We've Got Everything We Need Right Here

.... and everything we need is enough. (Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson)

This morning we slept until the glorious hour of 9, no nasty bells or roosters could wake us. We strolled downstairs in our pj's, ready for a Sunday of relaxation! We made the most amazing banana pancakes, with scrambled eggs and bacon. D-e-luxe. After a quick clean up, we changed into our bathing suits ready to embrace the African sun. We chose to go to Kigongoni Lodge, which is just outside of Arusha..With only five of us now, plus Ronnie and Moses (coordinators), it was sure a quiet get away.. Missing our project crew, and the room is most definitely a lot emptier without Naveen and Brooke! Hope Canada is treating you ladies well.. Isaacs cooking has improved dramatically. Just kidding. We just get more salad now!

Kigongoni Lodge is paradise. They allow people to lounge by their pool for free, which is incredibly generous. We were the only people there all day, with the spectacular view of Kilimanjaro to entrance us. I had to lie on my stomach because it's still recovering from the last weekend in the sun. Today my back is in about the same position as my stomach was before. You'd think I'd learn.. Oh well, it'll keep my bed warm tonight!

After our day of Tusker, Kilimanjaro (the local beers) and sun, we headed home. I rode on the back of Ronnie's motorcycle, the whole time thinking about how much my mom would disapprove. Ronnie in his sandals and board-shorts, and me in my flip flops and capris. We both had on helmets, but something just seemed strange! Things like this just make me think T.I.A., and not Canada.

We napped then decided to order in our Sunday dinner. We got pizza from Maasai Cafe, french fries from the restaurant/pub (this is Africa, so don't think like Barley Mill or any type of Canadian pub, more like an outdoor plastic furniture kind of thing), and boiled some hotdogs. Hello america. We even had homemade banana chocolate chip muffins for dessert, which were amazing. Here's a little more on what it's like to live in Tanzania;

1,400 Tanzanian shillings = $1

1 Kilimanjaro or Tusker beer = 1,100 TSH

6 Bananas = 500 TSH

Taxi to town = 3,000 TSH

Dala dala to town = 250 TSH

Souvenir T Shirt = 5,500 TSH

Cell phone = 40,000 TSH

Test message = 40 TSH

1.5 L Water = 1,000 TSH

Loaf of bread = 250 - 500 TSH

Antibiotics for pneumonia and ringworm = 4,000 TSH

Average wage = 300,000 TSH/Month

Government workers wage = 6 million TSH/Month

Gas = 1,400 TSH/Litre

I would also love to hear what you want to know about life here! Leave me a comment! I just get so wrapped up in it and completely forget that so much of what happens here is really not normal in my Canadian lifestyle. Also, the organization I'm here with is Volunteer Abroad, and I'm working with the local organization LOHADA, Loving Hands for the Disadvantaged and Aged..

Already counting down the days until my family and the Brickenden's come! It will be amazing to have more people to share my adventure with.

84 Negative

Thursday Juliet and I ventured to Unga Limited. In Swahili, unga means flour and the community of Unga Limited is built around a flour factory. It is the poorest community in Arusha, and it is also where Camp Joshua is located. From Camp Moses it took Juliet and I one hour and two dala dala’s to get there.

The second dala dala took us down the worst dirt road I’ve ever seen. In no place was the ground even and there were potholes the size of small craters every few feet. The majority of the children who live in Unga Limited are not able to afford even the uniforms to attend the free government schools, so sit on the side of the roads and watch cars pass all day. All of the houses in the community are made from logs, and the ones belonging to a family with a little bit of money are made with logs and mud in-between the logs. Some are simply made from cardboard, which gets destroyed in the frequent rain, or tin siding. When it rains the road completely inaccessible, as the puddles of water and ankle deep mud won’t let any person or vehicle pass through. At the end of the road was Camp Joshua.

