Late June
Mtwara and Lindi
http://picasaweb.google.com/janey.brodigan/MtwaraLindiTraining#
So this feels like an age away as I’ve been back there and to other places since, but really I should write about it.. at least the good stuff. So what was good?
Being proven wrong; As mentioned in the previous ‘post’ our work there is to support Upper Primary English training in the form of a 3 day workshop. I thought this trip would be a waste of time; too little in the face of great need down there. What we were remitted to organize just seemed so small and insignificant and really not worth doing. And maybe that still stands, but from a purely selfish point of view I learned a lot, met some great people and felt like I made a positive difference to the training.
Great road trip from Mtwara to Lindi; off roading in the 4x4 as the road was being repaired. Spotting some great birds and cruising through some pretty remote villages.
Enjoying the camaraderie of my 3 Zanzibari colleagues: Aboud, Sufiani and Khator.
Meeting Brian, the owner of a beautiful hotel out in Mikindani. Being treated to nice supper and fine company.
Live cockerel in the back of the truck to tasty soup in my stomach within 90 minutes.
Meeting Catherine and her Mtwaran family: husband, Magnus and their lovely adopted children; Caro (4) and Gooddluck (12)
Discovering the joys of ‘The Young and the Restless’ (long running US soap opera). Hmmmm. Not much to do in the evenings!
Mid July
Moshi
http://picasaweb.google.com/janey.brodigan/MoshiTrip#
Hopping onto a bus for a 10 hour bus ride north up to Kilimanjaro. Highlights:
Marvelling at the mountains on the way up
Chatting to lovely Indian-Tanzanian lady and eating kebab together
Seeing John, my VSO friend based up in Maragu, a little town at the foot of the mountain
Being chilly; log fires, red wine, 3 blankets on the bed and socks!
Waterfalls
Zanzibari Wedding
http://picasaweb.google.com/janey.brodigan/ZanzibarianWedding#
Wow.. I was dreading this.. thinking I’d be stuck god knows where unable to leave for house because of:
politeness
lack of transport
But, unlike many UK weddings (!) it was fabulously functional! Strictly speaking I was just invited to the dinner; the ceremony had taken place the day before.
So, anyway.. I was invited by my Zanzibari friend, Fat-Iha, an exceptional English teacher at my nearest school, to attend the wedding dinner of her ex-student. The car collected us around 6pm and took us North out of town, down a sandy path and stopped. We walked the rest of the way through the village to the house. The men were outside and in we went.
We joined a room full of resplendent women and a few babes in arms, obligingly being quiet. We sat on the floor and talked and waited until the bride came in; she was stunning in a yellow gold dress and veil.
Then the food arrived, literally doled out by friends and family; a mound of Swahili bites and snacks. As I was marveling at the prospect of eating such a pile there followed a plastic bag and the women promptly deposited the items in the bag to take home, choosing a small nibble to keep them happy. The intention is that the wedding feeds the extended families of guests as well as those invited. Nice thought.
The extraordinary thing about the bride was that no one spoke to her; she sat on her throne of cushions, surveying the scene, unable or unwilling to eat while all her guests chatted and nibbled around her. When I asked why no one was speaking to her, my friend replied, “Well we’re eating,” Hmm!
The food was swiftly followed by the entrance of the Groom to excited ululations, which to my amazement I suddenly found I could do! He stood looking bashful next to his impressive wife while pictures were taken.
Then we left! In, fed and out again in under 2 hours! Splendid.
Birthday
As I was spending my birthday in the far flung reaches of Southern Tanzania, I had a rather pleasant series of protracted birthday events:
Birthday beers and goat at the classy ‘Prince Chris Gardens’ otherwise known as Mikindani, ‘under the coconut trees’. It’s a nice local joint deep in the heart of the labyrinth of Stone Town. I was joined by some of my town friends and quite an international event it turned out to be: Anna (Austria) and Dis (Tanzania) and other VSO’s Marius (Scotland), Maurice, Gordon, Anthony (all from Kenya) Alice and daughter (Uganda, via UK and elsewhere) Mary (Philippines), Lisenka (Holland) Tim (England). The Americans couldn’t make it. Nice eve.
Safari Blue. My birthday present from Dad was to invite some friends (Marius, Mary and Lisenka) to do a Dhow trip: we were picked up and driven to the South coast; boarded a Dhow (Traditional sail boat) and motored out to he next island; saw dolphins on route; lay and played on beach; ate amazing lobster / Sea food lunch; went out to the sand bank for more play time; snorkeled and put the sails down and sailed back to shore. Magic! Just a great day!
In Mtwara, on the day itself, I was invited by Catherine to dinner at home; lovely kids, nice folks, good food, a beer and a kanga for a present (local fabric- one can never have enough!). Lovely.
On my return, my good friend Micelle took me out to dinner, which was a real treat.. dining on the beach under the stars.. we even had nice wine and did some crazy dancing!
Next day we returned to the beach and, thanks to Mum I had a good old local scrub, traditionally given to brides before their wedding: Sandalwood, rose water, ylang ylang, jasmine.. all in a good black exfoliating mush! Was great fun!
All in all.. 32 seems a pretty fine place to be! J
Mtwara Revisited
So, back again for a week of finishing our work down south. More of the same in terms of training.. all good!
Arriving a the remote Teacher Centre at Libobe was acutely awkward; cars are a rare sight in these parts and I felt a kind of embarrassment at what my friend Marium, Head Teacher of a Primary School there, refers to as ‘these luxury things’.
The undoubted highlight was not having the car or enough cash to taxi out to the remote Libobe Teacher Centre on the last day. So, I went with Marium, who was one of our trainers, on the bus in the hope that the driver would take us the final 10kms off the main road for a little extra. However, it turned out the ‘little extra’ was more than I had in my pocket. So, off we jumped, literally at the end of the road, leaving me thinking, “Err.. what next?” Marium promptly signaled 2 young men on bikes and before I knew it we were off whizzing along the dirt track, perched on the parcel shelf! It was brilliant! There’s so much more you can notice when not in the car. I guess it also made a difference not arriving in a 4x4, at speed, spewing up dirt in my participants’ faces as they arrive on the back of bicycles!
I’m really hoping to get back there for a visit; I met some wonderful people; Marium for one and Modesta, another beautiful and talented teacher. I would love the opportunity to meet their families and visit their schools.
Writing this, I am in Pemba doing training of trainers here. We’ll be back to finish delivery to teachers in October. I leave for home tomorrow and go through the whole process of training on Unguja. Then, hopefully it’s a final, follow-up visit to Lindi and Mtwara.
So I’m looking forward to these last couple of months. Hoping I’ll get some traveling in.
Busy busy J
Friday, August 29, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Work Life
Work Life
So, I’ve just realized there is very little mentioned here on the blog about my work. This could be for a variety of reasons:
1. Sometimes there is little of it
2. Sometimes, it’s maddeningly frustrating or banal
3. My work-life balance is more healthy
4. My out of work life is more interesting and entertaining
5. It feels mean writing about my largely lovely colleagues
6. I’ve forgotten to
Still.. that’s a little unfair as largely work is GREAT. So, it’s high time that I mention a few things I’ve been up to..
Just incase you didn’t know I work for The Teachers’ Advancement Programme, funded by USAID through the Aga Kahn Foundation and in partnership with the Ministry of Education, Zanzibar. I am employed as an ‘English Advisor’, which can comprise of many things:
wheeling in high finance
trying to coax the tea boy into some basic English utterances
banging my head against any available solid surface
drinking copious amounts of hot super sweet tea
carrying brown envelopes, stuffed full with millions of shillings, out to far-flung destinations..
editing, writing materials
training
travelling
The Advanced Secondary Teachers’ Certificate
The main course the project runs is called The Advanced Secondary Teachers’ Certificate and is aimed at up-skilling under qualified Secondary Maths and Science teachers. The teachers are largely trained Primary teachers, who have been ‘promoted’ to work in Secondary school due to the gross dearth of trained Secondary Maths and Science teachers. The main problem with this is that these teachers have come from a background where they are used to teaching in Kiswahili and are comfortable with their subject knowledge. When they move up to teach in Secondary they are required to teach using English and sometimes to the same educational level that they themselves received. This puts huge stress on the teacher and there is little support, zero resources and huge class sizes.
