The town where I live is called Boma Ng'ombe, which roughly translates to "village of cows." This is not very far off. We are located 25 km from Moshi and 55 KM from Arusha, two decent sized cities (for Tanzania). Mount Kilimanjaro, Africa's highest peak, and Mount Meru loom impressively over the humble surroundings of Boma.
There is only one paved road in Boma, the road from Arusha to Moshi, and trucks, tour buses, safari SUVs, motorcycles and dalla-dallas (small local buses) jockey for position in the death game that Tanzanians call driving. You can imagine my white knuckles when I drove at night for the first time. On either side of the street is less than a kilometer of petrol stations, hotels, restaurants and shops. At the end of the strip is a central market where on Wednesdays and Fridays farmers bring produce, grain, corn, beans, and livestock to sell to other locals. On the outskirts of town, farmland dominates the scenery where green spots stick out amongst the brown grass and dusty land. Agriculture is the backbone of Tanzania, and Boma is definitely a farming community.
Although someone driving through would never know, to see the real Boma you must veer off the main road. Here dusty streets, often discernible only by the tracks left by previous cars, wind through houses, shops, and farmland. The potholes, small rocks and boulders that fill the street are no match for our not-so-trusty Mitsubishi Pajero as we travel these roads daily. In the main part of town, the road is very well defined. Small shops about 3 meters wide, often protected by iron bars sell specialized goods such as farm equipment, meat, thread, or convenience store goods. A furniture maker works with a single table saw, a lath and some hand tools to make bed frames, which he sells on the street. An elderly man sits at a sewing machine and forms a piece of cloth into a pair of pants or a shirt to sell. Buildings are painted in different colors of chipped paint with sections painted as advertisements for a paint company, Coca-Cola, Pepsi, or Vodacom, the Tanzanian offspring of Europe's Vodaphone .
Small restaurants dot the area where one can sit and eat kuku, samaki, or ng'ombe (chicken, fish, or beef) with rice, potatoes, bananas, or beans and a Coke for about 2500 TZS (less than $2). Outside the restaurants, a jug of water sits with a spout and a basin for patrons to wash their hands before eating. Soap may or may not be available depending on the establishment. Inside a handful of people occupy plastic tables and plastic chairs branded with the Coca-Cola logo or the words "It's Kili Time," the catchphrase of the local beer, Kilimanjaro. The food is simple but good, and a piece of chicken is inviting after a week of eating a vegetarian diet.
Boma gives a new meaning to free range chickens as they walk freely through the streets. Today I stopped with Pastor Tukai for a Coke at a local restaurant. As we were drinking, a chicken walked right in the door and strolled around the restaurant. Goats also have somewhat free reign. About a week ago I was sitting inside, gazing out an open doorway when I saw a goat walking down the street alone minding his business. He stopped periodically to munch on someone's plants or blades of dried grass that stuck up amongst the trash. We're not in Kansas anymore Dorothy!
As you walk away from the main section of town, streets become less defined and both modest residences and businesses occupy the spaces between. Kao La Amani sits on the edge of the main part of town across from a shop that makes clothing and next to a hotel and restaurant where the manager named Jackson makes a point of getting to know the Mzungus who are living in Boma. I stop at Mangos frequently to buy 1.5 liter bottles of water and Jackson makes a point of coming over and talking with me. "Maybe you will come back and have something to eat or drink sometime," he says. I laugh to myself about his salesman persona, but he is genuinely nice and a good person to come to with questions about Boma, Moshi, and Tanzania.
There is trash everywhere. This is where the gap between education and development comes in. While Tanzania has developed in many ways and modern goods such as plastics and cardboard packaging have entered the market, ideas of sanitation and environmental health have lagged behind. When they are done with something, whether it is a banana peal or a plastic bag, Tanzanians simply throw it on the ground. As a result, bits of trash are strewn everywhere and the crinkle of plastic under foot is a constant reminder of how backwards some things are in this country. Tanzania does not have the infrastructure to recycle plastics, but the current solution of burning trash in yards and on the side of the street is not a good solution. I find myself in a difficult position, torn between my role as a passive observer and an educated volunteer.
Inside the orphanage gates, there is little trash because the older children and the girls who work here keep the area clean. However, because of the proximity to the streets, children often play with garbage. As they don't have many toys, the children naturally gravitate to fun looking objects that are lying around. A plastic bag can quickly become a kite and a discarded water bottle with a few sticks and bottle caps becomes a car. It is no object that someone was drinking out of the bottle or that the bag was laying in a pile of garbage. The other day I had to take away a light-bulb filament from a young boy who was putting it in his mouth. "Look Josh!" he says. The next day a few children were taking turns putting a black plastic bag over their head and trying to walk around. As you can imagine, I really felt uncomfortable letting them continue this game!
The culture inside the orphanage and throughout Boma has a mix of traditional, modern, European, and African influences. Much of the population is of the Maasai tribe. About a quarter of the people in the streets wear traditional Maasai clothing and have holes cut in their ears and three circle scars on their faces from being cut as children in the traditional way. Others wear an odd assortment of mismatched clothing that undoubtedly made its way to Tanzania as overstock or donations. People wear hockey jerseys, t-shirts with out of place phrases such as "Nantucket Island," and pants that are way too big. At the petrol station the other day I even saw a boy wearing a Philadelphia Flyers hat, which made me feel right at home. I am still hoping to see the infamous "Philadelphia Phillies 2009 World Series Champions" t-shirts that I have heard retailers sent to Africa after the loss.
Many women wear beautiful dresses and head wraps made out of vibrant fabric, particularly for special events such as weddings or church services. There is something quite striking about the clothing from an artistic perspective and I hope to capture some of this on film. During such events men wear over-sized suits made out of ridiculous looking fabric. The pants resemble parachute pants made of dress wool because of their bagginess. The jackets often hang down near the knees. It is all quite a sight. I enjoy taking it all in while contemplating the origins and meaning of all that I see.