The plot of land the school sits on is very big. It already has 7 classrooms and a kitchen, as well as a dormitory for the children that sleep there. The cows even have a little hut for when it rains. There are cement outlines of the extra classrooms that will be built at the end of the summer already set, and the kids have a good size playing field in the middle of everything. This description may make the place seem suitable, even adequate for their learning. Now go back through and subtract any type of electricity, plumbing, or finished walls you may have added. It is dirty. Despite this, the kids are gorgeous and happy and optimistic. They know how fortunate they are to be receiving a good education and food throughout the day. Some even get the added bonus of a safe and warm place to sleep at night. Unga Limited and Camp Joshua are tough places to be and leave a person mentally, physically and emotionally drained.

After a few hours in U.L., Juliet and I headed back to Moshono, the area of Arusha that Camp Moses is in. On the way, we stopped off at Mama Wambura’s house to look at her pigs. They were massive and smelt really bad. The woman needs the pigs gone asap.

We arrived at Camp Moses just in time for some ugali and spinach. I’m actually starting to (almost) enjoy ugali, which I never thought would happen. Teacher Juliet and I made a plan of attack for figuring out the tangled mess of the sponsorship program and then headed home.

Friday morning we at the white house, awoke to our first Tanzanian rain day. When after two hours the rain had not stopped, we all agreed there was really no point in going anywhere. It was a much-needed lounge and catch up day! We finished the night of watching Super Troopers and eating stove popped popcorn. Lots of the group of nine that were presenting left today. The house has gone from 23 or so to 7! It is strangely quiet. New volunteers come next week

Today, Saturday, was project day. Cassie and the rest of the crew left here went to her orphanage to prepare the ground for a vegetable garden, and I went to my orphanage for the big HIV/AIDS test. The children are supposed to be tested every three months, but had not been tested for two years.

When I arrived shortly after nine, I was greeted by all of the children who board at Camp Joshua as well as my Camp Moses babies. In total, there were 83 children and 8 mama’s plus myself and Teacher Juliet, and some of the other teachers. It was a very busy place. The testers had said they would be at the camp by 10, so this meant we had a few hours before they actually showed up. TIA. The children were treated t

o some Saturday morning cartoons, and all sat on the floor sipping their porridge. When 11 o clock came and there were still no testers, we brought out the books and had story time for a while. Finally two men showed up with all the gear to test our children.

One by one the kids were called in, held by a teacher, and given a small prick on their finger. The little ones cried a bit, and the big kids (some we were told were as old as 14 or 15) still needed a hand to hold and flinched a bit when they were pricked. A small drop of blood was placed onto the test and mixed with the reacting fluid, called Bio something. Then I watched as the result showed, waiting to see a single stripe under the C for Control. If an additional stripe were to show over the HIV 1 or HIV 2 spot, then we knew the child was HIV positive. One by one I wrote all of their information in the record book. The information we wrote was their age, sex, whether or not they had been tested before, whether the Bio fluid reacted, and the final result. As the numbers went from 1-84, (one of the teachers got tested) each one had a Negative in the last column. After every result showed we all heaved a sigh of relief. All of our children were free of the HIV virus.

At the end of the day, I flipped through the records book. Each time a group of people (usually 80 or so to around 300) gets tested, their results are recorded in the same way that I had recorded results today. On every page, I immediately scanned thelast column, keeping my eye out for the letter ‘p’ for positive among the overwhelming amount of ‘n’s. My heart dropped every time I saw one. The one that hurt most wasAge -15, Sex – F, N (for new, instead of the RT for return tester), and then a P in the last column for positive. For every group that was tested there was never more than 1 or 2 positive, and most testing’s didn’t even have one.

Having now had my first exposure to HIV in Africa. I feel optimistic. Moses, our in country guide/coordinator/amazing person, has told us that since mzungu’s have been raising so much awareness about HIV/AIDS, the numbers of people infected has decreased a fair amount. I still have more to reflect on today, but I was so impressed with the men doing the testing, and how much I actually got to help with and do today! Best day in Tanzania so far!

Mtoto Angu

Mtoto angu! My child! Carring Joseph home from the hospital in a khanga.

Who wouldn't want this little slice of joy to be happy and healthy?

