Weird Things are Normal

It's a calm Sunday morning and I'm feeling at home.  I'm basking in the glow of a magnificent coincidence: A few weeks ago some departing friends gave me their french press, then several days later some visitors gave me the gift of Rwandan coffee grounds.  This is a huge step up from the instant coffee available in town.  Delicious!

As I mentioned in my last post, recently I've been taking stock of the good things in life here.  I've developed a lot of little habits and behaviors which at one point would have seemed very strange to me, but they've become second nature, and I'll actually miss many of them when I come back to the States.   I think a list is in order: 

-Food Phobias, Lack of.  There's not much sanitation of knives/cutting surfaces/serving plates here, but I'll pretty much eat anything sold on the street.  I don't get sick, so I keep eating....

-Handshakes.  They last for a long time, often with a lot of grip variations.  I'm probably gonna weird people out at home when I try shake hands for minutes at a time.

-Cooking.  I've learned to bake using a charcoal dutch oven, and now when I use a regular oven I invariably burn things.

Cookies in the Dutch oven

-Bugs in the Flour.  I remember last year I threw out a kilo of flour because it had bugs multiplying in it.  I was so wasteful!  Fact of life: When there's no refrigeration, there are gonna be a few bugs.  Nowadays the method is "pick out the ones you can, the rest are good protein!"

-Air Conditioning, A Once In A Month Experience.  It weirds me out.  It's so unnaturally cold.  And it dries my eyes out.  And worst of all, it makes me dislike the outdoors.  One minute I'm walking around happy as a clam in the midday sun, then I walk into an air conditioned office, and when I leave I find the weather oppressive and muggy, and I'm hating being outside.  I didn't feel that way before I went in the office; damn you AC, why do you mess with my comfort zone?!?

-Cow Poo Radar.  Pack animals leave messes around on the streets, but somehow my feet have learned to avoid it, no matter where my eyes are.  As I walk I could be staring off into the banks of shops next to the road, and when I look back I see that I've unconsciously navigated a minefield.

There's a super secret oxen conspiracy to ruin your sandals.

-Bathrooms.  It's all squat toilets here.  And I've found I prefer them.  When you're in a dirty public bathroom, you don't have that awkward dilemma of whether to put your butt on the seat!  And without getting too graphic, squatting is just more..... let's say..... anatomically correct.

My squat toilet.  Surrounded by clouds of happy.

-Prayer Time.  I expect to hear the 5-times-daily call to prayer.  It helps me time my day.  5:30 am prayers?  "Almost time to get up!  Enjoy your last little snuggle time in bed!"  3:30 pm prayers?  "Damn, everything's closed for the day, anything I forgot to buy is gonna wait for tomorrow."  6:30 prayers:  "It's 6:30, make yourself some dinner!"  7:30 prayers:  "No really, make yourself some dinner!"

-No Shoes Inside.  Shoes are seen as dirty here, and they come off as soon as you're in the house.  When I get back to America I think walking inside with shoes on will feel like walking on eggshells.

-Man Skirts.  A lot of men here wear a skirt-like wrap called a Kikoi.  I'm a convert.  Super comfortable.  Will not want to give it up at home.  Will risk ridicule by wearing it all the time.

Rockin' the Kikoi, like only a man can.

All that being said, there are a lot of things I miss about life in America.  Namely:

-Public Transport.  Cushioned seats.  Reliable schedules.  Enough room in a bus to put both your feet flat on the floor.  Reclining seats on trains.  Alcohol and snacks brought to your seat in airplanes.  Not this:

The innards of a daladala.  There's always room for one (or 5) more.

-Food.  Burgers.  Mexican food.  Beer.  All the cheese.

-Anonymity.  Not being stared at while walking down the street.  Riding a bicycle without everyone I pass shouting "Look!  A white guy on a bicycle!"

-Beds.  Firm beds.  Long beds.  Level beds.  Beds without weird lumps and sink points.  Fitted sheets.

-Gas Stoves.  OMG.  Gas Stoves.

-Live Music.  Church organs, jazz clubs, symphonies, rock concerts, friends playing in the living room.  I miss all the musics!

-Hugs.  They just don't do them here.  Hugs are the best, and I miss them.

