Clarifications and Bacon Cheeseburgers

I just wanted to clarify some things about my last blog. First, thanks everyone for the input, good and bad, concerning my last blog. I have gotten more response about my last blog then any of my others. If you haven't given me your opinion yet, please e-mail me and let me know what you think.

Secondly, all those stories are completely true. No slander, no bs, they really happened. I also plan to talk to PH about his reactions, so look for that in the future.

Third, looking back it does have a mien of disappointment, frustration, and anger but it is not to condemn Africa or to bite the hand that feeds me. It is just the way I felt, and I do know there is hope for the future.

Finally, unless you have been here in Tanzania and have seen the poverty and the wealth, the happiness and hopelessness, the healthy and the ill, the black and the white... I don't think you can even fathom the situation- I can't, and I've seen a lot of it already. So sorry for any misinterpretations, just e-mail me with questions and comments.

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The past few days have been pretty good. The Internet and power have been on and off, no biggie.

***Scott Watch: Day 10***

Scott is back to his old self. He is doing well in class, coming into town, playing cards, speaking in his funny accent, etc. He was so grateful to finally have his health that he decided he needed to eat a good western meal. We went to the New Acropol Hotel, which had the highest concentration of white people I have seen in Tanzania besides the airport. It seemed to be a hotel for business people; or could have just been a hotel for people who talk constantly on their cell phone, who carry a briefcase and laptop, and dress in really snazzy clothes. At the hotel was a very western restaurant. For starters he had a big plate of nachos and I had deep fried zucchini. For the main course Scott had a 10" beef pizza which was fantastic. And I had (remember I'm in Morogoro, Tanzania) a bacon cheeseburger. It is definitely among the top 3 meals I have ever had in my life, beaten only by some of my Mom's mac & cheese and my Dad's chicken noodle soup! As it turns out, Scott's stomach wasn't back up to its normal size so he couldn't finish it, and my burger was so big i couldn't help him at all. So we gave the leftovers to Kadege who really REALLY liked it.

Swahili lessons are going well. Kim and I will hopefully finish book 1 today. I really hit the books last night and rocked this mornings lessons! But some aspects of the language are really frustrating:
1- every single verb starts with the letters KU- and needs to be conjugated for every noun/subject.
2- almost every noun and adjective can be turned into a verb... ya, crazy I know.
3- Even though most of the words are primarily vowels, certain vowels don't like to be by each other and change randomly.
4- most native speakers do not speak grammatically correct. This is especially fun when I'm trying to buy stuff in Morogoro.
5- Sometimes small invariables (such as from, in , on, at, etc.) are implied and never mentioned. For instance when I want to say, "I study Swahili in the city of Morogoro at Lutheran Junior Seminary and I really enjoy it", it is sort of said like "I study swahili enjoy Morogoro Lutheran Junior seminary". Whats that about?

Regardless of all that nonsense, I really like the language.

Sorry there isn't much more the today's blog, just not a lot has happened.

Low: Omega, my teacher this week, pronounces his 'L's like 'R's and vice versa in both Swahili and English!

High: Bacon Cheeseburger, with fries, and a nice cold Kilimanjaro Lager! MMM-MMM GOOD! Also, Padre Sandro - the Catholic Priest that smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, and swears like a sailor- is a hoot. I'm learning a very large amount of Italian... although most of the words are expletives.

What is with this country?

***Scott Watch - Day Seven***

Well Scott ended up spending 3 days and 2 nights in a hospital. He came back Wednesday night. Looking back at the whole fiasco is both humorous and scary. Humorous because we really bonded as friends despite the rotten circumstance. But it was mainly scary because he was very close to death, for real. I'm not being over dramatic- if he would have stayed at the 2nd hospital or had a parasitic relapse Scott would have died. But he was able to tough it out with the help of European doctors, Chinese pain medications, and an American friend. Here at LJS he is making great progress- he is able to eat real food, drink fluids other then water, and he was able to take a standing shower yesterday. The day before that I moved a chair into the shower for him and stood nearby in case he passed out or tipped over. He thinks he will be back in class Monday and everyone is looking forward to his complete return.

As for me... I don't know what to think of Africa.

I love and hate this country at the same time. Let me explain...

