I left East Africa on Thursday night and am in a state of shock to be in Amsterdam where it is cold and noisy and modern. On Thursday I spent the day at an airport lodge in a traditional hut-room in the midst of a dessert full of enormous, almost grotesque cacti. I spent time near the pool, in the shade or in my hotel room with the air conditioning blaring. Then, less than 14 hours later, I find myself in Amsterdam at 7:00 AM in the dark with a temperature of about 6 Celsius and nothing but a few layers of cotton clothing.
So, I dashed to the hotel, dropped off my luggage, and hit the stores. Within an hour I was decked out in long pants, a sweater, a warm jacket, gloves and a scarf, and I was ready for Amsterdam. I have spent the past three days walking around the charming streets of this picturesque city, shopping for necessities for Morocco (sleeping blankets, thermal underwear, etc.) and sleeping in! The sleeping in part has been my favorite, as I now feel I am on vacation.
But it was sad to leave East Africa. I have made a lot of friends there and although I was only there for two and a half months, it began to feel like home. At times I get pangs of homesickness for Tanzania.
Visiting Rwanda was an incredible experience. I was hosted by an organization called New Dawn Associates and spent five memorable days with staff from this organization, a charming family of gorillas, staff and children from two orphanages and women from Women for Women International.
Rwanda is a stunning in its beauty. The whole country looks like a finely decorated mosaics of multiple hues of green and red. Outside of Kigali there are virtually no private cars so the highways are teeming with people walking to and from their various engagements. The women here are particularly beautiful and with their brightly colored kangas and graceful figures they are stunning to look at. The country is quite clean, in fact, plastic bags have been outlawed, which cuts down a lot of the trash, and the main roads are pretty good.
The genocide comes up regularly in conversation and there is still concern about the Interhamwe insurgents in the Congo who still make raids across the boarder from time to time. The orphanages I visited were started right after the genocide and many of the children have no idea who their families are, or rather, were. There are youth in their 20s still living in the orphanages because youth don't strike out on their own until they get married, and most of these youth have no family left. Ironically, the children in the orphanages look much healthier and cleaner than the children one sees on the streets as poverty is still a major problem there. It is common in the country side to see children dressed in layers of rags, dirty and many with signs of severe malnutrition. There has been flooding there that displaced hundreds of thousands of families and destroyed crops, and draught conditions earlier in the year also negatively affected crops as most agriculture here is based on rains rather than irrigation systems.
Rwanda's main money making exports are coffee and tea, but the government is in the process of trying to establish the country as an Information Technology hub in the region to diversify the economy and increase revenue. There is controversy as to whether this will work, but it seem like a good move to me because countries that are based on agriculture can't really lift themselves out of poverty. Agriculture just isn't a viable economic engine. Kigali looks a like a modern city in many respects. There are high rise buildings and a very modern shopping mall and very wealthy neighborhoods. They also have a national celebration called "Tax Day", complete with ceremonies and parties in the streets in which everyone congratulates everyone for doing their part to build their country.
I went to the Hotel Milles Collines from the movie Hotel Rwanda, but the manager Paul ...can't remember how to spell his last name, is not quite the hero he makes himself out to be, at least with people I talked to and he is actually vilified in the press, although he might run for president! They say he only really helped those who could pay, and actually turned some people over. There are also really hard feelings toward the French, who it is said, worked the road blocks with the military during the genocide. Rwanda does not have diplomatic relations with France to this day.
I am running out of time on this computer, so more later.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Women for Women International in Kigali
This morning I visited the office of this organization and spent the morning meetings with the women and touring the facility there. This branch of Women for Women is serving more than 5000 women this year. Women receive a monthly stipend from their sponsoring sister in the US and come to the center twice a month for workshops on health and hygiene, business training, human rights, the new laws regarding marital rights of women (they now have property rights and rights to keep their children in cases of divorce), stress management and support groups.
They also come to training classes held at the center which include tailoring, knitting, basket making, beading and jewelry making, and tie dying. Next year they will expand to agricultural production and beekeeping. The organization is also developing a training program for development of cooperative associations so that women can pool their money and energy to achieve greater returns on their investments.รน
I sat in on meeting of women who were fairly new to the program. They talked about their experiences with micro businesses and tried to glean the lessons learned from the failure of these enterprises in the past. They also talked about the importance of working together and helping each other, and the need to become independent financially. Their individual stories were moving to hear and it was great to see them together so hopeful and excited about embarking on this new journey.
Then they had a lot of questions for me. Of course they wanted to know about my family - how many kids, my work, and marital status. Interestingly, they asked about marital status after they asked about kids. They had deeper questions though. They wanted to know what life is like for women in the US and if they work together in associations, if there are poor people in the US, and how people greet each other and work together. They also asked me to thank other sponsors for the help they give to women in Africa. It was very moving to be there with them.
The director told me that women's lives improve dramatically even after they have been in the program a few months. They are more confident and get more respect from husbands and people in their communities. Wife beating is reduced as men see women as economic partners...and people who have the economic means to leave bad marriages if they want to.
Check out Women for Women International on line and see how easy it is to make a difference in a woman's life.
They also come to training classes held at the center which include tailoring, knitting, basket making, beading and jewelry making, and tie dying. Next year they will expand to agricultural production and beekeeping. The organization is also developing a training program for development of cooperative associations so that women can pool their money and energy to achieve greater returns on their investments.รน
I sat in on meeting of women who were fairly new to the program. They talked about their experiences with micro businesses and tried to glean the lessons learned from the failure of these enterprises in the past. They also talked about the importance of working together and helping each other, and the need to become independent financially. Their individual stories were moving to hear and it was great to see them together so hopeful and excited about embarking on this new journey.
Then they had a lot of questions for me. Of course they wanted to know about my family - how many kids, my work, and marital status. Interestingly, they asked about marital status after they asked about kids. They had deeper questions though. They wanted to know what life is like for women in the US and if they work together in associations, if there are poor people in the US, and how people greet each other and work together. They also asked me to thank other sponsors for the help they give to women in Africa. It was very moving to be there with them.
The director told me that women's lives improve dramatically even after they have been in the program a few months. They are more confident and get more respect from husbands and people in their communities. Wife beating is reduced as men see women as economic partners...and people who have the economic means to leave bad marriages if they want to.
Check out Women for Women International on line and see how easy it is to make a difference in a woman's life.
Monday, October 22, 2007
More on Gorilla Trek
I am back in Kigali now. Still trying to get the cash flow problem resolved. In the end the only thing to do was to have my sister send me the money via Western Union. My bank refused to raise my daily limit because I could not remember my password. I am still really irritated by that as I spent $40 calling the bank with no sucess. Anyway, lets forget that because my blood pressure is beginning to rise.