-The Co-op.  Men and women living together, unmarried?  Stimulating conversation in a language I'm fluent in.  Community in your home.  Always something fun happening.  Smoothie ingredients and food processor available 24/7.

Laying Down the Law: No Cats Allowed!

It's been a long time since I've posted.  I've had a lot buzzing around in my head about my work here, but every time I try to write about it, I get discouraged.  I've learned a lot about the myriad of challenges facing both students and teachers here, as well as the limits on my ability to help with these problems.  I'd like to write about all this in a meaningful/informative way, but I haven't quite found a way to put it all down in words.  I think this time I'll stick with a more personal update.

I'm moving into the second year of my service.  It's nice to have been here long enough to know what to expect from the turning of the year.  I recognize the seasons, I know more about how the Muslim holidays are celebrated, and I know what to expect day to day at my school.  Many volunteers feel that their second year is more productive than their first.  The stereotype is that you get your feet under you in the first year, and after that you really begin to take strides.  Sometimes this worries me; my second year has not seemed to be off to a shining start.  A lot of my secondary projects seem to be imploding, and I haven't found any resounding ways to combat the difficulties I face at my school.  All this together can get quite discouraging. 

But I've found some consolation in how things are going in my personal life.  It's good to remind myself that the home/community/cultural side of my experience has been going really well in my second year.  I've got really good relationships with my neighbors.  My Kiswahili improves, slowly but surely.  I've formed some genuine friendships.  My house feels like home.  I've got everything I need to feel comfortable, and I can cook tasty and healthy meals on hotplates and charcoal stoves.  I host a lot of people who pass through Pemba (mostly from the volunteer community), and I feel like a good host- I know enough about the island to give good advice, and can provide a comfortable place for them to stay.  All these things are good to remind myself of when work gets me down.

And since home is where things are going well, I believe pictures of home are in order!

My living room feels like home, thanks to all the people who have gifted maps, pictures, calendars, khangas....

The other side of the living room, looking towards my bedroom.  On the right is the blackboard I use when my community English club visits.  My National Geographic map on the left is one of my most prized possessions, and really useful for my English club as well.

My friend Kombo stopped by to say hello one afternoon.... coincidentally wearing a shirt with my and Jack's names on it.

Kitten invasion!  A couple of stray kittens, after being tormented by some neighborhood kids, decided my house was safe haven, and would stop at nothing to get inside.  After climbing up to the top of my screen door, one was able to slip into the house through a small hole.  I stayed strong and resisted an adoption urge.

It was time to expel the kittens before they did more damage to my mosquito netting.  Pole sana (very sorry) cats, this guy's leaving in 9 months and he won't be your daddy!

Hold the Horses, Stop The Train, and Simamisha the Daladala

We interrupt our normal blog services to bring you this special post!  I'm deep into the "lost months" of my service: All the Pemba schools are closed from mid-July to mid-September (first for Ramadan, then for the national census, which is staffed by schoolteachers).  Not much work to be done these days.  What's a volunteer to do in times like these?  Start a new and ambitious community project?  Hit the books and master Kiswahili?  Drink copious amounts of bucket wine?  None of the above!  Instead, I've been enjoying a much anticipated visit from my fiance Katie (Did I tell you I'm engaged?  Oops, sorry!  I'm engaged.  There.).  We've been living it up here in the land of cheap and delicious octopus and white sand beaches. 

What am I going to write about on this special occasion?  Absolutely nothing!  I'm too busy soaking up the rays of awesome.  Instead, let me introduce my guest writer and better-half-to-be, K-"os" Mann, who I'm sure will you give you a fresh perspective on the joys of the Tanzanian bus system, pit toilets, and washing clothes by hand. 



Hi there blog readers, this is your special guest speaking.  I think Dave will soon be uploading some actual snapshots, but I'd like to give you some literary snapshots of my time here. 

1. Dala dala dala dala dala
Hey look, here's an old japanese-made minibus chock-full of people!  Kids, babies, parents, merchants with their wares, women with live chickens in their handbags, grandpas, grandmas, you name it, and on top of all that there's the daladala konda (conductor) hollering and hanging half-way out the door for lack of space.  Let's get in!  Now we're bumping along the road in Dar Es Salaam or Njombe or Iringa or anywhere really and I'm standing on someone's foot but that's okay because someone is standing on my foot while I'm trying not to fall on Dave who's sitting with a stranger's baby in his lap.  That's public transit.  Whew!