So, the course aims to build their skills in: English, methodology and content knowledge. The course is run over a 2 year period, the teachers attending 2 days a week; once during the week and once on Saturday.
At this point it’s worth highlighting the extent of the partnership from the Ministry of Education. Their role is simple:
To provide transport costs for the teachers to travel to the training
To pay the trainers.
Neither of these conditions have been met.. in TWO YEARS! The pilot course is now finished and still there is NO sign of the money. Interesting interpretation of the word ‘partnership’, isn’t it?
So, one of the big tasks I have completed is a review, edit and re-write of the English component of the 2 year course. I conducted the review in collaboration with the trainers and the re-write has led new improved, a more language focused course. There are now individual English assessment criteria for each assignment, which means they can track the development of the written English over the 2 years. We want to include a spoken assessment too, but it seems pointless due to the reason below.
Sadly, it seems that after the 2 year pilot, despite the success of the course, the ‘roll out’ or extension to other teachers will not happen. This could be for a number of reasons:
Our donors USAID and AKF will not continue to fun us due to a change in their Strategic Plan / Funding objectives blah blah..
The Ministry of Education will not fulfill its promise to ‘take on’ the course because: a) they have no money to; b) they don’t care; c) it’s too much effort, especially if; d) the donors will pay for it and run it so they don’t have to.
So, all the time and effort we invested in the review and re-write of a course that may be for nothing as it may never be used again. But you never know.
Onto merrier things I do..
Training on Zanzibar
This course is run at 3 Teacher Centres: 2 on Unguja, one rural one urban and one on Pemba. It was lovely to be able to travel around visiting them and see some of these 2 beautiful islands. I managed to deliver some of the training with all our English trainers at each Teacher Centre where the course is run and meet the trainees just in time for the end of the course.. just as I realized where I was supposed to be every week and what I could do.. Still that’s standard VSO experience I think.
Training in Southern Tanzania
The project also ‘supports’ other training, which means it gives educational ‘stakeholders’(teachers, trainers, ministry officials, inspectors..) the time, money and resources to run the training they want to have in certain areas. E.g. Upper Primary English, Maths and Science.
The regions we are remitted to work in are: Zanzibar- the islands of Pemba and Unguja and Southern Tanzania- Mtwara and Lindi. I have been lucky enough to work in all those areas and with particular positivism in Southern Tanzania.
My role in this work is to help facilitate the identification of training needs, planning of training by Master Trainers and support delivery of training first to the trainers and then to the teachers.
At first I was very skeptical about the work in S Tanzania, as it seemed so little in the face of great need, but it turned out to be the best work I’ve done. Both trainings worked brilliantly in Lindi and Mtwara; the trainers were great and a good deal of the teachers were fantastic. It was so inspiring to see how creative and effective these teachers can be, when many of them have had so little training.
I made some good friends on those last 2 trips: In Lindi with Modesta, a beautiful and immensely talented teacher, who is now working in training; in Mtwara, with Mariam, a young and exceptional woman, who has recently been promoted to Headship at a rural Primary School.
I am looking forward to visiting them again in October with any luck.
My main influence on the trainings here has been in developing the trainers’ ability to deliver training effectively. We run a ‘facilitation skills’ day in preparation of the training, which introduces the main issues I want the trainers to focus on:
Ways of encouraging participation
New methods of organizing grouping and participatory methods
Managing constructive criticism
Review and evaluation
Then we have a day for planning the 3 days training, in which the Master Trainers wisely decided to include large amounts of time for sharing ideas and best practice, which worked brilliantly.
Finally we are then ready to deliver training, first to trainers and then to teachers. My role is to observe and support as they try new things.
All the way from the initial needs analysis, through planning and delivery we involve the local educational officials; the District Academic Officers and the School Inspectors. We do this for several reasons: it’s a courtesy; it’s important for them to see what we are doing; we can engender change in them also. So, we include them in decision making and invite them to observe / participate in the training. I was dubious about this initially, as I was concerned that their presence would intimidate the teachers, but happily, they were positive and supportive.
Sharing Skills and Changing Lives
So.. all in all the last months of this have been great. I’ve met so many great people and developed my own skills in so many ways; it’s one thing to plan and deliver training yourself, it’s quite a different matter supporting someone else to do it! Also the financial and logistical planning aspects of the training have been a real challenge too. But it’s all good experience.
People worry about the fact that employers view volunteering with VSO as a career break. There’s absolutely no way that this year can be described in such terms. It has enhanced my skills and experience in so many ways; I have had opportunities here that I would never have had if I had remained in the classroom. I feel profoundly lucky that I have had a placement in which I have been able to grow as a professional and in ways I never thought I could.
VSO's slogan is ‘Sharing Skills and changing lives’; if this isn't it, then I don’t know what is.
So, I’ve just realized there is very little mentioned here on the blog about my work. This could be for a variety of reasons:
1. Sometimes there is little of it
2. Sometimes, it’s maddeningly frustrating or banal
3. My work-life balance is more healthy
4. My out of work life is more interesting and entertaining
5. It feels mean writing about my largely lovely colleagues
6. I’ve forgotten to
Still.. that’s a little unfair as largely work is GREAT. So, it’s high time that I mention a few things I’ve been up to..
Just incase you didn’t know I work for The Teachers’ Advancement Programme, funded by USAID through the Aga Kahn Foundation and in partnership with the Ministry of Education, Zanzibar. I am employed as an ‘English Advisor’, which can comprise of many things:
wheeling in high finance
trying to coax the tea boy into some basic English utterances
banging my head against any available solid surface
drinking copious amounts of hot super sweet tea
carrying brown envelopes, stuffed full with millions of shillings, out to far-flung destinations..
editing, writing materials
training
travelling
The Advanced Secondary Teachers’ Certificate
The main course the project runs is called The Advanced Secondary Teachers’ Certificate and is aimed at up-skilling under qualified Secondary Maths and Science teachers. The teachers are largely trained Primary teachers, who have been ‘promoted’ to work in Secondary school due to the gross dearth of trained Secondary Maths and Science teachers. The main problem with this is that these teachers have come from a background where they are used to teaching in Kiswahili and are comfortable with their subject knowledge. When they move up to teach in Secondary they are required to teach using English and sometimes to the same educational level that they themselves received. This puts huge stress on the teacher and there is little support, zero resources and huge class sizes.
So, the course aims to build their skills in: English, methodology and content knowledge. The course is run over a 2 year period, the teachers attending 2 days a week; once during the week and once on Saturday.
At this point it’s worth highlighting the extent of the partnership from the Ministry of Education. Their role is simple:
To provide transport costs for the teachers to travel to the training
To pay the trainers.
Neither of these conditions have been met.. in TWO YEARS! The pilot course is now finished and still there is NO sign of the money. Interesting interpretation of the word ‘partnership’, isn’t it?
So, one of the big tasks I have completed is a review, edit and re-write of the English component of the 2 year course. I conducted the review in collaboration with the trainers and the re-write has led new improved, a more language focused course. There are now individual English assessment criteria for each assignment, which means they can track the development of the written English over the 2 years. We want to include a spoken assessment too, but it seems pointless due to the reason below.
Sadly, it seems that after the 2 year pilot, despite the success of the course, the ‘roll out’ or extension to other teachers will not happen. This could be for a number of reasons:
Our donors USAID and AKF will not continue to fun us due to a change in their Strategic Plan / Funding objectives blah blah..
The Ministry of Education will not fulfill its promise to ‘take on’ the course because: a) they have no money to; b) they don’t care; c) it’s too much effort, especially if; d) the donors will pay for it and run it so they don’t have to.
So, all the time and effort we invested in the review and re-write of a course that may be for nothing as it may never be used again. But you never know.
Onto merrier things I do..
Training on Zanzibar
This course is run at 3 Teacher Centres: 2 on Unguja, one rural one urban and one on Pemba. It was lovely to be able to travel around visiting them and see some of these 2 beautiful islands. I managed to deliver some of the training with all our English trainers at each Teacher Centre where the course is run and meet the trainees just in time for the end of the course.. just as I realized where I was supposed to be every week and what I could do.. Still that’s standard VSO experience I think.
Training in Southern Tanzania
The project also ‘supports’ other training, which means it gives educational ‘stakeholders’(teachers, trainers, ministry officials, inspectors..) the time, money and resources to run the training they want to have in certain areas. E.g. Upper Primary English, Maths and Science.