We have started our "cultural orientation" classes lead by Chooma, the school director. At first it seemed like he was going to teach us practical rules of etiquette and society. But it turned out to just be Chooma's ideas of what Tanzanian society should be like, or what he wants us to believe Tanzania is like. For example, one of the biggest topics for discussion was the concept of relationships. Relationships, explained Chooma, are at the heart of every aspect of Tanzanian life. In greetings you do not say 'Hi' or 'Hello' you say 'Habari gani?' or 'What is your news?'. You are supposed to show genuine interest in others and find out how they are doing- as a person, as a friend, as a fellow human being going through the same trials and tribulations as you. While this initially seems a noble and earnest endeavor, the true motive is a selfish one. Chooma explained that you greet everyone you meet because later you might need help from them. He gave this example- Lets say you are traveling through a town and at a gas station you greet a few strangers and see how they are doing, you form a 'relationship' with them. If you blow a tire out or lose your way you can go back to them to ask for help or directions which they most likely willingly give. But if you did not greet them and form a 'relationship', when they see you the second time, in need of help, they will say, "You did not show interest in me until you needed something, there is no reason for me to help you".

I have many problems with this hypothetical situation. First off, that is not a real relationship. This pretend act of empathy is just selfish subterfuge aimed and getting complimentary compensation. While I have no problem with watching your own ass and making sure you have what you need to live day to day, why bother with the silly guise? The other major problem I have with this hypothetical situation is in the statement "you did not show interest in me until you needed something, there is no reason for me to help you". Really? No reason at all to help another person out. Isn't there a certain Son of God that was here about 2000 years ago who would beg to differ? Christ calls us to be servants to others, it doesn't matter if they are your friend, your enemy, a random guy in the gas station that didn't pay attention to you, it could be anyone. And so what if you don't get compensation or even a thank you.... "Your Father who sees what you do in secret will reward you." Matthew 6:6

Unfortunately, this sad hypothetical situation has many factors that stem from real life here in Tanzania. Here just a few stories:

Audrey's boyfriend, Paul (who invited us to Dodoma a few weekends ago), witnessed a car/truck crash once. At first, it seemed like everyone was helping the victims. Everyone stopped their cars and got out. People came from their homes at the sound of the crash, and shoppers and bystanders came from the streets to surround the accident. But they weren't interested in helping the injured vehicle owners. People started to open up the vehicles looting and pillaging. They stole all the packages from the back of the cargo truck. They siphoned out gasoline, stole the batteries, mirrors, anything that could be sold. Meanwhile the 2 drivers from the crash sat on the side of the road bleeding to death. One man had a gaping head wound and the other was in shock, both serious conditions that would have ended their currently overlooked lives. ...

C.P.P.S. (mentioned in previous blog) is a Catholic water well drilling organization, but they also give food to needy families. They only have the funds and resources to give food to the people who absolutely need it, the ones who literally have nothing. They will give these families paper vouchers so they are able to cash it in at the food bank. One woman has the unlucky job of going around and choosing who gets the paper vouchers and who doesn't. She also goes around to check that the people with the vouchers are as desperate as they say they are. On one routine check up she found a family with a voucher for milk for an infant. Surprisingly at the food bank the mother never came with her infant and occasionally sent a 15 year old boy to collect the milk. As it turns out, the 15 year old boy was the infant who at one time needed the milk. But now he was old enough to collect the milk himself. The family was also in good enough condition that they didn't need a voucher, or any food assistance for that matter. The mother was confronted and told that there are thousands of mothers who have infant children that can not supply healthy breast milk and are in desperate need of assistance. The mother, in her defense, said that the 15 year old just liked the milk. On another voucher check up, a family that at one time had nothing was found to now have a house with brick walls, electricity, and running water! But every week they would dress down, come begging to the food bank, and collect groceries. Their utility bill, that they themselves payed, was probably 10x more then the value of the food they recieved for free. And here is the kicker- all their neighbors, the ones who lived not 50 feet from their house, lived in shacks with little to no roof, no electricity, no vouchers, no furniture, no food, and no water. So everyday while this family gorged themselves on the cache of charity food and clean water under lamp light, they could look out their window and see their neighbors eat dirt. Both families, obviously, had their vouchers torn up. These are also not unusual cases, this is a common occurrence. ...

And its not just the Africans with this mentality, it is anyone who stays here too long. One of the language school students, married with one child and in her late 20s, had a miscarriage. She was bleeding quite terribly and needed desperate medical attention not only to save her reproductive organs, but to save her life. Audry and Kim went to Pastor Hofferman for help. They said, "Pastor Hofferman, one of the language school students had a miscarriage and is bleeding. They need your help." Then Pastor Hofferman said, very nonchalantly, "Doesn't someone else have a car? Right now I'm getting the money ready to pay the workers. It will be about 3 hours." Pastor Hofferman, a man with a western upbringing, a man who knows how desperate the situation is here and has seen the effects of humane negligence, a man who was a BIOLOGY major in undergrad, told them to wait 3 hours. Audrey and Kim walked away stunned, what do you say to something like that? He was probably the person most capable of helping in that situation and THAT was his reply?...

