Roller magic near Gelai

Our new favorite picnic spot, 5 minutes from our house

Day is done... gone the sun... from the lakes... from the hills... from the sky...

We're so proud of our two Kisa scholars, Victoria and Margaret, selected to participate in this year's exchange to the US, a program facilitated by the US Embassy and Bold Leaders, a leadership organization based in Denver, like AfricAid's HQ.

Tanzanian Youth to Visit U.S. on Exchange ProgramsOn November 21, 2011, Public Affairs Officer Dana L. Banks and Peace Corps Country Director Andrea Wojnar-Diagne welcomed 19 students and two teachers to the embassy prior to their trip to the United States of America under the Bold Leaders and States' 4-H International exchange programs. The students will travel in two groups, ten from November through December 2011; and ten from October through November 2012. They will visit Denver, Colorado and Washington, D.C. as part of the program, and will be hosted by American families, schools, and communities, and have the opportunity to engage in leadership programs and activities with American youth and exchange participants from other countries.

Peace Corps Country Director Wojnar-Diagne urged the students to take advantage of the opportunities presented by the program to learn more about the world outside of their communities and to empower others following their return to Tanzania. The experience that will be accrued from this program will have great impact if all of you share it will others in your communities. The Bold Leaders Program that has the potential to transform lives as evident from those who have participated previously. It is especially significant that participants are drawn from many regions across Tanzania, thereby providing a full and balanced representation of all Tanzanians."

Underscoring U.S. support for higher education in Tanzania, Education USA Advisor Ms. Frida Mwenegoha briefed the students on academic counseling programs offered by the embassy and services offered by the Information Resource Center. Cultural Affairs Assistant Mr. Honory A. Jerome provided a pre-departure briefing on the exchange programs' travel logistics.

Bold Leaders is a Social Profit organization with headquarters in Denver, Colorado dedicated to providing leadership development and training services for young people and adults all over the world. The program has served people, organizations and communities in Cambodia, Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Germany, Hungary, Kenya, Nigeria, Northern Ireland, Slovakia, South Africa, Tanzania, Turkey, and the United States. For additional information please see: http://www.boldleaders.org/.

States' 4-H International Exchange Programs (S4-HIEP) a not-for-profit educational and cultural organization which provides international, educational, experiential opportunities for young people to develop positive cross-cultural attitudes and communication skills that encourage lifelong friendships, mutual understanding, and acceptance of all peoples. For additional information please see: http://states4hexchange.org/.

http://tanzania.usembassy.gov/pr_11222011.html

We're still reeling from this big day last week for our 82 Kisa scholars in secondary schools around Arusha and Monduli. We all left with full hearts, students, staff and guests alike. We hope to host more inspiring events like this down the road...

The Rugged Altruists * By DAVID BROOKS * OP-ED COLUMNIST w/ NYTIMES

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/23/opinion/brooks-the-rugged-altruists.html?_r=2&emc=eta1

Many Americans go to the developing world to serve others. A smaller percentage actually end up being useful. Those that do have often climbed a moral ladder. They start out with certain virtues but then develop more tenacious ones.

The first virtue they possess is courage, the willingness to go off to a strange place. For example, Blair Miller was a student at the University of Virginia who decided she wanted to teach abroad. She Googled “teach abroad” and found a woman who had been teaching English in a remote town in South Korea and was looking for a replacement.

Miller soon found herself on a plane and eventually at a small airport in southern South Korea. There was no one there to greet her. Eventually, the airport closed and no one came to pick her up. A monk was the only other person around and eventually he, too, left and Miller was alone.

Finally, a van with two men rolled in and scooped her up. After a few months of struggle, she had a fantastic year at a Korean fishing village, the only Westerner for miles and miles. Now she travels around Kenya, Pakistan and India for the Acumen Fund, a sort of venture capital fund that invests in socially productive enterprises, like affordable housing and ambulance services.

The second virtue they develop is deference, the willingness to listen and learn from the moral and intellectual storehouses of the people you are trying to help.

Rye Barcott was a student at the University of North Carolina who spent a summer sharing a 10-by-10 shack in Kibera, the largest slum in Nairobi, Kenya. One night he awoke with diarrhea and stumbled to the public outhouse. He slid onto the cement floor and vomited as his bare body hit puddles of human waste.

He left his soiled pants outside the hut, but when he went to find them later they were gone. He was directed to another hut where a stick-thin girl, with missing clumps of hair, had the pants, scrubbed and folded, in her lap. Barcott said softly, “I’m grateful,” and asked her why she had cleaned them. “Because I can,” she replied. A week later, she died of AIDS and her body was taken in a wheelbarrow to a communal grave.

Over the next several years, Barcott served as an officer in the Marines in places like Iraq and created an inspiring organization called Carolina for Kibera, which offers health services and serves as a sort of boys and girls club for children in the slum.

The greatest and most essential virtue is thanklessness, the ability to keep serving even when there are no evident rewards — no fame, no admiration, no gratitude.

Stephen Letchford is a doctor working in Kijabe, Kenya. One night, years ago, when he was working at a hospital in Zambia, a man stole a colleague’s computer. Letchford drove the police down the single road leading from town. The police found the man carrying the computer and, in the course of the arrest, shot him in the abdomen.

They put the man in the back of the car and rushed him back to the hospital to save his life. Letchford pressed his wounds to stem the bleeding, using tattered garbage bags as surgical gloves. He had scraped his hands gardening that day and was now covered by the man’s blood.

They saved the thief’s life and discovered he was infected with H.I.V. For several days, Letchford and his family were not sure whether he had been infected by the man who robbed them. Their faith was tested. (They later learned that he was not infected.) When the man recovered, he showed no remorse, no gratitude; he just folded in on himself, cold and uncommunicative.

This final virtue is what makes service in the developing world not just an adventure, a spiritual experience or a cinematic moment. It represents a noncontingent commitment to a specific place and purpose.

As you talk to people involved in the foreign aid business — on the giving and the receiving ends — you are struck by how much disillusionment there is.

Very few nongovernmental organizations or multilateral efforts do good, many Kenyans say. They come and go, spending largely on themselves, creating dependency not growth. The government-to-government aid workers spend time at summit meetings negotiating protocols with each other.

But in odd places, away from the fashionableness, one does find people willing to embrace the perspectives and do the jobs the locals define — in businesses, where Westerners are providing advice about boring things like accounting; in hospitals where doctors, among many aggravations, try to listen to the symptoms the patients describe.

Susan Albright, a nurse working with disabled children in Kijabe, says, “Everything I’ve ever learned I put to use here.” Her husband, Leland Albright, a prominent neurosurgeon, says simply, “This is where God wants us to be.”

Will Dar face a total blackout in 60 days?

By Florian Kaijage - 17th July 2011

Minister of Energy and Minerals, William Ngeleja

For Tanzanians who have tested the benefits and joys of electricity-facilitated modernity, the backward march towards the dark ages is a real threat, as the latest long-stretch electricity rationing is set to worsen. The Guardian On Sunday has reliably learnt that most hydro-electricity generating units countrywide face closure over the next 60 days, translating into more suffering for people whose livelihood and recreation are dependent on reliable power supply. The threat is more ominous on the national scale, by way of deadly blows to the economy of one of the poorest countries in the world, resulting from factory closures or highly reduced production schedules. Disruptions in social service delivery would be similarly hurtful. The nation’s threat of turning to near-total, or total darkness comes at a time when the country is enduring unending power rationing since December 2010, and the hours having lengthened to 12 hours during the day right and 6 hours at night.

This paper has been reliably informed that water level at Mtera dam, the biggest man-made lake in the country has terribly decreased to the extent that the two power generating units at the dam could only generate 8 Megawatts, equals to 10 percent of the installed capacity. A more worrying fact is that Mtera dam is not only an important for power generation at its units but is a water reservoir for Kidatu’s 4 power generation units which are currently generation less than 50 megawatts despite having a capacity to generate 204 megawatts. Water is released from Mtera to Kidatu during dry season or whenever the need arises. The two power generation centers lie on the grate Ruaha River stream. A well placed source at Tanzania Electric Supply Company (Tanesco) told The Guardian on Sunday this week Mtera could be shut down completely in the next 40 days and the same fate would befall Kidatu a few weeks later. “The situation is extremely bad and we do not know what would be happening in the near future because no water is added to the dams,” said the source, which preferred to remain anonymous.

This paper has also established that Hale generating unit which situated in Korogwe, Tanga with an installed capacity of 21 megawatts has been closed as it is unable to generate even a single megawatt and Nyumba ya Mungu unit in Simanjiro District in Manyara Region could generate only 2 megawatt out of 8 megawatts installed capacity. It could not be established how much power Kihansi in Morogoro and Pangani in Tanga generate currently, but it isn apparent that the megawatts produced

at both dams has dropped drastically. The installed capacity of Kihansi is 180 megawatt as Pangani can generate 68 megawatts at full capacity, totaling 248. A source at Tanesco revealed to this paper that the amount of megawatts contributed by hydro power units to the national grid system could not exceed 160 megawatts which is 28.5 percent of the installed capacity of 561 megawatts for all hydro power units.

And with no rains in sight over the next three months, and thus no additional water being fed into the dams, while the generating units continue to operate and consume the little available water, it is clear that the amount generated would be decreasing daily. Last week this paper quoted a senior Tanzania Meteorological Agency (TMA) official as saying that no rains are forecast in the next three months, until the onset of the rainy season in October.

The country has now been turning attention to gas from Songosongo Island as a source of power. However although the 4 plants available have a combined installed capacity of 411 megawatts, they are said to contribute less that 350 megawatt to the

national grid. The plants are Songas (191Mw) Tegeta (45), Symbion (75) and the one owned by Tanesco (100Mw). The national power demand at peak hour in the morning and at night is 833 megawatt with an increase of 14 percent annually.

And with the soaring power woes, the Minister of Energy and Minerals, William Ngeleja told the Parliament when tabling the budget speech for 2011/12 financial year about a long list of government projects aimed at bring about everlasting solution. However, the earliest project which would generate 100 megawatts is expected to be operational in December 2011. This is the project the government has been talking about since 2009.

Other projects cited by minister Ngeleja are Mwanza project (60Mw) to be ready in June 2012, Mnazi Bay (300Mw) to be completed during the 2013/14 financial year, Ruhudji (358 Mw) and Mpanga (165Mw) to be ready in 2015/16 and Somanga Fungu (230Mw) in 2013. Other projects according to Ngeleja are Kiwira (200Mw) which is scheduled to be operational in 2013/14, Ngaka Coal (400Mw), Mchuchuma (600Mw) and Rusumo 63 Mw which have no clear time table and Ramakali (222Mw) slated for 2018. The biggest power project among all is the Stiegler’s Gorge with a capacity to generate 2100 megawatts, which however has no schedule as to when the implementation would start and the eventual completion.

SOURCE: THE GUARDIAN

Baba Ashley, Ashley and Mama Ashley of AfricAid-Colorado, USAElizabeth Abshire, soon to be AfricAid's new Executive Director, moi and Joseph Kitia, one of our favorite partners to work with in Usa River.

We're off to visit our partner schools and sites this week along with a team of US donors and supporters. Should be an action-packed May-June.

Crowds Come Over Roads and by Helicopters for Tanzanian’s Cure-All Potion

By JEFFREY GETTLEMAN

NAIROBI, Kenya — He’s a sensation in two countries. He’s snarled traffic for miles. He’s so popular that people have literally died waiting in line to see him.

Ambilikile Mwasapile, a 76-year-old retired pastor in rural Tanzania, has been offering a herbal concoction that he bills as a miracle potion that can cure just about any illness. In the past few weeks, tens of thousands of sick people have scrambled for a sip of his homebrewed drink. Some, apparently, have even flown in by helicopter.

On Monday, Tanzanian officials said that several dozen elderly and sick people had recently paid the price for joining the throngs.

“They died from the long queues,” said Isidore Shirima, a local official in Arusha, a town popular with tourists about six hours’ drive from the pastor’s village. “We’re not going to stop this, but we want to organize it better.”

Mr. Mwasapile, a former Lutheran preacher, lives in Samunge, a village in the middle of the savannah near the Kenya-Tanzania border. He began administering his miracle potion several months ago, and charges about 30 cents a cup. He says it can cure AIDS, cancer, diabetes, high blood pressure — you name it.

According to The Daily Nation, Kenya’s largest newspaper, Tanzanian officials have tested the herbs in the concoction and have verified that it is safe to drink. Mr. Mwasapile even has a Facebook page, listed under “Doctor, Arusha, Tanzania.”

Traditional healers are not considered fringe elements here. Sometimes, their teachings take macabre directions. In Tanzania, so many people believe, for example, that the body parts of albinos carry good luck, that dozens of albino people have been killed by thugs, who then sell their bones, hair and skin for thousands of dollars.

Mr. Mwasapile’s village is remote, with no good roads, and is hard to reach from any sizable town. It can take people from either side of the border days to reach him, with the elderly and sick camping out under trees on the way.

He issued a statement over the weekend saying that he planned to halt new arrivals to his village for a week, until he could serve everyone who was already camped out there.

Esther Lally, a recent college graduate living in Arusha, said she saw helicopters landing in the bush ferrying Tanzanian politicians to the village. She said that the potion worked.

“It’s all about faith,” said Mrs. Lally, who drank it herself two weeks ago. “If you believe that this works, it works. I saw many people there who had gotten better.”

