The Rain Reigns

The rainy season has come with a vengeance to assail the thirsty, dust-ridden land. Instead of falling, the rain angrily smacks the ground, taking no mercy on any unsettled dust particle. It sounds more like a round of applause than a pitter-patter, occasionally complemented with a Boom Boom (but rarely a Pow).

The rain has come every day since the prompt onset of the appropriately named season. One minute the sun will be shining, and all of a sudden a few raindrops or a clap of thunder will warn you to take shelter before the impending downpour. An hour later, the rain will have passed, leaving behind only a few puddles.

I have yet to be inconvenienced by the rain, despite being caught in potentially inconveniencing positions.

Even though I didn’t have class on Thursday, Roland assigned us 300 pages to read on various peacekeeping missions and security in Africa, so a few of us headed to a café for tea and reading. Our plan had been to stay for two hours or so, then head back. Unbeknownst to us, the rain had been plotting against our American Time the whole time. Just as we were about to pay the check, we smelled the rain coming… then we saw the clouds… then came the warning raindrops… and finally, the rain. We were a 20-minute walk away from our apartment and vastly unprepared. So we embraced it. We packed up our books, closed our laptops, sat back in a cushioned half-bed half-couch on the covered porch of the café, and relaxed. I’d be lying if I denied falling victim to public napping that afternoon. The rain eventually passed and Hannah, Karla, and I walked home, dodging puddles along the way.

Getting caught in the rain isn’t an inconvenience either. In fact, it can be quite welcoming. After International Law on Friday, Paul (the Australian in our group who has lived in Arusha on several occasions previously) took 7 of us to his house en route to Food Water Shelter, an eco-friendly orphanage in the middle of nowhere. After a 25-minute walk, a 20-minute daladala ride on a dirt road (during which 7 of us fit in a seat made for 3 people), and another 15-minute walk, we arrived at Paul’s house. The village where it is located is known for “village justice,” which is used by some locals. We passed one of Paul’s friends on the way and they muttered in Kiswahili to each other. When we were in the safety of his house, Paul later told us that some of the guys were addressing “village matters”. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but I had a faint idea based on the hesitation in Paul’s expression. We re-energized before another long walk with passion fruit and mangos. Paul even let us invade his precious stash of VegeMite that he brought all the way from Australia. It tasted like overly salted pasty soy sauce. nom nom vom.

We went on a 35-minute walk to Food Water Shelter, and on the way we ran into several kids. Some of them would stare, some would come play, some followed us, and some (actually, most of them) would yell “muzungu! muzungu!” which is the Kiswahili word for “white person” or “westerner”. Playfully, we’d respond “African! African!”.

After dodging banana leaves and hopping streams, we arrived at Food Water Shelter, where a group of Australians finally took the initiative to implement many of the eco-friendly concepts that Americans just throw around. Not only that, but they’re training “Mamas” to take care of the kids in their orphanage. The place is almost completely self-sustainable. The website is significantly better at going into detail: http://www.foodwatershelter.org.au/

The sun was brutal on the walk back to town. Thankfully, God blessed the rain down in Africa! With arms outstretched to the sky, we all welcomed the feeling of the cool rain.

Saturday was spent shopping for fabric. Karla and I put on our game faces and confronted the market in full force. We were lucky to find one of the streets of the market that is filled with vibrant sheets of Tanzanian fabric. The sellers would originally charge us the muzungu price, which is double. After speaking a little Kiswahili and being very stubborn, we got the price that we were supposed to get. For the equivalent of US $15, I got enough fabric to tailor 2 dresses and 3 skirts. The tailoring will be just as inexpensive!

On Saturday afternoon, Lalahe took us to the near-by Maasai market. He assured us that we would get the rafiki price if he went with us, and we did! Having a Maasai friend is so resourceful.

The rain came again on Saturday night while we were at Via Via. Our music professor, Mr. Stubbs, was playing the keyboard in a Jazz/Blues band that night so we all went to go see him. Via Via only has outdoor seating that is covered with a thatched roof, so we all got a little damp when the rain came. Mid-rocking out on the keyboard, the power shut off. No problem though. Twenty minutes later, the band was back for round two.