2. Ugali
As far as I can tell, volunteers here talk about three things when they get together.  The first is food, the second is poop.  [more on this later].  Let me tackle food the Tanzanian way. 
Part a) Eating at home. 
First, no matter what the meal, you make ugali -- a white, firm-yet-sticky- yet suprisingly pasty corn flour mash that acts as a vessel for picking up your other food.  And is utterly tasteless.  But oh the wonders you can smash into it by the fingerfull: maharaga (beans), samaki (fish), boiled greens that I forget the name of, savory red sauce with hidden bits of meat, mmmmmm. 
Part b) Eating at home when you're sick of Tanzanian food. 
Volunteers here get creative.  Man oh man, the things I have seen concocted in kitchens with no running water, no electricity (that means no fridge), and the closest market a 50 minute walk away.  And the closest source of wazungu food (e.g. margarine) a 2 hour daladala ride away. But no matter!  cinnamon rolls, whey bread, ricotta cheese, pierogies, tortillas and guacamole, home-made mango wine, oatmeal cookies...  And that's all done over a charcoal stove, folks.
Part c) City Streets
If you live in a happenin' town, you've got options.  Walk down the street at night and sample chipsi mayai (french fries in egg with spicy sauce), orojo (everything-soup), pweza (grilled octopus), sugar cane juice, skewers of gristly beef, hot milk, turkish coffee, oranges and maybe if you're really lucky you can even find mystery-flavour soft serve ice cream. 

3. Poop
Typically, one squats over a pit toilet.  And cleans with water instead of using toilet paper.  The worst smelling choo (toilet) in all of Tanzania is at the bar in Njombe town near the bus stand.  Recent excitement: a volunteer here fell neck-deep into a pit choo in the dark late at night and had to be pulled out.  Apparently she laughed.
Also, don't eat the shawarma in Stonetown unless you like spending lots of time on the choo.  That is all. 

4. Vacation time!
Travel to Zanzibar and find what are supposed to be the best coral reefs in all of Africa.  Take your snorkel or don't even take your snorkel just dive into the water off Misali island and you're swimming inside one of those "mysteries of the sea" educational underwater life imax films, face to face with a beautiful landscape of multicoloured broccoli forest coral.  You're diving deep enough that your ears ache, but it doesn't matter because you're in the middle of the tropical fish tank at the aquarium.  Clown fish, angel fish of various kinds, schools of little fishies, tropical coloured bigger fish, giant clams that suck themselves in when you approach... And the tidepools are populated with hermit crabs, funny looking green coloured crabs, and all manner of starfish and sea slugs.  Accidentally step on a sea urchin and you're in terrible pain BUT you've got a permanent souvenir of sea urchin bits embedded in your foot.  They're not coming out. 

5. Volunteer culture
They speak in acronyms and kiswahilized English.  They speak of food, poop, and whatever juicy internal volunteer gossip is going around.  Sometimes they speak of hardships at their site (conflicts on the job, trouble integrating, "is what I'm doing really helping anyone?", life before getting the solar cell and single lightbulb, africafe coffee) or what they miss of america ("did you hear that xxxx just got a care package with RANCH SALAD DRESSING mix?!?!?!") but mostly they speak of their everyday life in a very different culture.  Not to mention food. And poop. 

Tromping through the bush in the Njombe Region with our hosts Sara and Jon

Out for a walk with the dog in Ron and Katie's "backyard"

Sunset at the waterfront in Stonetown, Zanzibar

Giant Tropical Avocado Attack!!!  [notice the avocado is approximately the same size as the plate]

Walking the Ngezi forest in search of monkeys

Monkey!!!  We saw a family of at least 20, some came right up to us!

The new Pemba volunteers, Jack and Zack, goofin' off on Misali Island

New Pet!

Katie-imitating-starfish impostor tries to win Dave's affection

Ramadan

Last year, I arrived on Pemba just a few days before Ramadan ended.  We're now a week into this year's holy month, and it feels like a definitive halfway mark in my service.  I've finished two terms of teaching and have been through one year of the Islamic calendar.  I've reached a new plateau of feeling settled into my community.  Everything about my town an the island feels excessively.... normal.  Not mundane, but life here has come to feel no more exotic than life in the States.  It's just life.  Highs and lows, work and play, like anywhere else.  I guess this is what it means to feel at home!