Stories like this kill me. What is it about Africa that does this to people? If you witnessed a car crash, who among you would want choose to steal a car mirror worth $3 over saving someones life which is priceless? When you have the capabilities to be self sufficient and already have more then you need, would you choose to illegally obtain free food or let someone have a meal that would otherwise die? If you had money, education, and more then adequate resources would you let a woman with a partial fetus still in her damaged uterus bleed to death in her bathroom or would you take her to get medical attention? What is infecting the Africans, making them act in such cruel and insensitive ways? I don't know. It is NOT poverty, many of the people who choose the actions are not impoverished. It is NOT lack of knowledge, many of these people are educated enough to adequately assess the situation. It is NOT lack of religion, many of these people are our Christian brothers and sisters. Is it greed? Is it heartlessness? Is it the devil himself?

I came to African to for many reasons. One of the main ones was to find out if I would enjoy being an African missionary. But these problems are too big for me. How could a just and loving God allow us to treat each other like this? When we are given the capability for love, compassion, intellect, and wisdom why do we so often choose the opposite? Why don't we listen to the call of Jesus? Why don't we follow God's will? Why are we so damned selfish and evil?

Sorry if this seems like a beat up on Africa blog. America and many other countries commit many of the same acts. But its what I'm thinking about and its what I'm currently experiencing. Its easy to sit here and point fingers and feel sorry for myself and other people. Its much harder to muster up the courage to try and change the world. Please pray for me and everyone who needs the power to choose good over evil.

As always, my high and low:

High- Scott is back and rapidly returning to normal.

Low- Even though Africa is such a wonderful place, I don't think I have the personal stamina to be an African missionary, which is something I have dreamed about my entire life.

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This was written on Saturday, today is Monday. My mood has definitely improved, no need to worry :).
Yesterday, we went to a Maasai village in the midst of conflict. Now the Maasai are relatively well off (money wise) as compared to most other indigenous Tanzanian tribes, but this is only because of their cattle. Recently, the corrupt Tanzanian police force has been stealing cattle from the Maasai, confiscating it in the name of the government. There are multiple reasons for this. The low ranking police force then sell off the cattle and make quite a bit of money. The higherups then buy the land that Maasai can no longer afford because they have no income. This illegitimately bought land is kept by the rich or given to friends, or friends of friends.
One man's entire herd was stollen just a few days ago. So when we were there, most of the Maasai men were in the bush hidding their cattle incase the police came back. This conflict resulted in much distress in the village women further resulting in demonic posession. I have now seen my 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th posession. One of which happend right next to me. We were kneeling down for communion and the woman next to me started scratching my arm. When i looked over her eyes were rolled back, she was started to scream and hit the people around here. Some of the other women carried her outside and prayed over her. The other 4 women had similar experiences, one of which flopped on top of her baby, hurting its leg.
Today, Swahili lessons are going well and Scott is back in class. I also want to say a seperate thank you to everyone who has been sending me e-mail and reading this blog. Its nice to know that I have you guys backing me up!

Low: REALLY hot last night and I'm still scratching off my mosquito bites in my sleep.

High: Almost done with chapter 30 in my Swahili lessons. I don't think I'll finish all 60, but I'll be pretty close!

Cultural Saturation

***The internet is finally working, after about 2 weeks of nothing. The last post was actually 2 weekends ago, the following if from this last weekend***

On Tuesday we received about 10 new students from all across the globe who have come here to learn Swahili for various reasons. Some will take it back to their country, some are just interested, but most are going to work at a missionary establishment of some sort in Tanzania. There are two Germans, Mr. and Mrs. Dinkle, who just happen to come from Neundettlesau- a Bavarian city I spent a week in May term of my freshman year. So we have had a lot of fun talking about good ol' Deutschland. Also joining us are two south Koreans who I haven't really met yet, more to come later I'm sure. Teresea is a nurse from Texas who is just a blast to talk to and study with. Rikka is Finish midwife who is introverted but very fun. I have also picked up some neighbors on my dormitory block. Padre Sandro from Italy is a priest who is by far the most interesting Catholic I have ever met. He drinks and smokes and refuses to where the priestly get-up. He is an extreme liberal and works in Kenya. The Kenyans love him and I've heard he is doing amazing things for the ecumenical Christian community. There are also two Scottish people here as well, Louise and, ironically, Scott. Scott and I have already become best buds. He is 22 and we hang out all the time, study together, and we have had some very interesting adventures.