Back to the gorillas. I stayed in a very nice lodge a few kilometers from the park for two nights. The morning of the gorilla trek, as I mentioned earlier, it began to pour before I even got up. At 5.30 someone knocked at my door to wake me up and I begrudgingly got up and wandered around in the freezing cold room looking for my clothes. Because of the cold I decided to leave on my flannel pajamas to ward off the cold. I then put on my long pants, sweatshirt, gaiters, shoes, silly safari hat and my rain slicker and then plodded through the soggy grounds to the dining room.
After breakfast we drove to the park and I was placed in Aygashas group. After our orientation we drove to the park entrance and began to trek up the misty mountain. We walked for about thirty minutes through family farms to get to the entrance to the rainforest. There we met our porters and the security patrol. Here we were informed that we could do "Number one" in the bushes to the right (girls) or left (boys). We were also told we needed to get a hand shovel from someone if we wanted to do "Number Two". After that was taken care of we then proceeded to climb a huge rock barrier to get into the forest.
That done we found ourselves in a thick jungle of bamboo, trees, stinging nettle bushes and lots and lots of hanging vines. For the next two hours we trudged through the muck of the forest floor, often stooped over or crawling on hands and knees. Most of the time the vegetation was so thick we couldnt see more than two feet in front of us. We followed each other by voice alone. Every oncein a while there was a little clearing and we could stand up and see a few feet all around. The mud was intense and abundant and many times I thought of giving up, especiallly at the times I heard the person a few feet ahead of me yell "Oh shit!" We were constantly battling the vines which wrapped themselves around us hlding us in place. Keep in mind we were also climbing up the mountain through all this. I dont think I could have made it withoutthe bamboo. Happily it was everywhere and one could grasp it and pull oneself up the mountain.
At one point the guide told us that we were really close but I didnt believe him. I thought he was trying to humor us to keep our morale up. But finally, we reached a clearing and there the family was. We spent and hour googling at them and then started the climb down which only took about 25 minutes because we were going straight down, no path to follow or anything. I did a lot of slipping and sliding on that part. When we finally reached th rock wall, we were covered in mud from head to toe and we rushed to our respective hotels to take hot showers.
The older couple that was hiking with us; he 65 with half a heart (literally...apparently he had had heart surgery in the recent past) decided that they had had such a great time they were going to repeat the experience the next day! Amaszing.
When they say this was an experience of a life time, I take it to mean, it is something that you would never want to repeat, interesting as it was.
One the way back to Kigali (a four hour drive) we stopped at a wonderful orphanage that was started by an 82 year old woman in August 1994. This American had lived in Rwanda for 49 years, left during the months of the genocide,and then returned as soon as it was over to start take care of the multitudes of children left orphaned after the carnage. The orphanage was clean, the rooms spacious, and the children looked healthy and happy. Rose, the founder,died in 2006 and she is a legend in the area. I was particularly excited to go to this orphanage because I had read about it a few years ago. A photographer had gone there in 2000, I think, and trained the children to take photos. Some of the photos were exquisite and were being sold to raise money for the orphanage. I had tried to buy them online; the site was not working well, but I downloaded by favorite ones on my home computer. Imagine actually going there and meeting the children! Wow. Such a wonderful experience.
This orphanage is so well managed it should be a model for other orphanages in Africa. Pictures to follow when I get to Morocco.
Back to the gorillas. I stayed in a very nice lodge a few kilometers from the park for two nights. The morning of the gorilla trek, as I mentioned earlier, it began to pour before I even got up. At 5.30 someone knocked at my door to wake me up and I begrudgingly got up and wandered around in the freezing cold room looking for my clothes. Because of the cold I decided to leave on my flannel pajamas to ward off the cold. I then put on my long pants, sweatshirt, gaiters, shoes, silly safari hat and my rain slicker and then plodded through the soggy grounds to the dining room.
After breakfast we drove to the park and I was placed in Aygashas group. After our orientation we drove to the park entrance and began to trek up the misty mountain. We walked for about thirty minutes through family farms to get to the entrance to the rainforest. There we met our porters and the security patrol. Here we were informed that we could do "Number one" in the bushes to the right (girls) or left (boys). We were also told we needed to get a hand shovel from someone if we wanted to do "Number Two". After that was taken care of we then proceeded to climb a huge rock barrier to get into the forest.
That done we found ourselves in a thick jungle of bamboo, trees, stinging nettle bushes and lots and lots of hanging vines. For the next two hours we trudged through the muck of the forest floor, often stooped over or crawling on hands and knees. Most of the time the vegetation was so thick we couldnt see more than two feet in front of us. We followed each other by voice alone. Every oncein a while there was a little clearing and we could stand up and see a few feet all around. The mud was intense and abundant and many times I thought of giving up, especiallly at the times I heard the person a few feet ahead of me yell "Oh shit!" We were constantly battling the vines which wrapped themselves around us hlding us in place. Keep in mind we were also climbing up the mountain through all this. I dont think I could have made it withoutthe bamboo. Happily it was everywhere and one could grasp it and pull oneself up the mountain.
At one point the guide told us that we were really close but I didnt believe him. I thought he was trying to humor us to keep our morale up. But finally, we reached a clearing and there the family was. We spent and hour googling at them and then started the climb down which only took about 25 minutes because we were going straight down, no path to follow or anything. I did a lot of slipping and sliding on that part. When we finally reached th rock wall, we were covered in mud from head to toe and we rushed to our respective hotels to take hot showers.
The older couple that was hiking with us; he 65 with half a heart (literally...apparently he had had heart surgery in the recent past) decided that they had had such a great time they were going to repeat the experience the next day! Amaszing.
When they say this was an experience of a life time, I take it to mean, it is something that you would never want to repeat, interesting as it was.
One the way back to Kigali (a four hour drive) we stopped at a wonderful orphanage that was started by an 82 year old woman in August 1994. This American had lived in Rwanda for 49 years, left during the months of the genocide,and then returned as soon as it was over to start take care of the multitudes of children left orphaned after the carnage. The orphanage was clean, the rooms spacious, and the children looked healthy and happy. Rose, the founder,died in 2006 and she is a legend in the area. I was particularly excited to go to this orphanage because I had read about it a few years ago. A photographer had gone there in 2000, I think, and trained the children to take photos. Some of the photos were exquisite and were being sold to raise money for the orphanage. I had tried to buy them online; the site was not working well, but I downloaded by favorite ones on my home computer. Imagine actually going there and meeting the children! Wow. Such a wonderful experience.
This orphanage is so well managed it should be a model for other orphanages in Africa. Pictures to follow when I get to Morocco.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Gorillas in the Mist
Well, I did it. And I have a certificate to prove it. I climbed a mountain to visit Aigosha and his family. And we had a very charming visit with this gorilla family. If you haven't guessed by now, I am in Rwanda. They say that visiting the mountain gorillas is a once in a lifetime experience that one shouldn't miss. I was skeptical last night and early this morning, but now that it is over, I agree.
