Back To Reality....

Bright and early we all met at Friend’s corner. I was late, as usual since I’ve adapted so well to the African pole pole nature. Since I hadn’t been back to Camp Moses since my trip to Zanzibar, I was a little behind on what was all going on with regards to the care of our kiddies. Two extra girls were waiting at the corner and I was told they were from a separate organization that was interested in taking care of the cost of Joseph’s post-operative care. I had my first maternal instinct ever when I saw these strangers holding my babies and pretending like they knew them when I was positive they didn’t. I just wanted to take Joseph and Bryson from their arms and hold them and protect them and make sure they were safe.

We loaded the bus and I wasn’t surprised when the new girls, who were American, ensured the babies sat on their laps and insisted on giving them too much sugar. The most frustrating thing was that they didn’t acknowledge how much Caroline, another volunteer, and I knew about these kids already and they didn’t bother to ask what we had already done for them. They just assumed we were all starting from square one. I napped as usual for the remainder of the trip and gladly got off the stuffy, stinky bus when we came to Moshi.

On their last trip to Moshi they had already gotten an ultrasound for Joseph and we were ready to admit him. While we were waiting around and getting all of his papers in order, the American and I started talking. We talked about the organizations we had come with, how long we had been in Tanzania for (I was at 2 months, herself, 2 days), and then we got onto the topics of university. I told her I was going into my second year, she insisted that I wasn’t, and then asked how old I was. After I told her my age, she said, “Oh wow, you’re just a baby. You don’t really know what’s going on, do you?”. From that point forward I really didn’t like her. Not only did I not like her, but also I felt for the first time since being in Africa that I needed to prove myself to someone.

Frustrated with her, I left and went to pester Dr Afrika into coming to meet us. He ensured that there was a bed for Joseph in the urology wing of the hospital. We got Joseph and Mama Lydia settled into their new bed before worrying about Bryson. We paid the 65,000 shillings for Josephs stay and said our goodbyes. Starving, Caroline and I grabbed some lunch/dinner while the American volunteers went with Bryson to the eye clinic. If they had listened before, they would have known that he had already been to an eye doctor and had no problems with his eyes. Dinner was a little tense when they came back with Bryson and we attempted again to explain what we had done. With full bellies, we made our way back to the bus station and came home to Arusha. Frustrated that a) it had been a 14 hour day and b) that I had experienced ageism in Africa, I called my girlies and had them meet me at Africafe for a hot fudge sundae. Two of my girls had just gotten down from summiting Kilimanjaro so we all had lots to talk about.

We went back to Moshi the next day, relieved to finally be able to go at 9 am (I’m really not a fan of early mornings). Andrea had finished her placement and was looking for something to do, so came with Caroline and I to Moshi. I slept the ride away and was so overjoyed to see that my baby was still okay at the hospital. We bought Mama Lydia and Joseph lunch, made sure they had plenty of fruit and water in the room and enough money for food until Monday when we were planning on coming back. Relieved at the idea of a short trip after the marathon of a day we had the day before, we headed back to Arusha. After dinner, to celebrate a good day, we all went to the movies to see Prince of Persia. Terrible movie, but still fun!

It was heart wrenching to leave my baby behind at KCMC, but I knew this was the first step into getting the right care. So much emotion was intertwined throughout the day, it didn’t feel like I was in Africa anymore. The more reflection I do on my trip and the changes I’ve seen in myself I realize how much I love the culture here. It has really become a part of me, and I hope I can bring the ‘pole pole’ or slow and relaxed methods back to my life in Canada.

Stone Town

Sunday morning, with very little sleep, I woke up determined to fully embrace the last day I had as a beach bum. I made my way to the beach, memorizing the brilliant blue of the ocean and the soft squish of the white sand between my toes. Nothing felt as perfect as the heat of the sun beating down and the ocean breeze blowing over. Begrudgingly, Cassie and I packed up our stuff and left Kendwa Rocks at 11 that afternoon. We got a taxi and headed to Stone Town.

The narrow, winding roads and brilliantly aged and intricate architecture made it feel like we had driven into a completely different part of the world. After our taxi driver expertly navigated the streets to our hotel, we dropped our bags and anxiously headed off to first find some food, then to explore.