The regions we are remitted to work in are: Zanzibar- the islands of Pemba and Unguja and Southern Tanzania- Mtwara and Lindi. I have been lucky enough to work in all those areas and with particular positivism in Southern Tanzania.
My role in this work is to help facilitate the identification of training needs, planning of training by Master Trainers and support delivery of training first to the trainers and then to the teachers.
At first I was very skeptical about the work in S Tanzania, as it seemed so little in the face of great need, but it turned out to be the best work I’ve done. Both trainings worked brilliantly in Lindi and Mtwara; the trainers were great and a good deal of the teachers were fantastic. It was so inspiring to see how creative and effective these teachers can be, when many of them have had so little training.
I made some good friends on those last 2 trips: In Lindi with Modesta, a beautiful and immensely talented teacher, who is now working in training; in Mtwara, with Mariam, a young and exceptional woman, who has recently been promoted to Headship at a rural Primary School.
I am looking forward to visiting them again in October with any luck.
My main influence on the trainings here has been in developing the trainers’ ability to deliver training effectively. We run a ‘facilitation skills’ day in preparation of the training, which introduces the main issues I want the trainers to focus on:
Ways of encouraging participation
New methods of organizing grouping and participatory methods
Managing constructive criticism
Review and evaluation
Then we have a day for planning the 3 days training, in which the Master Trainers wisely decided to include large amounts of time for sharing ideas and best practice, which worked brilliantly.
Finally we are then ready to deliver training, first to trainers and then to teachers. My role is to observe and support as they try new things.
All the way from the initial needs analysis, through planning and delivery we involve the local educational officials; the District Academic Officers and the School Inspectors. We do this for several reasons: it’s a courtesy; it’s important for them to see what we are doing; we can engender change in them also. So, we include them in decision making and invite them to observe / participate in the training. I was dubious about this initially, as I was concerned that their presence would intimidate the teachers, but happily, they were positive and supportive.
Sharing Skills and Changing Lives
So.. all in all the last months of this have been great. I’ve met so many great people and developed my own skills in so many ways; it’s one thing to plan and deliver training yourself, it’s quite a different matter supporting someone else to do it! Also the financial and logistical planning aspects of the training have been a real challenge too. But it’s all good experience.
People worry about the fact that employers view volunteering with VSO as a career break. There’s absolutely no way that this year can be described in such terms. It has enhanced my skills and experience in so many ways; I have had opportunities here that I would never have had if I had remained in the classroom. I feel profoundly lucky that I have had a placement in which I have been able to grow as a professional and in ways I never thought I could.
VSO's slogan is ‘Sharing Skills and changing lives’; if this isn't it, then I don’t know what is.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Rules for the Road; Cycling on Zanzibar
If it doesn’t hit you, it’s not too close;
Keep a fixed grin (or is it grimace?) at all times ;
Keep up a steady speed, fast enough so folks can’t hop on the back for a ‘lifti’, but not so fast as to skid in hidden sand patches;
Be prepared to hold conversations with strangers whilst peddling along;
Keep up a near constant stream of greetings to those you pass by;
Keep left! (avoiding children, chickens, potholes..)
If you have less wheels than me, when I ring my bell get out of my way! (This is my most favourite rule).
Thursday, June 26, 2008
March to June
So.. yet again a much neglected blog. Thinking back over the last few months I’m trying to recall significant and interesting events, but of course it’s those little magic glimpses of life here that pass in a moment that are really the ghosts we want to trap most… so I’ll try and think of a few:
1. Wondering why children are dragging round bits of string or rope, to be told it’s their imaginary cows;
2. Being welcomed home by familiar faces; the stall holders where I buy my yoghurt, fruit, washing powder…
3. Being given 200 shillings by Fizza, a little girl who visits, for no reason that I can discern other than kindness;
4. Friendly greetings as I whiz about on my bicycle.. ”Lifti” is my personal favourite.
5. Being summoned from the street by a cacophony of demanding voices: any number of local children, who come and sell juice or help their mothers at the night market; or the truly awful noise the little street cat and her grubby kittens make to get attention! Hideous!
Hmm they are tricky these fleeting moments.. guess a handy note book is necessary for capturing more of them.
So, other bigger news:
Hospital visits; I’ve done a few since I’ve arrived as it’s normal and expected behaviour to visit friends and colleagues when they are ill. The first visit was to my night guard’s elder daughter in the main hospital here, Mnazi Moja. I was wary of what to expect as I mounted the stairs and headed into the female ward.
There were none of the hideous scenes our western imaginations might suggest, but the ugly and uncomfortable realities are much more subtle. No sheets on the beds, no mosquito nets and no food, who knows what else. It was quiet. Families bring food and care for their own, as well as covering all costs.
Later that month I visited a colleague in the Muhibili hospital in Dar, following a major operation. This time it was a male ward. I waited my turn with the women waiting with food, feeling guilty that I had only thought to bring juice. When at last we were admitted I was alarmed to see the women handing over the food and leaving. No body was visiting except me. I was pointed in the direction of my colleague. I focused on his friendly face as I stepped over and between men in various stages of serious illness.
Later in the taxi, the driver, Bakari didn’t believe me when I told him about the private car parking charges in UK hospitals.
Trip to Lushoto, in the Usambara Mountains. March.
http://picasaweb.google.com/janey.brodigan/LushotoMarch#
Easter weekend my Canadian friend and I took the plunge and ventured off the island. We headed north out of Dar on a 6 hour bus journey up into the mountains. The last hour is stunning; the bus slowly winding its way up through the low hills into the mountains.
We called our recommended guide, Agrey, from the bus to book the next day’s hike and he said he’d arrange accommodation too. He met us off the bus and took us to our low-budget residence. The place seemed over-run with Indian families, escaping from Dar. It was perfect.
We enjoyed putting on jumpers and sleeping under a duvet; being chilly is a real treat after the unrelenting heat and humidity of the Zanzibari Summer.
The next day, Easter Sunday, we hiked up through the valley into the mountains, passing many churches on our way: Anglican, Catholic, Lutheran, and an Evangelical hut right up high. The air was fresh, the sun shone and music and ululation rose up into the hills.
Bagamoyo; East Coast Tanzania, April.
Again, I escaped off the island, this time to visit Bagamoyo, to the north of Dar, famous for once being the main slave port on the East African Coast.
I visited the small museum there, crammed with information about the Slave Trade. Millions of people were sent from here across to the Middle East, The Americas and Europe. Those few of them that made it that far, that is.
Bagamoyo has an old district where the colonial buildings lie in ruins, interspersed with art cooperatives from the burgeoning population of artists and sculptors who live here, products of the successful art college.
Bagamoyo has a lovely relaxed atmosphere, so different to the urban weight of Dar and the frenzy of Stone Town. Two, lovely things happened:
Walking down the old road along the coast, passing the ruins of the Old Post Office and Town Hall I was greeted by a couple of ladies sitting with their children outside their home. They were seated around a plate of something that was white, creamy and steaming. As is custom they said, “Karibu” and motioned to the food. Usually I would say thank you and decline the mushy pile of beans and rice being shoveled eagerly into a hungry mouth by the man’s fingers, but this looked too good to miss. I sat with them and exchanged introductions and asked what they were eating; it was cassava in coconut with fish. It was delicious. I enjoyed a few mouthfuls, chatted about this and that and then was on my way. Nice.
Venturing into the first art cooperative I braced myself for the usual enthusiastic greeting and flurry of offensive selling techniques. One step, then two steps into the shop I stopped, looked around and sure enough there were men there, engaged in a variety of activities: playing the drums, carving, twiddling a cigarette, but no, none of them had noticed me. I braved a greeting, to which they replied politely and continued in their employment. No hassle, no interest in me what-so-ever. What joy! I shook my head slightly in a sense of pleased relief and browsed contentedly. I bought some nice cards and went happily on my way.
Goodbye Nadin
So, all good things come to an end. My beautiful and glamorous friend Nadin, one of the few ex-pats I know with a proper job left, on to fabulous new things. We sent her off in style with a lovely dinner at a little resort up the coast. We gorged ourselves on fine wine, wonderful food and large amounts of silliness. Not to mention the burlesque mosquito spray application routine! Pics to follow I hope.