And now I come to my current situation. I’m sitting on the porch of our accommodation, watching, smelling, feeling, and enjoying the rain. I heard someone say that the way some Maasai keep track of their age is by rainy seasons. Tomorrow I will be 40 rainy seasons and 20 years old.

KiswaFrEnglichi

Whoever told me that classes are easy during a semester abroad should stop spreading such lies. Every week is not syllabus week here. To make things even harder, the people in my group are some of the brightest students in African politics. A couple of them live in a parallel universe where it is normal for college students to wake up unnecessarily early to study… (yes, I’m talking about you, Stanley… and I know you’re reading this, too!). So I apologize for not updating sooner… my classes are to blame.

Things are beginning to settle down here in Arusha. My days are more structured, making time pass uncommonly quickly. A day feels like an hour, a week seems like a day.

One of the most unexpected obstacles that I’ve faced thus far is the language barrier. No, not between English and Kiswahili… but between French and Kiswahili. After years of French class, apparently my brain has been trained to think in French whenever I hear a foreign language. This can make things awkward. I think I’ve confused a couple street vendors by subconsciously responding with French greetings. When I’m trying to translate a sentence from English to Kiswahili, I find myself filling in the holes with French words. Mais franchement! Although it is sometimes confusing, my French has come in handy at the ICTR and African Court, where it is the primary language of International Law. Perhaps there was a part of me that knew I wanted to pursue International Relations on that fateful pre-sixth grade day when I chose to take French instead of Spanish.

It’s humbling, awkward, overwhelming, and thrilling to live in a country with which I don’t share the language. Although I love French, I have never been in a position where I really needed to know it to get by. Many Tanzanians speak English, but we’ve learned that it is much more appreciated if we speak (or at least try to speak) in Kiswahili instead. Therefore, my roommates and I have turned our apartment into a real-life Rosetta Stone. Doors, windows, bathroom, toothbrush, table, phone, light, shoes, toilet paper, kettle, plates—everything is artfully labeled with a colorful post-it note bearing its Kiswahili name. I have never been more motivated to learn a foreign language! Naturally, the first full sentence that I formed was “I like to eat bread”…(Ninapenda kula mkate). That’s pretty much all I need in order to get by.

It’s always fascinating to make friends in a foreign country because it seems so perfectly random. The four Americans that we met at Via Via on Thursday invited us to church with them on Sunday. While almost everyone was still in bed, Hannah and I decided to wake up early Sunday morning to check it out. The service was held at PePe’s Italian and Indian Restaurant, about a 15-minute walk from our apartment. Our American friends (Andrew, Karissa, Jenna, and Adam) welcomed us and we took a seat outside under a pavilion for the service. I looked around and saw an interesting mix of locals and muzungus (westerners). The service attracts muzungus because it’s relatively contemporary and completely in English. To be honest, there wasn’t much difference between this Vineyard service and a service at Oxford Bible Fellowship (except Kevin rocking out on the bass, of course). The biggest difference was the context. The pastor delivered a sermon on Biblical Stewardship that was striking similar to Pastor Jeremy’s stewardship message last year. The message took on a whole new meaning now that I was living in one of Africa’s poorest nations. It’s always challenging and refreshing to re-think the way I spend the money that I have been given. It’s easy to talk about charitable giving, but living in Arusha has given me a unique opportunity to give both my time and my money in ways that live out Matthew 6:21. What a joy, what a responsibility! Later in the week I attended a small Bible study with Jenna, Andrew, and Karissa.

Another fascinating friend that we’ve made in Arusha is Lalahe, the absurd Maasai dancer/warrior. A perk of being friends with Lalahe is that you always feel safe when he’s around because he carries a stick in one hand and a machete around his waist. We weren’t bothered once when a couple of us went on a walk with Lalahe on Tuesday. I quickly lost track of how far we’d gone because I was so fascinated by his comments. We got into a discussion that compared western weddings to Maasai weddings, and he was astonished when we told him that you are only allowed to have one wife in the United States (“You can have three wives where you are from, yes?”… “No, Lalahe, only one.”… “So, three?”… “…no, just… one” …long pause… “oh!”). We even tried to breach the controversial topic of gay marriage, but that was so far beyond him that we should’ve saved it for another day. The best part of the conversation was when he invited all of us to his friend’s wedding in the beginning of March. Lalahe said that it is his friend’s first wife, so the wedding will be huge… “lots of dancing,” he said. Apparently it’s acceptable to invite strangers to a Maasai wedding because Lalahe assured us several times that it would be okay if we came with him. Details are hard to get from Lalahe, especially since he always approximates dates and numbers. Hopefully all the details will fall into place so that we can go to his village for the wedding… who knows, maybe I’ll earn a spot among them for battling one of their own…