The holy month of Ramadan is an interesting time to be on the island.  Everyone abstains from food and drink from sunrise until the 6:30 pm prayers.  All the schools are closed, and many businesses have reduced hours.  Things slow down.  The streets are quieter than usual during the day, especially at prayer times.  But the town is vibrant in the evening, as lots of people go out for coffee and street food.  It's a time when worship and community are prioritized over work.  It's a level of piousness I haven't often observed in the U.S.; it reminds me how much our lives are driven by schedules of work and making money.  Taking a month out of every year to be "unproductive" is somewhat antithetical to our Western work ethic.

I'm not participating in prayers or fasting, but my life has a very different pace this month.  To be respectful I don't eat or drink in public until the evening.  If I'm out and about, perhaps on a bike ride, this often means sneaking into the bushes to secretly gulp down some water.  My schedule is very open.  I still teach my twice a week English club, but I have plenty of time to relax, read, enjoy sunsets, make good food, and take care of all the little things that usually pile up to stress me out.  It's been a wonderfully calm and stress-free time.

Also, I'm luck to have a visitor:  Kenzie, the volunteer I shadowed a year ago in Iringa, has finished her two years of volunteering (Click here for the post I wrote about visiting her - feels like a long time ago!  Here are pictures I took in her village).  She decided to come visit me and see the island before going home.  We're having a great time, and seeing someone I met while in training has reminded me to appreciate how far I've come.  My house is comfortable and ready for visitors, my kitchen is complete, my Kiswahili is coming along.... it's a good to notice how well things are going here.

Some pictures of fun times and shenanigans from the last month:

Fellow volunteers Dave and Doug on the night of our wine and beard competition (yes, beard, not beer).  Doug has decorated his "bar" with the Peace Corps Tanzania 50th anniversary Khanga.  We have fun.

4th of July at the beach!  We went out there to celebrate with the two American families who live on Pemba.

Nom nom!  4th of July kebobs.

Our friend Justin made delicious (and well arranged) cookies!

An excellent breakfast with my new friend Scott, a UN worker who lives on the mainland.  Chapati (Tanzanian-tortilla-thing), mango, peanuts, dates, and coffee!

We went to a protected jungle preserve on the North end of the island.  Big centipede!

Ngesi Forest

Walking the paths in Ngesi.  I'm sporting a big beard these days.  I am fully aware that it must look ridiculous to those of you in the West, but everyone here loves it.  =)

Monkey!!!!  Saw a whole family of them.

Kenzie and I chilling at the beach.

Storms and sun alternated throughout the afternoon

Captain Peace Corps to the rescue!  

I'm babysitting my friend Dave's kitten.  She probably has the easiest life of any cat on the island.  We feed her fish.  But that doesn't mean she has to be happy about wearing these damn glasses!

Tanganyika here I come!

I'm heading to the mainland today, referred to in Kiswahili as "Tanzania bara," or, as Zanzibaris like to say, "Tanganyika."  Quick historical context:  The borders of mainland Tanzania have existed since the 19th century, first as German East Africa, then after World War I as Tanganyika (The lake that forms the border with the Democratic Republic of the Congo still holds that name).  Tanganyika won it's independence from the U.K. in 1961, and a couple of years later, the Zanzibar Archipelago followed in suit.  Shortly thereafter the two new countries decided to merge, combining their names to create "Tanzania." 

Zanzibar kept it's government intact after the union, and remains a semi-autonomous region within Tanzania.  The culture is somewhat different here, the ethnic makeup is different (there's a mixture of East African and Arab ancestry), there's a slightly different dialect of Kiswahili spoken, and the islands are uniformly Muslim (while about a third of mainlanders are Muslim).  Many local people here dislike the union; a common opinion is that it benefits politicians and the business class, but doesn't do anything for everyday people.  Pembans generally do not identify as being Tanzanian; everyone says they are from Zanzibar.  Hence the ongoing use of "Tanganyika," which is not common to say on the mainland.  It's a not-so-subtle way for people to highlight their separate national identity.