Home visit, May
It was just lovely to fly home.
My friend Nadin (who I flew with) and I were quite clearly the friendliest people Heathrow had received since the last lot of Tanzanian ex-pats ventured home. We fell easily into the lengthy greeting procedure with immigration officials and airport staff; I just managed to stop myself asking the man stamping my passport how is home and family were. Phew.
It felt just great to have time to spend with folks, with no horrid work getting in the way. The sun shone, much fun was had. Lovely.
Power Cut
So Zanzibar, well Unguja island, where I live, has just been redeemed from the month long electricity blackout caused by who knows what. We had a few nasty days with poor water supply too, but luckily for me when I was in the UK.
Rural folks were ok as they live largely without electricity and running water, being supplied by the well and urban folks were helped out with large generators in districts to pump limited water in their homes. But semi-urban people had it worst; no power or well. Some are still without water at home.
For me, apart from the generator’s erratic timetable at work, things were largely fine. The weather is cooler, so I didn’t miss my fan and I enjoyed the early nights and the challenge of ‘camping at home’ with kerosene lamps and stove. I am particularly proud of the new skill I have of balancing the torch on my head while reading. These days, a lamp just isn’t the same.
Everything was made more enjoyable with the arrival of my lovely new house mate, Mary Ann, a VSO Vol from the Philippines. She’ll be with me ‘til I leave.
East Coast heaven, Paje, June
http://picasaweb.google.com/janey.brodigan/EastCoastWithMichelle#5257895671950664754
The power ‘outage’ gave my shiny, sparkly friend Micelle and I a good excuse to escape to the East Coast. Two nights and two days of sun, massage, swimming, food, wine and chatter. Just lovely.
Jozani Forest, June
http://picasaweb.google.com/janey.brodigan/ColubusMonkeys#
The advantage of new folks and guests is that it gets you off your butt to see some of the sights this place is famous for. It’s so easy to get locked into an easy and lazy routine of doing as little as possible. So the trip to the forest in the interior of the island was a triumph!
Mary Ann, Jim (an American Tourist Michelle adopted) and I set out on the bus to the forest. After an hour we hadn’t progressed further than the outskirts of town, but after another hour of being bumped and squished into oblivion (at one point Mary Ann counted 34 people on the bus designed for about half that number).. we arrived... And the heaven’s opened.. Still, after an hour spent chewing on cold chips the rain stopped and we headed into the forest with our impressively knowledgeable guide. We walked, admiring trees of various kinds and his extraordinary ability to spot things that were hardly there: a tiny frog, a land crab, a lizard..
Then there they were, the monkeys feeding in low trees, completely undisturbed by us, happy to be within a few metres. Beautiful red Colubus Monkeys, unique to the island and the larger Blues. Mothers and babies, old ones and teens.. just amazing and peaceful and wonderful to see.
1. Wondering why children are dragging round bits of string or rope, to be told it’s their imaginary cows;
2. Being welcomed home by familiar faces; the stall holders where I buy my yoghurt, fruit, washing powder…
3. Being given 200 shillings by Fizza, a little girl who visits, for no reason that I can discern other than kindness;
4. Friendly greetings as I whiz about on my bicycle.. ”Lifti” is my personal favourite.
5. Being summoned from the street by a cacophony of demanding voices: any number of local children, who come and sell juice or help their mothers at the night market; or the truly awful noise the little street cat and her grubby kittens make to get attention! Hideous!
Hmm they are tricky these fleeting moments.. guess a handy note book is necessary for capturing more of them.
So, other bigger news:
Hospital visits; I’ve done a few since I’ve arrived as it’s normal and expected behaviour to visit friends and colleagues when they are ill. The first visit was to my night guard’s elder daughter in the main hospital here, Mnazi Moja. I was wary of what to expect as I mounted the stairs and headed into the female ward.
There were none of the hideous scenes our western imaginations might suggest, but the ugly and uncomfortable realities are much more subtle. No sheets on the beds, no mosquito nets and no food, who knows what else. It was quiet. Families bring food and care for their own, as well as covering all costs.
Later that month I visited a colleague in the Muhibili hospital in Dar, following a major operation. This time it was a male ward. I waited my turn with the women waiting with food, feeling guilty that I had only thought to bring juice. When at last we were admitted I was alarmed to see the women handing over the food and leaving. No body was visiting except me. I was pointed in the direction of my colleague. I focused on his friendly face as I stepped over and between men in various stages of serious illness.
Later in the taxi, the driver, Bakari didn’t believe me when I told him about the private car parking charges in UK hospitals.
Trip to Lushoto, in the Usambara Mountains. March.
http://picasaweb.google.com/janey.brodigan/LushotoMarch#
Easter weekend my Canadian friend and I took the plunge and ventured off the island. We headed north out of Dar on a 6 hour bus journey up into the mountains. The last hour is stunning; the bus slowly winding its way up through the low hills into the mountains.
We called our recommended guide, Agrey, from the bus to book the next day’s hike and he said he’d arrange accommodation too. He met us off the bus and took us to our low-budget residence. The place seemed over-run with Indian families, escaping from Dar. It was perfect.
We enjoyed putting on jumpers and sleeping under a duvet; being chilly is a real treat after the unrelenting heat and humidity of the Zanzibari Summer.
The next day, Easter Sunday, we hiked up through the valley into the mountains, passing many churches on our way: Anglican, Catholic, Lutheran, and an Evangelical hut right up high. The air was fresh, the sun shone and music and ululation rose up into the hills.
Bagamoyo; East Coast Tanzania, April.
Again, I escaped off the island, this time to visit Bagamoyo, to the north of Dar, famous for once being the main slave port on the East African Coast.
I visited the small museum there, crammed with information about the Slave Trade. Millions of people were sent from here across to the Middle East, The Americas and Europe. Those few of them that made it that far, that is.
Bagamoyo has an old district where the colonial buildings lie in ruins, interspersed with art cooperatives from the burgeoning population of artists and sculptors who live here, products of the successful art college.
Bagamoyo has a lovely relaxed atmosphere, so different to the urban weight of Dar and the frenzy of Stone Town. Two, lovely things happened:
Walking down the old road along the coast, passing the ruins of the Old Post Office and Town Hall I was greeted by a couple of ladies sitting with their children outside their home. They were seated around a plate of something that was white, creamy and steaming. As is custom they said, “Karibu” and motioned to the food. Usually I would say thank you and decline the mushy pile of beans and rice being shoveled eagerly into a hungry mouth by the man’s fingers, but this looked too good to miss. I sat with them and exchanged introductions and asked what they were eating; it was cassava in coconut with fish. It was delicious. I enjoyed a few mouthfuls, chatted about this and that and then was on my way. Nice.
Venturing into the first art cooperative I braced myself for the usual enthusiastic greeting and flurry of offensive selling techniques. One step, then two steps into the shop I stopped, looked around and sure enough there were men there, engaged in a variety of activities: playing the drums, carving, twiddling a cigarette, but no, none of them had noticed me. I braved a greeting, to which they replied politely and continued in their employment. No hassle, no interest in me what-so-ever. What joy! I shook my head slightly in a sense of pleased relief and browsed contentedly. I bought some nice cards and went happily on my way.
Goodbye Nadin
So, all good things come to an end. My beautiful and glamorous friend Nadin, one of the few ex-pats I know with a proper job left, on to fabulous new things. We sent her off in style with a lovely dinner at a little resort up the coast. We gorged ourselves on fine wine, wonderful food and large amounts of silliness. Not to mention the burlesque mosquito spray application routine! Pics to follow I hope.
Home visit, May
It was just lovely to fly home.
My friend Nadin (who I flew with) and I were quite clearly the friendliest people Heathrow had received since the last lot of Tanzanian ex-pats ventured home. We fell easily into the lengthy greeting procedure with immigration officials and airport staff; I just managed to stop myself asking the man stamping my passport how is home and family were. Phew.
It felt just great to have time to spend with folks, with no horrid work getting in the way. The sun shone, much fun was had. Lovely.
Power Cut
So Zanzibar, well Unguja island, where I live, has just been redeemed from the month long electricity blackout caused by who knows what. We had a few nasty days with poor water supply too, but luckily for me when I was in the UK.