An apologetically long post that I promise to be worthwhile if you have the time to read in full

Thanks for the clip-on flashlight that I got in my stocking, Mom!… uhh, I mean Santa! The power has been going out several times each hour here tonight so I’m writing this in my very dimly lit room. I only have 45 minutes of battery power left, so I’ll write as much as I can.

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I’ll go to class, read textbooks, analyze articles, and memorize vocabulary, but just living in Arusha will still teach me more than any schooling could. This Tuesday was a prime example of this theory. I had class from 8am-12pm, so a group of us decided to walk to the market after lunch. It was the hottest day yet—a scorching 91 degrees. I realized that locals like to practice their English on us as much as we like to practice our Kiswahili on them. As we passed a man on the street, he said, “Hi, how are you? Happy birthday!”…to give him some credit, his pronunciation was good and he was only about a week and a half off.

To be honest, we weren’t exactly sure where to go. We used our broken Kiswahili to ask “marketi wopi?” and in response we would usually get a vague finger pointing. Although we eventually made it to the market, what we initially found was not intended for newcomers. Our directional instincts had led us to the backside of the market where children and adults alike were digging through rotten fruit and vegetables. I made eye contact with a scruffy man, probably 50 years old, digging into a mango that he had just pulled from the pile of rubbish. We had been told that the market was vibrant and lively, but this was completely different. We climbed over the trash, hoping to find something more encouraging.

We rounded a corner and found what we were supposed to find all along. I was too busy watching my feet that I hadn’t yet taken a glance at my surroundings. When I finally did look up, I was so overwhelmed that I stopped walking, breathing, blinking—everything. It was late afternoon so the sun was just dangling somewhere between sunrise and sunset. It illuminated a mass of people shuffling between rows and rows of everything imaginable. You can’t find a convenience store or supermarket in Arusha—this is their Walmart. Do you want mangos? They’re on your left. How about fabric? Down the dirt road and to the right. Need a kids’ toy? A tailor? Kitchen supplies? Tires? Shoes? Rice? Bicycle? It’s all here. You just have to find it.

When I finally came to my senses, I looked down and saw a toddler holding a handful of black grocery bags, hoping to sell one to a needy shopper for 100 shilling. I looked a little further and saw all of the other children doing the exact same thing. Before I had the chance to grab one of them to keep for my own (jokes), we were suddenly surrounded by a group of young teenagers asking what kind of food we’re looking for. Hannah singled out two boys named Frankie and SuperStar to help us on our quest to find mangos, avocados, and bananas (SuperStar eventually told us that his real name is Leonard… I don’t blame him for changing it…). I was so overwhelmed that I was in no mood to haggle. This time around, I let Hannah deal with the business matters. Frankie and Leonard assured her that she was getting a fair price (6,000 shilling for 3 avocados, 3 mangos, and a bunch of bananas… which is about US $4.80). We took the deal, bid farewell to our new friends/business partners, and concluded our first market trip. I can’t help but wonder if Frankie and Leonard have spent their whole lives working at the market. I wonder if they were once those children selling grocery bags for 100 shilling when they were little.

The rest of the day was a blur because all of my senses had been taken advantage of at the market. There was the smell of both fresh and rotting food. The sound of people yelling all around me trying to get my business. The feeling of sweat on my brow from the relentless sun. The sight of thousands of people both making a living off of the market and living off of the market.

Wednesday was similar to Tuesday—learning book knowledge in the morning, learning life knowledge in the afternoon.

