a lot of the clothes. I saw her sister wearing my faded, yellow polo shirt the next day.
Thursday, March 31
Work today…
I had a nice day today with the kids. I am getting concerned though, because, Vicky, the little eighteen month old girl who was so scared of me when I first came, is now getting attached to me. She cries if I am around until I pick her up. Then, she smiles, or tucks her little body into mine and sucks her thumb. And, I worry that I promoted this because I have fallen in love with her and she can probably sense that. I have really tried to limit myself to just a little time with her each day so I don't make the other kids feel badly, but it is hard to do that. I really feel that I could take this little darling child home with me and love her as a daughter. And, since she is so little, she will not understand that I have to go home to America now. And, will she someday become jaded so that she does not bond with anyone because she knows they will leave?
But, this week, there are some kids who are six and seven. Three girls (Pishca, Paulina and Winifred) and two boys (Emanuel and Duma), who are usually in school while I am at the orphanage. This week school was out, so I spent time with them. They were instantly friendly and affectionate with me. Hanging on me, wanting to get picked up – even though they are six or seven years old. So, that makes me think that Vicki will probably be ok and will love other volunteers and other people who enter her life as well.
Actually, it has been interesting observing these older kids. There are about ten babies – under 14 months old or so, five toddlers and about 25 kids ages 18 months to four. So, most of these kids must eventually get picked up and taken home by their families or adopted by the age of five or so. But, these five grade-school kids must not have any family. And, they are a little toughened. They are sweet, but also exhibit aggressive behaviors like pushing each other off the tricycle – even the tiny kids. I get aggravated when a big kid pushes a little two year old down and rips a toy out of their hand. I know that all kids do this type of thing from time to time – I remember my daughters sometimes doing these things. But, this is a level that is higher than I have seen. Of course I understand it has to do with survival instinct. They have to really go after anything they want from an extremely tender age. But at the same time, I want them to understand how to cooperate so when they are in social settings, they know how to deal with it.
Anyway, as I said, they are also very sweet too. One boy, named Emmanuel came up to me and wanted me to pick him up. After several weeks at the orphanage, my arms are now in better shape for the kid clean and jerk maneuver, so I was ready for a bigger, longer-limbed challenge. I picked him up and he cuddled himself into my shoulder just like the little ones. At first, I was surprised because I had seen the rough and tumble side of these girls and boys. But, it only took microseconds to sense that this was just what this little boy needed. That made it all the more sweet.
I told a few of the student nurses that I was going home to America on Sunday. I have learned that they will be getting a batch of new students in July. I them if they could help teach the new students nurses not to hit the kids, to hug and kiss them and to keep them clean.
Honey Badger and OKAT School…
After work at the orphanage, John and I joined Cara at Mama Lucy's home for lunch. Antoinette had made cheese sandwiches and steak bites. She was getting ready to cut cucumber and I offered to help. I had not cut food since Feb and was glad to know that I still had the skill and did not lop off a finger.
After lunch, we talked to Mama Lucy, then loaded up onto the loud, hot seated, flat bed truck with seven students to do more home visits. The visits today were not nearly as heart rending as those last week, which had broken an already somewhat fractured heart. Now, had this been my first set of visits, I would have felt differently. For example, for Uru, the fifteen year old boy whose parents live an hour away. They sent them to live with his grandparents, presumably to take care of them. But, since he has left, they have attempted no contact with him and sent no money. The grandparents are taking care of three more grandkids and look to be well into their seventies. They live in a three room mud hut. When they were asked if they were happy that Uru was in school, they had they were "feraha sana" (very much happy).
I don't think we visited any student's house who had two living parents. Most were living with an uncle or grandparents. How strange that these visits seemed not that sad. But this was compared to the unbearably sad stories I had encountered last week. I do find it unnerving that I would feel that these parentless kids who are extremely poor are the fortunate ones in their class.
Saying goodbye to OKAT School…
After we returned from the home visits, Mama Lucy had arranged my going away ceremony at the school. When we walked over to the school, the kids greeted us with a song. I was led to a table they had dressed up with a checked table cloth and flowers. The students did some songs for me which were beautiful and made me cry. One of the songs was "Goodbye Kristy, Goodbye. Welcome again, welcome Kristy". It was done with lovely, unique African harmonies. I'm impressed by the fact that these 15-18 year old kids, although a little shy, did not feel that putting on a song-and dance show was
At all beneath them. I cannot imagine a group of American kids being so proud, sincere, let alone comfortable doing this. Mama Lucy held my hand while I listened and glistened at the eyes, during their songs. Then, they had printed up a certificate for me as a thank you. After that, Mama Lucy had Reneva, the girl my music group friends sponsored, come and present to me an floral arrangement made of bougainvilleas and leaves from the traditional Chagga peace plant. These plants are a huge part of the tribe's traditions. They are used for reconciliation, negotiation, marriage and to honor someone. Mama Lucy told me that these leaves made me an honorary elder of the Chagga tribe.