Rural folks were ok as they live largely without electricity and running water, being supplied by the well and urban folks were helped out with large generators in districts to pump limited water in their homes. But semi-urban people had it worst; no power or well. Some are still without water at home.
For me, apart from the generator’s erratic timetable at work, things were largely fine. The weather is cooler, so I didn’t miss my fan and I enjoyed the early nights and the challenge of ‘camping at home’ with kerosene lamps and stove. I am particularly proud of the new skill I have of balancing the torch on my head while reading. These days, a lamp just isn’t the same.
Everything was made more enjoyable with the arrival of my lovely new house mate, Mary Ann, a VSO Vol from the Philippines. She’ll be with me ‘til I leave.
East Coast heaven, Paje, June
http://picasaweb.google.com/janey.brodigan/EastCoastWithMichelle#5257895671950664754
The power ‘outage’ gave my shiny, sparkly friend Micelle and I a good excuse to escape to the East Coast. Two nights and two days of sun, massage, swimming, food, wine and chatter. Just lovely.
Jozani Forest, June
http://picasaweb.google.com/janey.brodigan/ColubusMonkeys#
The advantage of new folks and guests is that it gets you off your butt to see some of the sights this place is famous for. It’s so easy to get locked into an easy and lazy routine of doing as little as possible. So the trip to the forest in the interior of the island was a triumph!
Mary Ann, Jim (an American Tourist Michelle adopted) and I set out on the bus to the forest. After an hour we hadn’t progressed further than the outskirts of town, but after another hour of being bumped and squished into oblivion (at one point Mary Ann counted 34 people on the bus designed for about half that number).. we arrived... And the heaven’s opened.. Still, after an hour spent chewing on cold chips the rain stopped and we headed into the forest with our impressively knowledgeable guide. We walked, admiring trees of various kinds and his extraordinary ability to spot things that were hardly there: a tiny frog, a land crab, a lizard..
Then there they were, the monkeys feeding in low trees, completely undisturbed by us, happy to be within a few metres. Beautiful red Colubus Monkeys, unique to the island and the larger Blues. Mothers and babies, old ones and teens.. just amazing and peaceful and wonderful to see.
Friday, April 25, 2008
New pics
Here's some links to the latest events:
The Music festival http://picasaweb.google.com/janey.brodigan/BusaraMusic
Trips to Lushoto http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/janey.brodigan/LushotoMarch
Enjoy xx
Will update blog soon
Monday, March 3, 2008
February Update
March 2008
So, it’s been a while again since I’ve written anything recent. So, what’s been keeping me away from my blog?
Visit from dear Suzie.
It was wonderful to have her, it was so easy, she just fitted right in. I had a few days off over Sauti za Busara; The International Music festival (more of that below) and we did lots of cruising about, drinking coffee and booze at suitably unsuitable times of the day and night, eating, swimming, laying around, getting bitten (by nothing tasty) and being a bit sick (in my case.. not just bit!). All good. Well mostly.
Sauti za Busara; The International Music festival -The Sounds of Wisdom
Well what an amazing event it was; music from all over East Africa and further abroad, including West Africa and Europe. Some highlights:
· Seeing so many of my friends here from the mainland and further afield, namely the lovely Will. What a treat.
· Seeing the oldest Diva at work; the 85 year old Bi Kidude wailing some of her finest Zanzibari Tarab.
· Witnessing something of a crowd surge in eager anticipation of her appearance (pretty extreme at this most laid back of festivals.
· Meeting Seiku Keita, his family and band; lovely folks from Senegal, Gambia, UK via Egypt and Italy. Much fun was had watching them perform and taking them snorkeling..
· Seiku’s beautiful boy Karim.
· Kidnapping a 6 foot 6 Kenyan into a side tent to regale him drunkenly about the power and importance of his lyrics, which were sadly undermined by his ridiculous outfit (sort of tight satin pajama affair; thank goodness I didn’t get onto that topic before hiccoughing my way off back into the fray).
Recovering
Although I was secretly looking forward to life returning to it’s quieter pace I wasn’t prepared for how I hard would crash. A mixture of tiredness, lack of activity at work and saying goodbye to one too many people really sent me into a miserable place for the first time since I’ve arrived. (On reflection, this is pretty good going). The end result was that I couldn’t face the though of having another conversation or eating another nice snack out and about.. so I retreated to my flat with DVDs and took a well earned rest. It did the trick and I was back on track.. phew.
Work news
As hinted above I have been experiencing the 5 month work / placement crisis. There comes a point where you just think you’re stuck so fast in the mud that your feet are rotting or that you’re about to start sprouting bizzy lizzies (which seem, by the way, to grow almost anywhere here.. oh except where I try to plant them..) So anyway.. under-employment.. oh the joys! Well, I’ve done pretty well so far not to get frustrated, but there comes a moment when you think, “OK, so come on LET ME DO SOMETHING NOW PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!” Of course this isn’t really how it is, because looking at the bigger picture (thanks Doug) things are moving and changing and I am working.. (honest).. just very slowly. It’s a real challenge to accept that, coming from the high intensity existence of the last 6 years.
Other work news is that my wonderful boss (not sarcastic, he is really a good egg) has been given a job at the Ministry of Education as The Director of Secondary Education here on Zanzibar. It’s a pretty top job, and he’ll be great, but it’s a damn shame for our project. When asked why he didn’t give us a clue he replied something like, ‘Well, I wasn’t given any notice either. When I asked why I wasn’t given any warning, they said it was because they thought I might say no to the job’! Hmmm. Nice.
5. What I hate..
So while I’m having a whine, what else is annoying about living on The Crazy Muslim Theme Park of Zanzibar?
a. Shop sellers/ hawkers greeting you with an aggressive ‘Jambo’ instead of using the plethora of polite and friendly greetings they have at their disposal.
Running the gauntlet of the main tourist tracks through the maze that is Stone Town; deflecting unwanted attentions whilst trying to suppress the increasingly rude responses rising from my lips:
“Karibu.. just lookey” “Not lookey bloody likely”
“Yes? Taxi?” “No, my name’s Bert”
“Sunday price” “Today’s Tuesday, Mate”
So, it’s been a while again since I’ve written anything recent. So, what’s been keeping me away from my blog?
Visit from dear Suzie.
It was wonderful to have her, it was so easy, she just fitted right in. I had a few days off over Sauti za Busara; The International Music festival (more of that below) and we did lots of cruising about, drinking coffee and booze at suitably unsuitable times of the day and night, eating, swimming, laying around, getting bitten (by nothing tasty) and being a bit sick (in my case.. not just bit!). All good. Well mostly.
Sauti za Busara; The International Music festival -The Sounds of Wisdom
Well what an amazing event it was; music from all over East Africa and further abroad, including West Africa and Europe. Some highlights:
· Seeing so many of my friends here from the mainland and further afield, namely the lovely Will. What a treat.
· Seeing the oldest Diva at work; the 85 year old Bi Kidude wailing some of her finest Zanzibari Tarab.
· Witnessing something of a crowd surge in eager anticipation of her appearance (pretty extreme at this most laid back of festivals.
· Meeting Seiku Keita, his family and band; lovely folks from Senegal, Gambia, UK via Egypt and Italy. Much fun was had watching them perform and taking them snorkeling..
· Seiku’s beautiful boy Karim.
· Kidnapping a 6 foot 6 Kenyan into a side tent to regale him drunkenly about the power and importance of his lyrics, which were sadly undermined by his ridiculous outfit (sort of tight satin pajama affair; thank goodness I didn’t get onto that topic before hiccoughing my way off back into the fray).
Recovering
Although I was secretly looking forward to life returning to it’s quieter pace I wasn’t prepared for how I hard would crash. A mixture of tiredness, lack of activity at work and saying goodbye to one too many people really sent me into a miserable place for the first time since I’ve arrived. (On reflection, this is pretty good going). The end result was that I couldn’t face the though of having another conversation or eating another nice snack out and about.. so I retreated to my flat with DVDs and took a well earned rest. It did the trick and I was back on track.. phew.