Thursday is the only day of the week when I don’t have class. Later in the semester, Thursday and part of Friday will be devoted to volunteer work. This particular Thursday, Roland had arranged a visit to the African Court and Shanga. We arrived promptly (and stupidly) at the Nyerere Centre at 9am, only to realize that we are now on African time so we didn’t actually leave until an hour and a half later (which is still prompt by Tanzanian standards).

A bus shuttled us to the African Court where we were lectured about its legal proceedings. All of these fancy law terms are relatively new to me, so a lot of the lecture was over my head. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the tour and I admire the work that the Court is doing to hold states accountable in order to strengthen a continent where corruption is widespread.

Following our tour, we were taken down the road to a place called Shanga (which means bead in Kiswahili). We had been told that we would be eating a fancy lunch there, but I came away with a lot more than just a full and happy stomach after the visit. Shanga is an incredible place. The motto is “Kindness is a language which blind people see and deaf people hear.” A European woman started this project to provide disabled Tanzanians with both a job and a way to express themselves. It began in a garage with a necklace that a disabled Tanzanian woman made and now it has expanded into something much bigger, but still humble in size and mission. In order to attract tourists to the shop to buy the products, Shanga expanded to include a restaurant managed by a Frenchman. For once I didn’t feel guilty about eating an expensive four-course meal because all of the profits are given to the disabled employees. They served us mango juice and champagne in fancy glasses before we even sat down. We ate a leisurely lunch under an elegantly draped thatched roof pavilion surrounded by gorgeous trees and flowers. I sat back in my comfortable chair, took a deep breath of pure air, looked around at my new friends, and felt perfectly content. No complaints.

I was very reluctant to leave Shanga, but everyone agreed that we had to come back to spend at least one full day there.

There’s no appropriate way to segue between Thursday afternoon and Thursday evening so I just wrote this sentence instead. Here I go.

There’s a tourist hotspot/outdoor restaurant called Via Via right next to the place where we take classes. We’ve gone there several times after morning class to have juice and practice Kiswahili with each other, so we’ve gotten to know the place fairly well. We had been told that every Thursday night, Via Via has a live Tanzanian band, so we decided to check it out. My inner nerd/natural instinct told me not to go to a concert on a school night, but everyone agreed to go and I am taking an African music and dance class, so this could be considered homework… right? Regardless, I am so glad that I went!

As chance would have it, four Americans sat at the table next to a few of us and we struck up a conversation. They were all recent graduates and now they’re working in an orphanage here for 6 weeks as missionaries. The conversation took its course and I found out that one of them was very involved in Campus Crusade for Christ in college. Small world! I got to know them pretty well and we exchanged phone numbers so they can show some of us the church they’ve been attending in Arusha.

Our conversation took an interesting turn when a Maasai guy named Lalahe (la-la-hey) bounced in the middle of it, quite literally. A few of us had met Lalahe randomly in town (he has no shame in meeting strangers), so he had come over to say hi to us. Lalahe is hard to miss. He wears the traditional Maasai clothing which includes vibrant robes draped over one shoulder, bracelets that go up to his elbow, multiple beaded necklaces, a machete, and a spear. If he weren’t one of the friendliest and most energetic guys that I’ve met, I would’ve been terrified; after all, he did help kill a lion… (it was hard to believe at first because there are laws against that now, but this was later confirmed).

Lalahe talked a mile a minute for about 30 minutes straight. He talked about why he’s in Arusha (trying to find someone to help him film a Maasai documentary), cattle, religion, tourism, and more than I can remember. And then Lalahe left the conversation just as quickly as he had entered it.

After the band was done playing, some familiar music began to play on the stereo. A group of us were dancing in a circle and suddenly out of NOWHERE Lalahe jumps into the center of attention. The Maasai must have the power of apparation. Lalahe was the most absurd dancer I’ve ever seen. He was constantly a blur because he was moving so fast—never staying in one spot for more than half a second. Every once in a while he would show off his vertical jump (which the Maasai are known for). I knew that only one person could challenge such absurd dance moves… and that person was me.

Unfortunately no one had a video camera handy for what happened next. All I can say is that at one point I busted out the classic sprinkler move. Not to brag, but I think I showed Lalahe that there’s someone out there who isn’t afraid to challenge him on the dance floor. And besides, now I can say that I battled a Maasai warrior.