I arrived in Rwanda on Friday night and spent the first day touring the city and talking about the genocide with my charming guide, David. David was born in a refugee camp in Uganda where his family fled during a violent period shortly after independence. He had pretty grueling experiences to share and clarified a lot for me about this 1994 genocide. More on all of that later.
In the late afternoon, we headed up to the Virungu Volcanic Park which was a sumptuous drive through continuous mountains, every inch of which seems to be cultivated. The roads are pretty crowded, and David drove the route constantly blurting out "Hopeless" as his country men and women wove in and out of traffic, and dashed across the street in front of us. It was a three hour drive and after a quick dinner we headed for bed because we had to get up at 5:30 to get started on the gorilla trek. I was not particularly keen on this gorilla trip but everyone in Tanzania said it was a must, so I signed up. Truthfully, I had been dreading it. I looked at it as a pennence to for the lovely ride I had had up to the park.
My heart sank this morning at 4:45 when a fierce rain storm woke me up. I did buy a rain slicker and gaiters to protect me against the elements, but I was not looking forward to hiking up a volcano in the rain. But luck was with me as it stopped raining just as we began our climb (there were eight of us in Aygasha's group. | was cheered to see an elderly couple in our group and I, of course, hung out behind them the whole trip. That way I gave the appearance of being a caring, rather than an out of shape, hiker.
The hiking goes like this: Trackers start out early in the morning to find the gorilla group you are looking for and once they locate them, they send information down to the guides. When we started out they told us that it would be a half an hour hike, and I was secretly overjoyed. Problem is gorillas don't always stay in one place and our little group did quite a bit of flinting around before we found them.
Now, when I say hiking, you need to understand that there are really no trails here. Sometimes we followed gorilla trails, but most of the time, we forged out own path through the thick, thick, thick rain forest. It was hideously muddy; in fact, at one point, I stepped in mud that reached me knee and when I tried to pull my foot out, my shoe and gaiters remained stuck. The porter kindly dug out my equipment, cheerfully washed it off in a mud puddle and had me back on the way in minutes. So we walked and crawled through the thick vegetation for nearly two hours. Just when we thought we were close, they moved (they were foraging for food) and at the point where I said I can't do this anymore, the gorillas appeared before us. Aigasha was with three females and a couple of kids. He humored us by staring at us and scratching a bit and then he took a nap. Wife number one groomed one of the kids for a while and then she took a nap. Eventually they all took a nap, except for the little babies who played together and alone the whole hour (visitors are only allowed one hour with the gorillas). There much more to tell about this amazing adventure and I have lots of video to show interested parties, but I don't have much time left on this computer.
Here is an item that might surprise you; it really surprised and dismayed me: There are no ATMs in Rwanda. I can't get any money out of the bank and I owe the tour company that I came with beaucoup de money (This,by the way, is an excellent tour company that focuses on educational visits, including volunteer work...more on that later). I hope I can work something out when I get back to Kigali tomorrow. Monday is figuring out the money day and then I spend Tuesday with Women for Women International, and then I am off to Morocco to see my beloved husband, with a short stop in Amsterdam.
More later from Kigali. Forgive the misspellings!
I arrived in Rwanda on Friday night and spent the first day touring the city and talking about the genocide with my charming guide, David. David was born in a refugee camp in Uganda where his family fled during a violent period shortly after independence. He had pretty grueling experiences to share and clarified a lot for me about this 1994 genocide. More on all of that later.
In the late afternoon, we headed up to the Virungu Volcanic Park which was a sumptuous drive through continuous mountains, every inch of which seems to be cultivated. The roads are pretty crowded, and David drove the route constantly blurting out "Hopeless" as his country men and women wove in and out of traffic, and dashed across the street in front of us. It was a three hour drive and after a quick dinner we headed for bed because we had to get up at 5:30 to get started on the gorilla trek. I was not particularly keen on this gorilla trip but everyone in Tanzania said it was a must, so I signed up. Truthfully, I had been dreading it. I looked at it as a pennence to for the lovely ride I had had up to the park.
My heart sank this morning at 4:45 when a fierce rain storm woke me up. I did buy a rain slicker and gaiters to protect me against the elements, but I was not looking forward to hiking up a volcano in the rain. But luck was with me as it stopped raining just as we began our climb (there were eight of us in Aygasha's group. | was cheered to see an elderly couple in our group and I, of course, hung out behind them the whole trip. That way I gave the appearance of being a caring, rather than an out of shape, hiker.
The hiking goes like this: Trackers start out early in the morning to find the gorilla group you are looking for and once they locate them, they send information down to the guides. When we started out they told us that it would be a half an hour hike, and I was secretly overjoyed. Problem is gorillas don't always stay in one place and our little group did quite a bit of flinting around before we found them.
Now, when I say hiking, you need to understand that there are really no trails here. Sometimes we followed gorilla trails, but most of the time, we forged out own path through the thick, thick, thick rain forest. It was hideously muddy; in fact, at one point, I stepped in mud that reached me knee and when I tried to pull my foot out, my shoe and gaiters remained stuck. The porter kindly dug out my equipment, cheerfully washed it off in a mud puddle and had me back on the way in minutes. So we walked and crawled through the thick vegetation for nearly two hours. Just when we thought we were close, they moved (they were foraging for food) and at the point where I said I can't do this anymore, the gorillas appeared before us. Aigasha was with three females and a couple of kids. He humored us by staring at us and scratching a bit and then he took a nap. Wife number one groomed one of the kids for a while and then she took a nap. Eventually they all took a nap, except for the little babies who played together and alone the whole hour (visitors are only allowed one hour with the gorillas). There much more to tell about this amazing adventure and I have lots of video to show interested parties, but I don't have much time left on this computer.
Here is an item that might surprise you; it really surprised and dismayed me: There are no ATMs in Rwanda. I can't get any money out of the bank and I owe the tour company that I came with beaucoup de money (This,by the way, is an excellent tour company that focuses on educational visits, including volunteer work...more on that later). I hope I can work something out when I get back to Kigali tomorrow. Monday is figuring out the money day and then I spend Tuesday with Women for Women International, and then I am off to Morocco to see my beloved husband, with a short stop in Amsterdam.
More later from Kigali. Forgive the misspellings!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
A Tanzanian Wedding
On the weekend a friend of mine who runs an NGO (WEECE)that supports women who operate businesses invited me and a friend from CCS to attend a wedding of the daughter of one of her members. The wedding was a Christian wedding although the bride was Muslim (we assumed that she converted). We only attended the reception as those Christian ceremonies can be quite lengthy, but we had a great time because there was an action-packed agenda and plenty of beer and spirits flowing. It was quite a boisterous affair too, with lots and lots of dancing.