Mrs. Lally wanted the potion to cure her ulcers, and she said she was already feeling better.

She said the drink “tastes like tea, without the sugar.”

A version of this article appeared in print on March 29, 2011 in the New York Times. Thanks Alilala ;)

This post is part of a month-long series featuring Greatest Women of the Day, in recognition of Women's History Month. Huffington Post continues to showcase women making change -- big and small -- around the world. In partnership with She's The First, they featured this letter from a young Tanzanian, Elizabeth David; in it, she shares her story, goals and role models. She is one of the students we work with in the KISA project:

I'm Elizabeth David. I'm 19 years old and I live in Kilimanjaro, Tanzania. I study at Arusha Secondary School, which is a boarding school. I'm in my last year of advanced level (A-level), and I take three main subjects, which are history, geography, and economics, and also two subsidiaries, which are basic applied mathematics and general studies. My goals are to be a successful businesswoman in 10 years and to help Tanzanian women in any way I can.

In my first year of A-level at Arusha Secondary, I joined the Kisa Project. It's a project which deals with providing leadership education to girls in Tanzania. In Kisa, we did different projects like teaching computer at our school. Also, we had a leadership summit of 10 days in which we got many guest speakers from different places and occupations. Some were women lawyers and

successful businesswomen and leaders. They inspired me a lot and made me realize that I want to be a role model to my fellow African women and girls and also help them in any way I can.

In Women's History Month, there are a lot of women who inspire me to reach this goal and overcome any obstacle that I may face. One of them is my mom, Mrs. Suzan Samson. I admire the courage she has shown in raising me and my two elder sisters, making sure that my sisters get a good education and go to university. She has always shown herself to be a strong, tolerant, loving woman who is always ready to help others in need, even if she doesn't have much herself. Also, I learn from Oprah Winfrey, she had passed through a lot of hardships in life but turned out to be a very successful woman. And Dr. Anna Makinda, my fellow Tanzanian who is the first woman to be a parliament speaker in our country.

Tanzanian women are very hardworking women. They struggle a lot so that their children won't starve or not get education. Although to some extent men still see them as inferior, nowadays the women don't care about it anymore. Instead, they put extra efforts, and they end up proving the men wrong. A lot of Tanzanian women who were just housewives decide to get out of their houses and start their own small businesses -- from them they have succeeded to build their own houses, put the kids in school, and cover other daily house expenses. So I might say that Tanzanian women are very strong, tolerant and courageous.

Love,

Elizabeth

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/03/18/in-her-own-words-a-young-_n_837755.html

We know what the birth of a revolution looks like: A student stands before a tank. A fruit seller sets himself on fire. A line of monks link arms in a human chain. Crowds surge, soldiers fire, gusts of rage pull down the monuments of tyrants, and maybe, sometimes, justice rises from the flames.

But sometimes freedom and opportunity slip in through the back door, when a quieter subversion of the status quo unleashes change that is just as revolutionary. This is the tantalizing idea for activists concerned with poverty, with disease, with the rise of violent extremism: if you want to change the world, invest in girls.

In recent years, more development aid than ever before has been directed at women--but that doesn't mean it is reaching the girls who need it. Across much of the developing world, by the time she is 12, a girl is tending house, cooking, cleaning. She eats what's left after the men and boys have eaten; she is less likely to be vaccinated, to see a doctor, to attend school. "If only I can get educated, I will surely be the President," a teenager in rural Malawi tells a researcher, but the odds are against her: Why educate a daughter who will end up working for her in-laws rather than a son who will support you? In sub-Saharan Africa, fewer than 1 in 5 girls make it to secondary school. Nearly half are married by the time they are 18; 1 in 7 across the developing world marries before she is 15. Then she gets pregnant. The leading cause of death for girls 15 to 19 worldwide is not accident or violence or disease; it is complications from pregnancy. Girls under 15 are up to five times as likely to die while having children than are women in their 20s, and their babies are more likely to die as well.

There are countless reasons rescuing girls is the right thing to do. It's also the smart thing to do. Consider the virtuous circle: An extra year of primary school boosts girls' eventual wages by 10% to 20%. An extra year of secondary school adds 15% to 25%. Girls who stay in school for seven or more years typically marry four years later and have two fewer children than girls who drop out. Fewer dependents per worker allows for greater economic growth. And the World Food Programme has found that when girls and women earn income, they reinvest 90% of it in their families. They buy books, medicine, bed nets. For men, that figure is more like 30% to 40%. "Investment in girls' education may well be the highest-return investment available in the developing world," Larry Summers wrote when he was chief economist at the World Bank. Of such cycles are real revolutions born.

The benefits are so obvious, you have to wonder why we haven't paid attention. Less than 2¢ of every development dollar goes to girls--and that is a victory compared with a few years ago, when it was more like half a cent. Roughly 9 of 10 youth programs are aimed at boys. One reason for this is that when it comes to lifting up girls, we don't know as much about how to do it. We have to start by listening to girls, which much of the world is not culturally disposed to do. Development experts say the solutions need to be holistic, providing access to safe spaces, schools and health clinics with programs designed specifically for girls' needs. Success depends on infrastructure, on making fuel and water more available so girls don't have to spend as many as 15 hours a day fetching them. It requires enlisting whole communities--mothers, fathers, teachers, religious leaders--in helping girls realize their potential instead of seeing them as dispensable or, worse, as prey.

A more surprising army is being enlisted as well. A new initiative called Girl Up girlup.org aims to mobilize 100,000 American girls to raise money and awareness to fight poverty, sexual violence and child marriage. "This generation of 12-to-18-year-olds are all givers," says executive director Elizabeth Gore, the force of nature behind the ingeniously simple Nothing but Nets campaign to fight malaria, about her new United Nations Foundation enterprise. "They gave after Katrina. They gave after the tsunami and Haiti. More than any earlier generation, they feel they know girls around the world."

And so the word goes out, by text, by tweet, on Facebook, that coming soon to a high school gym near you may be a Girl Up pep rally, where kids can learn what it feels like to carry a jerrican of water for a long distance, or how sending $5 to Malawi can stock a health clinic with girl-friendly materials or buy school supplies. Or how $5 to Ethiopia can make the difference in a girl's not being married when she's 10. And one at a time, a rising generation of American girls helps create the next generation of leaders, for the coming quiet revolutions.

Read more: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,2046045-1,00.html#ixzz1DR0n2h61

Happy New Year friends. It's been quite a year. We got married. My brother got married. We moved into a real house. I started a new job 2 days ago. And I'm feeling super thankful for it all. One thing I'm most thankful for is our great friends and nexdoor neighbors' successful adoption of this precious one, Zara Grace. Isn't she radiant? Zac is here saving her body outline for posterity. Man how she's grown already...

Mary says Happy 2011 with a fresh glass o carrot juisi. Cheers!I'll close w/ a fun pic from our Christmas day. One of our neighborhood guys came over that morning to ask Hunter to help him tie his tie for Christmas service. I guess he doesn't wear them much :) More hilarious is his pilot-style shirt. Lots of pilots live around us as we're very close to the Arusha domestic airport. I'm sure that's how he landed this sweet one [pun intended]:

Hunter's recreating the pillows of 236 Hurumzi in Stonetown for this lovely gang...Celebrating over the Olasiti korongo...

Introducing the newest member of their family...

Needless to say, this little creature makes Hunter and I want a dog. Badly. We also want as solid a marriage and family. May I add, I hope we have as lovely offspring, inside and out. Ha. That sounds funny, but I mean it. The Bordens give us so much to look up to, to strive for in our life ahead as husband and wife, mother and father, sister and brother to so many...

Hunter and I enjoying a goat roast with some friends, Life Skills teachers from PHS

A co-worker from PHS, Elaina, and my bro Angelo, the party chairman

Another thing which doesn't happen every day is engagement parties - not too common in our neck of the woods. Our first hosted in Atown from afar by a family friend in Atlanta:

Hannah, Zac, Lisa and Jesse (a good substitute for his Daddy-O)

Tammy and Peter Russell

Ian and Ciska Haynes, our infamous South African invitees - Ciska's Visa fresh in!

Eo!

Double Eo!!

That last shot is just totally inappropriate, Zac. I'm proud to say he's my new drum teacher.

On my very first day of being unemployed, I received the following email from my dearest darling sibling King Cc'ing all of my future in-laws:

Michelle (his fiance) brought up a bunch of mail that has been forwarded to her house while I am in New York this summer. I have a very interesting picture of Tait driving my car through montgomery county, maryland during her most recent trip home. 44 mph in a 30. If anyone would like a wallet sized copy of the picture, the police department kindly sent 4 with the ticket. At least I don't have to worry about finding a wedding present now!

Thank you brother.

I admit it fully: I've been MIA. I don't know why but my writing/creative juices have run dry. Or maybe it's free time that's run a bit short. Leaving my job at Peace House, transitioning to a new home, preparing to start a new job as well as the biggest chunk: preparing to get married back in the US have kept me in a permanent state of whirlwind. Whew. I hope soon I'll be able to write about all this; for now, I'd like to leave those of you who still check my blog for some reason with my new mailing address:

Tait

PO Box 12246

Arusha

TANZANIA

So, yes, Hunter and I will be moving back here to TZ upon uniting under God at my most favorite place, Camp Merrie-Woode. Karibuni sana kututembelea.

"We cannot become what we want to be by remaining who or what we are."

-Max Dupree

Dreamlike skies and sunsets up at Simba Farm on the slopes of West Kili...

Hunter's birthday partay back on the 25th.He played and sang.We watched.We ate cake.

A new project for my water tank,which'll soon be adorned with bamboooo a la Peterson

Yep - it's what you think: snakes in my bathtub. Adventure has taken on a whole new meaning in my house. Not only did I discover these 2 coming out from under my tub, but there was another little guy found later under my bed! Nightmare much?! A local family that's been here forever recommends putting screens in our drains. I say. Jason of Peace Corps Kinikele days has still got me beat with 2 cobras found under his bed. I've been told these are just house snakes. I hope so.

I'm sorry to have been so quiet on the blog of late. I've had loads of wageni (guests) on campus to host and lots going on outside of work. The theme of my last few weeks has been becoming and self-improvement, so I'll end with this quote:

"We cannot become what we want to be by remaining who or what we are" - Max DePree

To becoming...

Hallie and Steve's new babe, Bradley

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Gals and Logan's new toto, Reid a.k.a. RAW (waiting on picture)

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Hil and Croft's new babe, Elsa a.ka. sugarlips (waiting on picture)

Here it is February 12th, 2010 and I'm nestling into what feels like my first quiet, free moment without distraction since the New Year bell rung. Where have the days gone? The last time I blogged was November with nostalgia and love for my old village. Three months have passed since then; in that time, I wrapped up my first school year of work here at Peace House Secondary, I spent nearly a month back in the US for Christmas break, we all crossed over into a new decade and am now at Peace House starting another school year with 115 new Form 1 students. Whoa.

It's nice to take a break and a deep breath.

The last few months have been wonderful and strange and joyful and sad. Yet again the roller coaster that is life...

We closed school last December having just discovered our first student pregnancy here at PHS; she was subsequently expelled as is TZ policy. Back home over Christmas, my family hung out with Hunter's family in our favorite place, the Western North Carolina mountains. We traveled the BVI's serenely on a catamaran. Hunter got robbed on our first day back in Arusha. My house girl was diagnosed with cancer our first weekend back. My brother got engaged a week later and will be married this Fall to a sweet girl named Michelle. My Dad turned 67 yesterday. The same day I had my favorite life skills class yet with our Form 3 girls on managing emotions. The class ended with singing and dancing and sheer silliness. That's when you know you've taught a good class, making your students feel safe, cared for and free.

*With our new Life Skills team*

I'm supposed to be in Stonetown for the Sauti ya Busara Music Fest this weekend, something I've not missed since coming to TZ in 2005, but I opted to stick around instead. I just didn't feel right splurging when my housegirl and friend Mary's cancer status is unknown. We hope to receive the biopsy results next Wednesday. Amazing to find out there is only one hospital in all of Tanzania treating cancer. Apparently, the TZ government covers the care and implementation, but the actual radiation is up to the patient to purchase. A little different from home eh?! We are praying all the cancer is gone completely, and that a trip to Ocean Road Hospital in Dar is not in the cards for gangsta wetu, Mary. It makes me sick to my stomach that all that time I was home, reuniting with family and friends, eating and drinking, hiking and sailing, enjoying fireworks and fireplaces, Mary was suffering, staying with her pastor undergoing intense maombi or prayers, taking village potions, sweating at night, losing hope by the day as her growth grew bigger and bigger.

My momma always said: life isn't fair. She was right. But we can try to make it a little more fair for a few.

Manga, not "the Peach State," but a land of peaches nonetheless...

Bibi yangu wa Manga, Mama Claud

Babu yangu wa Manga, Kowzen

My old neighbors, Joyce's family. One of my favorites in Manga

Mtitu "Black" and Joseph Nyenzi

Mtitu "Black" and Fabian being silly

The finished Mahongole Girls Dorm

Manga students showing off their new digs

Girls enjoying their new sleeping and study quarters

Oliva and Lillian, two of my students from CHASAWAYA Vocational Center for girls

Makambako's heroes...aka the Posta ladies. Nani ni shujaaaaaa?!