After a hard week of studying the teachers decided we need a little enjoyment. So 5 of the teachers/workers took Scott and I to a concert in Morogoro on Friday night. At least they told us it was a concert... it turned out to be much more then that. We left our rooms at about 8:30 and the taxis didn't come until about 9:30, so we had lots of time to talk, practice Swahili, etc. Ironically the place where we were going, the place that we waited over an hour to go to, was a 3 minute drive from LJS. Once we got there we paid (and by we I mean that Scott and I paid, the Tanzanians kind of mooched off us, so it was pretty expensive night, as far as Tanzanian Shillings go anyway), found are seats, and waited for the show to start. We were the only white people there. Generally, whenever I'm in Morogoro I see a few of my melanin-deficient brother mixed in with the crowd. But this was obviously a local dive, and not really a place you would see missionary workers if you know what I mean. I ordered a round of drinks for everyone and the band "Acudo Impact" started play. It was explained to me that the genre of music that "Acudo Impact" plays is called 'hyani wapya msitu wa'zamani' or 'new monkey old forest'. Its is supposed to be modern music with contemporary melodies but with a strong to tie to tradition African music. But I would place it in a genre closer to "heavy downbeat with loud whistles'. Apparently they are one of the top bands in Tanzania so it was pretty fun. But the most entertaining thing was the dancing. When we dance in bars or clubs in the States it is more thrusting and very sexual.

But in Africa everyone just dances with everyone and its a lot of good, generally clean, fun. And it wasn't just teenagers and twenty year olds, it was EVERYONE! I think there was a kid I talked to who was about 15 and there were also old ladies dancing with some of their old lady friends. And you don't have partners, you just dance with whomever is around you. Guys with guys, girls with girls, old ladies with prostitutes, whoever.

Scott and I also tried our hands at dancing. At first we were nervous, but we decided we couldn't be that bad at dancing. We talked ourselves into it and mustered up courage to go onto the dance floor. We were tall, white, and bigger then most of people there and as we walked onto the dance floor we felt like quite the pair of studs. But we soon learned that Africans are WAY better at dancing. I swear every Tanzanian comes out of the womb knowing how to dance and look good doing it. I danced the tradition white guy dance- here is how you do it, so pay attention closely:
1)pump your fist in a vertical motion alternating with the beats
2)never EVER move your feet, pretend they are encased in cement. Although, occasionally it is acceptable to bend your knees slightly
3) constantly look around to see if anyone is watching you dance but never make eye contact. Your head should swivel so much that you resemble some sort of deranged prairie dog looking for predators in the savanna.

For an example of the white guy dance you can go to any bar where there is a music and white people, it is the most common of all dances among Caucasians. I'm sure I looked ridiculous but next to Scott I felt like Fred Astaire. Scott has what doctors call rhythm impairment- its the worst case I have ever seen. Every one of Scott's limbs move at different times and NEVER did they EVER move in rhythm with the music. The song could have lasted for 5 hours and not once would have hit a single beat. Needless to say we didn't dance very long, but we had a great time observing and taking in the culture.

We originally thought the dance party/live music/beef kabob extravaganza would last until 12:00 or 1:00 in the morning- so Scott and I just enjoyed the music and atmosphere expecting to go home shortly. But 12:00 turned into 1:00, 1:00 turned into 2:00, 2:00 turned into 3:00, etc. We finally begged and pleaded with the teachers to let us go home. So Absalom, reluctantly, brought us back to LJS. I got to bed by 4:30. As we left, the band, who had been playing for nearly 7 hours, was still going strong. The African's were also dancing their butts off with no signs of stopping. I found out the next morning that the teacher didn't leave until 6 a.m. On the car ride home Scott was having a hard time breathing, we all just thought he was a really tired. Little did we know it was a warning sign of much worse things to come...

Saturday I went with PH and some American well drillers (who are currently staying at LJS) to the Maasai cattle market. This time I knew a lot more Swahili so I was able to chat, barter, and buy like a prow. I also brought my camera along (check the facebook page). Kim had left Thursday to go to Zanzibar with Audrey and Paul to the International African Music festival. I would have gone, but with my severe shellfish allergy Zanzibar is not the place for me. While I was jealous at first, I'm positive they did not experience anything as culturally saturated (or as fun) as me. So she wasn't at the cattle market this time. It turn out that Maasai men are a lot more prone to talk when there is not a female around. I, once again, had goat, but this time it was DELICIOUS. This is probably the 4th or 5th time I have had goat and it is really starting to grow on me. I especially enjoyed the liver. A big chunk of goat liver dabbed in salt... mmmm, nothing better.

