Dog Days

After being gone two weekends in a row, I needed a restful (to use a polite term for lazy) weekend in Arusha.

I am thrilled to report that my attempts to speak Kiswahili are finally paying off (quite literally!). Hannah, Elise, and I walked to a nearby Maasai craft market on Friday where we were ambushed by vendors. The locals are accustomed to muzungu tourists only staying for a few days in Arusha and they are always pleasantly surprised when a muzungu can speak Kiswahili (or at least say more than Jambo! which is a greeting that we’ve avoided because it screams tourist). The numerous aisles of vendors quickly overwhelmed me. I spotted a group of older women making beaded jewelry under a tree nearby. As I approached, they greeted me in English and I responded in Kiswahili… (The formal greeting for elders is “Shikamoo”). I managed to hold a small and basic conversation with the women, during which I haggled for and bought three bracelets. As I was preparing to leave, the women kindly handed me four bracelets as a gift for their “muzungu friend.”

The freebies didn’t end there! Karla and I went on a 30-minute walk to a market that we had walked by several times. After perusing the merchandise (and in this case the merchandise was a plethora of avocadoes, bananas, carrots, broccoli, tomatoes, mangos, etc) I struck up a conversation in Kiswahili with an older woman. I bought a few avocadoes from her and then continued my hunt for tomatoes. As I was leaving, I heard my name being called and I looked up to see the same woman offering me three carrots at no cost. I politely and happily accepted the gift and promised to return. Whether offering freebies to muzungus is a strategic move or just a kind gesture, I cannot say. For my own purposes, I hope it’s the latter.

Even a “lazy” weekend in Arusha is never boring. After a failed attempt to study Saturday afternoon, I attended an International festival for music, dance, and food at the International School of Moshi. Our music professor encouraged us to attend because a famous group from Zanzibar would be playing traditional Taarab music, in addition to collaborations with local western musicians. As soon as I walked on to the grounds of the festival, I was in an International Studies major’s paradise. The Dutch were wearing wooden clogs on my right, the Germans were selling various beers to my left, and just around the corner, the Indians were draping people and saris and turning hands into beautiful works of art with henna. I was so over-stimulated, overjoyed, and overwhelmed that I didn’t know where to begin!

And then I saw it. The American booth. The immensely-ironic-completely-contrary-to-the-current-International-System-yet-still-rather-symbolic American booth. A piece of cloth bearing Barack Obama’s portrait was being used as a table cloth, on which a pan of hot dogs was sitting, looking vastly unappealing even to a hotdog lover like myself. No one was neither manning the booth nor attending the booth. Feeling oddly patriotic despite the pathetic display of American pride, I approached the booth. My eye was immediately drawn to a sign that read “Yes you can… Buy a hotdog!”. I laughed to myself and hoped that the foreigners at the festival know that there’s more to America than hotdogs and Barack Obama.

For being an International Festival in Tanzania, there were surprisingly few booths from the continent of Africa. I later learned that the booths were representing the countries that the students were from—most of which are either the children of UN workers or children of Safari lodge owners. I had the chance to walk around the grounds of the school for a while and it forced me to draw comparisons. I had recently taken a tour of the Arusha School where students are crammed into outdated and dilapidated classrooms. Just down the road, the classrooms at the International School were spacious, clean, and outfitted with computers, projectors, and laboratories. As I walked from classroom to classroom at the festival, I read the names of the teachers on the doors. Mrs. Wilson, Mrs. McBride, Mrs. Snow—all were clearly western names. There are very few “inbetweens” in Arusha—it is dominated by extremes. The gaps are large, often swallowing those at the bottom. It’s an ugly reality that I rarely face at Miami, but one that I literally meet face-to-face on a daily basis here.

We returned to our apartments after the music ended and were greeted with a very pleasant, fluffy, and adorable surprise…

A puppy!