While we were in Kendwa, we carefully studied the map of Stone Town, debating which hotel location would be most suitable to our plans. We decided on Mazsons, which was located fairly centrally. Our plan of attack was to start at one end of the town, close to the ocean, and walk alongside the water, venture into a few museums and do a bit of souvenir shopping. We figured that we would make it to the restaurant we wanted to have dinner at around 6 pm or so, as it was on the complete opposite end of town. After our delicious Italian lunch, we set out to accomplish just this.

As we walked, we were constantly side tracked by little shops and fantastic views. After finding the Old Fort and a few museums as well as the rose garden we noticed that we had only walked about 20 minutes, and were already halfway through the town. In another 10 or so minutes, we had made it to the port which was also where our restaurant was.. So much for the hours we thought we would be walking. Looks like mom's map reading skills didn't come through in my genes. Layner, guess you got 'em.

Since we had rushed ourselves a bit, worried we wouldn't get to the restaurant before dark, we back tracked a bit and successfully shopped our way through the twisted town. I bought spices galore and real vanilla, Hammer pants and some amazingly scented teas and coffees. We dropped off our bags at the hotel, did a quick change, and walked to Mercury's Restaurant for dinner.

Freddy Mercury, the old lead singer from Queen, had supposedly been born in Zanzibar. The restaurant Mercury's capitalized on his name and provided a perfect ocean view sea-food experience. Cassie and I watched the sun set (oh so romantic) and the ferries come in, while Germany (I think) was defeated in the World Cup. After dinner we found the night market. It was set up in the central park type area of Stone Town, and probably a hundred or so vendors had set up food stations all around. They sold everything from fresh seafood to Zanzibar pizzas, which were just crepes folded and filled with chicken, beef, and even Nutella and bananas. Even though we had gorged ourselves at dinner, Cassie and I still managed to devour a dessert pizza.

Content but exhausted, we sunk into our beds and fell asleep in our first air conditioned room since Rwanda. The next morning we ate breakfast and wandered around a bit before grabbing an iced coffee and a taxi. Off to the airport once more, our mini vacation was over. After an hour of waiting in a disgustingly stuffy and humid airport lounge, we boarded the tiny plane and waved goodbye to the most relaxing four days of our journey.

Our favorite taxi man was waiting for us when we landed in Arusha. We were greeted into the town by disgustingly congested roads and the hottest weather we had seen for almost the whole time we've been here. Stinky and all travelled out, we grabbed a burger at our favorite cafe and made our way home.

I realize how far behind I am on keeping this updated.. But I'm working hard on getting myself all caught up! I've got some great stories from the past couple weeks. Can't wait to share them!

Kendwa

Thursday morning Cassie and I grabbed our bag(s) (one backpack each, we've gotten really good at packing light), hopped in the cab and headed to the airport. Airing on the side of caution, we got to the airport an hour and a half or so early. The airport is about the same size, if not smaller, than the one in Penticton. One runway, a few planes sitting here and there, and no indoor waiting area. We 'checked in', which entailed showing the piece of paper that said our flight times, and sat in the little waiting area beside the tarmac. Our backpacks had little tags put on them and sat beside us, waiting to board.. We went through security/a metal detector and walked over to our plane. Cassie and I gawked in something that resembled confusion as we took our seats.. We could literally reach in front of us and touch the control panel. It was even more surprising when the last of the nine passengers got on and sat in the co-pilot seat.

It was a beautiful, bumpy and fast flight to Zanzibar, over the Indian Ocean. As we drooled out the window at the crystal blue water, it felt like we were heading to the Caribbean and not the coast of Tanzania. As soon as we touched down and the pilot opened his window, we were overwhelmed by the heat. Finally! Lately, the weather in Arusha had been calling for jeans and sweaters. Not the Africa you'd expect. Anyways, we got off the plane, grabbed our bags and slid into a taxi.

An hour and a half later, we got to Kendwa Rocks. For $30 a night, the two of us stayed in paradise. At least a mile of white sandy beaches was less than a minute from the door of our room and the resort's bar and restaurant sat right in the middle of it all. Cassie and I dropped our bags, threw on our bikinis and headed to the water. Food, of course, was our first mission. After stuffing ourselves with pizza and sprite we went to the beach. We soaked up every last bit of sun before it set, then called it a day. After a long, hot shower, we changed and headed for dinner. 'World Cup Fever' had definitely infected all of Kendwa and we ate our dinner to the persistent buzz of vuvuzelas. We headed to bed early, ensuring we'd be up with the sun, ready for a full day of beaching!