Ad I thought about the progress of the school since my arrival, I was quite happy and amazed. Actually, I had only a little to do with the development. But the little work accomplished by people historically slowly builds things like pyramids, railroads and schools. When I first came, Mama Lucy and various people in her village did the teaching – to six or seven students. Then the headmaster was hired, I taught a few English classes and the numbers grew by two or three students daily.
Then Anna from the UK came to volunteer and did a year's worth of work in three weeks. She interviewed around 25 students and created a profile on each. She did several home visits to families. She helped Mama Lucy get the ball rolling to get formal permission form the district to run a school. She drafted an informational letter to potential sponsors. She laid groundwork that I helped continue and future volunteers can further develop. Now, there are four teachers and about thrity-five students. Two other of our volunteers, Cara and John are going to continue to help get the school set up.
Mama Lucy did not want to say goodbye to me yet, and vice versa, so we made plans to meet Saturday at 11:30 in Moshi for lunch. If I come back to Tanzania, I wold most likely stay at the Honey Badger. Mama Lucy charges volunteers $7.00 a night, which includes breakfast. I peeked into the rooms and though, sparse, they were clean and more than adequate. So, the major cost would be the $1700.00 plane fare.
Playing Santa…
After leaving the party, I went into town to the Rafike Supermarket to purchase the baby formula Sister Immaculatta had suggested I get with the donated money. It is very expensive for them, so a big help.
Messages from home…
As I was reading my e-mail messages from friends and family today, I really felt s much happiness and excitement about seeing Gerry, the girls, my mom, my friends and familiar surroundings. But, I am winding down with mixed emotions. Today., I started the goodbye process. Tomorrow is the last day at the orphanage. Then, I will have a going away party at Jesca's Fri. And Sunday, I fly out of here.
I, of course have mixed emotions. I am looking forward to seeing my family, friends, my home and my dog. I am looking forward to a hot shower with pressure. I am looking forward to chips, salsa and a margarita on the rocks with salt. I am looking forward to a soft bed into which I don't have to tuck mosquito net. I am looking forward to a smooth ride in a car, without getting a herniated disk every three miles. I am looking forward to cooking - but not cleaning up. I am looking forward to not smelling like bug spray and finding dirt on my bath towel after my pseudo-shower. I am looking forward to yoga class, playing in my church group and a double, tall, skinny, carmel latte. Mostly, I am looking forward to seeing my family, my friends, my dog and my home. I know I already said that, but it bears repeating. And this paragraph does not even come close to all I am looking forward to seeing, hugging or doing. And some just cannot be repeated for the general audience anyway,.
I will miss seeing how Mt Kili looks different every day, seeing people walking everywhere with babies on their backs and a load on their head. I will miss ten little bodies on my lap, pulling my hair, using my pants as a hankie, my legs as a climbing pole and the world at large as a toilet. I will miss little kids screaming "Mzungu" when they see me, rushing up to me to hold my hand, hug my legs or just stand and giggle. I will miss my Tanzanian friends and my fellow volunteers. I will miss 85 degree weather. I will miss the rice, beans, chipote bread, fresh fruit, Nutella, ugali and mandazi. I will miss everyone greeting me on the street. I will miss the group of junior high girls I see every day on the road who call out "Christina, Christina". I will miss feeling like the Queen of England when I'm a guest in their homes. I will miss how everyone holds my hand and kisses both of my cheeks.
I am happy and saddened about leaving. I am encouraged about the progress that is being made here by local people and volunteers which in Mama Lucy's words "Will lift this place up." I am also overwhelmed about what still needs to be done.
I am so grateful and blessed to have had this experience.
Friday April Fool's Day
Didn't feel much like foolin'
This morning, I had a few bits of unfinished business to attend to. First, I wanted to see little Simon in school, see if he looks happy, if he looks as cute in his little uniform as I think he will and see if he seems to be paying attention, etc… So, I walked with Jesca to Rau Primary School, met the teacher and waited for him to arrive. The teacher told Jesca that he has been to school every day, is on time, looks clean, seems happy and is behaving very well. I was happy to hear that, but not happy because we waited until time for school to start and no Simon. We walked to his house, met Tukampasi and she said that he had indeed gone to school.