Going against all study abroad advisers’ advice, we got a puppy! Her name is Jaala, which means fate in Kiswahili, and very appropriately so! Jaclynn, Ana, and Liana were driving to meet a friend in town when a tiny ball of fluff stumbled out of the bushes into their path. The puppy was undernourished, covered in bugs, and roaming around on the streets. The picked her up and found a woman who said they could have her in exchange for “soda money.” They handed her 5,000 shilling (about $4) and left. In a lucky turn of events, the friend who they were meeting had a sister who was a veterinarian and happened to be in Arusha for the weekend. They immediately went to see her and Jaala got all of her shots, an insecticide spray, and official registration as a pet. When I met Jaala for the first time, she was clearly exhausted from a long day of events, during which she went from being a street puppy to a muzungu’s puppy. Liana, who is here on a Fulbright documenting the interaction between elephants and humans, was planning on getting a puppy before she goes back to the states in December, so Jaala is the lucky puppy that gets to fill that role. In the meantime, we get to play with her and take care of her as our own.

Jaala made the week of midterm exam preparation much more enjoyable. Since we aren’t technically allowed to have Jaala at our accommodation, we would take her to ViaVia during the day where she could run (more like stumble) around. The Maasai have taken a particular liking to Jaala, and she has acquired a similar liking for them! Jaala has her own shuka that we wrap her up in, and even her collar is a beaded Maasai bracelet. Despite her African roots, Jaala has picked up American eating habits and I am convinced that her belly is twice the size as it was from when they first found her.

Besides Jaala, I’ve found a couple other ways to circumvent studying. On Friday afternoon, Roland invited us to pick-up basketball group that he coaches. For those of us who didn’t want to embarrass ourselves on the basketball court, there was a field where we could play Frisbee. Roland also brought his two kids, Radley (1) and Betsy (4). Among Radley, Betsy, and my new best friend Kelvin (6), I got the best workout I’ve had in months. Kelvin’s English was surprisingly good and we bonded immediately when he gave me his whistle to wear, and in exchange I gave him my sunglasses. I spoke to Radley and Betsy mostly in French, although they were both initially very shy. We jumped rope, kicked a soccer ball, played in dirt, and ran in circles from mid-afternoon until dusk when the basketball practice was finished. A pick-up soccer game was going on in the field next to ours and every once in a while goats would pass by, causing interference. I promised Kelvin that I’d return to play with him again soon. I gave back his whistle and he gave me back my sunglasses.

Pandora ain’t got nothin’ on Mt. Meru

I find it partially ironic and partially dismaying that James Cameron’s Avatar has been ubiquitous during my stay here in Tanzania. Two instances in particular stick out in my mind…

The first was during my home-stay with a member of a Maasai choir last weekend. Her name was Catherine and she was young, beautiful, and not Maasai. Despite being a member of a choir that sings in Maa and is predominantly composed of Maasai, Catherine came from a Chagga family. After a wonderful performance by the choir, I walked home hand-in-hand with a Chagga dressed in Maasai robes.

The walk home was dark and treacherous as the two of us were dodging banana leaves and potholes in the dirt road. A few lights from neighbors lit the way, but with 5-minutes left in our walk the electricity shut off. The first few times that the lights went off in Tanzania, my reaction was to go into mild panic mode… (I’ve never felt comfortable in the dark). Since this is a normal occurrence, now my reaction is to stop where I am and look up. When the lights go out, the stars are brighter than ever.

We finally arrived at Catherine’s house where I met her mother and her young brother, Peter. After eating a delicious traditional Tanzanian meal and spending my first night there, several things surprised me…

1. They were Chagga

2. They were Christian

3. They ate dinner at 9:30pm

4. They had a guest room just for me

And most of all,

5. They didn’t have a shower, but they had a washing machine (the only washing machine that Mr. Stubbs has seen in his 5 years here)

Needless to say, it was not the weekend that I had expected, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything different. I went to bed on Friday night already feeling welcomed into Catherine’s family.