First the wedding car arrived at the hall (YMCA) and the family members of both the bridge and groom danced around the car for awhile while the rest of us watched and swayed with the music. Then we left the car and headed into the hall. A half an hour later the groom's family got up singing and trilling as the raced down the aisle to welcome the bride and groom and then they proceeded to sing and dance as they escorted the couple all the way back to the front of the hall. When the bride and groom were comfortably ensconced at their table in the front of the fall, it was our turn to get up and dance to welcome them, which we did enthusiastically. Later each member of the groom's family was introduced to us and after that was done, they all got up and danced. Then the bride's family was introduced and then they danced for a bit.
Later the traditional African Cake (a roasted goat) was brought in by a large group of cooks who, of course, danced down the aisle to the front of the room swinging the poor goat to and fro with great pride and exuberance. Later, there was a sweet cake cutting ceremony and then lots of good food. After we ate, we guests formed a conga line as we danced down the aisle carrying our gifts to present to the bridge and groom. As I was the only Mzungu dancing, I imagine they were a little surprised when I appeared before them, but they masked it very well and were quite gracious when I shook hands and congratulated them. Unfortunately we have an 11:00 curfew at the home base, so we had to leave early and missed the partying part of the party.
This was considered a small wedding as there were only about 300 people in attendance, but the hall was quite elaborately decorated with bushels of roses and yards of streamers and bunches of balloons. Typically the families will take a few months to fund raise for a wedding (I'm not sure which family has this responsibility) by soliciting monetary gifts from their extended family members to help pay for the festivities because except for the wealthy, most people here cannot afford to put on such a celebration on their own.
First the wedding car arrived at the hall (YMCA) and the family members of both the bridge and groom danced around the car for awhile while the rest of us watched and swayed with the music. Then we left the car and headed into the hall. A half an hour later the groom's family got up singing and trilling as the raced down the aisle to welcome the bride and groom and then they proceeded to sing and dance as they escorted the couple all the way back to the front of the hall. When the bride and groom were comfortably ensconced at their table in the front of the fall, it was our turn to get up and dance to welcome them, which we did enthusiastically. Later each member of the groom's family was introduced to us and after that was done, they all got up and danced. Then the bride's family was introduced and then they danced for a bit.
Later the traditional African Cake (a roasted goat) was brought in by a large group of cooks who, of course, danced down the aisle to the front of the room swinging the poor goat to and fro with great pride and exuberance. Later, there was a sweet cake cutting ceremony and then lots of good food. After we ate, we guests formed a conga line as we danced down the aisle carrying our gifts to present to the bridge and groom. As I was the only Mzungu dancing, I imagine they were a little surprised when I appeared before them, but they masked it very well and were quite gracious when I shook hands and congratulated them. Unfortunately we have an 11:00 curfew at the home base, so we had to leave early and missed the partying part of the party.
This was considered a small wedding as there were only about 300 people in attendance, but the hall was quite elaborately decorated with bushels of roses and yards of streamers and bunches of balloons. Typically the families will take a few months to fund raise for a wedding (I'm not sure which family has this responsibility) by soliciting monetary gifts from their extended family members to help pay for the festivities because except for the wealthy, most people here cannot afford to put on such a celebration on their own.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Last days in Tanzania
I have only four more days here in Tanzania. It seems impossible that I have been here for two months already. Saddly, I have so much to do in these four days that I am sure they will zoom by at neck-breaking speed. So I thought I might spend some time reflecting on my experiences here in the next few posts.
Things that I will miss include:
The wonderfully friendly and extremely polite and sympathetic Tanzanians. I have made many friends here and many acquaintances whose company I have thoroughly enjoyed and will sorely miss.
My fellow teachers at St. Theresia Secondary school and the many fascinating hours we have spent together discussing teaching, Tanzania, religion (too much of this topic for my tastes) the U.S, and life in general. This has truly been an invaluable cross cultural experience for us all.
My lovely students who sometimes, I admit, have made me a little crazy. I know I have shocked them on more than one occasion with my ideas and teaching style, but they have been wonderfully welcoming and open. You will see them at a screening of the movie that the llth graders and I are making and see why I have been so charmed by them.
I will also miss the head massages I get from my students when I sit down with them to do group work or do some filming. On these occasions, there are always three or four hands in my hair kneading, twisting, braiding, exploring this new texture.
The sights and sounds of Tanzania, including the beautiful kangas and kitenges the women wear, the call to prayer and church bells, gospel music and Tanzanian hip hop called Bongoi Flava, seeping from cars and doorways, and the rich smell of fresh fruit and vegetables, and occasionally Indian spices.
The children you meet on the roads who sweetly smile and greet you with "Good morning, Teacher. How are you? I am fine!" all in one breath. This, as much in the afternoon and evening as in the morning. The children here are so delighted to meet foreigners, maybe because we look so odd or because we are novelties here (there aren't many Mzungus in this area). They run along side the cars and vans waving gleefully, yelling "Hello!!" or "goodbye!!". Of course, we always worry they might fall and get hit, so we wave and smile but also yell, "Acha, acha" which I think means get back from the car.
Things I won't miss:
The horrible roads, full of boulders and gullies and gigantic craters. So bad that if you don't hold on to the seat in front you will be tossed off your seat entirely.
The decrepit daladalas that are so packed with people you can barely breathe. Actually, I don't really mind the daladalas that much, it's just that yesterday I rode two that about killed me. On the first, I was one of the people who couldn't get a seat so I had to stand up hunched over another person, folded at the waist. If she had turned her face toward me I would have had to kiss her we were so close. Then another poor soul got on and also had to stand stooped over right next to me. At one point as I mumbled something to myself about the deplorable situation I found myself in, he said "This is Tanzania" When I told him they needed to get more daladalas on the road here in Tanzania, he simply assured me that "It will end eventually" which did not console me in the least. When the daladala stopped again, I thought to myself, "Please God, let someone get off" and instead another person got on and I found myself perched on one leg with an even more contorted posture, I said "okay, this is enough. Let me off!!" I'm sure the people in the daladala thought that I was a silly, soft Mzungu, but I don't care.
On the second ride I at least got a seat, but was only able to half sit on it as there were many people sharing the two available seats with me. We were so squashed in at one point that a fight broke out between two women, forcing me to take two children on my lap so as to avoid fisticuffs. It was sweltering hot and the gears on the van crunched horribly; I couln't imagine how we could make it to our destination, but of course we did, and I felt that I had regained some of my pride among daladala rider.
Later, I was advised not to get on a daladala if I can't get one of the front seats. Sage advice which I will follow assiduously.
I think those are the two things I won't miss here.
No wait, the horrible lack of resources for schools should be on the top of this list. The dearth of books, pens and pencils, rulars, paper, chalk, electricity that children and teachers must endure.
More later
Things that I will miss include:
The wonderfully friendly and extremely polite and sympathetic Tanzanians. I have made many friends here and many acquaintances whose company I have thoroughly enjoyed and will sorely miss.