Our students playing water polo for the first time in ISM's pool. ISM, the same International School that hosted us for Track & Field last month (more later on that), also invited us yesterday for an afternoon of swimming/water polo in the shallow end, ultimate frisbee and dodgeball. All 30 of our students selected to go had perma-grins. Water polo in the shallow end was the perfect way to reduce real fears amongst our students of water and of swimming. It's like football in the water, their teachers explained. Yes, just like football....only a little different.

Angelo and I, the fearless Social Workers, not afraid to jump in the pool too.

Kalolo playing dodgeball, a new game for him.

Shawna, the coordinator at ISM, and I, relieved that the first of four events went swimmingly. We hope to come once a quarter for activities like this, to use their facilities until we can build our own over the next several years.

Our accomplished teachers, boasting their certificates after our recent Teacher Training over September break. Elimu oyay! Thanks Dr. Marty.

Peace House students at their very first Track & Field event. It was a momentous day. Lots of students placed in the top three for their event, kids who had never done the high jump before in their life, for example, won the high jump, and many of our students who were viscerally afraid to sign up, performed really well and I hope, felt accomplished. They certainly deserved to.

Peace House runner Haikeli who ended up winning her age group in her race, the 1500 meter. I was most proud of her this day. I could almost drink the ounzes of self-esteem she gained that day, that moment.

Leaving for the big adventure in my car...which, if you've been reading my previous blogs, turned quickly into misadventure :(. Hunter and brother Peter are sporting their best first-day-of-school expressions. Turns out they had reason to be apprehensive!

Hunter, sitting in my "salon" on my porch,after his best haircut yet. Thanks to Anne for the professional haircutting kit. My salon business is out the roof now. Kudos nyingi to Pamela Levine, fellow PCV haircutter extraordinaire, who really taught me everything I know today in regards to the art of cutting hair. And it is an art.

Hunter always complains that I post too many embarassing pictures of him on my blog. I don't know what he's talking about. Anyway, these are his latest spider bites. Yes, you can say it: GROSS. Welcome to Africa living. You never know what's inside the mosquito net as you sleep.

Hunter and my co-worker from last year, Boniface, teaming up for a mean match of 3-legged race at a Rotary event last month. Peter Luis, wherever you are, that shirt is brilliant! Thanks again for your solid consulting. Keep up the good work.

I feel compelled to share this email as a member of the big and beautiful family known as Peace Corps, specifically Peace Corps Tanzania. It was written by my friend and fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer), Leiha:

I just came back to Moshi this afternoon, got off the bus and hugged a new friend goodbye, for now. Her name is Leah, nice name huh? She's a short term volunteer here in Moshi. Normally I wouldn't cross paths with short term vols in Moshi town but today we just so happened to have met on the bus this afternoon coming from Dar. We caught up with each other at the lunch/rest stop. While chit-chatting a bit she made a comment about how someone once told her, "Don't wait til you're 65 to start living the life you wanted to try out." That's when I told her of a friend of mine who lived his life with such an intensity that there was nothing left to do but stand back and admire him.

My friend Joe Chow passed away last Tuesday. A fellow Education PCV, he was on school break and while visiting another friend of ours, fell while descending from a rock climb in Mbinga, Tanzania. I myself have climbed this same rock. It's not an easy climb, but do-able. His death was an accident in every sense of the word, nothing could have been changed, it happened. The reality of this is still hard to swallow.

The past week, being in Dar for his memorial, has been a blur of emotion and everything else. We were supposed to meet up and raft the Nile after he completed his service this November, we even talked about attempting another marathon together. I have many wonderful memories with Joe throughout our 2 years here in Tanzania. When Leah shared that story with me today at lunch, I felt an obligation to tell her I knew someone that didn't wait.

Joe lived his life with such a crazy intensity, a complete signature of his personality, that I'm finding myself not so much mourning the loss of the rest of his life, but standing back in admiration for all he did while he was here, alive. Yes, I miss him. I don't know when the reality of his absence will really settle in, or if it ever will. But isn't it our obligation as friends to take those we lose with us in life?

I never thought that the last time I saw him, waving through the window of the bus, I wouldn't meet up with him again in our lifetime. We never truly know, do we? But that's just it. We all will pass on one day. I just hope that in the meantime, we all live our lives to the fullest, happiest, most enriched we can. Life is a beautiful blessing, a gift we share and enjoy together. I am blessed to have been enriched by Joe's friendship in my life.

Thanks for reading this.

Leiha (PCV in the Pare Mountains)

Yes friends, it gets worse. The saga continues.

On our much-anticipated safari over our school breaks, Hunter, his brother Peter (a.k.a. Yesu to all Tanzanian children who caught a glimpse of this long-haired man of a man), and myself, departed for a journey to a farmhouse on Kilimanjaro my friend Simon owns in Mbahe village. Gals and Logan know what I'm talking about! Gorgeous it would be...

...but getting there was first on our list. So, we gleefully left Peace House and were subsequently stuck in a traffic jam for roughly an hour: not an auspicious start. We finally reached Moshi and dropped my friend Christian off after some chai at my favorite spot, boasting the best ginger tea around. Gear change was a struggle to say the least. Stressful was the drive, I tell you. When we hit Marangu town, our car was smoking and unable to move up any grade of a hill. We opened the hood and - as it goes if you stop anywhere in Tanzania with car troubles - men came running from seemingly out of nowhere to see what was a matter.

A silver-headed, collected man by the name of Godfrey immediately emerged as my "chosen one" who could confidently solve our problems, which were many: lack of water in the engine, a hole in a pipe connecting to the radiator and an apparent leak in the radiator itself. After some major water flushing, knifework, refitting and reattachment of pipes and application of some lubricant, healing came - both of the car and of my mambo mengi-sense of being overwhelmed.

Graciously he offered to drive us to Simon's (he was classmates with Simon back in the day at shule ya msingi). Brilliant I thought, utterly relieved to not have to drive anymore and have to fight the screeching of gear change. No brainer - let's go! Twendeni...

Slowly, patiently, God (an appropriate shortening of his name) drove us up the hills to Simon's farmhouse perched way up high where the birds soar. Climbing in first gear the whole way, we inched closer and closer; meanwhile, Tait was furiously texting Simon back in Moshi for a fundi to come and check out what was ailing my little car's power. I was already dreading the ride back.

Somehow, we made it. And Simon's fundi did too the next day. Injector pump speed governor problem, we inquired? That's what God had sensed the day prior. This new expert, Dismas, figured it was the lack of brake/clutch fluid which caused such gear change battles. We promptly tracked down some fluid in Mbahe and thus slept peacefully, not dreaming of gear screeching dancing in our heads.

After enjoying two days in this beautiful village, hiking to Kili's Marangu gate, much bird watching, waterfall hopping, guitar playing with porters and hot showering, it was time to go. Again. We prayed we would have better karma this time; the glass is always half full for optimists, for better or for worse...

Well, worse it was! I wouldn't have believed it if you had told me, but we left at 2 pm and did not return to Peace House until 10:30 pm after being forced to ditch the car, jump on a dala, then a public bus and later a lifti with our school driver/angel, Osca, to finally reach home exhausted and wiped. What a day.

In short (b/c it's too painful to fully elucidate), the car failed 3 times:

1. No clutch connection. Problem: oil hadn't flushed through entire system down to transition. Solution: flush with oil and remove air in connection.

2. No accelerator connection. Problem: Hunter seemed to have snapped the cable somehow. Solution: Find a bike fundi to bring a new cable OR better yet, call my original fundi who was - bahati nzuri - at a funeral in Moshi to come and bring a brand new cable and connect it himself! We went with the latter.

3. Fuel filter failed. Problem: Still a mystery. Solution: Have 5+ guys make a fuel filter out of a plastic petrol container using pure ubunifu, adding diesel and plastic tubes feeding in and out of the engine to literally create a faux filter to get you home until you can buy a replacement.

And this my friends - with faux filter atop our hood strapped in with bungee cords - is how we hobbled back to the outskirts of Moshi town, going about 5 km/hr. It must have been a hilariously RIDICULOUS sight from a distance.

Now to make matters more complicated, I had a guest to welcome back at Peace House the same evening flying in on KLM. I had to move. Quickly. And it was already getting dark. So, we jumped out and demanded that my fundi, Peter, fix everything - and I mean everything this time - and drive it back to Arusha whole. It was his turn to carry the burden.

We jumped out into a dala dala that brought us to a big bus, which in the dark, delivered us into the hands of Osca. At 10:30, having dropped our bags down at my house, I sprinted into our guest house to find our mgeni rasmi, teacher trainer/psychologist from the States, enjoying a glass of wine with our kind Director, pinch-hitting for me. Tomorrow: Teacher training to begin at 8 am! Phew! Barely made it.

What good can we possibly see in a mess like this: the beauty of Tanzanian people, always willing to help (but sure, for compensation for their help) when you're in a jam and for the inherent sense of community for survival here. For that, I went to bed thankful, and for the fact that I was with friends - and guys, better - when this all went down. For my car shidas, on the other hand, I've had it. I'll wait for Peter to return everything he promised to fix to be truly fixed this time (since I've already paid him to do so), and then I'll be looking for a new fundi.

Sigh.

Ndiyo maisha as the saying goes: "this is life." Or is it? If this is life, why do I live here, our Director asked me poignantly.

A valid question. I'll have to reflect more on that one, but my initial response is that life is more fun and satisfying when it's challenging...when it hurts... when it stings...when it overjoys...when you feel so high your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest...when it feels REAL. Sometimes when I'm back in the US, life seems too easy, too comfortable.

But here, life is always very low and very high. Real.

TIA - "This is Africa." That's been the theme of my last couple days, and you PCVs and RPCVs out there know exactly what that means: low points. The roller coaster has plummeted again! Despite the high highs of living here, there are, of course, the lows.

That beauty of a car I posted pics of last time is proving to be a real pain in my side. Every rose has it's thorn I'm learning, even with cars...especially in Tanzania.

I have been through more loops that you can fathom trying my level best to first, procure a name change on my registration card (The owner never gave me the original registration card, so I had to track her down in Zimbabwe. Literally. Otherwise, my new best friend (MER!!), the Tanzania Revenue Authority a.k.a. TRA, was threatening to charge me a whopping $500 to have a new one made. That's not bribery at all. Nope).

Then, following the name change saga (BTW: The owner kindly traveled back to Arusha to drop it off for me), I learned I also have to purchase what's called a "Motor Vehicle License" - no big deal, a mere $100 to be on the road. Okay. Okay.

After surfacing post the TRA drama, I felt like all was hunky dory. I had made my way through the darkness, some minor stalls and fixes by my fundi after his major engine overhaul, and the light was on the horizon. I was awaiting my fixed-up car on Saturday (yesterday), bubbling with excitement for my Mid-term break travels the next day (today in theory) with Hunter and his brother Peter visiting from the US....until my fundi (car mechanic) called yesterday evening to report the following in Swahili:

"Furaha am very sorry 4 what had happen. Nilipomaliza kazi wakati nimekwenda kubadilisha nguo mwanafunzi wangu mmoja amejaribu kuwasha gari pasipo mimi kujua na akaingiza gia vibaya gear ya reverse ikafyatuka nimejaribu kuvalisha kwa nje imeshindikana kwa hiyo sina namna zaidi kuitoa tena na kuvisha. So pliz usinisubiri tena nami siwezi kukurudishia gari ambalo halina reverse."

Awesome.

Roughly translated, he says, "Tait, I'm very sorry to tell you when I had just finished fixing your car and went to change clothes, one of my students (i.e. mechanic friends) tried to drive it though I was unaware and blew out the reverse. I can't fix it now so don't wait for me as I am unable to return a car to you today that has no reverse."

The best part: he turned off his phone after sending this message, so I couldn't call him back to find out more details. Clearly, too embarrassed and ashamed to answer to me, he forced me to do something very mature: to tattle tale on him to his brother, my buddy Bernard, with whom I used to work last year (my original connection to this fundi). Bernard eventually got through to someone at his house that was then able to ask Peter what was going on. Current status: still unclear.

One of the most challenging aspects about this culture for me is that it's extremely difficult to discern when someone's telling the truth and when they're lying. The fundi himself could've blown out the reverse for all I know and is instead telling me it was his student who did it. Who and what am I to believe??

Bernard, his older brother, promises me the car will be ready on Tuesday morning at the latest. He texted from a funeral today assuring me he had assigned another additional fundi to the task to speed things up. However, the car was originally promised back in August. I'll believe it when I see it!

I wonder where the fine line is between expecting good out of people and expecting too much? I tend to fall in the latter bracket and end up being disappointed. Note to self: I need to keep my expectations lower!

Our students are back home with guardians, hopefully all salama until the 24th! Upon their return, we'll be participating in our first ever Track & Field Event at a local International school with a track. Just imagine what the javelin will be like for our Maasai students :)...

Also, had a GREAT time reconnecting with Bright Tate and her buddies from PC-Malawi. We cooked an epic breakfast the morning they left for Kili. Go CMW go!

And last but not least, with Ibby and her sweet Baba, Bill, on their way to the big hunt.

My "SMISH" award of this month goes to this lil munchkin, Eric.