Sunday I went with PH, the Bishop of Lutheran Church of Tanzania, and about 8 other wachungaji (pastors) in a very small truck to a mountain village that was 3 hours away. The first service we went was short but very exciting. We had a procession through the whole town with all the villagers, the ministers, and the Bishop in his regalia. He had a giant ebony staff, he was wearing many different colored robes, and had a huge popeish hat on. At that service there were two choirs, one of which had many people and a small diesel generator that powered their electric guitars and keyboard. It was great music and dancing. The second service we went to was a small church but with more people and it took an average amount of time. I sat next to a 13 year old boy named Barracka who spoke fluent English and translated the service for me. He introduced me to his friends and we had a lot of fun. On the way home I luckily did not have to sit in the cramped Wachungaji truck. Instead, Luka was driving a huge truck that we used to transport about 30 members from a nearby village. This included one secondary school girl, probably age 15 who made me promise to come back and marry her after she was done with school. We got back to LJS around midnight where I found Scott in a pretty terrible condition.

Scott had been feeling ill for most of the afternoon and they took him to the hospital. His malaria test came back negative and his urinalysis showed a tract infection. He took some pills and came back to LJS. Shortly after he threw up the pills. When I came into his room to see how his day was his eyes were bloodshot, his skin was clammy and pale, and Teresa was holding a bucket for him. I stayed with him for about an hour and went to bed after he seemed to be in a stable condition. I woke up multiple times to him throwing up and moaning in pain. We (Riikka the Finish student and I) took him to the 24hour clinic for his follow up appointment at 6:00. By that time he was having major stomach troubles going both ways if you know what I mean. The doctors concluded he was too sick for their capabilities and we transported him to Morogoro's big, central, government-run hospital. We registered him and got a doctors appointment shortly after. He was moaning and writhing in pain and the doctors sent him to Ward 9, the semi-serious ward. He was in a wheelchair being pushed by a nurse, I followed by his side, and Riikka was going to the pharmacy to get medication. Once we got to Ward 9 I almost lost it. Scott sat in his chair barely conscious and the nurse had gone to the nurses station to find a non-existent empty bed. The very first bed, the bed Scott was directly pointed at, had a corpse in it. It wasn't really the first thing we wanted to see coming to a foreign hospital with an unknown serious illness. After reassessing Scott's condition letting us stare at the corpse for a good 5 minutes, he was bumped up to Grade 1, ICU. The nurses really didn't do anything and for the 7 hours we were there and the doctor visited him once. All they did was give him cover up drugs so he would be fine for 2 hours then explode from both ends. And poor Scott was so weak and dehydrated he needed help standing up and cleaning himself... and guess who got to help with that... OH, and they don't use toiled paper... just your hands and a bucket of water. Needless to say our friendship reached a new level.

Karina, the German doctor who is also a student at the language school, came to assess the facilities and immediately decided he had to be moved. She contacted a minister from her missionary program who came at once to help us transport Scott to a competent medical facility just north of Morogoro. It was a lovely privately owned hospital that, with little prodding, performed all the necessary tests and procedures to help Scott recover. His 3rd malaria test proved positive with count of 3. Apparently the degree of malaria is measured in a parasite count. Scott had a very low number of just 3, natives can have counts in the 200s! But for wazungu (white people) just one will take you out. After the source of the illness was discovered his spirits improved dramatically and the correct medication started to turn his condition around. He was soon stable and I was dead tired. I had gotten only about 5 hours of sleep in the past two day and now I was running Scott around Morogoro. I'm very happy Riikka and Karina were with Scott because I was of little to no use by the end of the day. Karina volunteered to stay with Scott so Riikka and I could come back to LJS, shower, eat, and load up supplies to bring to them. It took about 3 hours for us to get everything we needed because Chooma (the school directory) and the kitchen matron were hellbent on preparing a special rice uji (porridge) for Scott to eat that apparently is the best thing for a sick person to eat. To me it just looked like watery rice, but it took 4 people 2.5 hours to make it so it must have been pretty damn magical! We got back to the hospital at about 10 and found Scott in a much improved condition. He was no longer throwing up and only having a little trouble with the backdoor. Karina stayed with him the whole night (unfortunatley he was only allowed one overnight guest) and the next day, today, after Swahili lessons, we brought Scott some supplies and Karina came home with us. Scott is able to spend the night by himself. He is almost fully functioning and we are looking forward to his return tomorrow.

Back at LJS, Audrey and Kim had returned from the international music festival on Zanzibar Island looking tan and happy. Audrey was very thoughtful and bought some CDs that I am able to rip to my computer. Swahili is going great and I am thankfully in a very health condition although, I am pretty tired.

Low: Listening to Scott scream and roll around in pain. I felt totally useless, there was nothing I or anyone could really do for him except hold his hand and puke bucket and wait for the medicine to kick in. He was in very critical condition for a while and gave us all a freight.

High: Scott is finally better and I can't wait to have him return. Please, everyone, pray for him and everyone else here at LJS.

I Love the Way You Do Me...