Friday morning we headed down to the beach to scope out what we could fill our days with. After breakfast we went over to the snorkeling place and lucked out that they had ordered extra food for the boat that left at 9:00, meaning we could head out! We tried on some flippers and climbed onto the dhow; the traditional African fishing boat that looked like it could capsize at any minute. (Papa, it was pretty cool and made entirely by hand.. They are still used today for fishing. You should look it up!). Not even ten minutes into the ride, Cassie and I were asking for the sea sickness pills the guide had told us they carried. Luckily, I nipped my tummy issues in the bud, Cassie wasn't as fortunate. After almost two hours we finally made it to the site where we would snorkel. It was right beside a private island, where you could stay for a measly $2,000 a night.

On the boat there were about 17 or so other people. 8 were going to scuba dive, 5 of us were snorkeling and the rest were guides. We watched as the divers suited up and jumped in, then followed behind them. Turns out I don't like snorkeling at all. The whole not being able to breathe through your nose thing really freaks me out. After being in the water for about 5 minutes, I decided it wasn't really for me. I opted for just the mask and the fins. One of the guides took my by the hand and convinced me to follow him to a reef. He told me when to put my mask down so that I'd see some fishies. It was just like being in Finding Nemo. Yellow fishies, blue fishies, clown fishies and parrot fishies everywhere! We swam right through schools of them.. or at least that's what it seemed like through the magnification the mask provided. I lasted 10 more minutes or so before hauling myself back onto the boat. Cassie and I did a bit of suntanning until the rain came, then we hid for cover. After it passed, I climbed up onto the roof and got one of my first marriage proposals! Pretty exciting. Down below, Cassie wasn't as lucky and was definitely feeling the effects of the ocean. Despite her being sick, we ate lunch and took one more little dip before having a nap while we waited for the scuba divers to come back from their second dive.

Even though the trip back was much quicker, as the waves had calmed down, we still felt like kissing the ground once we landed on the beach. We turned in our flippers and grabbed a beach chair to enjoy the last hour or so of sun the day had in store for us. We had a quick dinner and once again headed to bed early; we needed our beauty sleep for the Full Moon Party the next day.

Saturday morning we didn't skip a beat on our way from our beds to the beach. One book, a little bit of rain, and a lot of sun later, I finished my first full day without a burn! I'm finally getting the hang of the African sun I guess. Before we went down for dinner, Cassie and I booked our hotel room in Stone Town for the next night and tried to take a quick power nap. Unsuccessful in this, we headed down for the big Full Moon buffet. While eating dinner, we joined in cheering for Ghana as they played against the United States, and got up and danced with everyone else when they one. The win led into a high energy evening, with a mix of people from all over the world. Zanzibar is apparently a European tourist hot spot. The dance/Full Moon party was just that, dancing under the full moon until 4 in the morning. Tired and tipsy, Cassie and I headed to bed.

KCMC

6:15 came a lot earlier than I wanted it too. Agrey, our favorite taxi man, had agreed the night before to come pick me up and take me to the bus station. Half asleep the six mzungus, Juliet, Mama Lydia and Joseph, headed off on our little adventure. We pushed our way through the Tanzanian men yelling "Moshi, Dar, Moshi, Dar, where you going mama, where you going sista", and climbed on what looked like a safe bus and took a seat. Before the bus pulled out, I was fast asleep.

Two hours later we arrived in Moshi. Hopped off the bus, got on a dalla dalla and made it to KCMC, Kilimanjaro Christian Medical Center. KCMC is the closest thing to a western hospital that I have seen so far... And this is my third one in Tanzania. Still not sure if I would want to get treated there if something were to happen to me, so let's just hope nothing does. We found our way to urology and took a seat.

After waiting around for about an hour we finally approached a doctor to see what we should really be doing. They informed us that there were never clinics on Wednesdays and we'd have to come back on Friday. We went to the reception desk to confirm and they said no, clincis were only on Thursdays. After talking to three or four other people, we confirmed that the clinic was indeed on Friday and that we would not be able to be seen today.