My fellow teachers at St. Theresia Secondary school and the many fascinating hours we have spent together discussing teaching, Tanzania, religion (too much of this topic for my tastes) the U.S, and life in general. This has truly been an invaluable cross cultural experience for us all.
My lovely students who sometimes, I admit, have made me a little crazy. I know I have shocked them on more than one occasion with my ideas and teaching style, but they have been wonderfully welcoming and open. You will see them at a screening of the movie that the llth graders and I are making and see why I have been so charmed by them.
I will also miss the head massages I get from my students when I sit down with them to do group work or do some filming. On these occasions, there are always three or four hands in my hair kneading, twisting, braiding, exploring this new texture.
The sights and sounds of Tanzania, including the beautiful kangas and kitenges the women wear, the call to prayer and church bells, gospel music and Tanzanian hip hop called Bongoi Flava, seeping from cars and doorways, and the rich smell of fresh fruit and vegetables, and occasionally Indian spices.
The children you meet on the roads who sweetly smile and greet you with "Good morning, Teacher. How are you? I am fine!" all in one breath. This, as much in the afternoon and evening as in the morning. The children here are so delighted to meet foreigners, maybe because we look so odd or because we are novelties here (there aren't many Mzungus in this area). They run along side the cars and vans waving gleefully, yelling "Hello!!" or "goodbye!!". Of course, we always worry they might fall and get hit, so we wave and smile but also yell, "Acha, acha" which I think means get back from the car.
Things I won't miss:
The horrible roads, full of boulders and gullies and gigantic craters. So bad that if you don't hold on to the seat in front you will be tossed off your seat entirely.
The decrepit daladalas that are so packed with people you can barely breathe. Actually, I don't really mind the daladalas that much, it's just that yesterday I rode two that about killed me. On the first, I was one of the people who couldn't get a seat so I had to stand up hunched over another person, folded at the waist. If she had turned her face toward me I would have had to kiss her we were so close. Then another poor soul got on and also had to stand stooped over right next to me. At one point as I mumbled something to myself about the deplorable situation I found myself in, he said "This is Tanzania" When I told him they needed to get more daladalas on the road here in Tanzania, he simply assured me that "It will end eventually" which did not console me in the least. When the daladala stopped again, I thought to myself, "Please God, let someone get off" and instead another person got on and I found myself perched on one leg with an even more contorted posture, I said "okay, this is enough. Let me off!!" I'm sure the people in the daladala thought that I was a silly, soft Mzungu, but I don't care.
On the second ride I at least got a seat, but was only able to half sit on it as there were many people sharing the two available seats with me. We were so squashed in at one point that a fight broke out between two women, forcing me to take two children on my lap so as to avoid fisticuffs. It was sweltering hot and the gears on the van crunched horribly; I couln't imagine how we could make it to our destination, but of course we did, and I felt that I had regained some of my pride among daladala rider.
Later, I was advised not to get on a daladala if I can't get one of the front seats. Sage advice which I will follow assiduously.
I think those are the two things I won't miss here.
No wait, the horrible lack of resources for schools should be on the top of this list. The dearth of books, pens and pencils, rulars, paper, chalk, electricity that children and teachers must endure.
More later
Thursday, October 11, 2007
International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda
Yesterday I had the opportunity to sit in on a hearing at the ICTR. The ICTR has four courts and they all have been on recess since I have been in Tanzania. Fortunately, all four trials resumed this week. The ICTR has completed 66 or so cases since its inception in the mid nineties. There are 18 current defendants. Most of the accused have been convicted and are serving prison terms; a few have been acquitted. This tribunal only hears cases against those who were in positions of leadership and authority in Rwanda at the time of the genocide. There are 8 more cases pending trial and the ICTR is supposed to close in 2008, but at the pace these trials are proceeding, I doubt they will make it.
The case we heard yesterday has been in session for four years. The accused are four men who were ministers in the transitional government in 1994 after the Rwandan president's plane was shot down. The person who was testifying (in his own defence) had been the minister of foreign affairs. The ministers of health, trade, and something else were his co-defendants. The courtroom is quite full as there are three judges who sit in the middle of the room, with assistants and court reporters around. Facing the judges, but with his back to the spectators sits the witness. There is a curtain that can conceal the witness in cases where witnesses must be protected. This witness/defendant was in full view of the spectators' section. Then there is a small army of prosecuting attorneys on the right and another small army of defense attorneys on the left, along with the other accused.
The attorney conducting the cross examination was an African-Canadian with a wry and satirical sense of humour who had the court guffawing on a number of occasions; however, his examination of the defendant was devastatingly serious and composed of two parts. First he establish (successfully) that the minister indeed was in a position of power at the time to stop the genocide, and then he focused on a speech the minister had given to the security council in early May 1994. It took about two hours to get all the information on the table because it is an extremely laborious process to conduct an international trial in three languages; there was a lot of paper shuffling so that everyone in the court were on the same page, etc.
We were all appalled when we finally heard the full contents of his speech, which included absolutely nothing about Tutsies being massacred, and created the impression that it was the Hutus who had been under attack by the Rwandan Liberation Front (can't remember exactly the the name of this group). Now, indeed, the RLF had been responsible for killing some Hutus somewhere in the country, at some time, but this speech, delivered 5 weeks after the genocide had started, completely covered up what was really going on in Rwanda. When he was questioned about not mentioning the Tutsi massacres, he stated that he had said "Hutus and others." it was realy unbelievable.
I think this guy is doomed and I hope he rots in prison for the rest of his life. There is a prison at the ICTR site where all of the accused live for the duration of their trials, and I read in the paper last night that prisoners there are all on a hunger strike now because there is talk of moving the final eight trials to Rwanda. They worry of course about getting a fair trial there.
It was quite moving to attend this trial and to see that these gross violations of human rights will not go unpunished.
The case we heard yesterday has been in session for four years. The accused are four men who were ministers in the transitional government in 1994 after the Rwandan president's plane was shot down. The person who was testifying (in his own defence) had been the minister of foreign affairs. The ministers of health, trade, and something else were his co-defendants. The courtroom is quite full as there are three judges who sit in the middle of the room, with assistants and court reporters around. Facing the judges, but with his back to the spectators sits the witness. There is a curtain that can conceal the witness in cases where witnesses must be protected. This witness/defendant was in full view of the spectators' section. Then there is a small army of prosecuting attorneys on the right and another small army of defense attorneys on the left, along with the other accused.
The attorney conducting the cross examination was an African-Canadian with a wry and satirical sense of humour who had the court guffawing on a number of occasions; however, his examination of the defendant was devastatingly serious and composed of two parts. First he establish (successfully) that the minister indeed was in a position of power at the time to stop the genocide, and then he focused on a speech the minister had given to the security council in early May 1994. It took about two hours to get all the information on the table because it is an extremely laborious process to conduct an international trial in three languages; there was a lot of paper shuffling so that everyone in the court were on the same page, etc.