This last week has been quite intense. Our Swahili lessons are starting to get challenging. Before it was a nice slow pace that allowed me time to absorb the language, take in the sites, live with no worries... hakunamatata. But now we are going at a breakneck pace- learning 15-30 vocab words per lesson (2 lessons a day), tenses are flying at us faster then killer bees on a honeycomb snatching baboon, and to top it off the power and internet are out. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but my candle is burned out, my flashlight bulb burnt out, and night time comes too fast- leaving me very little time to study.

When we aren't studying or in class some of our favorite pastimes are playing volleyball, chess, discussing politics/culture, and, my personal favorite, napping. Last week we played some volleyball with most of the teachers, Anna the German kindergarten teacher, a few secondary school students, and Sister Judith. Just so you know, nuns aren't the most athletic people in the world. So if your looking for a competitive high endurance game you do not want a nun on your team. While it was fun, Sister Judith's main contribution was praying a prayer of thanksgiving for the ball not hitting her in the face.

This week, before our volleyball game, Kadege, Omega, Kim, and I wandered around the compound for a while. We went to the school shops which sell quite the potpourri of items- fruits, pencils, candybars, grammar books, tampons, you name it. We bought some sodas and got to talking about Maasai culture with Kadege. The path to manhood for a Maasai boy is very interesting. The most interesting (and what I believe to be the most terrifying) stage for a Maasai boy is circumcision. It is NOT like American circumcisions. It is a big celebration where everyone gathers together to eat, drink, and be merry. At least the onlookers are merry, I'm not sure how the boys feel. The age of the boys who get circumcised at these celebrations is usually between 8 and 15 years old! There is no anesthetic and they are not allowed to cry, wince, or show any sign of emotion or they risk dishonoring their family. Can you believe that?! After they get nipped, they spend the next three days drinking medicated soup so as to avoid infection. Their relatives also give them the gift of cattle and goats which are more precious than money to cattle based Maasai society. Overall, it was very enlightening conversation and one I will not soon forget.

We finished the evening with a game of volleyball, ate dinner, did a little studying, and then went to bed. The next few days were pretty normal, just Swahili lessons and studying. But this weekend has been a blast! Audrey invited Kim and I to Dodoma where she and her boy friend, Paul, live and work. Dodoma is the capital of Tanzania and is, ideally, a 3 hour bus ride from Morogoro. But as we were waiting at the bus station a storm hit. It was raining pretty bad and after the first hour we hit a traffic jam. A vehicle had slid into the ditch and hit a power poll, knocking it into traffic leaving power lines strewn across the street. As we sat there a large group of people gathered around the fallen power poll. They obviously wanted to lift the lines off the street but were afraid to touch the wires. One man mustered up the courage and touched the line. There was a bright flash of light and he exploded into a million pieces. Just kidding, the line was dead and soon the traffic was moving again. Besides the traffic jam the bus ride was pretty miserable. The window leaked and my entire right side was wet for most of the trip. There was a television on the bus, but what they were playing was awful. The first hour and a half was a terrible movie called "Runaway Boys" which was about two boys who ran away from home and then worked in a city. Thats about it... the dialogue was awful, the scenery was terrible, the actors were ugly, and the plot was nill. During the traffic jam the radio was playing the great Tanzanian R&B hit "I Love the Way You Do Me". Here are some of the lyrics:
I love the way you do me, do me, do me,
I love the way you do me, do me, do me,
(drum solo)
(bass solo)
I love the way you do me, do me, do me,
do me, do me, dooooooooooo me.
Enchanting isn't it? I'm sure that ingenious band will win at least 5 grammies.

The next hour featured music videos by the worst jazz band I have ever heard. Well at least they said they were a jazz band, but it was more of a dirty-mariachi-grunge ensemble. Then, the piéce de résistance, there was an encore showing of "Runaway Boys"! YAY! Overall, we left for our three hour bus ride at 5:00 and made it to our place in Dodoma by 11:00 p.m.

Despite the sour start to our weekend adventure, Dodoma was amazing. We stayed at C.P.P.S. which is Latin for something... I don't remember what that something is, but they are part of the precious blood ministries, which is a world wide catholic missionary organization. C.P.P.S. is a very large compound with many different buildings. Their main function is building windmills to pump water for wells they dig for villages around Tanzania. To date they have built almost 700 windmill pumping stations. There is also a primary school, seminary, and home for a few nuns.