So, we walked the mile back to Rau Primary and found Simon sitting on the front row of about a thirty student class. He must have taken any number of different paths to school and we just missed him. And he did indeed look happy, beamingly so. He did look extra cute in his bright purple shorts, white shirt with purple trim on the collar and pocket, and he did seem to be paying attention. The style of teaching in Tanzania requires a lot of verbal participation. In this case, the teacher would ask a question and the students would answer as a group. She would repeat the same question several times and the students repeated back several times. After a set of questions, they would do a song, with clapping. Some kids were merely clapping along as required, but Simon was clapping with his whole heart and was not hesitating to answer questions. I was very happy for him and of course snapped a few cute pictures.
Going to town…
The next order of business was to go to the bank where Upendo has it's account to deposit money donated by Singcerely. It was to be used to make tables for the playroom. And, I had money to put in Jesca's account to go toward her school. And since I had missed the CCS van to Upendo, I had to take a cab into Moshi. We walked a mile to Jesca's Uncle's home who is a taxi driver. Fortunately, he was still home, so could take us to town. Also riding along was Jesca's Aunt Lucy, Baby Glory and Jesca's cousin Agnes, who were catching a bus to Arusha today to visit friends.
Once in town, we walked into the Nelson Mandella Bank and found the line winding around the entry way. This line looked to be around an hour's wait. Since I still wanted to get to Upendo this morning, I decided to use the $60.00 I was planning to deposit for Upendo to buy more baby formula.
So, we got back into Andrew's cab and went to Jesca's bank. There, the line was manageable, so we got our business done there in a few minutes. A man in line there said hello to me and I returned the greeting. Then he said "Do you remember me"? This questions is always a tough one because I have met so many people in a short time, that I cannot always remember all of them. So, I tactfully said "Where have I met you?" He said, you came to Old Moshi School last week." This caused me to feel off the hook, because I had not been to Old Moshi and he had been mistaken. He said that it must have been someone who looked like me.
Mini-digression…
This is interesting to me. A few weeks ago, Grace, the CCS staff person had told a group of us that we mzungu all look somewhat alike to Tanzanians. I of course think, "Well, we all have varying hair colors, eye colors, face shapes, noses, builds and style of dress – how can it be that we all look alike?" But, one of the volunteers had brought up the fact that there was a study done (at Harvard I think?) that showed that people who are all one race can easily discern varying features one another, but not so with other races. So, the fact that I have sometimes have a hard time recognizing different features here is not a form of bigotry, but what – instinct? Societal? I think it may be instinct because this ability to see specific features of those in one's own race may have at some time helped people recognize those who were in their own tribe. Maybe it also enabled them to better tell them apart from enemies or a warring tribe? I don't know the theory, but find it an interesting concept. Also, the longer I have been here, the better I have become at seeing the specific features among the Tanzanian people.
Crying Mzungu…
I have know that it would be hard to tell the kids at Upendo goodbye. But, I didn't anticipate any big drama in telling the student nurses goodbye. There have been some I have really particularly enjoyed and some I admired And, I really didn't know what they thought of me. They have been friendly enough, again some more than others. Maggie, Winnie, Grace, Tumbe, Lucy, Rosie and Suzanne are a few I specifically remember enjoying. But, when I was leaving, they crowded around me, writing down their addresses, wanting my e-mail, having Jesca take a picture on my camera with each and every one of them individually, and as a group. They were hugging me and saying "Mbya Sanna". (very bad) that I was leaving. So, this set me off crying, because it made me think about the fact that I was really not coming back on Monday.
I had made it a point over the course of this morning to hold and snuggle each kid, and tell them all "Mi nupenda we we" (I love you). And "God bless you" – in English because I could not remember it in Swahili. I did it gradually, as the opportunity arose so I could have little non-hectic time with each one. Amazingly, as I was hugging each child, no one came up and pulled on my leg, pulled on the kid in my arm's leg, tried to climb up my leg, pinched my leg or bit my ass (that actually happened a couple of times over the eight weeks. And, the child in my arms, the object of my affections did not cry, pull my hair, wack me on the nose, poke at my eye or try go get me to turn them up side down. Every one of them just snuggled into my shoulder, many sucked their thumbs, and let me love em up one last time. Sounds sickenly dramatic doesn't it? But, it's the truth of it, so here it gushingly, gosh-darned well is.