As the nurses that live in my house are leaving soon, I asked them if they wouldn't mind stopping by the orphanage and checking out the kids quickly. This morning they came with me, and I am so overjoyed they did! I got them to first look at Joseph, who along with missing a penis also sounded like a 50 year old smoker, with this nasty rattle in his chest. They told me what we already sort of figured, that Joseph will need a prosthetic penis and that it is going to be expensive. The scabs on his head they said were most likely fungal and he had a fever along with his rattle. Bottom line was he needed to go to the hospital. Other than a runny nose, Bryson checked out fine, both of them were more than content with the candy the nurses brought. All the other kids got a quick look over too, Esther Paoul needs to see an orthopedic surgeon for her legs, as her step father had snapped them and they had both been braced improperly and healed with a strange forward arch. Kelvin Maasai, cutest little boy, has burn scars from his knees down, so severely on his feet that some of his toes are missing. He should have had skin graphs done before the skin healed itself. Now, the nurses just recommended that his skin be kept moisturized to avoid tightness as he grows. I've made plans with them to see a doctor at their hospital tomorrow about both Esther and Joseph. What pains me is not just the stories, but the things that should've, could've, and would've been done in Canada, but just weren't. After the extraordinarily kind ladies left, I approached Mama Wambura, telling her that Joseph needed some medical attention.

After some major miss-communications, we finally agreed that one of the mama's would accompany me and two other volunteers with Joseph to the hospital. After getting the boy washed up and dressed in his best clothes, and the mama doing the same for herself, we were off. It started to pour rain, and we trudged through the fields behind the house, along a dirt path, really not sure where we were headed. This to me felt like authentic Africa. Mama carrying a baby in a khanga on her back, through the rain and mud, nothing civilized in sight. After 20 or so minutes, we arrived at this strange little building. Walked inside and sat down on a bench alongside three or four other families. We were called into see the doctor within five or so minutes, I'm thinking the Mzungu accompaniment helped a bit. The doctor quickly realized we (the Mzungu's) were the only ones who thought something was wrong, so she addressed us in English, instead of the mother in Kiswahili. The room the doctor saw us in, I wouldn't even call an office. It had a desk in the centre of the room, a chair for the doctor, one for the patient and a tattered red bench along the wall for a lie-down examination. Not even closely comparable to a doctor's office at home. While mentally taking not of the lack of instruments and other 'doctor-y stuff' in the room, I told her we thought he had a chest infection and a fungal infection on his head. She weighed him, took his temperature and listened to him, then set us to the 'laboratory' to get his blood tested. A different lady came into this new room and pricked Joseph's finger, explaining that she was testing first for Malaria then HIV/AIDS. She slipped the blood onto a slide and asked us to wait in the reception area. I can't even begin to explain how incredibly nervous I was for this little guy and his diagnosis. It seemed like forever before the doctor called us back into her little room. She explained that he didn't have malaria, but did in fact have pneumonia and ringworm on his head. The HIV test was thankfully negative. She listed the medication he needed, and a price beside it. As she wrote this down, the mama gave me an expecting sideways glance. We collected the medicine from the reception desk, and I payed the 4,000 shillings, or just over $2, for two bottles of medicine, one of which was antibiotics, and two packages of pills for Joseph. Leaving the hospital, in butchered Kiswahili I offered to carry Joseph. The mama laughed and agreed, helping to hoist him on my back and tie the khanga. It was surprisingly easy to pack him home, this is definitely a trend I'm going to bring back to Canada. I did get a ton of snickers and pointed fingers with him on my back, but I loved carrying him, my mtoto (child).

I didn't realize until most of the way back home that we were walking because the mama wasn't given any money for the dala dala fare to the hospital. The ride would have cost us only 100 or so shillings, less than 10 cents. This couldn't be spared by any of the people at the orphanage. Had I known this was the issue, I wouldn't of minded springing for her, but she was much to proud of a woman, and seriously lacked any English skills, to ask.