In a last ditch attempt at making the trip worthwhile, I approached a doctor and asked if there was anyway that our little guy could be seen before we left. Apparently being white has more pull than I thought and before I knew it we were in an exam room with a doctor. Joseph was so good as we splayed him out on the table. The doctor pressed on his lower abdomen and looked around a bit before saying that he believed it was an inverted penis. By this time, I had been pushed to the back of the room and was getting frustrated that the doctor was not seeing what the nurses had previously pointed out to me. I piped up and told him to look at the scar tissue. With this comment, the sea of white overbearing people parted and I made my way to the kiddie. I pointed out the scar leading from his anus through his testicles. The doctor said "oh, I think you may be right". I think that's the moment where I lost most of my faith in the doctors here. He called two more doctors in and they all looked at my baby, then agreed that exploratory surgery was going to be necessary.

The new doctor introduced himself to us as Dr. Afrika and was the one to give us a cost estimate. He said that around 150,000 shillings should cover the bed and surgery costs, and that we should come back Friday to try and secure a bed for our little man. He gave us his cell phone number and asked us to text him if we had any questions. The only catch was we had to talk to him in French. Dr Afrika spoke was from Rwanda, and spoke mostly KiRwandan. After that his best language was French, then Swahili and his English was only good enough to be spoken face to face. Once again, I wish I'd payed a little more attention to Mme Aubin.

We left KCMC happy that at least a little had been accomplished. We loaded ourselves onto a dalla dalla, onto a bus, and fell asleep. Three or so hours later, I made it home! My body was definitely not used to getting up so early so I just crashed. The rest of the group had agreed that they would go to Moshi again on Friday with Joseph and hope for the best. I, on the other hand, was off to Zanzibar.

Moshi

The week leading up to my trip to Zanzibar was definitely an interesting one...

Come Monday I headed off to Camp Moses to make a plan for the week. Mama Wambura was there when I got there and I told her how Bryson's appointment had gone the week prior and how something really needed to be done about Joseph. After that, Juliet and I chit chatted throughout the day, and she showed me the referral that was written for Joseph to see a urologist almost 8 months ago. It seemed like my persistent nagging had finally paid off, and they (Mama and Juliet) were starting to see how much I care about these kiddies and want to help them.

Juliet and I decided that Wednesday would be the best day to go to KCMC. KCMC is a big hospital in Moshi, which is the next big town over. It was said to be only an hour and a half away by bus. The only thing Juliet seemed to have a problem with was money. They had none. zero. zilch. She explained that there weren't any shillings for the dalla dalla, none to pay the mama's (Moses has 4 mama's during the day and 2 at night, Joshua has 2 full time mama's) or the teachers, and most definitely no money for a trip to Moshi to see a doctor. She explained that it wouldn't cost anything to see the doctor because we had a referral, but it would cost 4,000 shillings there and back for the bus. 4,000 shillings is just over 2 USD. I told her that I was sure my mom would have no problem sponsoring the bus trip. We agreed that the next day I'd do the orientation for some new volunteers and get everything in order for our trip.

It would've been easy to just reach into my bag and hand over the money for the bus. To make it seem like no big deal. And really, it's not. But this sort of thing has been happening since the day I arrived. Oh, we need a few thousand shillings for this, and shillings for the bus, and shillings for bread. I'm almost more than fine to hand it over, because what's a few bucks here and there? Turns out, after a while it's a lot. More than the money, it's the idea that they're getting that they can just simply ask the Mzungu for whatever they need whenever they get themselves in a pinch. This time I made sure it was different. By showing them that I needed to contact outside sources, and search for the money, I hope to change their view of the quick fix and show them how to fix some stuff on their own. You have to draw the line somewhere, and it's not always the easiest thing to do.

Tuesday I came to Camp Moses to finalize the plans for Moshi, and took a new volunteer to Unga Ltd to see Camp Joshua. It was an uneventful trip for the most part; did the tour, sat in on a classroom and watched the kids play a bit of soccer before we decided to head back to town. Over lunch, my phone rang. Earlier I had texted (yes, I have a cell phone in Tanzania.. most people do (locals included!) Much cheaper than in Canada though!) Juliet and asked her to remind Mama Wambura to pick up the bread. Juliet was calling me to explain that Mama Wambura had, yet again, failed to tell anyone she would be out of town and had taken her vehicle with her. This was the only vehicle that was around to pick up food. Juliet said that I needed to go and get the 10 loaves of bread that SunKist donates weekly. This left me with a little problem as there are no dalla dalla's that run to the factory, and although I have a cell phone I don't have a car. Try explaining all this to the new volunteers that were having lunch with me. "Well you see, we don't know how the children are going to get the 1 slice of bread a week because we have no car and Mama has disappeared". Little do they know that this is perfectly 'normal'.

