remember me?

Yes, it's been a long time since my last blog entry, sorry to keep you in suspense. Our computer time has been particularly limited lately, so without further delay, here's the news:

Kibakwe is turning brown. The rains stopped in March, and we won't get rain again until November or December. The weather is chilly at night, the sun is kali ("fierce") during the day, and the winds are starting. The farmers have mostly harvested their peanuts and corn, and are working on harvesting sunflowers (to make into cooking oil) right now. After the harvest, there is no additional farming work to do until October or November, when it's time to start preparing the farms for the next planting. That means that the upcoming months are a good time for projects that involve the community (as opposed to projects that involve students or teachers) because people are around (not on the farms) and have time. Unfortunately, the "months of rest" also offer ample time for pombe (home-brewed alcohol) consumption, which, in my opinion, contributes significantly to hiv infection rates. I read an excellent book, recommended by a good Peace Corps friend, called The Invisible Cure, by Helen Epstein. It discusses hiv/aids in Sub-Saharan Africa, and the various projects by charitable organizations that have succeeded and failed with regard to hiv/aids intervention, and the reasons why. If you're interested in this subject like I am, you will read this book--really, really interesting.

Despite the lack of rain, our garden is still doing pretty well--in spite of the chickens who manage to sneak in and eat everything they can. We got a steady supply of Chinese cabbage (the chicken's favorite), beets, green onions, lettuce, green beans, mchicha (local spinach), green peppers, and a few squash and zucchini. Cabbage and carrots look promising (they take a little longer), and our papaya trees (we planted dozens) are doing extremely well--we're hoping to get fruit by the end of the year. Our tomatoes were a disaster--not one single tomato. We have a water pump in our yard that has mostly been working (the water line that supplies our pump gets cut off from time to time, and these random "line diversions" will become more and more frequent the further into the dry season that we get), so we've been able to water our garden almost every single day. There are very few vegetable gardens in Kibakwe (there are lots of huge farms, in contrast, which rely exclusively on rain for water), because water is such a huge problem; as a result, there are very few vegetables to buy in our tiny market (most veggies come from Mpwapwa, which actually really come from Morogoro or Arusha, where there's rain all year). The reason I'm saying this is because people have been knocking on our door every single day, asking to buy veggies from us. Our dudes, Gilbert and Zizo, took the initiative to create a large garden of their own, hoping to make some money selling vegetables to meet the demands of our villagers. The used the concepts of permaculture that they learned from one of our Peace Corps workshops; the garden looks really good, and they've actually begun selling things. Hongera sana ("Congratulations!!")

Pipi the kitten is great, as sweet and affectionate as any cat I've ever met in my life. I've only heard her hiss once, at a strange boy cat who started coming around when she was in heat. I honestly can't tell if she's pregnant. She doesn't help keep the chickens out of the yard--she could care less, frankly, but she does like to hunt for mice and bring them under our bed to play with/eat them. She sleeps with us every single night, in our bed, which Tanzanians find hilarious when I tell them. I explain that Americans really value their pets (specifically, dogs and cats) and treat them really well; I do this to try to demonstrate that there are other ways to interact with animals other than beating them, which is normal behavior here.

Tony and I each conducted a one-day hiv/aids seminar last month; his audience was the villagers who are members of the various hiv/aids groups that exist in Kibakwe (the groups don't actually do much, but they have meetings occasionally, and expressed a strong interest in learning accurate hiv/aids information), and my audience was the primary and secondary school teachers of Kibakwe. In general, the workshops went really well, particularly the workshop for the villagers: they were thrilled to receive books about hiv/aids and nutrition (donated by Peace Corps, written in Kiswahili), and our head doctor (the main presenter) did an excellent job of engaging everyone. Each workshop was a little different, because not all the villagers could read and write, but all the teachers could; knowing this, the doctor made sure he adjusted his teaching style and vocabulary accordingly. Everyone was fed breakfast and lunch, got to watch videos about hiv/aids issues like stigma, and left with a pile of books. For days after, people came to our house or stopped us in the street, telling us how great the workshop was, how they can't wait for the next one. The dynamic with the group of teachers was different; they appeared less interested and engaged than the villagers, and some were irritated that they didn't get a posho-- a daily wage paid to people so that they attend workshops or other events. Tony and I decided long ago that we would not offer posho to people when we organized events; we feel like paying people to learn is not within the spirit of learning, that education and educational materials were the most important thing to go home with. Unfortunately, the posho system is alive and well in Tanzania, and it's a big problem, but we're not going to do it, despite the grumblings from the teachers. The preparations for our workshops were huge, but we did them together, and are happy with our results. We have submitted all the paperwork to close these grants, so once everything is finalized, we can work on the next projects: Tony wants to paint a giant mural about hiv/aids with his art club students on a wall in town that everyone sees every single day, and I would like to do weekly video showings (I got at least 10 videos about hiv/aids and related issues from Peace Corps) at the secondary school. We are also working with the secondary school head master and teachers about ideas for income generating activities for the students, so prostitution doesn't have to look like the best option. Stay tuned!

Our one year anniversary of living in Tanzania is June 12, two days from now. I have a very hard time believing that I've lived in Africa for the last year. So where am I, mentally and emotionally and physically, compared to a year ago? I understand the extremely complicated nature of the problems of Tanzania, particularly about health issues, much better then I did one year ago--understanding the dynamics of life in Tanzania is difficult, and sometimes I feel overwhelmed, but I can now observe and understand a little better WHY people make the choices they do. I still get frustrated that I can't speak Kiswahili fluently, but again, I remember where I was one year ago and am amazed at how far I've come. I feel tired here a lot, which I mostly attribute to living under the microscope 24 hours a day; people are endlessly interested in me and what I have to say and where I'm going and what I'm doing and what I'm cooking and what I'm wearing. I've learned to accept that I will be laughed at and scrutinized every day: if I wear American clothes I am stared at and if I wear Tanzanian clothes I am stared at; if I speak Kiswahili perfectly I will be laughed at, and if I make mistakes with Kiswahili I will be laughed at, too. My body is thinner, because we walk a lot, cook all our own food (except when we travel outside of Kibakwe), and usually don't eat snacks; I have diarrhea much more frequently than I did in American (bet you're happy to know that!!), which I think is because of all the poop we live with: every single day I see donkeys, goats, cows, pigs, chickens, guinea fowl, ducks, cats and dogs, walking the streets and pooping everywhere. Even if I wash my hands religiously and boil my drinking water and eat only my cooking, which I do, I am still surrounded by poop. I miss America and I miss my friends and family and I miss comfort and ease and feeling like I can let my guard down. I worry about money and jobs and what our futures will look like when we leave Tanzania, and I worry about feeling angry with Americans for having so much and being so wasteful. I am so happy to be here and to have all the experiences I am having, and to know that my perception of the world will forever be colored by my time in Tanzania. Thanks for reading.