Back at the house I called a girl named Emily, and confirmed the HIV test for all of the children of Camp Joshua and Camp Moses this Saturday. Everyone has been tested before, but this is just precautionary. Today was an eye-opener for sure. The lady dispensing drugs at the hospital could not have been more than 17 or 18 years old; in Canada isn't it something like 12 years of higher education to become a pharmacist?! I would also like to think that a child of no more than 2 years would go several weeks with a rattle in their chest and not be taken to a doctor. Things here are more than mellow, and I'm quickly learning that that applies to every aspect of life. No hurry is great for getting work done, and keeping relaxed, but when it comes to health is that really appropriate? What if it had been malaria that Joseph had contracted.. And I hate to say it, but where would the money have come from for his antibiotics if I wasn't there today? Would he have even been taken to a hospital? Correct me if I'm wrong, but can't a child die from pneumonia? How do you go about educating illiterate and solely-Swahilli speaking mama's on things like this, and other basic child hygiene issues, such as the need to change them sooner than an hour or two after they've wet themselves in either the garbage bag or piece of cloth that has been tied around their bums? I realize that at home we are somewhat germ-a-phobic when it comes to our children, but how much is too much in both countries? Obviously they aren't completely wrong here, as no one is seriously ill. The nurses theorized that Joseph's pneumonia came from a bladder infection that went untreated and spread to his lungs, but how would you diagnose this in a toddler that wets himself regularly anyways.

I was most definitely left with more questions than answers today, but I feel a lot more positive and optimistic than I have been lately. My patience is definitely growing, and I'm most definitely starting to get the hang of Africa-time. I even think my reverse culture shock is starting to kick in; I'm having difficulty reading the book "What The Dog Saw" by Malcolm Gladwell (a truly fascinating read!), talking about Enron and the unnecessary millions it screwed people out of, when no one on this continent would even be able to comprehend that amount of money.

There really are at least two different worlds out there..

The Big Difference

Woke up Monday morning barely able to bend over, in such great pain from the sun burn and from being all squashed into a dala dala for an eternity the day before. After a breakfast of, surprise surprise, white bread and peanut butter and plum jam, I headed to the orphanage. Around noon, I went to town with teacher Juliet and the two Israeli girls who are leaving this week. They showed us around and told us which local businesses have been good about donating in the past, and are 'friends' of LOHADA. We went to Afrikafe, a Mzungu heaven, and met with Jennifer who had been a volunteer with LOHADA for two years and just finished her time in February. She explained how important it was for the children of the school to be sponsored and that keeping our current sponsors, as well as finding new ones, should be a focal point of my work while I'm here. After our little meet and greet, I ran into Moses and we went to the used clothes market to buy some cushion covers and then got a quick drink at a local backpackers hostel. I won a game of scrabble after dinner and was more than elated to have a talk with Cheyenne over skype!

Feeling much better Tuesday morning (this morning), I met Mama Wambura and the Israeli girls at the gas station at 830. We went to the bread factory to pick up our weekly donation of seven loaves, and then went to a steel factory to check on the progress of the desks that they were making to donate. We went to town to try and find someone to wire electricity through Camp Joshua, but I really am not encouraging this project. Mama Wambura is not able to finish construction of the buildings themselves due to financial setbacks, but already is wanting more. I can see how she got herself into so much financial difficulties. It's a little frustrating to say the least. Mama left the girls and I downtown and we made our way back to Camp Moses. Cassie and I met just after 2 oclock to head to the bank, but not before being yelled at in Swahili because we couldn't understand that the bottles from our Fantas needed to be left at the store. It is more than frustrating when no one speaks any English and our Swahili is extremely limited. It's little things like this lately that make me want to give up. That make me question whether the way of life here will ever change, and if it really needs to change. They all seem content, but are most definitely no where near the standards of living in Canada. After getting refused for a refund at the bank, where they charged both mine and Cassie's accounts double, I know that it is going to be a good and well deserved nights sleep tonight. Hopefully these stupid Malaria medication dreams stop soon.