We Pemba volunteers experience this separation in our own way.  We're a very tight knit group, and while we all have friends on the mainland, we rarely see them.  Only 4 out of the 150-ish volunteers in Tanzania are placed here.  Getting assigned to Pemba is seen as a mixed blessing.  It's a topical island with beaches and plenty of water (whereas a lot of volunteers end up in dry, barren areas), but getting placed here also comes with the notion of being "sent away" from the group you trained with.  It makes me wonder if there's anywhere else in the world where Peace Corps volunteers are serving in semi-autonomous regions, and if so, what their experience is like.

I realize that it's been 6 months since I've set foot on the mainland, and I'm oddly a little nervous.  I've gotten really comfortable on Pemba.  It has an insulated feeling.  There's a strong feeling of cultural unity; everyone on the island is "in it together."  When I travel around the island, I carry that sense of unity- I can tell anyone I meet where I live and where I work, and I'm instantly accepted.  Right now I'm waiting for my boat in Mkoani, the port town on the South of the island.  It's about 3 hours by bus from my town.  I went out for street coffee and pastries this morning, and a couple of locals insisted on paying for my tab when they heard I was a teacher here.  In going to the mainland, I feel an odd trepidation.  I realize I've developed a bit of Zanzibari identity, and part of me feels like I'll be surrounded by strangers when I reach the mainland.

Just one picture to show you this time.  Back in early December I sent a package to my family for Christmas.  I found out that the airmail postage was more money than I had out of the bank at the time, so I reluctantly sent it by surface mail, wondering if it would ever arrive at all.  6 months later, it made it, everything intact inside.  It looks like it's been through a lot.  I wish there had been a GPS device inside to track where it traveled.

Little Island, Big Island

It's been a long time since I've posted!  It's been a very busy couple of months. I feel like a "real" Peace Corps Volunteer these days: there are always things to do!

I recently was fortunate enough to take a trip out to Kokota, a small island about 3 miles off the Western shore of Pemba (the mainland is about 40 miles West of Pemba).  There are several hundred people living on Kokota with no school and no source of fresh water.  They survive by catching rainwater and sending boats every day to Pemba to collect water in jugs. 

I went out there with an ex-Peace Corps Volunteer named Michael, who decided he wanted to live here after his service ended (not to worry folks, I'll be back in 2013 as promised!).  He now works with an NGO that focuses mostly on reforestation and sustainable farming.  His NGO is currently working with people on Kokota to build a school and a rainwater catchment tank that will collect water from the school's roof.  They're also helping the locals get started with sustainable tree farming practices.  I went out and helped with some tree planting and to see the construction progress.

Now I find myself with a plethora of pictures, and I figure that maybe this is a chance to give a glimpse of the wide gap between life in rural, isolated areas and "town life."  I'll start with the pics from Kokota:

A dhow sailing near Kokota Island.  Kokota's inhabitants use boats like these to carry water from Pemba every day.

Michael atop the in-progress water catchment tank

Mixing cement and handing it down the line towards the tank

Laying the cement

The new school building is in the background. Gutters will collect rainwater from the roof and carry it to the tank.

Tree planting!

Swahili Style!  It's never a bad time to be looking good!  Even when getting dirty planting trees.  I loved this guy's fedora.

Hut being built in a village on Kokota.  The wooden frame goes up first, then clay is added.  A complete house is hiding back on the left.

A Kokota family getting shelter from the afternoon sun next to their house.

Kokota youth

Returning to Pemba.  The port town is complete with cell phone towers, customs buildings in the foreground, and apartment buildings (on the left, just above the treeline).  A far cry from Kokota.

In town: multi-story buildings, cars, shops, streetlights, and mosques

The Pemba Crown Hotel.  Tourist money makes a big difference in town, but none of that money makes it out to places like Kokota

Colonial era buildings make up a lot of town centers

Everyday people use ox carts to move goods around, which may seem primitive, but there are no pack animals at all out on Kokota.

Juice stand!  These sugar cane presses are everywhere, selling glasses of juice for 100 shillings (6 cents).  Perfect for hydration on bike rides!  Sometimes if I'm riding a long way I'll stop at 2 or 3 as I go.

Towns are full of little shops and stands.  It's a sign that people living town life have some income to spare.

Mosques are often the nicest buildings around.  People here take pride in their places of worship, even if their home life is modest.