As if that wasn’t enough excitement, we were scheduled to visit the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) on Friday. I now have my own photo security ID to enter the EAC/ICTR! Not only does it make me feel very official, but it also grants me access to the libraries and the courtrooms of people with charges against them for the Rwandan genocide. The ICTR is an amazing place that is making both African and world history with the work that it is doing… and it’s a stone’s throw away from our program base!

And finally on Saturday I had the chance to write about everything that has been running through my head for the past 4 days. I slept in, went to a coffee shop with Karla, Elise, and Hannah, bought some more fruits and vegetables from Frankie and Leonard at the market (I helped haggle this time), and studied for classes.

While we were at the coffee shop, a man next to us had a newspaper with a headline that read ‘Arusha named world’s 8th worst city’ according to Lonely Planet.

I disagree.

dilly daladala-ing

I’m feeling overwhelmed just thinking about summing up the past few days in one blog post. Classes started on Monday and today has been the first day that I’ve had the chance to take a nap and debrief everything that has happened since my last post. I rode in a daladala, took an African drum lesson, visited the African Court, fell in love with Shanga, showed a Maasai tribesman who’s boss of the dance floor, toured the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), …..the list goes on! Although I regret not writing every day, I have needed every minute of sleep available.

On Monday I had class from 8am—6:30pm, and I loved every minute! After eating a delicious breakfast composed of toast, some form of egg, African Pride tea, and the world’s best fruit, we walked as a group to the National Natural History museum for our core class titled Tanzania in the Midst of Peace and Conflict. Arusha seems like a completely different city at 7:45am. There’s a cool breeze in the air, you can hear the sound of kids playing on their way to school, the dust is settled on the ground, crowds are absent, hagglers are at bay, and, most importantly, there’s no reason to be fearful for your life when you cross the now-empty streets. Yes, so far, so good.

The core class is taught by Roland Adjovi, program director extraordinaire. Roland is incredible. Originally from the French-speaking West African nation of Benin, he went on to study law at the University of Paris. He held some fancy positions in the Organization for African Unity and the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. 50% of the time I’ve been around Roland, he’s been sharing his vast knowledge on International Law and Africa with us. The other 50% of the time, he’s been laughing… (I did a double-take the first time I heard it because it sounds strikingly similar to Rafiki’s laugh). Needless to say, he’s the bomb.edu.

The classes are each 2 hours long, but they feel significantly shorter! We have two students from East Africa in our program who provide incredibly valuable input during lectures. Geroge Stanley is from Kenya and before coming to Tanzania, he had never left his home country. Stanley has single-handedly brought chivalry back from the dead. He’s very determined to go to Harvard Law School next year and he has expressed a desire to be president of Kenya one day (and I bet he will be!). The other East African student, Halima, is from Zanzibar, a small island off the coast of Tanzania. Halima is staying with a family in town so I haven’t gotten to know her very well yet. However, I do know that she’s 28 and has a Valentine back home in Zanzibar… (Having a Valentine in Tanzania is very serious. It’s considered to be one step down from marriage. Candy has never been so committal…).

My first Kiswahili class was very efficient. I can hold a very basic conversation, which is all I need to get around in Arusha for now. My International Law class is held at the Nyerere Center for Peace Research, which also serves as Arcadia’s program base. The classes are definitely going to be harder than I thought, but the topics are very interesting… and besides, I only need to get above a D- to have the credit transfer back to Miami…

If I were to get below a D- in a class, it would definitely be in African music and dance. Although I really enjoy music and I love to dance, I’m kind of horrible at both. Unlike all of the other classes, the music class is taught at an actual University. In order to get from the city-center to the Makumira campus, the six of us in the class have to take a daladala, which is the form of public transportation here. Transportation has never been more public. A daladala has four basic components: the van, the driver, the dude hanging out of the vehicle yelling at you to get in, and the people crammed inside. The whole process follows a business model that maximizes profits while undermining safety. While the van is still moving, a guy opens the door, two people jump out, they yell at three or more people to get in, and within 10 seconds, the van is moving again. The van is not much bigger than a mini-van, but it manages to hold four times as many people. On the 20-minute drive to Makumira, I sat on my friend Whitney’s lap the entire time (it was rather unfortunate for her when we went over speed bumps). Kids sit in your lap, people stand in the small walking space, and if you’re in the back of the bus and need to get out, it’s not uncommon to climb out the back window. The whole ride was 500 shilling, which is about 40 cents. Quite a bargain for such a long bus ride and an amazing experience!