Paul has lived in Tanzania for the past 10 years and is an amazing person. He has never really stayed in any place too long. He travels the world learning language after language, earning basically nothing, and just living day to day. While I don't find his lifestyle particularly appealing, he is a dynamite person to talk to. He has had many interesting experiences and yet is an incredibly humble person. Paul is also a very gifted artist and photographer. He also opened up my eyes to another aspect of Tanzania I never really thought about.
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Tanzania is, as I hope you know, a "third world" country. It is a dog eat dog world, survival of the fittest, pick your cliché. And when missions and organizations try to hand power or control over to the Tanzanians it quickly goes down hill and dissolves. Before talking with Paul, I was angry when I would see white foreign mission leaders ordering around black native workers, as if they knew what was better for them. But truth be told... the Tanzanians have a very hard time organizing themselves. The head honcho at C.P.P.S. is a priest named Father Tim and when he is gone, like this weekend, Paul is in charge. But if Paul were to leave, even for one day, things would quickly get stolen, broken, sold, etc. Most Tanzanians have no sense of future, they do what they can to live for today. Sure that may mean ruining an entire drilling operation by stealing metal drill bits, undoubtedly ruining the future for thousand of thirsty people, but the thief would have food on their plate tonight. And although there are other options to theft, there is nothing easier or more efficient. Even more distressing, it isn't just a Tanzanian thing, its not even just an African thing, its a poverty thing. How do you fight something like poverty? You can't throw money at it, education doesn't always break the cycle, its hard to find long term service providers, like Paul or PH, who sacrifice their cushy Western life style and come to Africa to work... what can you do against such impossible odds? I tossed and turned all night while thinking about this. It has given me a pretty dismal outlook for the future of missionary and foreign aid ministries. Even in a wonderful place like C.P.P.S. I found myself depressed and saddened by this terrible dilemma- the best thing for Tanzania is for Tanzanians to govern themselves, use their own labor and resources, accompanied by foreign aid, and get themselves out of poverty - but because of poverty they are trapped in a very strong never ending cycle of theft and corruption, unable to build a foundation for their own success. ... ....
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C.P.P.S. had three chefs for us there and the food was amazing. Saturday afternoon we went to town and bought cheese (real cheese) from an Indian store. We used to make pizzas which we cooked in the huge stone, wood-burning pizza oven they had. Our rooms at C.P.P.S. were huge and we each had our own washroom with a heated shower. There was also a phone they let me use to call the states, it was really great to hear my family's voices. Overall, it was a stellar weekend where I could just kick back and relax.

On Saturday afternoon I had talked with some of the nuns from C.P.P.S. so Sunday morning I went to a Swahili Catholic Mass at the Church of the Precious Blood. It was surprisingly like American Catholic masses. Saints everywhere, an old priest uttering incantations, holy water, blada blada blada. There was even a small organ. The only think different was that everyone was speaking Swahili and some of the music was accompanied by a drum and rattle.

Our bus back to Morogoro was scheduled to leave at 2:30 Sunday. But when we arrived we saw two buses from the bus company we bought our tickets from on the side of the road, empty. After a brief inquiry it turned out someone had died (I'm not sure if it was on the bus, or just an important person to the bus company) and they weren't running today. Luckily they transferred us to another bus company and we headed out on time. Of course, it rained, so I was once again got wet. But at least there was no television. I got a lot of reading done and by the time I was back in Morogoro I had my mind back into study mode. Wish me luck, I have a full week of Swahili lessons ahead of me.

***Morogoro was out of power and internet again, sorry about the late posting, but not that sorry... you aren't cut off from western civilization. Another Post will be coming shortly***

Ask and You Shall Recieve...

Well for the past 7 days we have had a power outage. It hasn't been too bad- two of the days I spent at Mikumi National Park and the powerless days here at LJS gave me time to study. Although, candle light makes it pretty hard to run through note cards. Another storm hit last night, but luckily we are spending the weekend in Dodoma (city north of Morogoro) so we have power and internet.

On the 30th we went to a village called Usingwe. On the way there PH took a wrong turn down a cow path and we drove aimlessly through the African bush for a good 45 minutes before we decided to turn around. At one point there was a small albeit obvious stump covered in elephant thorns (vicious 2 inch long spikes aptly named for their resemblance to elephant tusks). But being the courageous adventurers we were, we decided to brave the challenge that lay before us and proceeded to run it over at a speed upward of 40 Km/hr. As you may have guessed, it popped our tire and we hobbled our way out of the bush to a nearby village. We folded up the seats and got out the equipment for changing a tire, but as luck would have it, half the pieces, including essential parts of the jack, were missing, YAY! Fortunately, a local who used to work in a garage made due with the tools we had and changed our tire. It took about an hour to get the tire changed so we spent a lot of time talking with the children who had gathered around the car. Actually, Omgea and I spent a lot of time talking to the children, Kim spent a lot of time under a tree trying to not puke. Kim got the same flu that I had the day before. I was able to spend my sick time in bed with a bottles of water and my computer. Unfortunately, Kim had to spend her sick day lost in the African bush, in 90+ degree heat, mobbed by children. It wasn't a pretty site.