When I was leaving the kid's dormitory and they were getting ready for their after lunch nap, I had the older girls, Lillian, Basa Lisa, Pishca, Winnie and Paulinna sit down. Then I had Jesca translate for them that I was leaving to go back to America. That I loved them and would never forget them. I had a few tears running, but didn't get too soggy, didn't snort or collapse, so I was proud of that. But, these older kids could see I was sad and the student nurses kept patting me saying "Oh, don't cry Mama Kreest". This made me cry more. Note to all of you – if you want me to quit crying, don't show me any sympathy or say "Oh don't cry Mama Krreest.". All that does is bring it on faster and furiouser. One of the older girls, Winnie leaned over to me and pointed to a place near my eye. I could see that she was indicating for me to wipe something off, so I wiped a place where I could feel a definitive tear. But, she was not satisfied and kept pointing until I wiped until the wetness on my face was good and gone. This street-wise little six-year-old orphan girl was taking care of the poor, almost forty-eight year old mzungu woman. And you guessed it, this made me cry even more. But, I think they all know how much I have cared for them and I hope they are not scarred by my leaving. I hope that the love I was able to provide at this short period in their lives will, in some way have made a difference. But, I will really never know, will I?
Posted at 08:58 am by rubybegonia
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Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Miss Africa - A song for women and girls
Miss Africa
Lyrics and melody by Kristy Blick Arrangement by Larry Phenow
Recorded and produced by Pete Brunner Swahili translations by Dr. Peter Renju
Beautiful songbirds: Kim Brunner, Sherri Schmit and Holly Taylor
Guitar: Larry Phenow Percussion: Pete Brunner
Bass: Kim Brunner Flute and back-up vocals: Kristy Blick
Special thanks to my hugely talented friends. Nakupenda - I love you all, Kristy
Verse 1 She lays awake at night
Hears her mama cry
Stays very still
Dreaming and praying
Things will be different
There's a hunger in her heart.
Refrain Give her a chance Mwezeshe kujaribu tena
Give her a choice Mwezeshe kuchagua
Lift her up Mwinue juu
Give her a voice -
Miss Africa....Miss Africa
Verse 2 She walks the dusty road
With quiet grace
Load on her head
Baby on her back
The world on her shoulders
Is heavy on her heart
Verse 3 She sits alone on her porch
The years in her eyes
Aches from yesterday,
But hopes that tomorrow
Life will get lighter
For the Sisters of her heart.
Mwezeshe kujaribu tena Give her a chance
Mwezeshe kuchagua Give her a choice
Mwinue juu Lift her up
Mpatie sauti…..Binti Afrika.....Mama Afrika Copyright 2007
Dear women and girls of Africa:
You are the inspiration for this song; "Miss Africa".
My name is Kristy Blick. I am from Minnesota, USA and I was in Tanzania, East Africa for eight weeks in 2005. While I was there, I had the chance to meet and talk with many girls and women. I was heart broken when I learned that some women are not treated fairly and are sometimes even abused.
I want you, the women of Africa to remember that you deserve every right as God's children and human beings as every other person in this world. You deserve to have success in business, to get your education, and to hold posts in government. You can decide whether or not you want to get married and have children. You deserve to enjoy success and happiness along with the important work done as a wife and mother. And mostly, you should never be raped, mutilated, abused, treated as property or treated with disrespect.
I wrote this song, "Miss Africa" as a way to encourage you to step up and demand to be treated with respect and compassion. It is my hope that this will remind you of your place of dignity in society and urge you to learn your rights and stand up for them. And I hope that someday, you will go on to inspire your daughters, mothers, sisters and friends to do the same!
Salama,
Kristy
The most essential step in improving gender equity in Africa involves education of youth. For information on how to help
African kids get their education, go to
www.elimuafrica.org
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Posted at 04:47 pm by rubybegonia
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Friday, December 17, 2004
What you strung together were mere words.
But they were said in such a way...
At just the right moment and from your heart. The inspiration of the whole was greater than its parts. Kristy B, 2004
Thank to you all my friends, aquaintences and people who I don't know - just coincidentally bumped into in my daily travels - and may never see again. You have all touched me at the just the right moment and given me the courage and inspiration to go to Africa. There are angels all around.
Posted at 06:25 pm by rubybegonia
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my e-mail adderess is blickg_k@msn.com
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