I feel compelled to write on yet another reason why I remain - four years later - in love with this country. Our school cook, Daniel, an older gentleman probably in his 50s, approached me yesterday before he climbed into the school van, which takes our staff home every evening. This warm father of three told me smilingly that he had a gift for me tomorrow from his family. I say ‘smilingly’ because this man is all smile. He does everything smilingly, exuding true joy and love every second of the day from every pore. He refuses to shake a hand when he greets; a hug is required and that’s not typical in this culture. Maybe he’s been taken by the hugging culture with all the American huggers frequenting Peace House.

I had completely forgotten about this until today as the day was coming to a close and the staff started wandering towards the van. I call it “the 4 pm exodus.” All of a sudden, there was Daniel at my office door, holding a black grocery bag. He closed it calmly with his hand so I couldn’t look inside, smiled (of course) and gave me a big hug. “Here is what my family wanted to give to you…FREE…it’s yours. For you.” He could not stop smiling. He was beaming in fact. I couldn’t wait to look and see what surprise awaited me.

Inside the bag were the following: a fresh bunch of grapes wrapped in newspaper, a bag of cake muffins, a half kilo of peanuts and…a perfectly ripe avocado. My favorite. Actually, he’d selected many of my favorite items in TZ. How sweet is that?! For no reason. Out of the blue. A bag of goodies. Just because.

It brought me back to Manga, my old Peace Corps village, when my favorite neighbors, Mama Joyce and her five children, would drop a bucket full of sweet potatoes at my doorstep. And they barely had enough to eat themselves. But they would always share. For no reason. Out of the blue. A bucket of goodies. Just because.

These people love unconditionally. These people give beyond their means. And most every day, they make me feel so fortunate to be here, among them, grasping what it truly means to be a human being, relating as family.

Oh Daniel. I will be sleeping sweetly tonight because of your kindness. Thank you. Asante sana baba yangu. How did you know I needed that? He always knows.

On June 12th, we closed up shop at Peace House and the students returned home kunyonya kwa mama, a Swahili saying for "milking on mama" or "to be spoiled by their mothers"; sadly, for the majority of our students, they did not return home to their biological mothers, but to an extended family member like an aunt or a grandmother or a sibling. I often wonder what that would feel like. Would I ever feel completely at home with an aunt, my grandmother or my brother? I guess I'd grow into it, but there's nothing like coming home to my mama. There's no one else in the world that loves you like that, with 9 months memory of holding you inside their belly.

This week, I returned to the office along with my fellow social workers, gardeners, teachers, and cooks to prepare for the students' imminent arrival Sunday. It's been so quiet around here without them. It's eerie in fact - like something's not quite right. It reminds me of staff training the week before summer camp started at Merriewooode - no cabin doors slamming, no splashing and screaming in the lake, no singing on the swings or arguing on the tetherball court.

I'm ready for the students to return. They always put things into perspective, no matter what drama is bubbling in the office. And there is always drama. I dream of escaping politics at the workplace, but I've come to realize: it comes with every job. I guess I have to deal with it and learn from it!

That's what vacation's for eh?! My two weeks off were so refreshing. The first week, Hunter and I spent camping on the Tanga coast.

Hunter's best "why are you taking my picture in front of all these people, this is akward" look :)

We rented a piki piki one day and explored the ancient town of Pangani, where Oman people settled in 975 A.D.(the settlement still standing behind this ship on the other side of the water). I had no idea this was the oldest record of civilization in Tanzania's history until our walking tour with Mzee Edward. He's the best in case you're ever looking for a guide in Pangani. I highly recommend it. We chewed on all kinds of historical tibbits, like the name Pangani came from slave masters yelling Pangeni or "let's arrange ourselves" as in slaves with their respective masters. It's crazy to think of the abuse and struggle felt in this town where the Pangani river meets the Indian ocean, and also to imagine the sheer ecstasy once freedom was announced in December 1961.

The second week, we celebrated with the Cranes in Dar, spending 'QT' (That's for you Charlie) and saying our goodbyes before they move to Sudan at the end of the month. Jamani, will they be missed! Their home has served practically as a Peace Corps/RPCV/passerby guesthouse, a land of milk and honey, or in layman's terms: Lucy's homemade bagels, cream cheese and homecooked meals with great conversation...topped with Nancy and Charlie's concern for 'what's really going on' in our lives. I so appreciate that.

Speaking of Lucy, beautiful Lucy, we were also able to visit her new home recently constructed via her savings plan working with the Cranes as their housegirl.We've really bonded over my visits in and out of Dar and I promised the Cranes I'd check on her when they're out of country. Her house is a palace compared to her neighbors homes. To name a few highlights, hers boasts a composting toilet, a kitchen opening up to her living room (quite a rarity; most TZ homes have the kitchen blocked off for the cook/housegirl not to be seen) and water harvesting.

Upon returning to A'town, I was able to squeeze in a girls trip (GO V!!!)to the Maasai land to venture up 11,000 ft Ol Donyo Lengai, meaning the mountain of God in Kimaasai. This active volcano intimidates and demands respect to say the least. In other words, it kicked our butts. Seriously. I'm still a bit sore and it's been a week since I exited its never-ending body of quicksand-like ash.

GO V! This one's for you, Diane, our founding club mother.The view from the crather's rim. Can you hear the lava boiling?

Our shadow on the Rift Valley behind us to the West. Stunning.

Hannah driving happily; don't let the smile confuse you. Upon closer inspection, what is it she's sporting? A bikini to drive in? Really. Ah, a clever solution to a lack of clean clothes.

Our adventure ended with a flat - or shall we say - dessicated tire. I've never seen anything like it. Thank God, angels of the likes of Jackson and Mwenyekiti Goodluck stopped to save from us from our broken jack situation and get us back on the road to safe returns. Asante mungu. We were on His mountain and He delivered us home.

30th birthday, new era, new 'do...

...and sadly, the passing of my sweet Grandaddy

John Dudley King, 88, died Thursday, May 28, 2009 at his Atlanta home. The youngest of six children, he was born December 27, 1920 in Denton, Texas to the late Otis Morrison King and Anne Clare Parks King. Dudley, as he was known to family and friends, graduated from the University of Texas in Austin with pre-medical studies in 1941 and graduated from the Medical School of the University of Texas in Galveston in 1945. He was a member of Phi Rho Sigma Medical Fraternity as well as Alpha Omega Alpha, an honorary fraternity for the top ten members of the class. During his third year of medical school, he married his sweetheart Bea Church to whom he was devoted and happily married for 63 years. After medical school Dudley spent four years at the Cleveland City Hospital in Cleveland, Ohio where he completed his internship and residency. He and Bea then moved to Atlanta, Georgia in 1949 when Dudley was offered a position by Dr. Wadley Glenn at Crawford Long Memorial Hospital where he was the hospital's only radiologist for about three years. During the Korean War Dudley served as a Captain and was sent to Tripler Army Hospital in Honolulu, Hawaii to work in the Radiology Department. Luckily, his growing family was able to accompany him. After his military service, Dudley returned to Crawford Long Hospital, where he spent the remainder of his medical career. In addition, Dudley was a past president of The Atlanta Clinical Society, The Atlanta Radiological Society, The Georgia Radiological Society, The Southern Radiological Society, and a member of The Radiological Society of North America. He was also a founding member and the fourth president of Cherokee Town and Country Club in Atlanta and served on the board of Fulton National Bank. Upon retirement, Dudley and Bea fulfilled Dudley's long-time dream of moving to a farm in North Fulton County where he tended a small herd of Black Angus cattle and a large vegetable garden. They also traveled extensively and included their children and spouses on several special trips. Dudley was predeceased in 2007 by his wife Bea and is survived by their five children: a daughter Christy King Davidson of Atlanta and four sons, J. Dudley King, Jr. and wife Rita of Hilton Head, South Carolina, Thad D. King and wife Suzanne of Atlanta, Marsh B. King and wife Mary Gossett of Atlanta, and Robert C. King and wife Betty of Atlanta. Dudley was also known as 'Granddaddy' and was greatly loved by his seventeen grandchildren, Dudley, III (Tricia), Lindsey (Bob), Michael (Brantley), Stephanie (Aaron), Tait, King, Hunter (Glen), Virginia (Dave), Denton, Chase, Dalton, Brice, Blake, Wilson, Abbie (Ryan), Carter and Parker and his fifteen great-grandchildren, Bennett, Ellie, Katie, Charlie, Cooper, Ryan, Ellis, Grayson, Parks, Will, Carson, Kelsey, James, Brooks and Smith. Dudley loved and appreciated his wonderful caregivers for the past several years: Beverly Danvers, Coraine Bent and Rena Blakeney. A private family service was held on Monday, June 1, 2009. In lieu of flowers the family requests that donations be made in his honor to the Georgia Chapter of the Alzheimer's Association Georgia Chapter, 1925 Century Blvd. NW, Suite 10, Atlanta 30345 or the Shepherd Center, 2020 Peachtree Road, Atlanta 30309.

Mother and daughter, reunited in A'town

On my 30th, Mom made me my favorite b-day cake, "Better than BEEP"Hunter's 'LM' mom was also in town visiting and the two moms got a little silly togetherAnd we went hiking up to a village on Meru...

as well as to our next door coffee plantation, Burkaa, where Mom saw Kili for the first time in the distance and Jazz was her adorable, princess self. My favorite Jazz line of the evening: "we can't share the cake with Sam 'cuz he's a boy and he'll eat too much."Everyday life back at the Peace House. Announcements.

Drum lessons with Paulus. He's the man. Will I ever be the (wo)man on the drums?Monduli or Bust. Hunter and I with good friends Zac and Hannah. Go V!Visiting Hunter and Peter's students Petro and Mary at their boma.Atop the well. Run water run...Drama at the breakfast table. Well, not really.

"To be with people you love

To be in a place you love

Something to do that you love

To provide good sustenance for the body

To be at peace with life, whatever that means to you."

-Another's prescription for a good life

We’re privileged to be able to think in this way, when you consider what is going on in the world, where some people have no choice...

"I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?"

-An excerpt from A Summer’s Day, by Mary Oliver

My swimming class in all their glory and new snazzy swimsuits from the market:

Hunter's birthday - "Happy" was all the cake said. Full stop. Enough said...

Visiting Orkeeswa Secondary's students singing "Get up, Stand up" Kimaasai style:

The same birthday boy playing basketball on Team Arusha:

Life Skills in effect with my class of Form 1s and Form 2s. We just finished the Bridge Model and were acting out missing life skills this day, playing Rita and Lucy (You RPCV's know the one):

A new mode of transport post-Peace Corps. Welcome to piki piki land...

Friends - Peter and Hil - on my hot new drumset. Don't be jealous...Thanks Russells!

A shot from our bible study cell group. We meet Wednesdays. And yes, the boys are better singers than the girls. So be it

With friend Helena (daughter of my amazing counterpart in Makambako, Kaduma) celebrating her graduation over lunch. Tres chic kama kawa

Being silly on the way to the Hot Springs

What a weirdo

A sweet getaway to the Springs with the Bordens. Campout #1 of 2009

She would fall asleep on a book. So typical Lisa:)

Is this what Trevor meant when he sings, "My Dad's a builder and a BREAKER.."?

Who would've guessed this guy has back problems?

Mural from a favorite new hangout, a Neeema's like place of Iringa, where blind and handicapped Tanzanians are employed making jewelry out of glass. We deposit our bottles there every month. A gorgeous place with gorgeous people. Karibu nawe.

"You may not remember what other people say, but you'll always remember how others make you feel."

Guess who signed up for my new swimming class this term?

The same student who tried to kill herself by drowning a month ago!! If that's not redemption, I don't know what is. I was so touched by this step on her part.

Six female students have joined me to learn how to swim - a skill that's all too rare in this landlocked region, known more for its mountains than its shores. My goal: for them all to hold their breath underwater, to float, to doggy paddle a pool's length and above all - to become less fearful and to build their self-esteem. Water is just a metaphor for all that's seemingly scary and challenging in life. They can overcome it. And when they look back at what once seemed scary, they'll laugh...and hold their heads a bit higher.

Next question: Jamani, what will they wear? (Note: TZ girls/women should never show their thighs - a huge no no. Hmm. I may have to go out and buy them swimsuits in a second hand market (no one selling them new in these parts) along with long spandex to the knee to boot. Nice)

Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, it did. Our office was robbed last weekend of our 3 office computers, printer, copy machine and scanner. Daaaa! It was like a nightmare discovering all these items missing last Sunday. It was so strange and unexpected that I actually texted our Director to ensure the computers weren't checked out for maintenance! Ah, naive Tait. That...or we were robbed. Sadly, it was the latter and clearly an inside job as the door was opened and then closed with a key. This ugly mess was masterminded by someone I've been drinking chai with every day, someone I've sat next to in staff meetings, someone with whom I've shared morning and evening greetings...

It could also explain why my keys went missing a couple weeks back on our Open House celebration day (pics coming soon) - a hectic day which kept me completely occupied and my bag unattended. We (Senior staff and police) assume my keys were stolen off my bag that day so as to facilitate this coup. Ouch, this hurt. It still stings.

The worst part is what an incident like this does to the culture of a workplace, especially within a school, and particularly one in which trust is already a struggle amongst staff. For the last week, everyone seemed to be looking around, asking themselves, could it be _____? Yuck.

What we need desperately is: UNITY. Cooperation. Trust. Humility. Servant hearts. And just when I felt like we were rounding a corner, another blow comes. The Peace House - also known as the nyumba ya amani - when will it live up to its name?