Tonight after dinner there were only a few of us left behind and we ended up having a super interesting conversation about African politics. I learned that the president of Zimbabwe has made inflation a daily thing, making one weeks wages worth almost nothing the next week. The bank is now being forced to print billion dollar notes. The only way to avoid the inflation is to exchange the Zimbabwe dollar for American dollars as soon as you receive the money. The banks have caught on to this however, and are charging ridiculous fees to exchange. The government corruption levels in Africa are all in the 'red' zone, and I'm finding this extremely hard to comprehend. We then began to talk about my upcoming trip to Kenya, Uganda and Rwanda, and the dangers associated with the crossing of borders. The police are not men who can't be trusted here. Sure, at home they are often seen as men on power trips, but they can always be called and relied upon in case of an emergency. Here, they are looked at as men you will most likely need to be paid off if crossed. I would feel so uncomfortable knowingly living in a place where you can't really trust any one, and have to question everybody's morals. I guess when it's all that you know, you don't know how profoundly different it really should be. Then also comes the question of the church and how the missionaries have played a major role in the conflicts in most of the countries here.

Locals trust us Mzungu's implicitly and it's unfortunate that a lot of them have only been told the way of a Catholic God by men who have not lived their way, who are teaching them things like abstinence and not acknowledging that there are bigger problems that need to be addressed. Sex has become a taboo subject, condoms even more so. If missionaries had told about protection and created an open dialogue around the issues faced here, HIV/AIDS may have not come to be such an issue.. Just some food for thought. More on this to come.

I realize that this may seem somewhat 'angst-y' but I'm using this blog as an outlet for my feelings and frustrations I'm encountering. Africa is beautiful, but life here is by now means picturesque or easy. I am however pleased to know I'm living life here honestly and not pretending issues don't exist. I know that I'm in the culture shock stage of my journey right now, and things are most definitely not easy. Despite this, I'm keeping a positive outlook and know with every obstacle I conquer, it's one less I'll have to encounter later on.

The girls and I are off to have our Tuesday night popcorn and movie, with these wild situations and unanswered questions running through our minds.

Pole Samaki Pole

On Friday morning 10 of us piled into a dala dala that we rented, ready for what we were told would be a nice 5 hour drive. We stopped in Arusha and picked up a previous volunteer and her Tanzanian husband who were coming with us. A little cramped, but excited for the beach, we were off.

At around hour four of the trip, we started asking how much farther, to be told we were about an hour out of Tanga, the city before the beach. Three hours later we were actually in Tanga. Then we had to get to the resort. We drove through the city that smelt like daaga fish and onto a dirt road. Thirty or so minutes into the dirt road we came across a python that had killed a goat. We all convinced ourselves that pythons only lived in this area of Tanzania and there is absolutely no possibility that we will see them in Arusha. Another hour or so on that nasty dirt road (going an aggravating 30km an hour) we had finally made it to our resort! It was sweltering hot and we were all grouchy, but the fact we made it to the Indian Ocean was more than relieving. Five of us dropped our stuff in one hut, and six others in a separate hut. We threw on our suits and ran to the beach.

A little disappointed by the low tide and not so white sand, the sun and palm trees as well as the deserted beach made up for it all. The ocean was like bath water and not too salty at all, but yes dad this ocean did have salt too. We had a quick swim and went for dinner. It was soooo nice to not have more white carbs; most of us ordered salads and burgers. Exhausted after a long day of traveling we went to bed pretty early.

Anxious to hit the beach we had an early but delicious Saturday morning breakfast of fresh fruit salad and ran to the sunshine. Two hours in and it started to rain. And rained. And rained. And rained some more. It was still hot, but raining. Cliff, the Tanzanian that came with us, taught us the 'poor us' song.. It goes pole samaki pole, which translates literally into poor fishy poor. White people are also known as 'samaki', not just mzungu. We played cards and drank Konyagi out of plastic bags.. That's the fad here, drink your alcohol out of baggies. Strange, but does the trick. As the night progressed, there were more and more versions of the samaki song sung, including a 'remix' going pole little fishy pole, mixing Swahili and English. Pretty clever. Cassie and I split a FRESH crab for dinner, bashing our way through the crabs trying to get all of the meat out. One of our group had his birthday on the trip, so we had ordered a cake and we all had it for dessert. We all had too much Konyagi, learned dirty Swahili words, and went to bed early. Scared that the cockroaches from the bathroom would end up in our beds, we did not sleep easy this night.