Work news
As hinted above I have been experiencing the 5 month work / placement crisis. There comes a point where you just think you’re stuck so fast in the mud that your feet are rotting or that you’re about to start sprouting bizzy lizzies (which seem, by the way, to grow almost anywhere here.. oh except where I try to plant them..) So anyway.. under-employment.. oh the joys! Well, I’ve done pretty well so far not to get frustrated, but there comes a moment when you think, “OK, so come on LET ME DO SOMETHING NOW PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!” Of course this isn’t really how it is, because looking at the bigger picture (thanks Doug) things are moving and changing and I am working.. (honest).. just very slowly. It’s a real challenge to accept that, coming from the high intensity existence of the last 6 years.
Other work news is that my wonderful boss (not sarcastic, he is really a good egg) has been given a job at the Ministry of Education as The Director of Secondary Education here on Zanzibar. It’s a pretty top job, and he’ll be great, but it’s a damn shame for our project. When asked why he didn’t give us a clue he replied something like, ‘Well, I wasn’t given any notice either. When I asked why I wasn’t given any warning, they said it was because they thought I might say no to the job’! Hmmm. Nice.
5. What I hate..
So while I’m having a whine, what else is annoying about living on The Crazy Muslim Theme Park of Zanzibar?
a. Shop sellers/ hawkers greeting you with an aggressive ‘Jambo’ instead of using the plethora of polite and friendly greetings they have at their disposal.
Running the gauntlet of the main tourist tracks through the maze that is Stone Town; deflecting unwanted attentions whilst trying to suppress the increasingly rude responses rising from my lips:
“Karibu.. just lookey” “Not lookey bloody likely”
“Yes? Taxi?” “No, my name’s Bert”
“Sunday price” “Today’s Tuesday, Mate”
b. Soliciting unwanted attention because I’m white.. from:
i. Sellers thinking your loaded;
ii. Gormless tourists smiling at you with that annoying look reserved for embarrassed parents trying to laugh away their child’s bad behaviour, just as they battle though the stinking market batting off spice sellers. They do it just because they think they share that common experience with me, but only because we are the same skin colour. Thy wouldn’t dream of sharing the same look with the woman in the headscarf being trampled by the hawker trying to reach the post spice tour Italians. Grrrr.
iii. Men wanting to get your number / learn English / marry you
iv. Italians.. surely they’re not this brash at home? What makes them turn into hot pant wearing, jewel encrusted, mahogany coloured trash here in this most un-hot pant wearing of places? Is it just that that look works in Italy, but not here? Answers on a post card.
I should stop there…
6. What do I love?
a. My now happy relationship with my housekeeper Salma. It’s been hard work because:
· she doesn’t speak a word of English, so the basis of our delicate relationship is based entirely on my faltering Swahili;
· I didn’t like the thought of domestic staff in the first place, didn’t hire her and had no choice in the fact that she’s here.. in the hours for up to 5 hours a day.. good lord.. I know! What does she do? I really not that messy!
· The fact that she has worked in the house for 15 years with the previous inhabitant, so the place is, like HERS.. and I’m an evil impostor!
· I’m a strange, rich white girl with weird stuff , strange ideas and behaviours.
But in the last couple on months we’ve become buddies partly owing to my efforts to win her over with little gifts, leaving her to do her thing, laughing with her, being silly, scatty me and… Wilfred….Dear Wilfred, the doctor from Dar, who lived downstairs for a month. Unbeknown to him he became, Salma’s public enemy number one- which much to my joy, brought me and my housekeeper together in a secret gender battle of her complaints and displeasure! Poor chap, he really was lovely, but a thorn in the side for dear Salma.
7. What I’m dreading?
a. Saying goodbye to Will. But it’s good. All good.. he needs to go home…! Must be selfless and rational..
b. Booking my e-ticket home. I want to come home of course, but so much so that I fear the electronic demons will curse my ticket so magically it’s declared null and void as I prepare to check in..
8. What am I confused about?
a. How I feel about women wearing headscarves: A symbol of repression or actually quite a practical and glamorous accessory? Hmm.. thoughts please.
b. Where do those ants come from?
So, that’s about it: some good, some bad, some silly.. that’s about right and real isn’t it?
Xx J xX
Friday, February 22, 2008
An Evening at Home
27th January
Evening.
Darajani, Stone Town.
I’ve just started venturing out onto my balcony here at home. It spans the length of the house, opening from the bedrooms, just wide enough for a narrow mattress for lounging on.
I say venturing out because it feels like such a public space for lying about in, amidst all the industry; the piki-fundis below, the friendly bicycle fundis up the road and the main street in Darajani beyond, busy with street sellers, people coming and going and dala-dalas maneuvering like angry dinosaurs, reeking and dangerous.
Once ensconced on the lounge mat however, it doesn’t feel too bad. It’s possible to read, watch or even sleep here, though the latter is largely due to my increasing door-mouse like talent for snoozing in the most unlikely of places.
My favourite thing about the street is the sign that is mounted securely on the wall facing the balcony, just below eye level. It reads: “It is forbidden to conduct repair work here in this street. By order of the Zanzibar Municipal Council”. Below it bikes are cannibalized, hammered and beaten back into shape and up the road the bike men do their best with a motley selection of rickety bicycles in various stages of dis-repair. The street is a hive of repair activity. I’m not sure who was here first, the sign or the repairmen, but they seem to co-exist peaceably enough! It’s rather fitting that one of the mechanics is called Waziri, which translates into English as Minister; his own Parliament of Fundis, their own a coup d’etat.
From day one the fundis and I have greeted each other enthusiastically. I have decided to take the way they imitate the feminity of my greetings with high-pitched tones, as a sign of fond humour. However, their girlish Salimus cause me to respond with still higher responses. And so, laughing, we are locked into a falsetto battle which sits well with their oily hands and grease stained clothes.
Evening.
Darajani, Stone Town.
I’ve just started venturing out onto my balcony here at home. It spans the length of the house, opening from the bedrooms, just wide enough for a narrow mattress for lounging on.
I say venturing out because it feels like such a public space for lying about in, amidst all the industry; the piki-fundis below, the friendly bicycle fundis up the road and the main street in Darajani beyond, busy with street sellers, people coming and going and dala-dalas maneuvering like angry dinosaurs, reeking and dangerous.
Once ensconced on the lounge mat however, it doesn’t feel too bad. It’s possible to read, watch or even sleep here, though the latter is largely due to my increasing door-mouse like talent for snoozing in the most unlikely of places.
My favourite thing about the street is the sign that is mounted securely on the wall facing the balcony, just below eye level. It reads: “It is forbidden to conduct repair work here in this street. By order of the Zanzibar Municipal Council”. Below it bikes are cannibalized, hammered and beaten back into shape and up the road the bike men do their best with a motley selection of rickety bicycles in various stages of dis-repair. The street is a hive of repair activity. I’m not sure who was here first, the sign or the repairmen, but they seem to co-exist peaceably enough! It’s rather fitting that one of the mechanics is called Waziri, which translates into English as Minister; his own Parliament of Fundis, their own a coup d’etat.
From day one the fundis and I have greeted each other enthusiastically. I have decided to take the way they imitate the feminity of my greetings with high-pitched tones, as a sign of fond humour. However, their girlish Salimus cause me to respond with still higher responses. And so, laughing, we are locked into a falsetto battle which sits well with their oily hands and grease stained clothes.
Mtwara Thoughts
25th January 2007
Afternoon
It seems funny, or rather, strange writing that date. Sitting here, looking out over a plane of flat sand, wearing loose cotton cloths, feeling the warm breeze, it feels as though it can’t be January. I feel separated, divorced and distant from all that the word connotes; cold, wind and rain-January, a troublesome month of darkness.
So here I among the coast of Mtwara, way down south on the Tanzanian mainland, I’m having a few stolen hours of nothing. I have escaped from work, following a non-existent workshop this morning, to a quiet hotel with a lovely view. It’s rather more splendid than our own accommodation, which has been in considerably more basic Mtwaran establishments, much to my enjoyment.
The view here stretches over the wet sand flats to the blue grey-green expanse of the sea beyond. I can see the occasional fisherman wading through the shallows, over half a kilometre out and a sailboat, cruising for fish, sail billowing, gliding softly southward with a full crew aboard. There are also two young boys, who I took to be rocks, sitting so still, the colour of the coast line, ochre and brown. Otherwise the beach is left to the crabs, seaweed and coral stone.