My Avatar experience began at 8am on Saturday. Mr. Stubbs (our music professor) organized for our group plus the members of the choir to hike to a waterfall in Mt. Meru.

In one of my first posts I mentioned that James Cameron should thank Arusha in his Academy Awards ‘Best Picture’ acceptance speech. Since he didn’t win the Oscar, I was only correct on one of those accounts. Nonetheless, I stand behind my previous statement even more now than before the hike. Despite my realization that Pandora is a fictitious land, I half-expected plants to glow when I touched them.

For the first 45 minutes we hiked straight up the mountain. We had a beautiful view of the city in which we’ve been living.

For the next part of the hike, I’m pretty sure we encountered most of the world’s biomes. There was grassland, rainforest, gorges, and even coniferous trees. Some of the locals showed us which berries were safe to eat along the way. The sun was shining and the ground was level, minimizing the level of falling potential.

As I learned from Avatar, the jungle plays tricks on those who enter it.

In order to get to the river where the waterfall was located, we had to hike down into the gorge, which is easier said than done. I had my eyes fixated on the ground to avoid plummeting until I heard a call from a monkey in a nearby tree. I was momentarily distracted and lost my footing, only to be saved by the Maasai in front of me (they’re super-human and never trip).

I made it down to the river and looked around for the trail. Unbeknownst to me, I was standing in it. We walked upstream for 35 minutes, potentially contracted various water-borne diseases. Whatever I may have contracted, the view was completely worth it. Drenched up to my knee in river water, I rounded the corner of a mossy rock and felt the power of the waterfall. The spray from the waterfall could be felt from several yards away, but the cool mist was welcoming to my sweat-drenched body.

We noticed a few people climbing up the rocks to stand on a natural platform underneath the waterfall. Thankfully, I had enough confidence in my step to attempt the slippery climb. I made it to the top and looked up at the tons of water falling directly over my head, close enough to touch.

As with most places we’ve gone, we were reluctant to leave. Little did we know that the hike back would be just as unique as the waterfall itself. The clouds released they’re very own waterfall ss soon as we reached the top of the gorge. Unlike most rains we’ve experienced, this one was consistent and heavy. Spirits remained high despite the fact that we were drenched from head to toe within fifteen minutes of the 3-hour hike back.

The trail quickly turned into a muddy river that was out to get us. I think it would’ve been more effective to sled down the mountain on a banana leaf, but others disagreed so we continued by foot.

The muzungus were falling left and right but the Maasai were masters of the land (per usual).

Catherine and I arrived at the front door of her house cold, dripping wet, and covered in mud. Catherine’s mom had a pot of boiling water on the fire waiting for my bath. The water was poured into a big bucket and I washed myself off as much as possible.

After bathing, Catherine and I sat around a small smoldering charcoal fire. As I learned, Tanzanians are very comfortable with silence. For two hours we sat, occasionally talked, and watched the rainfall.

That night we had a traditional Chagga meal for dinner. Catherine’s mom had prepared a large pot of banana stew with carrots, meat, and other goodies. Exhausted from the day’s activities, I went to bed.

After attending a 4-hour church service in Kiswahili with Catherine the next morning, I said goodbye to her and her family and headed back to Arusha with the beautiful blue and white kanga that they had given me tied around my waist. Catherine and I exchanged numbers and she promised me that she would teach me how to cook traditional Tanzanian food the next time I visit… she also made me promise that I would bring my dirty clothes to their washing machine. Those are two offers that are impossible to turn down.

The weekdays were full of class and schoolwork with fun interspersed at almost every moment. I can easily navigate through the streets of Arusha and I’ve also finally gotten the hang of daladalas (though I have not yet reached the point of mastering them).