Sunday morning we packed up and hit the beach for a few last hours of sunshine. We skimped on the sunscreen and soaked up the heat, not realizing how different the African sun is than anything else we'd experienced. After a quick lunch we begrudgingly got back onto the dala dala and headed home. Lucky for me, the true extent of my sunburn didn't rear it's fully nastiness until around two hours before we got back. Starving, exhausted, stinky and grouchy, we finally made it home. Two of us came right back to the house, and the rest went to McMoody's (African McDonald's) for some greatly appreciated western food. The two of us at the house whipped up some cereal and had a magnificent cold shower. I took some Benedryl for my millions of bug bites and went to bed, dreading the pain that the next morning would bring.

Currently I look like a tomato, with bows on my hips where my bikini strings were and a white strip across my face where my sunglasses were. I look like a goon basically. The coast was beautiful and so very different from Arusha. I'm glad I don't have that relentless heat to face everyday. A beautiful weekend escape none the less.

Nashiavai

Moses gave me my Maasai name on our Sunday hike, Nashiavai, or person that smiles and makes other smiles. It is my goal to stay true to that name while I'm here!

I've quickly discovered that I'm actually in charge of the orphanage, and am pretty sure they think I'm going for some type of business degree, as I've already done this years budget and have tried to decipher the stacks of hand written donation forms over the past year, along with calculate the extreme deficit the orphanage has. What's really sad, is that despite my lack of Math 12, I'm still in a much better position to be doing this type of work than anyone here.

After the first day, I was more than frustrated. It seemed impossible to even begin getting this place into shape. I became somewhat angry at the lady running the organization, I mean what was she thinking getting herself into this mess? I had a huge moment of prejudice and thinking that never would these African women be able to successfully run this organization. Then I dove into the work, and have since realized that yes, it is possible for them to turn this organization around if I help them and share my knowledge.

After being at the orphanage for only four full days, I have already delved into a proposal (coming along at 10 pages right now), hoping to score them some land to raise pigs! The two other girls working at the orphanage with me that are from Israel were mugged for the second time the other day, and have decided to leave, so I'll be the only long term volunteer for the mean time. There are a few girls from Denmark who are also there helping temporarily which is nice. They have been playing with the kids that aren't in school during the day while I work in the office.

It's nice to have this amazing responsibility and be so trusted already, but it is also coming with huge expectations. If I don't flip this place, then it will more than likely be the end of the organization. If you have any medical supplies, band-aids, gauze, and general hygiene items such as toothbrushes and towels kicking around, please give them to my parents to bring here. Also little boys clothing, as they don't wear diapers and are constantly wetting themselves and needing to be changed. Thank you! I can tell that I am going to be kept busy, and am able to make a huge change here. This is exactly what I bargained for!

The extreme lack of concepts of time and urgency are really bugging me still. Everything is slow, really slow. And I can't emphasize that enough. Tomorrow morning we're heading to Tanga, www.peponiresort.com if you want to be really jealous, for a weekend at the ocean. This trip kept me going this week; motivated me to get as much as I could done so I'd feel deserving of a day off.

Best TIA story to end this off, took Teacher Juliete, the head teacher at LOHADA my organization... www.lohada.org .... to the movies tonight. She had never been! The power went of three times during the movie. TIA.

Celine Dion lives on in the dala dala's of Arusha. That is all we hear, every day, to and from work. Canadian pride.

Favorites So Far...

Orphanage and week/weekend updates probably tomorrow, but in the meantime here are some of my favorites from the trip so far... I've finally figured out how to make my pictures so that they will actually upload onto here without taking years, so expect more in posts to come! Enjoy!

Little Josef

Our trusty steed at Lake Daluti

Used clothes market in Arusha Town

At the waterfall we hiked to

Baboon at Lake Manyara

Giraffe trifecta of amazing-ness at Maynara