We were all appalled when we finally heard the full contents of his speech, which included absolutely nothing about Tutsies being massacred, and created the impression that it was the Hutus who had been under attack by the Rwandan Liberation Front (can't remember exactly the the name of this group). Now, indeed, the RLF had been responsible for killing some Hutus somewhere in the country, at some time, but this speech, delivered 5 weeks after the genocide had started, completely covered up what was really going on in Rwanda. When he was questioned about not mentioning the Tutsi massacres, he stated that he had said "Hutus and others." it was realy unbelievable.
I think this guy is doomed and I hope he rots in prison for the rest of his life. There is a prison at the ICTR site where all of the accused live for the duration of their trials, and I read in the paper last night that prisoners there are all on a hunger strike now because there is talk of moving the final eight trials to Rwanda. They worry of course about getting a fair trial there.
It was quite moving to attend this trial and to see that these gross violations of human rights will not go unpunished.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
A visit to the Big Town
As much as I like our little Moshi Town (population 5,000), I am often frustrated by the limitations it has in terms of resources/goods. This weekend I went the Arusha which is an hours drive from here to solve my resource problems. Arusha is the third largest city in Tanzania (300,000 population) and it feels like a bustling metropolis. This town, in fact, features large in East African politics. It's the seat of the East African Community and the UN Rwandan Tribunal and the place the politicians in the region meet to discuss current events/policies/issues (things like refugee crises, what to do about Mungabe and Somalia, etc.)
My goal in going to Arusha this weekend was to shop. And I was quite successful. A friend contacted one of his homeboys in Arusha to assist me on my shopping spree and we got it all done in about three hours. Here's what I bought: a classroom pencil sharpener, a rain slicker and gaiters (things you put on your pants to protect your clothing from rain, mud and prickly things on a trek) music cds (and I got a Tanzanian movie too while I was there), reading glasses (I had left mine in Moshi) and the big score - a mini microphone for my video camera (This I found on my own after visiting 8 electronic shops in Arusha). None of the above items are available in Moshi so I was extrmeley pleased with myself all day today.
I also got more batiks from the street vendors who were so grateful for my purchases that a group of them (stationed outside of my hotel) accompanied me on all my excursions in the afternoon. My friend booked the hotel for me and I was slightly alarmed when he told me it was $20 a night, but he assured me that it was a good hotel and it was! The restaurant had good food and was a good hangout in the evenings, the rooms were basic but clean and there was a TV (I watched Nigerian soap operas at night) and a telephone from which you could not make outside calls (!).
Sunday morning I got up and took a daladala home - always an intriguing, somewhat alarming experience for $1.50. On Friday my friend John drove me to Arusha because he wanted to show me the orphanage he is building half way to Arusha. He is a small-time tour operator who sinks most of his profits into this orphanage. The orphanage is in his home village which is at the foot of Mt. Meru, the second largest mountain after Mt. Kili, so it's cool there but with tropical vegetation. After seeing the orphanage we spent some time with his family who live sort of next door. It was a great excursion. There was a tiny calf (two weeks old) at his father's farm who delighted everyone with her antics, the favorite of which was playing tag with the roosters. Who knew farm life would be so entertaining.
Now I am home in Moshi, getting ready for work tomorrow. I have only two weeks left in Tanzania and I am already starting to feel meloncholy about leaving.
My goal in going to Arusha this weekend was to shop. And I was quite successful. A friend contacted one of his homeboys in Arusha to assist me on my shopping spree and we got it all done in about three hours. Here's what I bought: a classroom pencil sharpener, a rain slicker and gaiters (things you put on your pants to protect your clothing from rain, mud and prickly things on a trek) music cds (and I got a Tanzanian movie too while I was there), reading glasses (I had left mine in Moshi) and the big score - a mini microphone for my video camera (This I found on my own after visiting 8 electronic shops in Arusha). None of the above items are available in Moshi so I was extrmeley pleased with myself all day today.
I also got more batiks from the street vendors who were so grateful for my purchases that a group of them (stationed outside of my hotel) accompanied me on all my excursions in the afternoon. My friend booked the hotel for me and I was slightly alarmed when he told me it was $20 a night, but he assured me that it was a good hotel and it was! The restaurant had good food and was a good hangout in the evenings, the rooms were basic but clean and there was a TV (I watched Nigerian soap operas at night) and a telephone from which you could not make outside calls (!).
Sunday morning I got up and took a daladala home - always an intriguing, somewhat alarming experience for $1.50. On Friday my friend John drove me to Arusha because he wanted to show me the orphanage he is building half way to Arusha. He is a small-time tour operator who sinks most of his profits into this orphanage. The orphanage is in his home village which is at the foot of Mt. Meru, the second largest mountain after Mt. Kili, so it's cool there but with tropical vegetation. After seeing the orphanage we spent some time with his family who live sort of next door. It was a great excursion. There was a tiny calf (two weeks old) at his father's farm who delighted everyone with her antics, the favorite of which was playing tag with the roosters. Who knew farm life would be so entertaining.
Now I am home in Moshi, getting ready for work tomorrow. I have only two weeks left in Tanzania and I am already starting to feel meloncholy about leaving.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
More on Teaching in Tanzania
Somethings are the same everywhere. Last week as students lined up to file into the classroom for a test, they were required to roll up their sleeves, pull out their pockets, and open their pencil cases (for the few who have such things)so that the supervising teacher could make sure they hadn't prepared any testing aides. I remember doing that at Mission High school where I worked as a teacher's assistant many, many moons ago.
It's always a challenge to prepare lessons when you are limited to a chalkboard for the most part, but there are other frustrations of teaching in Tanzania as well. Students, for one, are not used to our interactive, communicative methodology. They primarily learn English through rote memorization and grammar drills, so when I put them in groups or pairs to brainstorm a topic, discuss an issue, or analyze a reading, they are confused about what is required of them. This lack of preparedness or independence impacts their ability to perform on the national exams they have to take, so it's not surprising that only about 28% (according to an article I read in the newspaper) earn high enough scores to continue their educations. I graded the papers of Form 2 students who take national exams at the end of october and was floored to see that only about 5 our of 42 passed the grammar portion of the exam.
Then there is the annoying practice of students standing up whenever they answer or ask a question. When I do quick questions to practice a grammar point, students are constantly popping up and down to participate. I want to tell them to sit through the exercise, but worry that the faculty will complain that we spoil the students and not invite mzungu volunteers back.
The class schedule has been Really flexible for the past two weeks, and so we haven't taught much as classes were cancelled first for working in the shamba picking corn, then for preparing the school for their first graduation, then two of the levels went home for a week to collect their school fees for next year, and they have trickled back this week, so we have had about half of the students in class this week. I only have two more weeks here, so I anxious about getting things done. One class and I are making a movie of St. Theresia which Nick and I and one other person will use to recruit pen pals for students in the first three forms. I have been staying late to work on this project with them, but it has actually been a lot of fun. This week they are writing scripts and figuring out what photos and video footage and music they need and we will start filming next week. I'll put together the movie when I get to Morocco, which is in three weeks I think!!!