When we got to Makumira we were told to wait at the gate for our professor, Randall Stubbs, to meet us. Although we had just assumed that the person teaching us African music and dance would be someone experienced from the region, the name itself should’ve been an indication that this wasn’t the case. A tall, skinny, balding white guy came walking up the dirt path toward us. Yep, this was our professor. But as it turns out, I was wrong to judge a book by its cover, to use a cliché expression. Mr. Stubbs can rock out on the African drum just as well as any native! He’s the head of the music department at Makumira, which began as a small 300-student Lutheran seminary school and recently expanded to a sizeable 1600-student campus, complete with a 1,000-student strong education program promoted by the Tanzanian government. Mr. Stubbs showed us his home where he has lived with his wife and three kids for the past 7 years. They grow all of their own food, get milk from a neighborhood goat, and have yet to get malaria despite living adjacent to rice fields. Despite my lack of rhythm, I think that I’m looking forward to this class the most. Later in the semester, Mr. Stubbs arranged for us to make our own African drum and to do a homestay with Maasai after going to one of their performances. Hopefully I won’t embarrass myself too much.

I have so much more to write about and I know that I teased you with an introduction, but unfortunately I must cut this post short. I’ll try my best to sum everything up soon! I hope all is well in the states, in Luxembourg, in New Zealand, or wherever you’re reading this!

Until soon.

Party in the Usa

It’s only my second full day in Tanzania and I’ve already gone on a safari! This place is AWESOME!

After a short lecture on Tanzanian culture, we loaded three vans and set out on our first safari in Arusha National Park. As we got further away from the city center, the landscape slowly began to change. Arusha’s economy is almost entirely agriculturally based. The crops are grown in the outskirts of the city, and then sold along the sidewalks in the city that I walk by every day. Massive banana trees lined the bumpy (but paved) road. As we got closer to the National Park we passed several rice fields and coffee plants.

Our driver/safari guide’s name was Job… “like the Bible story,” he said. Tanzania has a school particularly for tourism since this sector generates so many jobs (not to be confused with Job) in the area. Job learned French at tourism school, so I was able to converse with him a little bit. During one part of the drive, Job pointed out that we were about to arrive in the U-S-A. To clarify, Usa is a province in Arusha. Despite the similar names, the two Usas don’t share many other resemblances. Even so, maybe this was the Usa that Miley Cyrus was singing about...?

Finally, safari time! I was in a safari van with Elise, Karla, Ben, E.J., and Pierce (…or is it pronounced Puce…? We aren’t sure so we usually just mumble his name…). Unfortunately, one of my roommates, Hannah, couldn’t join us for the safari because she got a bacterial infection (we think she got it from the water, even though she boiled it… hakuna matata, she’s all better now).

The entire time I was on the safari, I honestly felt like I was living in an episode of Planet Earth. Arusha National Park is the most topographically diverse reserve in Northern Tanzania. Mt. Meru towers over the region and creates a rain shadow that dumps rain on this side of the mountain. Because of this, Arusha National Park resembles a rainforest most of the time. Everything was a luscious green color. The leaves were the most massive ones I’ve EVER seen… and I’ve seen some sizeable leaves in my days. I think James Cameron should give a shout out to Arusha in his Academy Award acceptance speech because he plagiarized the landscape from Avatar directly from this park.

I had been on a safari in South Africa, but this one was completely different! Because the forest is so dense, many of the “Big 5” animals don’t wander into the Arusha National Park region. However, within the first minute, we saw 2 giraffes poking their heads out of the bush. The other wildlife we saw were zebras, warthogs (or ‘mice’ as Karla called the baby pumbaas), a lot of birds that I think all look alike (sorry brdlvr832), herds of water buffalo, at least 50 baboons, and several other types of monkeys, including collobus (sp?) monkeys, which look like skunks hanging out in the tops of trees. We stopped halfway through to eat lunch at a location that overlooked a giant, green crater (see pictures for details… too beautiful to describe in words!). Overall, a great success for our first safari of the semester! We were in the park for about 5 hours total, but the weather was so wonderful and we were having such a great time that it felt like only 30 minutes had passed.