I feel like more than any other year I've spent in TZ, I'm privvy to so much ugliness (as exists everywhere, in all cultures) - almost more than I can swallow. Is it that I'm seeped in deeper than I was before, living and working on a school campus? Is it because I've never been involved with such a well-funded institution and been around so much money, the root of evil? Is it because we're on a precipice in our development as a school - about to experience a major breakthrough?

Lord, let it be the latter!

"Educate - Nurture - Innovate." Sometimes I wonder if I'm meant to nurture the staff or the students? For now, it seems my efforts are being pulled in the direction of the staff so that the students can be better cared for, so that we reflect health and wholeness to them. Afterall, they - the students - are the reason this school is here in the first place. Funny how teachers in this country can forget that. Does a school exist for teachers or for students? It's easy for us Westerners to say. Therein lies the tension I've been feeling since January.

Thank you to Judy for your prayers for authority, for the gift that is words of wisdom and for a garden(s) to grow my own soul's refreshment.

"Remember this and pursue it: I love deserts because I love to make them beautiful. I love brokenness because I love to make whole what is broken. Don't avoid broken things during your life. That's where I am, making beauty. And when ugliness becomes beauty, it is more beautiful than any other beauty. Don't avoid the broken places. If you seek my beauty, go to where it is ugly; if you seek my fullness, go to where it is empty; if you seek my revival, go to where it is dead; if you seek happiness, go to where there is much suffering. For there I will be, for there will I work my restoration. Remain in me and embrace the broken places."

Yesterday, around 7:45 am, at our morning flag-raising ceremony, our Headmistress announced in front of the whole school, that a student was found trying to kill herself on Sunday. My stomach instantly went into my mouth. What?! In an angry tone, she then demanded that students not concern themselves with "romance issues." Apparently, most staff presume this young girl was led to this desperate attenmpt due to being troubled by a break-up with her boyfriend. Cultural side note: having a boyfriend or girlfriend is strictly prohibited here, especially at boarding schools where "romance" can lead to pregnancy in a blink of an eye. And pregnancy translates into students being expelled.

Following this disturbing tangazo, a male and female member of our Journalism club proceeded to announce school news - about the netball team being "too lazy" and losing their matches the previous week, as well as mentioning the suicide attempt. I was furious. Raging, I asked to enter the flag circle for an announcement of my own. I begged the male journalism club student to please not make inappropriate announcements as he had just done. Calling our netballers (all girls mind you) "lazy" is completely unacceptable and unfair. Not to mention rude. Why aren't we encouraging one another, I asked the 185 students and 43 staff members? The netballers may not be winning, but they are making the school proud in trying. We need a spirit of encouragement on this campus, not discouragement, I said firmly.

I returned to stand with the staff, still enraged, my blood boiling...and remained in this state the rest of the day. Still am, to be honest. How could we make suicide a laughing matter? How do you think the girl felt who tried to kill herself as these announcements were made about her? Perhaps this is cultural, that the sanctity of life is less is a place where death occurs constantly, without explanation. Laughing at it may be the only consolation they have. But it'll never be humorous to me. Never. As someone who's lost friends and family to suicide, I am deeply pained when I hear of young people weighed down to the point that they'd rather not live. That utter sense of hopelessness DESTROYS me. Moreover, as a social worker here, this is why I'm here - to instill hope in our students, to support and love on them. I felt like a failure, personally and on behalf of the school community - that we had all failed this girl somehow.

Meanwhile, my Tanzanian cohorts were/are blaming this girl for being involved in "romance." It was as if it was her fault having these desperate feelings. I wonder if her feelings have ever been validated...if she's EVER been listened to and had someone say, "I'm so sorry. I feel you. I hear you." My inclination is to think that no - never has she expressed her fears or been felt/truly heard. And this sense of feeling so alone, led her to do what she did.

Needless to say, the cultural differences involved in the response to such an incident frustrate me to no end. Death - particularly suicide - is a totally different entity in this culture. So, how will we respond as a school, as teachers, as staff in TZ? Will we reach out more to the students? Will we look internally, each of us, as to how we can be better "mothers" and "fathers", "sisters" and "brothers" to our students? Or will we blame this poor girl for her hopelessness, jamani. I pray it's not the latter.

As one person walking upstream, I feel as if I'm fighting a current. I can't help but wonder how much difference I can make. But I'll keep fighting all the same. I will not give up hope. And I will do my best to not allow my students to do so either.

"Dear brothers and sisters, I close my letter with these last words: Rejoice. Change your ways. Encourage each other. Live in harmony and peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you."

*2 Corinthians 13:11

This past weekend, our Social Work department hosted the Peace House's very first "Career Panel." Our special guests included my friend Frida Tomito, an A'town resident, currently coordinating exchanges with Arcadia University study abroad and research programs, and Father Jack, a pilot and priest whose parish neighbors the Peace House. The pilot stole the show since most of our students are fascinated by planes as we border the Arusha airport. He had them on the edge of their seats, even showing a DVD of personal footage flying in his Cessna from Austria to Egypt over Sudan and finally landing back in TZ. He encouraged our students to pursue something they're interested in and passionate about as opposed to working for money only; that'll come with time, he explained. Frida pushed the kids to take advantage of this blessing called free (nearly free - each child's family is requested to contribute a mere $20/year for tuition) education.

Jack also encouraged them to read about the career that most tugs at their hearts and minds. If you want to become a pilot, read everything you can on the subject, he advised. Unfortunately, it's nearly impossible for most Tanzanians - especially vulnerable ones - to afford pilot training and certification, but you never know...opportunities could arise later. And you might as well learn about it in the meantime. Being curious: it's an attribute I've been emphasizing as well in my time with the kids. It's not a cultural norm, but I hope to increase the question-asking habit around campus, particularly amongst the girls. From what I've observed so far, it's minimal. But I'm not surprised; this is no different from the other communities I've worked with in TZ. This is the way it is. But it doesn't have to be.

On Sunday, we hosted Muindaji, a local musician, after Sunday service who soothed the students like Sade to tunes like "Africa unite" and other Bob Marley and Otis Redding numbers. It was a hit. He was informed this weekend - after a year of living here - that his name is actually Muindaji (Hunter), not Mwindaji (someone who goes). Hmmm. Better too late than never.

During the Sunday service, which is Lutheran in style (our school land is on Lutheran church grounds), our headmistresses' 2-year old son joined me on my lap. Daniel has officially replaced my previous church cuddling partner in Manga, dada Tumaini. There's just something magical about holding a child on your lap. Throughout the service, he sucked LOUDLY on three to four of his fingers. Precious. And he tried on my watch like it was no big thing. He's fascinated with technology; so far my headlamp, watch and keys have provided great entertainment.

Lutheran we may be, but what about our Muslim students? Where and how do they worship? Hence, my very first question when I arrived to PH. Unfortunately, our hands seem to be tied due to our contractual agreement with the Lutheran church. I wonder if this may be changed. We should at least give the Muslim students the opportunity to worship how they prefer. Most of the staff say they should just be thankful to be here and should adjust accordingly. Unfortunately, we're a far cry from implementing religious freedom, but hopefully with time, things will change.

I was reminded of the last worship I attended (which I forgot to blog about) when I completely forget an offering; having noticed my lack of change, the boy sitting to my left unhaltingly handed me half of his offering so that I could contribute at that altar as we do here. He had the equivalent of 20 cents. So I gave 10 and he gave 10. True generosity. Though no one can deny the insane level of fisadi or corruption in this country - clearly, at the core of most Tanzanians is this seflessness, an almost illogical sense of sharing, giving and loving.

These kids are really growing on me...

"Time is a flowing river. Happy those who allow themselves to be carried, unresisting with the current. They float through easy days. They live, unquestioning, in the moment."

- Christopher Morley

Some students at our Saturday service day, volunteering farming acumen at a local primary school. A large part of my responsibilities includes planning Saturday and Sunday activities.

Our first away netball match at the International School-Arusha. This is the first time our girls had ever worn position-appropriate jerseys, played on a legitimate court and were reffed using international netball rules. Who knew they existed??

Now back to this drumming thing. What?, you ask.

Well, in honor of the new year and my 30th birthday just around the corner, I decided - along with some help/encouragement from my friends - to pursue drumming. Ever since I was a 4th grader at Warren T. Jackson, I've had a strong, unexplicable desire to play drums (too loud, said Mom:). Every time I listen to music, I hone in on the drums. When I dance, it's the beat that takes me away. And here I am, drawn like a magnet to Africa, a continent whose instrument - if one had to choose - would be the drum. Drumming is an essential part of life here, playing a role in every major, cultural event - weddings, funerals, church services, village warning calls, etc. My spirit says go for it. I must give drumming a try. No regrets.

Funny coincidences so far:

-First, a wise woman encouraged me to take drumming lessons; going after a desire that's been left untended will uplift and grow me, right?!

-Second, I attended a wedding where the bride's aunt (50+ years old and wearing a fancy gown, mind you) rocked the drums to "We are Family." She's apparently in a band back in Birmingham. I've never been so awestruck. It was a breathtaking, inspiring performace to say the least.

-Third, last week, I brought my students (pictured above) for netball and soccer matches at a nearby International School and coincidentally, ran into the drumming teacher. What? You have a drumming teacher? Yup. Sign me up.

-Fourth, at a dinner party last weekend, I mentioned my upcoming first lesson and this family brought it to my attention that there's a drum set up for grabs from some family leaving the country! This is getting weird.

And voila, three days after leaving Zanzibar's Music Fest is the inception of my new drumming hobby. I had my first lesson today with Paulus, my instructor, and jamani, was it fun! Who knows, next week, I may even have a drum set in my house so I can brush up on beats at my leisure. My students may be a little shocked to hear my practice sessions. I'll have to select non-study time.

Welcome to our living room; don't mind the drumset.

Follow your inspiration. To what is it calling you?

Colin, Hunter and I at the Zanzibar Music Fest last weekend. Not to be missed.

This is a SMISH. What is a SMISH? I'm still waiting on Webster's to get back to me on that. Please send any inquiries to Sarah Flint.

Kate Scully has just posted her Peace Corps Partnership Project (PCPP). Who's Kate you wonder? Kate serves as the Peace Corps Volunteer doing health education work in my old village of Manga. What's a PCPP? This is like my girls dorm construction project back in 2006 that many of you supported. What's great about PCPPs is that you know every dime you contribute goes straight to the volunteer on the ground. The results are extremely impactful.

Kate is hoping to develop a new center and school to empower orphans/vulnerable kids of Manga and needs support. Developed out of a clear, pressing community need, this project will be implemented by Kate along with community leaders. This project is sure to benefit Manga's community for years to come.

In order to implement this project, Kate must raise $7200 from friends, family and other organizations in the US of A. She and the people of Manga are asking for assistance to turn this project into a reality.

The easiest way to contribute is to go to www.peacecorps.gov/contribute and select her project (Project Number 621-175). The web site is the safest and quickest way to make a donation.

Here's what Kate's written about the project (on PC site):

This project aims to found a Center and School for Orphans that will serve 88 orphans in a village in Tanzania. The center will provide those children who fail their 7th grade exams an opportunity to continue their education through vocational training right in the village where they live.

The school will be a training center for sewing and carpentry skills, and a classroom center for orphans who are still in primary school. The classroom center will help orphans prepare for their end of school exams and learn life skills and health information. Eventually, community members involved with the Center will receive income-generation training so that they can continue to expand the capacity of the Center. The number of orphans that this project hopes to assist is not finite. The school will continue to increase its capacity over the coming years and will, hopefully, help an increasing number of this village’s orphans.

If you're looking for a worthy cause, look no further.

Go Kate go. Najivunia wewe...

This was how I was welcomed back to Tanzania - with a breathtaking view of Mt.Kilimanjaro out the plane window (while Mt. Meru was on my right). I was beaming.

I was then graciously shuttled by Enoch (not to be confused with 'eunoch') and Jenaya in a yellow 4X4 (nicknamed ndizi or 'the banana') to the Peace House campus under full moon light. I insisted on driving down the 5k dirt road to the school, which branches off the main road, eventually leading to the Serengeti plains. I know, I know - what a rebel am I. You don't understand. I was not permitted to drive for 3 years while in the Peace Corps. I feel like have finally arrived. To where? That's yet to be determined. But somewhere. Somehow. I have my driving test tomorrow to receive my official driving permit. It's a whole new world.

Since arriving, I've been settling into my new home, a 3 bedroom house on campus, which I'm sharing with Jenaya. It sits in quite a setting, isn't it? It is.

Our house on left; boarding facilities and dining hall in distance on right.

Karibuni nyumbani! Come visit. You'll be warmly welcomed by my roommate, Jenaya, and I. Promise. Jenaya's serving as the school's Volunteer Coordinator.

My highlight today: our school mini-bus getting stuck in the dirt in front of our house. Mmm. Our bus driver, Osca, a fellow Mbena, went overboard here, his genteel and charm overriding all sensibility. I love the guy. I knew I was at home when I met him. Origally from Iringa, he speaks my old village dialect and couldn't be more genuine. Everytime I use a Kibena greeting, he chuckles...and then translates what I said in Swahili to anyone around willing to listen. He'll be a good friend. Osca's behind the wheel if you can make him out, along with several of our students lending a hand.

The best part of this whole quandary:"God is Great" printed on this sweet bus's front window. Au siyo?