Standing on the sand I could hear a distinct tapping. Convinced it was crabs, I began to scan the rocks for them. The creatures on the shoreline here are hard to spot, blending with their environment so well, only their movement betrays them. Crabs, sand grey and muted green, even a soft jade merging with grey coral rocks. There are small lizards too, of similar soft, blue-grey hues. Camouflage aside, there were simply not enough crabs to be making that noise. I listen closer, perhaps more of a popping? It was the seaweed; languorous on the smooth rocks, slowly drying in the active breeze.
Being on the coast of the mainland always fills me with a thrill, thinking of the vast expanse of land stretching behind me, all the way westwards across the continent. Deep down south, near the border with Mozambique, looking out to sea, here I am on the edge of it all. Wow.
******
Night
So, it’s raining. An occasional drop, then a patter, then a constant stream, a downpour, a torrent, and just as you think it can’t get any heavier, a thunderous gush of pounding followed by a brief abatement, like a drawing of breath, before another onslaught.
I love the rain. I watch it from my window here at the hotel. It’s not the most promising of views, through the mosquito mesh and seurity wire out onto a small car park with a pick-up and two Toyotas, a closed gate and a coconut tree, bark silver with wet. But I can see the night sky light up with sheet lightning; quick, bright flashes that come at surprisingly short intervals and I can hear the distant rumbling roar of thunder rolling of the sea.
I’m writing with the light off so that I can see the light play across the patch of sky. Really this storm deserves a dramatic back drop to match its energy, depth and variety. I remember Morogoro and the fantastic stage of mountains there; lightning brightening the open night sky, silhouetting the mountains.
Finally, a power cut, so that I can further justify the romantic torch light. Now that it’s really very dark, the flashes are more pronounced; a vivid, almost blue strobe, a moment of captured highlights, dim- bright – dim, the coconut black against the white sky.
Lights back on, drama lost, but still the rain falls.
With my eyes closed the rain transports me home to those occasional thunderous downpours. I imagine a north Cornish coast, battered and drenched, the drumming on caravan roofs, hot tea and jumpers. Here, wrapped in a cotton scarf, with the fan whirling, it’s not quite the same, but the same secure, snug sense of being dry and warm, apart from the dampness of sweat, still is.
Afternoon
It seems funny, or rather, strange writing that date. Sitting here, looking out over a plane of flat sand, wearing loose cotton cloths, feeling the warm breeze, it feels as though it can’t be January. I feel separated, divorced and distant from all that the word connotes; cold, wind and rain-January, a troublesome month of darkness.
So here I among the coast of Mtwara, way down south on the Tanzanian mainland, I’m having a few stolen hours of nothing. I have escaped from work, following a non-existent workshop this morning, to a quiet hotel with a lovely view. It’s rather more splendid than our own accommodation, which has been in considerably more basic Mtwaran establishments, much to my enjoyment.
The view here stretches over the wet sand flats to the blue grey-green expanse of the sea beyond. I can see the occasional fisherman wading through the shallows, over half a kilometre out and a sailboat, cruising for fish, sail billowing, gliding softly southward with a full crew aboard. There are also two young boys, who I took to be rocks, sitting so still, the colour of the coast line, ochre and brown. Otherwise the beach is left to the crabs, seaweed and coral stone.
Standing on the sand I could hear a distinct tapping. Convinced it was crabs, I began to scan the rocks for them. The creatures on the shoreline here are hard to spot, blending with their environment so well, only their movement betrays them. Crabs, sand grey and muted green, even a soft jade merging with grey coral rocks. There are small lizards too, of similar soft, blue-grey hues. Camouflage aside, there were simply not enough crabs to be making that noise. I listen closer, perhaps more of a popping? It was the seaweed; languorous on the smooth rocks, slowly drying in the active breeze.
Being on the coast of the mainland always fills me with a thrill, thinking of the vast expanse of land stretching behind me, all the way westwards across the continent. Deep down south, near the border with Mozambique, looking out to sea, here I am on the edge of it all. Wow.
******
Night
So, it’s raining. An occasional drop, then a patter, then a constant stream, a downpour, a torrent, and just as you think it can’t get any heavier, a thunderous gush of pounding followed by a brief abatement, like a drawing of breath, before another onslaught.
I love the rain. I watch it from my window here at the hotel. It’s not the most promising of views, through the mosquito mesh and seurity wire out onto a small car park with a pick-up and two Toyotas, a closed gate and a coconut tree, bark silver with wet. But I can see the night sky light up with sheet lightning; quick, bright flashes that come at surprisingly short intervals and I can hear the distant rumbling roar of thunder rolling of the sea.
I’m writing with the light off so that I can see the light play across the patch of sky. Really this storm deserves a dramatic back drop to match its energy, depth and variety. I remember Morogoro and the fantastic stage of mountains there; lightning brightening the open night sky, silhouetting the mountains.
Finally, a power cut, so that I can further justify the romantic torch light. Now that it’s really very dark, the flashes are more pronounced; a vivid, almost blue strobe, a moment of captured highlights, dim- bright – dim, the coconut black against the white sky.
Lights back on, drama lost, but still the rain falls.
With my eyes closed the rain transports me home to those occasional thunderous downpours. I imagine a north Cornish coast, battered and drenched, the drumming on caravan roofs, hot tea and jumpers. Here, wrapped in a cotton scarf, with the fan whirling, it’s not quite the same, but the same secure, snug sense of being dry and warm, apart from the dampness of sweat, still is.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
New to the blog?
Hello!
It might be a good idea to scroll down and start at the beginning to get an idea of who's who etc..
xx :)
It might be a good idea to scroll down and start at the beginning to get an idea of who's who etc..
xx :)
Road Safety, Tanzania
What people wear on their heads whist riding piki-pikis (Motorbikes):
1. Helmet worn in the style of a hat; perched on the top of the head, so as to avoid undue sweatiness from full face coverage.
2. A tooth pick
3. A polystyrene helmet, with a large hole in the side, giving the impression of a large, half eaten, boiled egg.
4. Hair
Monday, January 14, 2008
Late December Photos
December Pics
Here are the notes for my late December pics:
The Annual Volunteer Conference (The AVC)
There are various happy shots of us having fun at this nice resort outside Dar: volley ball; silly Tanzanian theme night; one lonely pic of us at work!
There are a few pics of Katie’s last night in
So a happy band of fellows ensconced our selves at Maruhubi Beach Villas, just outside
There are some nice views of the coast there. It’s not typical East coast stunning, but I love it more! Especially the mangrove and the light on the sand and water and the ship wreck..
There are some assorted pics of us having a nice time arriving and for Corrie’s birthday at Mtoni on the beach; myself, Will, Angus, The Cowies, John and Sue.
Later pics are of the trip Will and I took out to the East coast, to Uroa, to meet some fellow VSO’s there. It’s a lovely tranquil place.
There are some more pool-side pics; the sunset ones are nice! And some more views of Maruhubi; I was trying to capture the guys washing their donkeys; haven’t really managed it yet. We finish with a lovely full moon.
Post Christmas & Spice Island Botany
I was worried that after Christmas the mass exodus of loved ones from the island would leave me somewhat bereft. And it did indeed, but thanks to some other lovely folks I wasn’t lonely for long:
The pics start with Adam (wonderful Canadian vol based in Dar) playing “The Bumblebee” with great energy and aplomb against a rather magnificent back-drop, which sadly isn’t captured here because of the light. This building is right on the ea front; a beautiful old place with endless, deep stairs and rooms devoted o
Then I went with the Malawi VSO’s to do a Spice Tour; a rather essential tourist activity. There are a whole host of pics of various spices, which I really just took for my pa, so feel free to skip through these!
An amazing plant whose red powdery is used as make up.
A rather fine example of a banana tree.
Jack fruit; very sticky fruit, described as a cross between a banana and a pineapple
Cardamom (grows on the ground!)
Nice shaped tree and the lovely Katie
Here's Ali, fetching a specimen from the tree for us.
The kids in the village spend their time making intricate ‘free gifts’ for you from banana and assorted leaves; frogs, rings, hats, even a watch! Of course. As you leave, they understandably ask for money. What’s strange is that they seem to have euros that they are keen to swap for dollars or shillings. Who would give them those useless coins? It seems cruel to me. Ali was especially devoted to his profession, but made himself useful to the guide, as well as making little trinkets. An enterprising fellow.