On Sunday, the final day before classes, we had our last orientation session and then had free time to explore the city. I strongly dislike looking like a tourist, but it’s pretty much inevitable here (take into account skin color, attire, language, pretty much everything about us...). Being in Northern Tanzania, Arusha is considered the ‘gateway’ to all of the safari parks. Therefore, a LOT of tourists pass through on a daily basis. This makes it extremely difficult for our group to integrate with locals because they think we are only coming to buy their souvenirs and then return to our 'Western' lives. Walking around the city is particularly difficult because we are constantly followed by men who are trying to sell us paintings and jewelry. Instead of buying items, we ask them their names (Jina lako ni nani?) and strike up a conversation… it usually begins in Kiswahili, and then switches to English after the greeting. We figured that this is the best way to let them know that we are here to study East Africa, not just to visit. I think we’ve been fairly successful thus far, as we’re getting fewer souvenir offers on the street.

As classes begin and exhaustion kicks in, I'm struggling to find time to write... so I apologize if the entries aren't as gripping as usual. To sum it all up, I'm having an amazing time here and the people in my group are already such good friends... (As he was offering me a donut, Stanley, a student from Kenya, said "we are family now").

Kwa heri!

The view from where we ate our bagged lunch on the safari!

A Disorienting Orientation

As I said in my previous post, the darkness in Arusha entrances, but it also conceals.

I headed into town with the rest of the group Friday morning and I saw exactly what I had missed on the dark bus ride the night before. Like most underdeveloped countries, the Tanzanian government is corrupt (a stable corrupt), making this country one of the poorest nations in Africa. During the 8-minute walk from the Arusha Resort Centre (ARC) to the National Natural Museum of History (where classes are held), I saw the diversity of Tanzania’s economic situation. Although a few men were dressed in professional attire, the streets were primarily filled with locals who were making a living by lining storefronts and sidewalks with tourist knickknacks, fresh fruit, and bottled water. Amongst the chaos, the thing that struck me the most was the number of people sitting around, seemingly doing nothing. As we learned later, a majority of these persons are unemployed.

It’s all backwards! The light reveals the darkness. The dark is comfortable.

There’s a song by The Mountain Goats (one of Cassidy’s favorite bands) called No Children. One of the lyrics reads “Our friends say it’s darkest before the sun rises, but we’re pretty sure they’re all wrong.” This song has 28 plays on my iTunes, but this particular lyric struck a new chord when I listened to it for the 29^th time in Arusha.

Don’t take all this darkness talk the wrong way! If I took Arusha at face value, then I would contradict myself! (Very well then, I contradict myself). Colors are everywhere. Women wear vibrantly patterned outfits and the trees and flowers are lush with color. The darkness also isn’t expressed through the locals’ demeanors; generally, smiles greet us as we walk by. Like I said, everything contradicts itself here… I have four months to figure it out, which seems like a lofty expectation at this point.

To help me on my quest to explore this city, I have 14 friends and a handful of program directors. Roland Adjovi is our current program director and he’s the man. I’ll tell you more about him later though. The other students here with me are an incredible bunch! The ratio of girls:guys is approximately the same as Miami’s… 12:3. There hasn’t been a dull moment yet, and I doubt there ever will be one! Three students from East Africa are joining us for our studies… they will also help bridge the communication gap between the locals and us.

Friday was spent on orientation with the program and the city. We took a 25-minute walk to a museum about Tanzania’s independence and unification. Even though the exhibit resembled a glorified middle school poster project, it was very enjoyable! We also walked around the grounds of the East African Community building (EAC). We’ll be spending more time here throughout the semester, so I’ll explain more later.

The food thus far has been delicious! The Indian influence on Tanzania is most recognizable in the food. Many of the dishes follow the same formula… rice + choice of meat or vegetable + Indian spices = delicious meal. On Friday night, the program directors took us out to a restaurant at the Impala Hotel where they had 3 separate menus: Indian, Chinese, and Italian. How obscure! I had Chinese, nom nom nom.