And that about sums up my first few days back in Tanzania. God is great. I'm beyond thankful to be home again and to have this opportunity to empower young people in such a spectacular setting. It feels like a mix of my last two sites: village and city; we're nestled in the peace and quiet of a village, yet we're a 20-minute drive from A'town hustle and bustle. I have to say - this beats living behind a mall.

The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho, a Brazilian author, has changed lives and inspired many. In fact, most of my friends say it was this very book that inspired them to do the Peace Corps, to "give up two years of our lives." Ha.

So, for those of you out there unsure of what's next, at a crossroads of sorts (like me, myself and I) or heck, even if you are sure, let these words refresh and encourage you to keep following your dream, your calling, your PERSONAL LEGEND.

Here's an abridged version of this brilliant book's treasures:

What is a personal calling?

It is God's blessing; it is the path God chose for you here on Earth. Whenever we do something that fills us with enthusiasm, we are following our legend. However, we don't all have the courage to confront our own dream. Why?

There are four obstacles:

1. We are told from childhood onward that everything we want to do is impossible...our personal calling is so deeply buried in our soul as to be invisible. But it's still there. Bado.

2. Love. We know what we want to do, but are afraid of hurting those around us by abandoning everything to pursue our dream. We don't realize that love is just a further impetus, not something to prevent us going forward. We don't realize that those who genuinely wish us well want us to be happy and are prepared to accompany us on that journey.

3. Fear of the defeats we'll meet on the path...we warriors of light must be prepared to have patience in difficult times and to know that the Universe is conspiring in our favor, even though we may not understand how.

4. Fear of losing the dream for which we fought all our lives. The mere possibility of getting what we want fills the soul of the ordinary person with guilt. We forget about all the obstacles we overcame, all the suffering we endured, all the things we had to give up in order to get this far. This is the most dangerous of obstacles because it has a kind of saintly aura about it: renouncing joy and conquest. But if you believe yourself worthy of the thing you fought so hard to get, then you become an instrument of God, you help the Soul of the World and you understand why you are here.

I had a friend who claimed her greatest fear in life is to miss her Personal Legend. For real. Let us not lose hope, our grip on our dreams.

"A poor man is not one without a cent, but one without a dream."

Click on my first link (above on top right of this page) for the dream which I hope to make a reality this August 2008 with friends, Tanzanian and American...

Last week at school, we hosted a much-anticipated seminar on Permaculture. Now, many of you may be wondering, what the heck is that?

Permaculture nutrition is a way of living that's designed to improve human health, the health of our communities, and the health of the environments in which we live. It uses the principles of a sustainable agricultural approach known as Permaculture, and combines it with an understanding of human nutrition. With a firm understanding of both concepts, we can start to meet our needs in a manner that actually strengthens our surroundings, rather than depleting them.

The four basic Permaculture principles are as follows:

*Working with nature rather than against it

*Thoughtful observation rather than thoughtless labor

*Each element should perform many functions rather than one

*Everything is connected to everything else

Teaching Permaculture is a PEPFAR dream because it combines so many of its objectives, namely spreading nutrition education along with care for orphans and vulnerable children and people living with HIV/AIDS (PLWHA).

Let me introduce you to the Permaculture God, if you will, of Peace Corps Tanzania. Enter Peter Jensen (pictured on the left with translator Sommi of Tengeru Agricultural College on his right)

So, why did this guru come to implement this seminar with me and my students at GAVC? First, to educate young Tanzanians (my students) about the many benefits of sustainable agriculture and how to do it. Second, to leave a demo garden, which we created together by hand with jembes, rakes and ratos. In effect, together, we created a balanced, swaled and guilded garden to nourish and educate students, and the community at large, for years to come. That's at least the hope! Now, we await the rains (which by the way, are out of control at the moment) and the sun to do the real work.

Veni. Vidi. Vici. The result: glorious.

Our school garden now boasts corn, soya beans, aloe vera, matembele (potato leaves - full of iron), papaya seedlings, lettuce, swiss chard and chinesi (a local green). More soon on how we reached this point. In short, blood, sweat and tears. Hardly. But sweat and blood, yes! (We had an unfortunate boy sliced on the forehead by a swinging jembe, accidentally of course. Nothing a band-aid couldn't remedy, thankfully)

Playing in waterfalls, the source of Lake Natron (as pictured above with Saitoti). Gracious people. Erupting volcano (Oldonya Longai, Kimaasai for the "Mountain of God"). Goat meat. More goat meat. Lack of water. Scorching sun. Flamingos. Cows. Cow dung. Jumping. Dust. Flies. Singing. Stars.

These are the words that come to mind from my latest journey to the Maasai land to visit my students, two Maasai young men named Saitoti and Julius. We took a school trip to visit their families, their worlds. Experiencing where they come from was so eye opening to me, their teacher. Not that I even began to scratch the surface in my short visit, but I feel like I at least have a better sense of their heritage, what they're proud of and why. I get it much more. And I agree they have a lot to be proud of...

Don't we all wish we were Maasai...at least kidogo?

Like us, most Westerners revere the Maasai. We have a tendency to romanticize the Maasai and their stubborn ways, their reluctance to shed the skin of their rich culture and tradition. We admire it. Right on, fight the power, eh?! We are in awe of a group that actually remain stalwart, standing resolute in a rushing river - not blown over by modern ways - blue jeans, slang, ipods, mixed diets, "American idol"...

But upon living and breathing the boma life, my perspective has altered. I've realized how rough and tough their lifestyle truly is. Now clearly, I can't speak on behalf of all Maasai people, but I observed some serious health conditions, conditions which can be avoided by simple procedures - like washing hands...with soap if possible and by using a pit latrine for human waste, kujisaidia as we say (to help ourselves). I witnessed eye infections so nasty, one girl accompanying us, who serves as a nurse stateside, claimed that the eye would literally be lost if not attended to (the boy was already blind)...and sadly, I doubt it will be attended to, despite our dropping them off at the closest town's clinic doorstep on our way back to Arusha. As the saying goes, you can take a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. In development, you have to be met halfway, or at the least, part-way.

It was fascinating how drastically different this tribe is from the Wabena, who live down in the SW of Tanzania, where I spent my first two years. While the Wabena thrive on being farmers (in fact, you rarely see them without a jembe, or hoe, in hand), the Maasai never farm - not one vegetable or fruit. Period. Think about that. Let that sink in. We may all know that the Maasai are pastoral people, but can you fathom NEVER ever eating vegetables or fruit of any kind? Ever. And yet, they continue to survive on meat and milk alone. Kudos to them for their resiliency. I know I couldn't do it, but hey - different strokes for different folks. It's yet another reminder of how beautifully diverse this world is. It would be a drab place if we were all the same.

I must say though - rice and beans and fruit never tasted so good my first day back home! No more goat for me. I've had enough for now...

Open this Snapfish link for more shots from this adventure, from recent seminars and events at Global Alliance (namely Memory Books), from baking bread with mpishi Eliza and the boys at Mkombozi, na kadhalika:

http://www1.snapfish.com/share/p=94111205240601973/l=354004691/g=13602658/cobrandOid=1000001/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

"Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets. So love the people who treat you right and forget about the people who don't. Believe that everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. No one said it would be easy. Just that it would be worth it."

*Hamisa, a young star who participated in the two latest empowerment seminars offered at our center, was awarded top female participant due to her positive attitude, poignant comments and leadership*

The center which is caring for her currently, Mkombozi, highlighted her in their recent newsletter at the following link in the article titled "A place to call 'home' in Arusha...":

http://www.mkombozi.org/publications/news_story/2008_03_03_news_story_arushagirls_hamisa.pdf

As the article explains, each of Mkombozi's youth have a story to tell and dreams to realize. I thought I'd share that of Hamisa's, which she wrote herself:

----------------------------------------------------------------------

My name is Hamisa Malima. I was born in the Kilimanjaro District. My mother died when I was six months old. My aunt took me to live with her, we were depending on my father and had many problems. My father was bringing us money for our basic needs. When I reached the age of four, my aunt got into trouble and was in the police station for two weeks. At the police station, my aunt had bad stomach pains because she had a wound in her stomach. My father came and got my aunt out of the police station. He helped her to get treatment and finally she got well and left the hospital. My aunt tried hard - every day she went to the market to get us food so that we could survive.

Eventually in 1998, I started my first year of school. I studied until Class 3, when my father told me I should move in with my stepmother. He told me my aunt was having an operation for the second time and there was no other relative that could take me so I could study in the same school. So I transferred to Burka Primary School. Life was not too bad because I was going to school, except my stepmother was not agreeing with me, I don't know why.

I remember in sixth grade, I was coming from school and I met with my father, and he told me that he was ill. I told him not to worry, that God will help him and that he will get better. After two months, my father was still sick, but he wanted to go back to work. One day he was brought from work, dead.

I cried a lot because my father was the one I was depending on for my whole life. When he died, I lost a lot of my plans because there was no other relative who could take care of me and put me through school.

After looking for a place to live, I moved to Musoma (on Lake Victoria) to live with my aunts. When I was living with my aunts, after school I had to sell oranges by the side of the road or at the stand. I went on living like this. When I finished standard seven, I found out I had passed and got accepted to go to a Secondary School in Tarime. But when I was waiting to go to Secondary School, I found out that my name had been stolen and sold. I went to the police to complain about the issue, but they did not take any action. I asked my aunts for fare to go and see my guardians, and they said they had no money.

So I ran away from Musoma because my relatives were showing that they did not want me to return to Arusha but to keep living in Musoma with nothing to do, and my plan was to become a manager for a tourist hotel. I came to Arusha and asked my Mama (guardian) to help me study, she had no money.

I read in the paper about centers who help orphans in Dar es Salaam, but I had no money for the bus fare. Then, one sister brought me to Mkombozi and I asked for help. They listened to my story about my life and now they have taken me in. Now I'm in Mkombozi, and the way I see it, I am reaching my goals.

---------------------------------------------------------

On the second day of our last seminar on Memory Books (Feb 27-29th), we challenged our young participants to review their short and long-term goals and insert them in their own book. Hamisa stood up proudly to share that she had reached her short-term goal of studying Hotel Management and that she was still striving to become a Hotel Manager. She is indeed on the way. Yuko safarini tu. Girls like Hamisa, who have overcome inconceivable obstacles, inspire the rest of us to keep going, reaching...

She wasn't the only one to recount this name-stealing phenomenon. Apparently, it was a common occurence in the last decade and still continues in some places in TZ to date. Can you imagine how hopeless, deflated you would feel if your right to education was taken from you, simply stolen overnight?

Several of my friends and family back home ask why I continue to stay in Tanzania.

Neema's why. Saitoti's why. Hamisa's why.

I've been graced by some pretty amazing responses to my last posting. Thought I'd share these thoughts, touching on development, personal growth and social awareness...Thanks friends:

From my sister Alison:

"I so agree. The bribery/corruption that is so pervasive does create a desperate sense that, once within that downward cycle, it is a Kili-sized struggle to being to go up again. I believe that our economies are as fragile as our psychologies - they both need faith/optimism to keep them going. I absolutely agree with you that we must take care of ourselves in order to take care of others. And every time we smile at one another, we are encouraged that hope is alive, and as long as it is, change can be made.

It is frustrating that after all this time, no action has been taken in Kenya to resolve the political tensions that are only manifesting themselves on the streets and in the economy, rather than in a proper courtroom in line with Kenyan law.

At the same time, I was told that Kikwete just booted a large portion of his Ministry that was supposedly corrupt. Considering what we read in the papers frequently, I am sure they were, and when an African president takes a real stand against corruption, we have a real reason for hope. Continued stands, continued stands. Damn, a body/mind has got to be in shape to do that!!

The loss of hope, despair, darkness, and everything that creeps into our hearts when we begin to see the obstacles that surround us is the enemy.

If it is an everyday battle for myself, someone surrounded by opportunity and support, surely it is an everyday battle for the world. When I would try to put myself in the position of the corrupted and disillusioned that I encountered everyday in Tanzania, I usually concluded that I in their position would be the same or worse. I was often told by Tanzanian aid workers who visited me in Matombo, a village of high population and dismal services, that the people were embittered and how could I possibly continue to do so much work there, where I wasn't appreciated, and where everyone was just out for their posho (portion). Thinking it could just as be me made me scoff at this observation, thank them and say, 'How could I not?'

At the same time as the poverty culture of 'take what you can when you can' pervades in TZ, including the taking of money, bike parts, and even lovers, it certainly doesn't hold true for all. Not there, not anywhere.

For a long time, I saw the same sense of 'take what you can when you can' as a main characteristic of American culture. Of course it is one of the intricacies of human nature.

Marked by the European invasion of Africa, colonial times, and current neo-colonialism, esp. on behalf of the US. Is it fair that we all have cell phones, and that this technology that has changed our world and become so quickly taken for granted could not be operated without Congolese coltan*? If the Congo were getting any money for it, it might be fair. Raising everyone up benefits us more than tearing them down. But these are rules that need to be taught over and over again on the playground, throughout the world. Love them and have empathy for them, but do not tolerate that behavior. I wish you all the best in continued fun, meaningful connections with many people, and many more smiles.."

*For more on coltan, also known as colombo-tantalite ore: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/1468772.stm. Regional analysts say the international demand for coltan - crucial for cell phone production - is one of the driving forces behind the war in the DRC, and the presence of rival militias in the country.