Once we were ready to go, we offered to give a ride to a maasai woman and her child who were also headed to Usingwe. The mob of children around the car interpreted this as an offer to give all of them a ride as well. They graciously accepted our imaginary offer and all of them lunged for the open car door at the EXACT SAME TIME. Keep in mind there were already 4 people in the back seat, including myself, and now we were instantly adding 12 children. I imagine from the outside it looked like one of those Japanese train cars where the police officers cram passengers into the cabin so tightly that they look like sardines. But from inside, it was like a scene from Dawn of the Dead when the zombie horde tries to attack. The children were biting, scratching, clawing, ANYTHING so they could get in the car. PH got out and was picking up children and throwing them aside, I was frantically trying to get the door closed, the Maasai women was shielding her child who, of course, was crying, Kim was in the front seat about to toss her cookies, and Omega just sat there laughing hysterically. We finally got moving and made it to Usingwe.

We of course sat down immediately and had tea and bread. Kim was too sick to eat so one of the local men went out into the woods in search of a natural remedy. He came back about 15 minutes later with some tree bark. It was roughly the color of Kim's sickly pallored face except it had dots of green, yellow, and orange mold. They soaked it in water, which turned an opaque grey, and Kim drank the cloudy concoction. At first she was about to charf, but the she felt better. The color returned to her face and she was nearly her healthy self again. That is until about halfway through the service, when she darted for the church door and ran to a nearby bush. As she vomited she had an audience, all the village children ran to the window to stare and point. The children were so loud and distracting we just decided to halt the service and watch Kim for a little bit. After she finished and wandered into the bush, the congregation continued on with the service.

On the 1st, we went to a village called Nngaiti. Within the first hour of travel we popped a tire... again. But this time it happened in a town, right next to a garage. After we changed the tire (I'm getting pretty good at changing tires f.y.i.), we continued on our way to Nngaiti, which is conveniently located in the middle of a vast assemblage of fields, mud holes, and savanna. We offroaded through the bush for almost 2 hour whereupon we luckily stumbled into Nngaiti. The "village" consists of a church, a half-assembled brick house, and a shack labeled "shoppe" which sells warm soda. That is it. I have no idea how we found it, Moreto and Kidege have no idea how we found, even PH seemed pleasantly surprised. Everything was going according to plan until the second half of the service. The sun hid behind some clouds and a turbulent wind rose out of the south unleashing a tempestuous torrent of rain. Everyone crammed to one side of the church fearing the already structurally unsound southern wall might collapse. It didn't and we got thought the service alright, although we were much more wet then when we started. Ironically, one of the biggest prayer concerns was rain for the parched fields. All I can say is -"Ask and you shall receive".

The recent rain made the drive home through the fields fun because all the dirt turned into mud. It took us about 3 hours to finally get home. We had left that morning at 8:30... we got back by 10:30 p.m.

' On Monday the second we quit Swahili lessons after lunch, loaded up the truck, and made our way to Mikumi National Park. Before we were even in the front gate we saw warthogs, impala, giraffe, and a large herd of elephant spanning as far as the eye could see. We checked in, enjoyed a chilled glass of passion fruit juice, and made our way to our rooms. The accommodations were AMAZING. I had my own cabana with a toilet room, shower room, guest bedroom, and master bedroom. Each hut had its own patio overlooking the savanna which always had animals frolicking by. The lodge had two bars, a pool, and the restaurant overlooked a watering hole frequented by animals. But we didn't spend much daytime there because we were out driving in the savanna. I won't say much about the animals, the pictures speak for themselves, I hope to post some of them to facebook shortly. But near the end of the first day we had a very close encounter with a lion. Heading back toward the lodge, we drove down a road we had just went the opposite way on not 5 minutes before. And there lying in the middle of the road was a big male lion. He was just sitting there, enjoying the sun, taking a nap. We got so close, our bumper could have hit him. Eventually he turned over to see what exactly was going on behind him and slowly made his way off the road to the shade of nearby tree. At one point I could have stuck my hand out the window and touched him. It was great. That night we enjoyed a very western three course meal in the restaurant and went to bed so we could wake up by 5:00 to drink some coffee and head back out into the park. We saw just about every animal, the only thing we didn't see was the rare and elusive leopard. It was by far my favorite thing about the trip so far, rivaled only by the worship services with the African people.

Today, we are back studying Swahili. Its going slowly but surely.

Low: I apparently scratch my mosquito bites in my sleep. My feet and legs are covered in scabs and are bleeding constantly. No amount of bandages or anti-itching cream will stop me.

High: Mikumi park, everything about it was magical. I was really sad when it was time to go.