Despite a heavy homework load and looming midterms, we all decided to attend a free showing of Avatar at ViaVia on Wednesday night. The first time I saw Avatar was in a sold-out 3-D-high-tech-high-definition-fancy-shmancy theater in Knoxville. The second time I saw Avatar was in a sparsely populated restaurant/bar with a Dutch pirated version of the movie being projected onto a full-sized sheet. Believe it or not, I think that I liked it the second time more. Both the movie and the subtitles were in English, but they rarely aligned. For example:

1. Jake Sully (the main character) translated into Jack Surrey

2. “Come to Papa” translated into “I’m coming, Daddy”

3. “The war is over” translated into “The weather was disappointing”

and the most outrageous of them all…

4. Avatar was “Affan an”… (seriously, it’s the name of the movie, how could you get it wrong?!)

Between the subtitles and the power spontaneously shutting off at pivotal points in the movie, my second time seeing Avatar was definitely unique. Not to mention the fact that at one point I looked around and saw a handful of Maasai warriors with shukas and machetes who seemingly looked apathetic towards the athletic abilities of the blue people of Pandora.

It was a paradox of epic proportions.

I’m noticing a trend.

If you thought Catholic weddings were long, try a Maasai wedding...

I looked around and was amazed. Looking back, four colors stick out in my mind: Brown for the dust. Blue for the sky. Red and purple for the hundreds of Maasai draped in shukas. True to their colors, they looked like royalty.

There are times when I just know to set my camera aside, plunge headfirst into the event unfolding around me, and hope that my mental pictures become just as permanent as a photograph itself. Today was one of those times.

We met Lalahe our first week in Arusha and we’ve been hanging out with him regularly ever since. The best way to get to know Lalahe is to go on a walk with him… “Maasai love to walk,” he said. So a couple of weeks ago on a walk, Lalahe and his friend Yacobo (known to muzungus as Jacob) invited us to Yacobo’s brother’s wedding. We were eager to accept.

After much anticipation, the day finally came for us to take our first visit to a Maasai village. We were all nervous that a group of 14 muzungus would feel awkward at a traditional Maasai wedding, but Lalahe insisted “100 muzungus are welcome!”.

And welcomed we were.

From the time that we arrived in the village in the afternoon (which was only a 45 minute daladala ride away from town) to the time that we left the village at dusk, I hardly felt like a foreigner. Women and children immediately welcomed us with handshakes, Maa (the Maasai language) greetings, and high-pitched chants (called an-gu-lu-lu in Maa). The children at first seemed shy, but as soon as we passed out the candy we brought them, all shyness disappeared. Saying that we “passed out” the candy is a loose term. We barely had time to open the bags of candy before kids came charging at us with outstretched hands. In less than a minute, the four bags of candy had been demolished, leaving behind only a few empty candy wrappers soon to be buried in the dust.

We had been told that the wedding would start at 3 o’clock. In America, that means to get to the church at 2:30 to get a seat. In Africa, that means to get to the village at 3:00, relax, sit under a tree, eat a full meal, and then begin the festivities a couple hours later.

So that’s exactly what we did.

An older Maasai woman with collars of beads around her neck ushered us into a boma (better known to Americans as little mud huts) where we sat on tin cans and passed around a cup of Maasai alcohol. According to one of Yacobo’s friends, the Maasai believe that the alcohol has the power to rid the body of its harmful diseases. If that’s true, then the old Maasai men carrying around huge buckets of the concoction won’t be dying anytime soon. Politely, I took a sip and passed the cup to the next person.

I squinted my eyes as I walked out of the shade of the boma into the ruthless sun. The dust had settled from our arrival and I finally had the chance to absorb the scene around me. Trees were sparse, cattle and goats were abundant. The bomas were spaced fairly far apart from one another, but still close enough to constitute a village. Someone asked Lalahe how much of the land was Maasai land and he responded, “as far as the eye can see, and even beyond the mountain.” I questioned myself as to whether or not that was a direct quote from Mufasa in The Lion King.

Despite that it is currently the rainy season, Tanzania is still in the midst of a severe drought that has nearly devastated crops and cattle. Lalahe said that his father lost over half of his family’s cattle to drought and disease this year alone. As we walked from the boma to the nearest tree (about a football field away) I noticed the effects of the drought for the first time. Lalahe said the ground is usually green where we were walking, but instead I was kicking up dust. I looked at the vast plains around me and saw dust storms resembling small tornados forming.