From a Tanzanian blogger named Abraham, currently living in NYC:

"I went to school in Bongo (TZ) till my high school, I don't recognize that cheating or stealing was allowed or ever pervasive as you have mentioned. It is sad, but the fact is that fabric of my society is coming apart at the seams, as it never used to be that way. Yes, partly is due to acceleration in poverty, and a lot of aids victims, families can't afford to raise their extended family, but in the past the entire country most resembled the values of togetherness you saw in Manga.

I came to US for education without my parents' or government support, as none was in position to help. But teachers and my parents' guidance made all the difference in the world. Walimu walikuwa wakali sana enzi hizo, that was in the ninety's. Bongo is now just being swamped by capitalist ideals, everyone for him/herself, that trend is evidently in the cities. Our politicians have abandoned the ideals of Nyerere CCM, embracing the foreign investment mostly for their own benefit and not for the people. No excuses though, you have to forbid that behaviour in part of your students, at least they have to understand where you stand on that issue, 'Mwalimu Tait mkali huyo' lol, and please talk to head teacher about your concerns. You certainly are making a difference some days are tough, but don't throw your hands in the air and give up, continue making a difference even if it is just that one kid."

From my bud Chris:

"...in Hermann Hesse's "Siddhartha", Siddhartha says that when setting out to achieve a goal, his path is like a stone in the river. He seeks the goal as the stone seeks the bottom of a river, his straightest path possible. Thing is, the waters can be treacherous and they may carry and toss you a bit before you hit that spot. But there is no doubt, once the calm waters appear, you will have found your place. So find your bliss and like you said, do what you gotta do to feel fulfilled and happy. This doesn't mean an automatic divergence from everyone on a selfish path; it means that paths will converge and people will go together when they follow their bliss. Maybe I got too much Joseph Campbell in me, but I think that can apply at any point in anyone's life."

And Lisa:

"On topic of people not being held accountable for their behavior (stealing, dishonesty) Kofi Annan recently said in Kenya that it's just not ok that things like this happen every few years (though not on this scale before) and no one is ever prosecuted or brought into account...yes, I lift my eyes to the mountains with you."

And from lovely RPCV Kate Raum, the one and only:

"I've just read your blogs (mine and friend Jen's which is amazing - you should check out - titled "i just wanted to know": http://jenintanzania.blogspot.com). You both are such eloquent, honest writers. You capture the spirit of Tanzania and the emotional tug-of-war of Peace Corps volunteer life perfectly. I love that you are taking your third years and successfully expanding on what you learned in the first two. I am proud and envious. I'm in awe that I was ever in the same place, experiencing the same things. I miss Tanzania so much right now it hurts.

Being home hasn't been easy, but I can tell you if you ever decide to come back, this is how I view my service now that I'm here: I am intensely proud to be a Peace Corps volunteer. Reading your blogs and recently rereading my own letters home makes me stand a little taller and realize that what we did and what you're doing really IS amazing, really IS noble. I remember all those feelings: why am I here, is it worth it. The answer is absolutely without a doubt YES. If for nothing else, for ourselves. Yes, I desperately miss Mama Sauli, baby Kate is growing up without me there to watch, and it's incredibly difficult to be living a life where my Peace Corps friends aren't readily available. But I am so grateful to have those experiences at all. I have the memories, I have a part of me that's sacred, and I know that, while I wasn't saving street kids' lives and teaching them valuable technical skills:), I have experienced life and the power of the human spirit. So Tait, if you can't take anything else from your endeavors at the moment, at least you have that. It is so important."

Here's to that one kid, Abraham, and to experiencing the beauty of the human spirit, Kate. So true! Thanks for you all's encouragement. Tupes.

*My kids getting ready for the Kili 5K on March 2! We're stretching here, about to go out for our weekly Wednesday jog. Run Leyeyo run...*

I’m officially entering my 6th month in the big city of A’town and while missing Manga, my old village, doesn’t sting as much, I still miss that life dearly.

I recently received the following phone message from my friend, Kate, who replaced me at my site, which sums up my longing perfectly, succinctly:

“I just bucket-showered with fresh rainwater by a crank lantern overlooking the sky spackled with moonlight. I ate an entirely homemade dinner with a fresh, salted avocado for dessert to frogs and crickets serenading. I’m now reading a book by candlelight with Nyota (my old dog I so graciously passed down to her – okay, she may say otherwise; Nyota’s a bit on the hyper side...until 8 pm and then, she’s absolutely lovely) cuddling at the bed’s end...how will I ever live in America again?”

Precisely. And sometimes I ask myself, how can I be living in Arusha? No, I enjoy Arusha, but jamani, do I miss that life, that beautiful life!

Some differences I’ve noted so far between Northern and Southern TZ:

• Tanzanians own cars up here! And they have business cards

• Chai or a cup of tea costs 500 TSH (50 cents), which is more than double the price down south. Most fruits and vegetables are double or triple the cost from Makambako's soko

• No stars are visible :( I miss village stars

• Street slang is a whole new language I gotta learn (“Voda fasta!” “Longer longa”!)

• I am late here (my village meetings started roughly 2 hours later than announced; so where as I was accustomed to a 2 hour late factor; it’s now 15 minutes tops! I was left last week by my boss for being 3 minutes late. No joke)

• My neighbors are almost all United Nations staff from countries like the Congo, Kenya, Burkina Faso, etc. and are not so down for cooking ugali in their kitchens with me :)

• There’s no more need to start boiling bath water 2 hours in advance – now a hot shower is a flip of a switch! Hot water heaters are a beautiful thing

• Locals eat meat daily here whereas in Manga meat-eating was a treat reserved for special holidays like Christmas and weddings. Full stop.

To clarify, this Northern region (Arusha and Kilimanjaro) is where the top 2% of Tanzanians reside, from a financial and education standpoint. Some days I feel like I’m in a different country.

*Falls just outside of Moshi in Uru village - a great day trip*

On the upside, Arusha offers many advantages such as: a varied social life (Kumbe! What’s that? say all the PCV’s in the house :) my ‘old social life’ - if you can call it that - consisted of a monthly rendezvous at the Chani hotel in my banking town and bike ride overnights at Amanda’s, my closest neighbor’s, site – not complaining here as those were good times; just please note the word “varied”), amazing weekend options in gorgeous natural surroundings like hiking Mt. Longido, Mt. Meru, visiting natural springs and even wine tastings, like last week at a local lodge set along a river, and being intellectually challenged at work and in general, surrounded by a more educated group of Tanzanians. The latter may be what I most appreciate. It's certainly a nice step for my career if I am serious about pursuing International Development, in addition to crucial for my thesis research (the electricity and ubiquitous access to the internet helps, too).

*On the top of Mt. Longido near the Kenyan border with Samantha, good friend and co-worker*

My new life in the big city – and more specifically in my new house (with running hot water and electricity) - also translates into having more guests (mostly Peace Corps), which is of course enjoyable, but means a heck of a lot less reading and writing time by candlelight, which I cherished in Manga. So to those of you noticing a slump in the writing department, that’s why. Pole. And if I’m not hanging out with my guests, I may be eating out with friends or people I work with – again, this is new for me. Most of my nights are now filled. Ahh, urban life vs. village life – what a difference! I’m experiencing a new side of Tanzania and despite my whining, I am grateful for all that it’s teaching me.

*On the hike to the falls - with new friends Pearl and Adam*

On a more personal level, I’ve definitely been tried of late by an overarching lack of integrity at my school and around town. It’s something I’ve noticed since the early days in TZ, but that I was able to deal with because it was on a smaller, less noticeable level in the village (aside from the rapings/forced sex of girls by male teachers and older men). Honesty and ‘being true’ is something I’ve realized I value to the extent that it pains me when others don’t – to the point that I take it personally. For instance, I have a hard time forgiving the kids I’m giving my ALL to every day when they steal bike parts, food or what have you from school. Essentially, they are robbing themselves. They are stealing the items which would have gone to their own betterment (i.e. the bike parts would have fixed a bike they in turn would have sold, the profit of which would cover their own teachers’ salaries, as well as the breakfast and lunch they receive every day)...but clearly, they’re not thinking this way.

The more I’ve sat and ruminated on this frustration, the more I’ve realized that Tanzanian people are never taught integrity as a quality to value really; therefore, somehow they are not to blame for this behavior. I know this may sound crazy to some, but it’s true. There’s no such thing as an honor code (sorry for all you Westminster alums out there:); cheating is rampant in schools. Teachers have even been known to help their students cheat because it augments their reputation, as well as the school’s which in turn, secures their job, their monthly paychecks.

Moreover, there are very few, if any, consequences for cheating and lying. It’s overlooked by most and forgiven...and thus, the next day, it continues. The vicious cycle persists in homes, schools, businesses and in society at large which is clearly a major cause for the country’s high HIV/AIDS prevalance. Faithfulness to one partner is so rare, the practice is practically scoffed at. Few Tanzanians believe that a man or a woman could possibly remain with one person forever.

Stealing, lying and cutting corners is a way of life for most here – as it is for many living in extreme poverty; “being dishonest” (moral relativism eh?) may mean their child eats more than 1 meal per day or that they can afford secondary education: meeting basic needs, in other words. Can I blame a mother for stealing food to feed her starving child or the orphaned boy who steals an item (like fly wheels from our bike shop, say, because this is what actually occurred last month at school) he can sell in town to buy himself some shoes?

Sure, these dishonest ones may claim they’re Christian or Muslim, but they seem to overlook the simplest of commandments like not stealing or committing adultery. Even the most religious, educated, professional (government workers, for example), and seemingly dependable of Tanzanians take great freedom in these departments – so much so that it makes it difficult to live and work here. Who can I trust?

And what am I to do? Do I respond as many expatriates do who have spent years in country and view this downfall as merely “a cost of living” in Tanzania? Should I forgive my kids for stealing...again? When is enough enough? Should I give in to bribery and see it as “just the way it is”? I have a hard time doing this morally. I guess I need to choose my battles and find that line - that thin line of when I should take a stand and when I should just let it go and forgive...that, and focus on all the positives aspects which outweigh this negative part of life in Tanzania. I may have come to country an optimist, an idealist, but I'm growing into more of a "realist optimist," it seems; losing some naivite isn't all that bad...

A close friend asked me recently if I ever get tired and want to throw in the towl. Yes, I do, especially on days when my most precious values are challenged, when my kids don't seem to care or appreciate my efforts, or when I see hopelessness in their eyes. Those are tough days.

I have a similar sentiment coming face to face with a street kid downtown glazed over, high on glue - without an ounce of hope in his body, not a soul caring for him in the world. Or when I visit students' homes and find 10 people are sleeping in a 1 room shack, often flooded by rains and muck...the mom HIV positive...her 18 year old son already the father of a child and his girlfriend preparing to deliver again soon. And they're eating one meal a day, if they're lucky. Or interviewing potential students, youth ranging from 18 to 21 years of age (as I did this last Thursday), who are still sitting at home without a thing to do, jobless since they graduated from 7th grade 5 years or more ago. Just sitting. Waiting. Deciding who's the most vulnerable for our next intake of students is laughable, really. Who's not vulnerable? Sometimes I wonder, where is God?

And I get tired more often when I'm not taking care of myself, doing what I need to do to stay balanced. It may come across as selfish, but this is what I've discovered is the secret to not burning out and becoming totally overwhelmed by the injustices of life here as a Peace Corps volunteer, as a person living and serving abroad...and perhaps for life in general: the more we take care of ourselves, the more we can take care of others.

*Magnificent Mt. Meru. Reminds me who's boss. Yupo*

*Our Women's panel stars: Nurse/Comedian Margaret Olumbe, Nurse Winifrida and Mama Mosha, head facilitator and founder of local NGO, Women in Action (WIA)*

Girls Empowerment Seminar #1 successfully completed this month at school (Jan 11-13) with over 100 kids participating. Phew. It was a handful, but well worth it, as seminars usually are. The highlight was definitely the Women's panel on the last day where 2 Tanzanian nurses, full of spunk and attitude, shared with our kids on a plethora of issues from AIDS testing to masturbation. The older mama and special guest, oozing with confidence, even danced and sang for the crowd on request; she brought the house down with her humor and genuine concern for young people. Also, shukrani za dhati to fellow PCV Jen "New York" Harding for starring on the panel. Even wazungu represent!

*Students doing a skit on sharing housework responsibilities between boys and girls, mother and father - part of the learning from the segment on gender roles and equality. Our guests, even "New York", look(s) quite frightened in the background. They're just acting!*

The theme for Peace corps-sponsored seminar #2 was just agreed upon: Memory Books for Orphans and Vulnerable Kids. We're hoping to implement this at the end of February. And I'm crossing my fingers more PCV's will be able to assist me in the endeavor (especially since many of us were trained on this method last year in Iringa with our counterparts). The more the merrier.

*Game time outside with all 100 participants - that was interesting*

Perhaps you're wondering, what in the heck is a "memory book"? It's an innovative new technique of psychosocial support for vulnerable youth. For more on memory books, go to http://info.worldbank.org/etools/docs/library/162495/sector/memorybook.htm:

Another tool for communication is the Memory Book, which was recently introduced in Zimbabwe. Originating in Uganda, the memory book is a journal of facts and memories for children who are facing loss or separation from a parent, including divorce, any terminal illness or adoption, and it is appropriate for any culture or background. If children are separated from their parents, memories and identity tend to fade. The Memory Book is an attempt to keep the memories alive and strengthens the child’s sense of belonging.