It's always a challenge to prepare lessons when you are limited to a chalkboard for the most part, but there are other frustrations of teaching in Tanzania as well. Students, for one, are not used to our interactive, communicative methodology. They primarily learn English through rote memorization and grammar drills, so when I put them in groups or pairs to brainstorm a topic, discuss an issue, or analyze a reading, they are confused about what is required of them. This lack of preparedness or independence impacts their ability to perform on the national exams they have to take, so it's not surprising that only about 28% (according to an article I read in the newspaper) earn high enough scores to continue their educations. I graded the papers of Form 2 students who take national exams at the end of october and was floored to see that only about 5 our of 42 passed the grammar portion of the exam.
Then there is the annoying practice of students standing up whenever they answer or ask a question. When I do quick questions to practice a grammar point, students are constantly popping up and down to participate. I want to tell them to sit through the exercise, but worry that the faculty will complain that we spoil the students and not invite mzungu volunteers back.
The class schedule has been Really flexible for the past two weeks, and so we haven't taught much as classes were cancelled first for working in the shamba picking corn, then for preparing the school for their first graduation, then two of the levels went home for a week to collect their school fees for next year, and they have trickled back this week, so we have had about half of the students in class this week. I only have two more weeks here, so I anxious about getting things done. One class and I are making a movie of St. Theresia which Nick and I and one other person will use to recruit pen pals for students in the first three forms. I have been staying late to work on this project with them, but it has actually been a lot of fun. This week they are writing scripts and figuring out what photos and video footage and music they need and we will start filming next week. I'll put together the movie when I get to Morocco, which is in three weeks I think!!!
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Mob justice
Yesterday my fellow volunteer and colleague at St. Theresia rode the daladala home and was relieved of his wallet as he was getting off the maniacally crowded van. When he alerted the other passengers to the theft one of them pointed to a man in a blue cap who had gotten off the bus with Nick. The man ducked into a house in an alley and a crowd ran after him. Minutes later they dragged him kicking and screaming back to the daladala, reached into his pockets and returned Nick's wallet. The man then tried to get back on the daladala, but a now very large crowd managed to pull him off the bus as he desperately clung to a railing. Then one in the crowd picked up a very large rock and slammed into into the thief's head. A crowd of about thirty surrounded him and proceeded to beat him. Nick, alarmed, begged people to leave the thief alone, but a few in the crowd advised Nick to leave them alone and go home. Which he did.
We have been told horror stories such as this by numerous people. Typically, we are told, a furious crowd will throw a tire around a robber and burn him alive. This happens at least once a week in Dar es Salaam, according to my colleagues at St. Theresia. Everyone we talk to here says that thieves spend one or two days in jail and then are let free, so people feel they have to take matters into their own hands. It's unfortunate, but it teaches a lesson, they say. This is only done, they assure us, when it is 100% clear that the person they are planning to burn is indeed guilty. From my civics book, I know that such acts are illegal here, but I doubt that people are arrested or prosecuted for such crimes. It's unnerving to even think about, much less witness. Rick was quite shaken up by the experience.
My guess is that people resort to this behavior out of extreme frustration. Life is hard here and people work very hard to meet the basic necessities of life. They have to save up for things like cell phones and head sets (two items two colleagues lost to thieves recently) and are enraged when things are taken from them.
At the same time corporal punishment is fairly widespread here. Children receive thrashings at school, not much fuss is made of domestic violence, and prisoners receive a certain number of canings along with their sentence for crimes committed.
In school, teachers are very stern and strict with students. They even take switches to class with them. It's no surprise then that students are very quiet and serious in class. This initially drove me crazy. My teaching style is informal and relaxed and I like to joke a lot with students and tease them to set them at ease. They have a hard time figuring out how to relate to me, and Nick too, for that matter. But we are slowly getting used to each other. The other day, I handed Nick a switch and suggested we bring them to class to throw the students off. The faculty burst out laughing at the absurdity of a Mzungu using a switch on students. I didn't do it yet, but I will just for fun one of these days. They actually would work quite well as pointers.
We have been told horror stories such as this by numerous people. Typically, we are told, a furious crowd will throw a tire around a robber and burn him alive. This happens at least once a week in Dar es Salaam, according to my colleagues at St. Theresia. Everyone we talk to here says that thieves spend one or two days in jail and then are let free, so people feel they have to take matters into their own hands. It's unfortunate, but it teaches a lesson, they say. This is only done, they assure us, when it is 100% clear that the person they are planning to burn is indeed guilty. From my civics book, I know that such acts are illegal here, but I doubt that people are arrested or prosecuted for such crimes. It's unnerving to even think about, much less witness. Rick was quite shaken up by the experience.
My guess is that people resort to this behavior out of extreme frustration. Life is hard here and people work very hard to meet the basic necessities of life. They have to save up for things like cell phones and head sets (two items two colleagues lost to thieves recently) and are enraged when things are taken from them.
At the same time corporal punishment is fairly widespread here. Children receive thrashings at school, not much fuss is made of domestic violence, and prisoners receive a certain number of canings along with their sentence for crimes committed.
In school, teachers are very stern and strict with students. They even take switches to class with them. It's no surprise then that students are very quiet and serious in class. This initially drove me crazy. My teaching style is informal and relaxed and I like to joke a lot with students and tease them to set them at ease. They have a hard time figuring out how to relate to me, and Nick too, for that matter. But we are slowly getting used to each other. The other day, I handed Nick a switch and suggested we bring them to class to throw the students off. The faculty burst out laughing at the absurdity of a Mzungu using a switch on students. I didn't do it yet, but I will just for fun one of these days. They actually would work quite well as pointers.
Monday, October 1, 2007
On Safari
Well, it's settled. I don't have to go the Serengeti after all. I saw the Big Five (Water buffalo, lion, rhinoceros, leopard, and elephant), and much, much more in the Ngorogoro Crater and Lake Manyara this weekend. And I saw the Serengeti from a distance...well the beginning of it anyway, and not only that, it's not the time for the great wildebeest migration, when a million or more of these creatures travel to the Serengeti from Kenya for procreation activities. So, I feel like I can spare myself that expence and time (It is a full days drive to get there, so it's hard to do it on a weekend.)