We headed for the nearest tree that provided just enough shade to shield all of us (plus several Maasai men) from the sun. There weren’t many trees in the area, but under each one that was there I could see the vibrant red and purple colors of Maasai gathered underneath. We sat under the tree for about half an hour, relaxing and watching the cattle graze. At one point some of the Maasai guys found entertainment in chasing a goat around.

Speaking of goats, Yacobo and his friends brought all of us our own bowl of rice, grilled bananas, and goat meat as a special celebration dish for the wedding. By the time Yacobo handed me my dish, it was covered in dust and flies because the walk was so long between the boma and the tree. Nonetheless, I took it with a smile. And so there I was, a muzungu girl from Tennessee sitting in the middle of the African bush eating goat meat with Maasai warriors.

Each of us had enough food in our bowl to feed three to four people and we were afraid that we’d offend them if we didn’t finish most of our food. The first few bites were delicious until I realized that I was full with over half of a bowl still left unfinished. I looked around and considered my options. I could a) offend the people who gave me the food… and who also have machetes around their waist b) inconspicuously feed it to a rogue cow or c) finish the plate myself. Before I had time to decide which option I would choose, I looked up and saw a dust storm headed straight for our tree. I immediately turned to the Maasai, hoping that their pastoral instincts would know what to do. One said “Run!”, another said “Cover up!”, and a third yelled something in Maa. I closed my eyes, covered my food, and hoped that the food that I had eaten was substantial enough to keep me grounded. Thankfully, 20 seconds later I was still on the ground, unharmed but quite dusty. And then we continued to eat our food.

After our meal, Lalahe took us to a ring of acacia branches where he said the warriors would be performing (the acacia branches are very sharp so it protects them from dangerous wildlife). At this point we had thrown all conventions about western weddings out of the window because it was clear that this was more of a celebration with singing and dancing than an actual ceremony. Six of the men gathered (along with Ben, who they invited to join in the dance) and they began to walk in seemingly arbitrary circles in the distance, occasionally waving their staffs around. As they slowly approached the place where we were standing, I could hear a low, grumbling chant. We got in line behind the men and entered the circle of acacia branches for the rest of the dancing and singing. We formed a circle and the warriors began to chant to a new tune, more upbeat than the former one. The men would hop into the center of the circle one at a time, jump three or four times, smack the ground with their feet, and then return to their original position. The Maasai are known for their vertical jump, and it was incredible to witness it. This exchange continued for about 45 minutes until the rest of the women entered the circle. There was clearly no structure to the festivities and at this point I was still unsure who the bride and groom were. The women formed their own circle and began to sing their own song.

The women and men were in separate circles for another 45 minutes when they slowly and naturally convened. I had been so distracted by the jumping, singing, chanting, and dancing that I noticed for the first time two large groups of girls; one group was draped in long solid purple shukas, and the other group in red shukas. They were all wearing layers and layers of white beads around their necks, on their heads, in their ears, and around their waists. They really did look like magnificent African princesses.

Two of the girls in purple stood out from the others because they had beads that were delicately draped over their faces. As I later learned, this was a celebration for two couples instead of just one, and these were the brides! They didn’t make a grand entrance or demand any attention. They just blended in with everyone else, save for the extra beading that made this day theirs.

The cattle grazed. The men jumped. The women sang. The children played. And everyone (maybe even the cows) danced.

The most vivid mental picture I took was of the silhouettes of Maasai warriors bobbing up and down as the sun was dwindling and the clouds had cleared just enough to see Mt. Kilimanjaro.

The dancing and singing continued until dusk when we had to leave the circle of acacia so the cattle could enter to be protected for the night. I paused for a second to think of how I would feel if I were kicked out of church on my wedding day so that cows could get a good night’s rest.