After a few phone calls, my co ordinator agreed to take me to the factory. The only thing was he only has a motorbike. He emptied his big backpacking bag and we were off. Ten loaves of bread got stuffed into the bag and we dropped them off at Camp Moses. A few more people had congregated in the office there, and Juliet explained to me that they all wanted to come to Moshi the next day. I said alright, explained they were going to need to help with costs, and it was all set. We were to meet at Friends Corner (a downtown landmark) at 6:30 the next morning.

Catch Up!

After the long day with Bryson, all of us girls got a little dressed up and went to the mzungu hangout/bar Via Via. We danced and blew into vuvuzelas and had an overall great night. Ronnie only had to 'rescue' us on the dance floor a few times. We made it home by 2; overall a success.

The next morning no one was really up for work and I had a meeting in town, so we had a nice little sleep in before starting our days. I met with Jennifer (a previous volunteer) and we chit chatted a little more over what exactly went on at LOHADA and what really needed to be going on. Bottom line, I've got a lot of work to do.

After our meeting, the other girls I room with came and joined me for brunch. We sat around for a few hours then headed home. After dinner we all decided a movie would be a good way to end the day, and the week. We went and saw Date Night; movies here come out around 2 months later than they do at home... Looks like Sex and the City 2 will have to wait for the flight home.

On Saturday most of the house headed off to climb a volcano. It's about three hours outside of Arusha and has the coldest lava of any volcano in the world. I'm saving this trip for when my mother, the geography teacher, gets here!

While everyone was away, we relaxed. Saturday we did some souvenir shopping and had our favorite meal for dinner; chapati. After dinner, we went to Cassie's orphanage, armed with popcorn and pringles, for a Disney movie night. The kids were ecstatic and we left them all sugared up and ready for bed. Back at our house, Andrea and I watched the Lion King. It's crazy how accurate it really is! Props to you, Walt.

Sunday was an even lazier day that Saturday. We went to Africafe (pretty clever) for brunch and then lounged around home for a while. Andrea and Cassie, with the other two girls who didn't go hiking, went to Kigongoni Lodge, and I stayed at home. This was the first time I was actually all alone in two months.

When the girls got back, we had breakfast for dinner and devoured the baking I had done earlier in the day. Andrea and I opted for another Disney classic after dinner; The Little Mermaid. This weekend of relaxing was definitely needed, as we all had big weeks ahead of us. Andrea and Marlee would be attempting to summit Mt Kilimanjaro and Cassie and I were headed to Zanzibar.

Wooo, I'm almost all caught up now! This last little while has been crazy and has definitely opened my eyes to a whole new side of Africa, and myself! More on that later, as well as my trip to Zanzibar and Moshi!

Bryson

A few weeks ago, Ronnie (the Canadian co ordinator here) gave me a referral that had been written for one of the kiddies at my orphanage, Bryson, to see an eye doctor. When you meet him, it's obvious that there is something a little off kilter with Bryson. Hard to put your finger on at first, but after a while you can see that he is not developmentally where he should be. His pupils are constantly dilated and he runs crookedly with his hands outstretched in front of him. We were told that he had spent the first month or so of his life on his back and in a dark room. It was assumed that the problem was mostly in his eyes. That is what I was determined to figure out.

I got the the orphanage in the morning and asked Juliet to let one of the mama's know the plan for the day. Around 10, mama Suzanna and I left with Bryson. Once again, we were a spectacle on the dala dala; the white girl and an older woman carrying a baby. One in a traditional Khanga, one in jeans, and the other without shoes on a back.. I'll let you guess which is which.

We got to the clinic and met up with Ronnie. The eye doctor saw us right away. She was a middle aged Tanzanian woman who seemed to know what she was doing. Bryson sat on the lap of the mama as the doctor held objects in front of him, seeing how well he could track. I really had no clue what was going on and couldn't determine from watching what the prognosis would be. In the end she said that no, the problem was not with his eyes. They are developmentally behind, but no problems seemed to be present. She said that he was mentally disabled. Right away I asked what we could do, but in Africa there really isn't much. She just shrugged and gave us a name of a pediatrician who we would have to hunt down.I really wasn't sure how to take this news. It was almost a relief to have an answer, but with that answer so many more questions arose. I guess from here we just wait and see...

There is so much that I wish I could do here, it's getting harder and harder every day not being able to have a quick fix to the problems that are constantly presenting themselves. One step at a time is the best I can do.