The parent or caregiver fills in information and personal stories under different headings, including “My favourite memories of you,” “Your health,” “Information about your father,” “Family traditions and special events,” and “The family tree.” As the introduction of the book states, it helps “children to understand the past and move on to a more secure future.” It is a photocopiable resource, which makes it affordable and easy to distribute to parents and carers.

There are various ways of completing the memory book. The parent can complete it and then go through it with the child or the child can help in its completion. An important aspect of the book is that the child has the opportunity to ask questions about its history and future. If the parent wishes, the book can include input from other family members, photographs and other memories to remind the children of life before the separation from their family.

The Memory Book is a tool to help the parent and the child to deal with the past, present and future of the child. As it is common for orphaned children to be moved into a different area, the book serves as a reminder of their roots so they do not lose their sense of belonging. Disclosing the parents’ HIV status is not the main goal of the book, but it does allow the opportunity to talk about HIV and facilitates disclosure to other family members.

The book is also beneficial with regard to HIV prevention, because the children witness and understand the ordeal the parent is going through and do not want to repeat it. Mothers in Zimbabwe who have learned about the Memory Book from the Positive Women’s Network say it made them aware of their children’s fears about the future. By discussing the book, they were able to talk about who the child can turn to with questions and problems, and their children could be part of the decision on where they will live after the bereavement, both of which empower the children by giving them choices. Talking about death ahead of time affords the children the opportunity to test the decision of where to live over the holidays to see if it would actually work.

Talking to children about death and dying is difficult for all parties involved. It brings out sensitive issues that the parent may not be ready to deal with. For example, one mother was filling out the Memory Book when she came to the page on the history of the father and said, “How do I tell my child about his father if I don’t even know who he is?” This and other similar problems indicate a need for additional counseling for parents while working on the book or of adapting the book format.

“By talking to your children about the future and teaching them how to take care of themselves, you create empowered orphans who can live on their own even if they’re 8.It is important to teach children that life isn’t always rosy, but that they are able to deal with the most difficult situations.”

Chipo Mbanje, Positive Women’s Network, Zimbabwe

*My boys having fun, borrowed my camera :)*

And some inspiration from Bono from his book/speech "On the move":

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives. GOD IS WITH US IF WE ARE WITH THEM."

"If you remove the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger and speaking wickedness, and if you give yourself to the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness and your gloom will become like midday and the Lord will continually guide you and satisfy your desire in scorched places" - Isaiah 58:9-11

*Lunchtime at Seminar*

In a ploy to have friends come visit me before I complete my service this coming Fall 2008, please read the following review of the magical place known as A-town, the local's term for Arusha. I recently learned that Arusha is also the Hindi name for "the rising sun":

Arusha is a city of northern Tanzania surrounded by some of Africa's most famous landscapes and national parks. Beautifully situated below Mount Meru (pictured above - a brilliant 3 day climb to the top) on the eastern edge of the eastern branch of the Great Rift Valley, it has a pleasant climate and is close to Serengeti, Ngorongoro Crater, Lake Manyara, Olduvai Gorge, Tarangire National Park, and Mount Kilimanjaro, as well as having its own Arusha National Park on Mount Meru. Arusha is the capital of the Arusha Region and has a population of 270,485 (2002 census).

Despite its closeness to the equator, Arusha's elevation of 1400 m (4600 ft - just like Highlands, NC:) on the southern slopes of Mount Meru, keeps temperatures down and alleviates humidity. Cool dry air is prevalent for much of the year. The temperature ranges between 55 and 86 degrees Fahrenheit with an average around 77. It has distinct wet and dry seasons, and experiences an eastern prevailing wind from the Indian Ocean, a couple of hundred miles east.

Arusha is considered to be one of the best African cities when it comes to great weather and tourism combined. I SAY. Need you hear more?

Arusha's clock tower is supposedly situated at the midpoint between Cairo and Cape Town, therefore representing the halfway point between the two termini of the old British Empire in Africa. The clock tower is currently adorned by the logo of the Coca-Cola Company (Atlanta oyay!). Arusha was also the setting for the 1962 film Hatari! directed by Howard Hawks and starring John Wayne.

Clearly, Arusha is reputed as being one of the most pleasant cities in the world, due its exquisite weather, location, beautiful countryside and lively music scene, notably Tanzanian hip-hop. Mostly performed in Swahili, with various genres influenced by African American music, locally known as Bongo Flava. A good example of this genre is the band X Plastaz, with singers like Bushoke, Mr.Blue, TID, etc.

The wonderous city of Arusha is quite known for its vibrant night life, with outstanding live reggae shows and local night clubs. There's rumor that even Joshua Radin may be coming soon to play at Via Via, a local bohemian cafe set back in the woods...

Kweli.

For those of you more interested friends, please note that Arusha is conveniently served by Kilimanjaro International Airport (KIA) for international travellers, a mere 60 km east, approximately halfway to Moshi. You could walk that! (Okay, maybe only crazy Peace Corps volunteers would...) The airport provides international and domestic flights (if you wanted to fly into Dar es Salaam, say, and then fly up here - also a possibility). The most recommended flight from the US - KLM via Amsterdam. You'll be in Arusha before you can say the word: jamani!

Keep me in mind this New Year, friends - it's your last chance to come visit me in TZ (my PC contract ends around Sept 2008)! Take advantage of your local tour guide, i.e. moi. Whether you be photographer, passionate about orpan care/support, climbing Kili, visiting the plains of the Serengeti, or adventuring in general, karibuni sana.

One of my star students, Neema, kneeling in front of the energy-efficient stove she built outside her bedroom window. I've been hanging out with her a lot this holiday; her place is a mere 10 minute walk from mine. She's a single orphan, living with her mom in quite a tough home environment, as her mom provides the neighborhood with local brew, called mbege, or banana beer, at 25 cents/cup. Essentially, this girl lives in a bar with a kanga (local cloth) serving as the only barrier to her bedroom from the living room full of (drunk) clients. As with so many young girls and women here, I am in awe of her resilience.

"What is the purpose of life, but to make it less difficult for each other?"

-G.Eliot

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He/she to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his/her eyes are closed." -Einstein

To much wonder in 2008...

http://www.peacecorps.gov/multimediapages/photos/index.cfm?gallery=worldaidsday

The second shot in this collection of winning photos is of my kids in Manga during our HIV/AIDS Soccer Camp this past March in Manga (see March blog entry). Thanks again to my village leaders, Onesmo, and rockstar PCV Emma Jones for their help in making that seminar a reality. The kids loved it. Clearly.

The other pictures chosen are amazing and it's inspiring to see such honorable work going on all over the world to fight against this deadly disease, to empower those affected and infected to live positively and to equip, encourage young people with the skills to protect themselves. It makes me feel less alone knowing that so many other people are striving to do the same work, sharing the same vision...

Also, Fema magazine recently highlighted a picture from the same HIV/AIDS Soccer Camp in their November/December 2007 issue (http://www.chezasalama.com):

UwAjIBIkAjI kwA MABALOZI wA FEMINA HIP

Balozi wa Femina HIP, Onesmo Lyandala katikati aliyevaa

suruali akiwa na wanafunzi wa shule za msingi katika kijiji

cha Manga mara baada ya kumalizika kwa semina ya

siku tatu ya mafunzo ya kujikinga na maambukizi ya Virusi

vya Ukimwi kupitia michezo. Semina hiyo iliandaliwa

na kuendeshwa na Balozi huyo kwa kushirikiana na Emma

Jones wa Peace Corps na kushirikisha wanafunzi 60. Huo

ni mpango aliojiwekea Onesmo katika kuwaelimisha vijana

juu ya masuala mbalimbali kuhusu afya, ujinsia, mahusiano

pamoja na mitindo bora ya maisha, VVU na Ukimwi. Good!

Mabalozi wengine tupeni taarifa zenu, bila shaka mnafanya

kazi nzuri pia.

The best part is that the blurb above in Swa gives PCV Emma Jones all the credit for leading the camp. Truth be told, it was a joint effot. No one can argue that Emma Jones is a star, lakini. Cheers to you, EJ. And rock on Manga village. If they only knew about all the publicity they're getting!

Tupo pamoja.

In honor of my Uncle Scott Davidson...

Tribunals are ongoing here in Arusha at the Africa International Conference Center (AICC). The International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) was established by the Security Council of the United Nations to prosecute persons responsible for genocide and other serious violations of international humanitarian law committed in the territory of Rwanda between January - December, 1994. After a mere 15 minute ride from my house, one can enter the halls of the monstrous AICC compound after showing identification and sit it on one of the live trials of those accused of genocide involvement. Amazing, really. As I keep being reminded, "I'm no longer in Kansas (i.e. Manga, kijijini) anymore"....

Some of my PC friends joined me there for 2 consecutive days after our Thanksgiving celebration in Singida (a town SW of Arusha - shout out to Kate Raum and Abdallah, babu wetu!). After observing a non-eventful case on Monday, we returned the following day for a judgement of a gentleman named "Simba." It was an appeal of a case that had begun back in 2002 following his arrest in 2001 in Senegal. This man was accused of involvement as a miliary colonel. He was indeed found guilty as charged and sentenced to 25 years imprisonment before our eyes.

What I enjoyed most was the diversity of lawyers, judges, guards and other workers in the courtroom, from all over the world, from every continent; for example, the trial chamber judges hail from Saint Kitts, Pakistan, Tanzania, Norway, Fiji, Madagascar, Russia, Argentina and Sri Lanka. Moreover, I was able to listen to the case with headphones offering French, English or KiRwanda. It's a phenomenal example of people uniting against impunity. My only complaint: inefficiency. In the 10 years since the tribunal's initiation, over $1 billion dollars have been spent with only 33convictions resulting. Enough said. And we wonder why life is so expensive in Arusha...or why many locals have the impression that all wazungu are rich. A lot of that has to do with the United Nations' presence, which most Tanzanians I've spoken with, resent greatly.

Singida, our locale for Thanksgiving festivities, surprised me - there IS water, first of all (most Tanzanians claim that Singida is a dustbowl, starving for H20). In fact, it boats a beautiful lake, Lake Singida, whose circumference my dada, Saraben, and I decided to challenge. We failed. Let me preface our journey with the fact that we were informed by residents (yes, by people who live there) that the walk around the lake's edge would only require a 2 and a half hour committment. This was clearly false. After 2 long hours, we quenched our thirst at a local mission with some Catholic nuns (Kate - the water was full of sand, might I add - I have been enlightened and am even more empathetic to the way you spent 2005-07:), puzzled with our lack of progress. But we kept on marching. We PCVs don't give up easily. When we reached a segment of rocks protruding into the lake but not quite far enough to allow us to cross, we realized we may have bitten off a bit more than we could chew; it appeared as if we had roughly 5 more hours of strenuous walking had we continued at this point. Hence, time to re-evaluate. Our pow wow offered the following options:

1-Return to the nuns and beg them for a ride back to town, which they may or may not be able to provide, especially with gas prices as astronomical as they are currently

2-Keep on walking and hope to return to our host, who lives on the lake, by dark??? Maybe (a plethora of question marks and optimism here)

3-Try to find a fisherman who could paddle the carved-out-of-tree-trunk canoes that we'd noticed lakeside to the opposite side of the lake for a small fee

*The one and only, Saraben, and me doing "the Saraben face" (I'm trying to tu)*

As you could probably guess, we went for option #3. And it makes for a great story. I will paint an abridged version - we kindly begged some kids for the nearest fisherman/paddler. They ran to get them. They came to greet us. We talked. We shmoozed in Swahili. We agreed on the price tag of $4 for the supposed hour ride. They then walked (...slowly) to procure the biggest canoe, one which they claimed could accomodate 6 people. When it finally arrived 40 or so minutes later, we jumped in, Saraben donning a nice Pocahontas look with her feather and bronzed skin. Then, we entertained ourselves with camp songs as we prayed that there really weren't any crocodiles as someone had teased. We struggled to judge where the house was that we had stayed in for the last 2 days - harder than you might think when the sun's in your face. Once we located the house, we were in good spirits and starting singing louder, hoping our friends might get a peek of our adventurous return. No luck however - we ended up having to text a friend to come and meet us at the shore. He was a lucky man - the first to take in our soaking wet wowowos (behinds). The best part - we didn't change clothes. All night.

I am quite keen on how this life, this work requires you to go with the flow. It's compulsary. There's no way around it - one must be flexible and embrace the unknown, adventure. There's never any knowing what each day brings here and I LOVE THAT.

*My boys after our first soccer match. Note to self:they like having uniforms - they insisted on keeping them on for Talent Show and subsequent dance party at school*

Tumaini Porter Training - first summit of Kilimanjaro - latest update: 23 out of 26 summitted all the way to Uhuru Peak! I'm leaving tomorrow morning to meet my kids at the gate after their 7 day experience on the magnificent mountain. 15 boys and 10 girls participated and were required to carry at least 18 KG for training purposes. They will each be paid $10/day for future ascents as porters - the highest rate offered in Tanzania for portering, thanks to our partner, Rift Cross Safaris. We're currently working on developing a long-term training program so that the most proven porters have opportunities to continue on to professional guiding school.

*My boys with a local car mechanic guest speaker*

Happy December and World AIDS Day to all. Let us remember all who are infected and affected...

"The larger an area of light, the greater the circumference of darkness that surrounds it" -Einstein