Although we were reluctant to leave, the setting sun was hastening our departure. Lalahe said that the singing and dancing would continue for another few hours. I said goodbye to the children that had latched on to me and headed back to town with a lot on my mind to write.

Turning Twenty in Tanzania

A week has passed since my last post and yet I’ve had so much to write about! Where to begin…

Ah, yes, my birthday! It was pleasant to walk outside in the sunshine on my typically cold-weathered birthday. Even though I had class from 8am-6:30pm on Monday, there was still plenty of time for surprises! The timing couldn’t have been more perfect for the letters that I received from Cassidy and Amy. Just as I walked into class at 8am (exactly midnight on the East Coast!), Roland handed me these two items and I must confess that I choked back a few tears (but who cares, it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to…). The entire group burst out into song and I soaked up every last note. I read the letters several times each and propped them up on my desk to admire.

Even class itself was enjoyable as we discussed the various organs and functions of the United Nations and UN peacekeeping missions in Africa. So far, so good and it was only 8am!

Roland’s class ended and out of the corner of my eye I saw Paul setting up delicious-looking treats. I went to investigate the enticing situation and I saw ‘Kelsey’s Bday’ spelled out on homemade banana cupcakes! Despite my dislike for banana flavored foods that aren’t actually bananas, the cupcakes were delicious! I ate the K, the B, and apostrophe, and then reluctantly (but still happily) shared the rest with my friends.

I even had a surprise waiting for me on the daladala ride to music class… a whole seat to myself! Sure, our daladala did breakdown halfway to class (even after a 30-second stop at a gas station where they filled the gas tank while the vehicle was still on and moving…) but that’s just another birthday adventure!

After we finally made it to Makumira for music, Mr. Stubbs had caught wind that it was my birthday. Mr. Stubbs always has interesting views on American and East African culture because he has lived in both places for extended periods of time. He told us that birthdays in Tanzania are not a big deal… there isn’t even a phrase for ‘Happy Birthday’ in Kiswahili (instead they say “Hongera!” meaning, “congratulations”). Furthermore, most food is cooked over a stove, so a baked cake is considered a delicacy and is typically only eaten as weddings or confirmations. This little tidbit of information came in handy later that night.

The clock struck 7:00 and I headed with the group to Pepe’s Italian and Indian restaurant for my birthday dinner. The food was good, but the entertainment was unforgettable. Since the ratio of muzungus to Africans was about 3:1, I sensed that this place was definitely featured in tourism brochures. That was the first sign that something odd would happen. The second sign was when we saw three men sneaking about in the background dressed in various animal prints. And then the production began. The men tumbled, juggled, limbo-ed, and mimed for an awkwardly long time for an awkwardly silent crowd. Nonetheless, the awkwardness was what made the show memorable… well, that, and they forced Ben to limbo under a flaming pole.

I had eavesdropped (or dropped some eaves, as Samwise Gamgee would say) and had heard rumors that a cake was waiting for me back at the apartments. So we finished our dinner and walked back. I kept myself occupied for a few minutes while they were “cleaning the room” aka lighting the candles (I’m smarter than you think, my friends). Once the “room was clean” I walked in and the group burst out into song again and handed me a huge cake that said “Happy Birthday Butter Baby”… (the butter is heavenly here and my cholesterol has probably skyrocketed as a result). I was so delighted that I almost forgot to make a wish when I blew out the candles. There was still cake left after all of our stomachs were full, so, remembering what Mr. Stubbs had told us about the value of a good cake, Elise had the wonderful idea to offer some to the staff of our accommodation. I suppose one could say that I had my cake and shared it too.

To be honest, I had low expectations for my birthday. I anticipated a few well wishes here and there, not anything more. But the love that I received from here and from home was far more valuable than any physical gift. In the last few hours of my birthday, I even had the chance to Skype with Mom and Kimberly, which put the sprinkles on my already iced cake.

The delicious banana cupcakes, made from scratch!

The bevy of gifts that I got from the states!