I think the flowering plant is actually a clove.. how ironic that I’ve forgotten the most important spice!
( Here's a Clove Tree Hmm. And this might be a bit of Clove Tree too -- Ed.)
The Persian bath the Sultan had built for his wife, who insisted on having separate bathing quarters to his 99 other women. It is said that she refused to allow him to marry any one else, but permitted these others on strict conditions! Sounds like quite a lady!
The next pics are of
First Is my house; I live in a small part of it!
Next, my outer door.
The main door to the building
There are pics that follow are of the inside of my place, including the stairs (fascinating), the downstairs to kitchen and dining room and the to upstairs, ( my main living area). hen there is the street, my windows and my fabulous balcony.
It’s a great place to live. There’s always something going on! I need to take a pic ( axe? - ed. ) to the bike repair men who set up work under my balcony 7 days a week!
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
December 2007
Well it’s been quite a while since I’ve blogged.. probably because I feel like my feet haven’t really touched the ground for quite a while. It’s just been very busy socially with people leaving and Christmas and now new year upon us.. so what have a been up to? Mainly the month of December revolves mainly around my dear friend Katie:
Katie’s Last Month
Well, what an epic series of fabulous, manic and hilarious episodes:
1. Trip to Nungwi: A beautiful quiet spot up in the popular north. A lovely weekend, once we were there!
Getting there:
We were hampered by the piki breaking down far enough out of her village for it to matter; having to push start it in front of an amiable audience by the police station; breaking down again in nasty muddy puddle. Watching with wonder as Katie managed to commandeer a tiny bicycle from a rather large man and promptly peddle off to find a fundi (repair man) in the bush. Waiting with the bike and drawing an ever increasing number of men; watching with increasing anxiety as the advice and tools for repair became increasingly hefty. Anxiety levels getting rather too much with the production of large hammer and so I resorted to adopting the door mouse coping strategy and managed to fall asleep under a shady near by tree in the hope that when I awoke either Katy, a fundi or sanity returned to the scene. Magically it worked and all 3 materialized and we revved up off the road in no time!
There!
Once we arrived we were greeted by the indomitable Mike; the fabulous owner of Sanazi Beach Hotel, (a man who’s walked straight out of the pages of a Graeme Green novel) who regaled us with lewd, strange and hilarious tales at happy interludes. Happy hours snorkeling and munching fruit (not quite at the same time) lazing around and laughing ensued, followed by a crazy Full Moon party at Kendwa Rocks. Oh, and some very funny beach wrestling care of Katie and Erin.. but perhaps less said about that the better!
2. Katie’s byriani safari to Manga Pwani.
A lovely day spent on this little beach with Katie’s favourite families (about 20 people) from around Dunga; happily eating byrinai with our hands, swimming in kangas, dear Steve not quite grasping the concept of culturally sensitive beach wear. (Though actually I don’t think there is a culture where tiny speedos are acceptable.)
3. Katie’s pilau safari to Jambiani.
Just in case 20 people wasn’t quite enough.. this safari took around 65 people to the beach. Not quite sure how we all squeezed into 2 dalas along with mats for sitting, pilau, sodas.. Lovely day eating pilau in the school and playing on the beach, getting urchins in feet and burnt noses. But it all so nearly didn’t happen…see below
4. The Dunga Meat Crisis.
Well, all was set for the Jambiani safari; meat was bought (8Kilos), soda ordered, dalas booked.. and Katie and I arrived at her home in Dunga.. but then.. a simple phone call from Katie’s friend and how quickly the sense of calm anticipation vanished. It was Mwnacombo, Katie’s friend and chief pilau chef informing her that she needed to come over at once.
Once there Katie was informed that the wrong meat had been picked up from the butcher’s, meat that is no good for pilau ..So, where was the meat so it could be returned first thing? Oh, cooking in the pot of course! No, cooking byriani wasn’t an option as no one seemed to know that recipe here and it was the wrong kind of meat anyway…ARGGGGHHHHH!!!!!
The plan was to burn back to the butcher’s in town ( a good 30-40 mins on the piki) and get the right meat, hoon back in time for the pilau to be cooked for departure at 10.30am..seemed straight forward, if a little hectic, until we returned home to find... Katie’s purse was missing.. full of cash to pay for the buses in the morning and all her bank cards etc.
A mad hour or so spent searching and re-searching proved fruitless.. so the whole day out rested on me being able to remember my pin number, (so we could pay for the buses) after not using it for a good few months…no pressure then.. so up at dawn, riding into town, with the steadily rising feeling that I had no idea what my pin was ..but that suddenly I could remember my photocopying code from school, my credit card pin (resting happily and unhelpfully at home) and even my parents birthdays.. but miraculously when I tentatively entered those fatal 4 digits it worked! Phew! Almost tears of joy and relief!
So we were off to the market in time for opening of business at 7am. The big market here in town is quite something to behold first thing and a strong stomach is much required; amidst the flies and stench of fresh meat we spied the butcher’s stall and stepped over the head of a cow complete with horns and tongue that had just been delivered.
Sadly, Katie’s conversation with the butcher soon revealed that the meat had probably been switched and headed happily to the east coast, for an equally doomed meal. While Katie was overly absorbed bargaining for a discount, drawing an ever increasing crowd of happy spectators she was nearly flattened by the 2nd delivery of the morning, in the form of an enormous man on the tiniest piki, complete with the rear end of the aforementioned cow, complete with tail and hooves. Luckily I was able to hoik Katie out of the way just in time and was truly impressed to see that she didn’t miss a beat in her bargaining diatribe, ably securing a reasonable discount from the butcher.
Her parting word to me as we left were, “ Right Jane, what’s going to happen now is that you are going to carry these 8 kilos of dripping meat on you lap on the way back, because I’ve forgotten the bike straps”. So squirming not but a little I meekly suggested we found a slightly more substantial bag than the flimsy blue number we had and resigned myself to my miserable fate!
5. Zanzibari Clubbing Experience
That night, we headed into town for Erica Peace Core’s last night. A hideous night in Bawani, a local club ensued. What a venue: It had the deepest and emptiest swimming pool, strobe lighting and badbadbad music. I ran home to bed!
6. Trip to Matemwe
Onto quieter times Katie and I had a lovely, relaxing day up at Matemwe; swimming, munching a great lunch and dozing on the beautiful beach.
7. Local Salon henna Frenzy
Katie and I spent a hilarious evening in a local salon having henna and hair braided and learning some pretty racy dance moves for the ladies! A fantastic exit from the island for Katie!
8. The Annual Volunteer Conference
Heading into Dar with all Katie’s stuff, ready for the Volunteer Conference. At one point on day one I wanted to hide in my room and not come out.. too many people! Still I rallied myself and managed to make the most of seeing people and having fun, whilst trying to silence the voice of conscience in my head.
9. Katie’s last night
A lovely evening at Lyn’s in Dar with Will, Chris, Katie, Alan, Kelly and Sandra. We ate lots of treats, drank wine and played silly scrabble games. Very lovely for Katie’s last night, yet no drama!
10. Christmas
On the ferry at last, after saying Goodbye to Katie, with Will, Sue, The Cowies and Corrie. Arrived at Maruhubi for a few days of relaxation.
I spent many a happy hour wandering around the labyrinth of Stone Town; gradually finding my routes and making sense of it. It was lovely to have the time to enjoy this amazing place I live in.
Otherwise, Will and I spent a nice day out east near Uroa visiting some vols there and generally lazing about. Had comedy swim, trying to avoid our feet being cut to pieces on the sharp rocks by wallowing though the shallows on our hands.
I spent an especially nice morning in the office on Christmas Eve, giving the guys there their Pemban honey for Christmas. Nice to be doing something that felt real after a week or so of removed nonsense at the conference. Christmas day was magic; everyone went out and Will and I lazed around, stirring occasionally to nibble on a sweet, have a swim or chat. Just the Christmas I wanted and needed. Lovely.
Now, I’m back at work tonight is New Year’s Eve. Tonight should be the last social whirl for a while.. there are some VSO’s from Malawi here, which is nice and I’m meeting a new friend for dinner first. Then, I’m rather hoping things will quieten down, at least for a few weeks before the music festival hits us.
Phew! 3 pages.. sorry about that! I’ll try and lead a quieter life from now on. Xx
Happy New Year!
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