The Ngorogoro Crater is part of a large national park here that is a world heritage site. To get there we drove for three and half hours and then crossed the Great Rift Valley (which stretches from Jordan to the end of Tanzania), then over a mountain range to the crater which is a collapsed volcano formed some millions of years ago. The crater has the largest concentration of wild life in Africa, I believe. We spent our first day driving around the floor of the crater looking for and observing hundreds of zebra, thousands for wildebeests, a few elephants and hippos, three lions, a cheetah and lots of gazelles and birds. I was surprised that I loved it so much as I have never been a big zoo fan, and this was like going to a super deluxe zoo. It was very relaxing on one level because you stay in the van the whole time and when you spot some animals, you sit and observe them for awhile. But it's also exciting on another level to find the animals, especially those that are hard to find, like the lions and the elephants who happily forrage right next to the vehicles.
We spotted three lions, who clearly were not hungry, lounging about watching the wildebeests in front of them and the zebras behind them. The wildebeest and the zebras wanted to go to a river which was precariously close to the lounging lions, so they watched the lions for about ten minutes without moving. When the wildebeests concluded that the lions were not planning to attack, they send a scout to go down to the river and after another five minutes the others cautiously followed. The zebras at the other end did the same and in the end both groups made it down to the river with no interference from the lions. At one point something spooked the wildebeests and a group dashed up the embankment, but they then later calmed down and went back down. It was so interesting and fun to watch all this. On our way out of the crater we spotted a leopard sauntering down the road, but she dashed into the brush when our driver slammed on the breaks. We saw her watching us from behind a bush, but then he got bored with us and slipped away.
Day two we went to Lake Manyara which is a 250 square kilometer reserve area with scrub dessert, beaches and thick Forest. (the lake itself takes up the majority of the kilometers). We watched a clan of baboons grooming and playing with each other, tons of elephants foragin about, a couple of elegant zebras munching on trees and lots of zebras and wildebeests. Everyone was pretty much involved in the same activities: foraging and feasting. We also came across three lions who were having a big-time feast on a wildebeest. Oh yes, and the flamingos. Hundreds of them, but too far to see well, so at one point at a rest stop near the lake, I wandered off to get a closer look and was called back after a very short jaunt. I was then scolded by a ranger type person who said it was too dangerousbecause an elephant or rhino could appear and attack. Rhinos, I was surprised to learn, can run at 35 miles per hour, which is pretty darn fast.
Afterwards we had a picnic on a ridge above the lake with wonderful views of the lake, elephants foraging below us, and all manor of exotic birds flying above us. We also watched a girafe, every so slowly, walk down the beach. My travel companion suggested she might be suicidal walking on the beach alone because what would She have done is a Rhino had shown up. It felt prehistoric because there was no signs of human habitation: no structures or noise or even, for the most part, people. We all felt somewhat melancholy when it was time to leave and one person in our group (of three) was so moved by the experience that she is planning another safari in the Serengeti in a few weeks.
Not far from the Ngorogoro Crater and Lake Manyara is the Olduvai Gorge were the Leakey's discovered the oldest human fossils - the birthplace of our earliest ancestors. I would love to get over there as well, but I think it is too far (and expensive) to go for a weekend.
Instead, I have booked a trip to Rwanda where I will go on a gorilla safari in the misty volcanic mountains in the north and then in Kigali I will visit the office of Women for Women International, an organization that sponsors women in war torn countries to get a new start in life. I have been sponsoring women through this organization for five years or so. I think I might have had a sister in Rwanda a few years ago and if so, I might try to visit her.
So, I am becoming an wild life enthusiast in my old age. Fun.
The Ngorogoro Crater is part of a large national park here that is a world heritage site. To get there we drove for three and half hours and then crossed the Great Rift Valley (which stretches from Jordan to the end of Tanzania), then over a mountain range to the crater which is a collapsed volcano formed some millions of years ago. The crater has the largest concentration of wild life in Africa, I believe. We spent our first day driving around the floor of the crater looking for and observing hundreds of zebra, thousands for wildebeests, a few elephants and hippos, three lions, a cheetah and lots of gazelles and birds. I was surprised that I loved it so much as I have never been a big zoo fan, and this was like going to a super deluxe zoo. It was very relaxing on one level because you stay in the van the whole time and when you spot some animals, you sit and observe them for awhile. But it's also exciting on another level to find the animals, especially those that are hard to find, like the lions and the elephants who happily forrage right next to the vehicles.
We spotted three lions, who clearly were not hungry, lounging about watching the wildebeests in front of them and the zebras behind them. The wildebeest and the zebras wanted to go to a river which was precariously close to the lounging lions, so they watched the lions for about ten minutes without moving. When the wildebeests concluded that the lions were not planning to attack, they send a scout to go down to the river and after another five minutes the others cautiously followed. The zebras at the other end did the same and in the end both groups made it down to the river with no interference from the lions. At one point something spooked the wildebeests and a group dashed up the embankment, but they then later calmed down and went back down. It was so interesting and fun to watch all this. On our way out of the crater we spotted a leopard sauntering down the road, but she dashed into the brush when our driver slammed on the breaks. We saw her watching us from behind a bush, but then he got bored with us and slipped away.
Day two we went to Lake Manyara which is a 250 square kilometer reserve area with scrub dessert, beaches and thick Forest. (the lake itself takes up the majority of the kilometers). We watched a clan of baboons grooming and playing with each other, tons of elephants foragin about, a couple of elegant zebras munching on trees and lots of zebras and wildebeests. Everyone was pretty much involved in the same activities: foraging and feasting. We also came across three lions who were having a big-time feast on a wildebeest. Oh yes, and the flamingos. Hundreds of them, but too far to see well, so at one point at a rest stop near the lake, I wandered off to get a closer look and was called back after a very short jaunt. I was then scolded by a ranger type person who said it was too dangerousbecause an elephant or rhino could appear and attack. Rhinos, I was surprised to learn, can run at 35 miles per hour, which is pretty darn fast.
Afterwards we had a picnic on a ridge above the lake with wonderful views of the lake, elephants foraging below us, and all manor of exotic birds flying above us. We also watched a girafe, every so slowly, walk down the beach. My travel companion suggested she might be suicidal walking on the beach alone because what would She have done is a Rhino had shown up. It felt prehistoric because there was no signs of human habitation: no structures or noise or even, for the most part, people. We all felt somewhat melancholy when it was time to leave and one person in our group (of three) was so moved by the experience that she is planning another safari in the Serengeti in a few weeks.
Not far from the Ngorogoro Crater and Lake Manyara is the Olduvai Gorge were the Leakey's discovered the oldest human fossils - the birthplace of our earliest ancestors. I would love to get over there as well, but I think it is too far (and expensive) to go for a weekend.
Instead, I have booked a trip to Rwanda where I will go on a gorilla safari in the misty volcanic mountains in the north and then in Kigali I will visit the office of Women for Women International, an organization that sponsors women in war torn countries to get a new start in life. I have been sponsoring women through this organization for five years or so. I think I might have had a sister in Rwanda a few years ago and if so, I might try to visit her.
So, I am becoming an wild life enthusiast in my old age. Fun.
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