It was a very long day filled with A LOT of excitement, and I was so thankful to get a good night’s rest Friday night! Especially since we were going on a SAFARI the next morning…

Ooooh, cliffhanger…

Here's a few pictures!

This is my room that I share with Elise! Hannah is in the other room. Both Hannah and Elise are GREAT roommates!

This is where most classes are held... beautiful flowers and trees! It's the National Natural History Museum where they're researching the early existence of humans.

Arriving in Arusha

The first thing I noticed was the heat; the second, the dark.

I disembarked the plane in Kilimanjaro at 9:30pm, and a thickness had engulfed the city. Midnight Blue doesn’t even begin to describe the color of what I saw as I walked with the group towards Passport Control— Crayola doesn’t have a color for this kind of thing.

Gaining clearance to enter Tanzania was awkwardly easy. A few papers were exchanged here and there and the only inconvenience was the heat, which was increased by two factors: crowds and the lack of air conditioning. Adjusting to these conditions is more productive than complaining.

I had met up with 10 other students in the program in Amsterdam, so once we had all shuffled through to get our luggage, we were on our way to our new home. I have come to the conclusion that there’s no better way to get to know someone than by interacting with them after 26 hours of travel combined with jet lag, spatial/time confusion, and a very cozy bus seat. Small talk is impossible at this stage in the game, so I spent most of my time staring out of the window, interjecting here and there.

There wasn’t much to see out of the window. The only lights on the road are our headlights, and the occasional blare from another car. The darkness serves a foreboding purpose in Arusha; it entrances but it also conceals. More on that later.

Despite the fact that Tanzanians drive on the left side of the rode and our bus was passing cars on the right side 50% of the time, we survived the ride and safely concluded on travel saga at the Arusha Resort Centre…(I use the term resort lightly). We were greeted with Karibus and Jambos, then seated at a table for dinner around 11:00pm. At this point, my body was so confused by the time change that I just had to go with the flow. The *chicken we ate was ten times more satisfying that the airplane meals.

*It may or may not have been chicken…

With two backpacks and a duffle bag in hand, I struggled to D4, the apartment that was assigned to Hannah, Elise, and myself. Although I wouldn’t classify our accommodations under ‘Resort,’ we were all pleasantly surprised by our new homes! The three of us have two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a sizeable living room (complete with a TV that doesn’t turn on!). Overall, D4 is significantly more luxurious than the meager picture of a cot and a mosquito net that I had seen on the program’s website.

It was well past midnight by the time we got our luggage into the apartment. Around 2:30am, we tucked in our mosquito nets and said good night (even though our bodies were saying ‘good afternoon’…).

At 4am I woke up drenched in sweat. I don’t blame my body for reacting this way... after all, I had thrust it from mid-Winter to mid-Summer in less than 24 hours. Since there’s no air conditioning, I would’ve loved to open the window to get some fresh air, but that would’ve provided the mosquitoes with a free ticket to an all-you-can-drink buffet. So I accepted the situation I was in and tried to cool myself down. Even though I probably needed the sleep, I’m glad I was awake! At 5am I heard a curious song/chant that seemed to be coming for a speaker in a different language. Upon closer listen (and further inquiry the next morning) I discovered that it was a man calling the daily prayer for Muslims in Arusha. So yes, I only got 2 hours of sleep, but that’s not something you hear every day!

That concludes my first impression of Arusha... I'll try to post my next few entries soon! I'm having some trouble connecting internet, so I apologize for delayed entries! I have so much more to say, so little time to write it all down, and so little internet with which to post! Nonetheless, I'll try. Send me an e-mail or a message! I'd love to hear from everyone!

I wonder how many Sabers TSA had to confiscate in carry-on luggage before requiring them to be checked.

I have two checked bags for tomorrow. One is filled to the brim. The other is 1 pound under the TSA international limit. That begs the question... what will I put in that second bag to fill that last pound...?

compliments of tsa.gov

I have a tough decision to make between now and 11am tomorrow. I can't leave home without my Throwing Stars...