Here are some pictures of this week's progress on the project. It's very exciting to see everything come together.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Turkey Day, (sort of)
The first lesson in slaughtering a chicken is to remember to hold both the feet and the wings while cutting of it's head. This is important because a chicken's nervous system does not quit for up to a minute after you slice off the head. I learned this, albeit gruesome, lesson on Thursday morning from an eleven year old girl. I'm not sure which part of this comes across as most shocking but I'll run with the eleven year old girl part. Makulata is one of the oldest girls living at the orphanage and she is more mature than most girls my age. Before coming to the orphanage she lived a very sad life where she worked her hands to the bone from a young age. This is where she learned how to slaughter chickens. She is so happy to have a real life now and helps eagerly with the cooking and cleaning at the orphanage in gratitude.
I came up with the idea of sharing my favorite holiday with my new family a few weeks ago when I stumbled upon a can of jellied cranberry sauce in a small Moshi supermarket. So on Wednesday night I purchased ten live chickens from a mama in Boma to complete my stockpile of thanksgiving ingredients. It may sound funny that I purchased chickens rather than turkeys, but since white people are the only ones who eat turkey, the price of purchasing even one is through the roof. While one turkey can cost somewhere between the equivalent of sixty to ninety US dollars, one chicken only costs about three to five dollars. So in the interest of having enough food to feed the entire family, I settled for purchasing extra chickens.
On Thursday morning Makulata and I killed and cleaned the chickens with the help of the older sisters. I then spent all afternoon cooking a true thanksgiving meal with all the necessary elements including stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, and of course jellied cranberry sauce (the kind that maintains the shape of the can after you open it. Cooking for thirty eight people is a lot of work and I gained a new appreciation for all of my family members that have prepared the thanksgiving feast. With the help of many young hands who are already on Christmas break from school we succeeded in cooking the meal without any burns and only a few minor expletives.
The kids were so intrigued with each foreign element and asked me many questions as we cooked. “Is this juice (pronounced jeweece)?” they asked about the cranberry sauce. The idea of cooking with spices was completely foreign to them. They also got a huge laugh out of stuffing the birds with oranges and stuffing. They leaned over my shoulder (more literally under my shoulder) and giggled with curious smiles as I did this. When we served the food they were wide eyed and quiet. I don't think they've ever experienced a meal of such variety and scale. With smiles on their faces they thanked me and dug in. They finished with food to spare saying for the first time in a while that they were full and couldn't eat any more. Many of the children ate out of trash piles before they came to Kao la Amani and while they always have food now, it is tightly budgeted. Considering this, the feeling of being full is quite a welcome experience.
I also found it hilarious to watch Tanzanians eating food that was out of their comfort zone. It was a complete role reversal as they, rather than I, were now the ones trying foreign food. Pastor nearly had me on the floor laughing as he did not understand the concept of gravy and congratulated me on making a delicious soup. He asked for a bowl so that he could eat it separately. The smiles and thanks I received from the children was incredibly rewarding and made the experience entirely worthwhile. On Friday they asked me when I was going to cook “food for America” again. It was a happy thanksgiving for all.
I came up with the idea of sharing my favorite holiday with my new family a few weeks ago when I stumbled upon a can of jellied cranberry sauce in a small Moshi supermarket. So on Wednesday night I purchased ten live chickens from a mama in Boma to complete my stockpile of thanksgiving ingredients. It may sound funny that I purchased chickens rather than turkeys, but since white people are the only ones who eat turkey, the price of purchasing even one is through the roof. While one turkey can cost somewhere between the equivalent of sixty to ninety US dollars, one chicken only costs about three to five dollars. So in the interest of having enough food to feed the entire family, I settled for purchasing extra chickens.
On Thursday morning Makulata and I killed and cleaned the chickens with the help of the older sisters. I then spent all afternoon cooking a true thanksgiving meal with all the necessary elements including stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, and of course jellied cranberry sauce (the kind that maintains the shape of the can after you open it. Cooking for thirty eight people is a lot of work and I gained a new appreciation for all of my family members that have prepared the thanksgiving feast. With the help of many young hands who are already on Christmas break from school we succeeded in cooking the meal without any burns and only a few minor expletives.
The kids were so intrigued with each foreign element and asked me many questions as we cooked. “Is this juice (pronounced jeweece)?” they asked about the cranberry sauce. The idea of cooking with spices was completely foreign to them. They also got a huge laugh out of stuffing the birds with oranges and stuffing. They leaned over my shoulder (more literally under my shoulder) and giggled with curious smiles as I did this. When we served the food they were wide eyed and quiet. I don't think they've ever experienced a meal of such variety and scale. With smiles on their faces they thanked me and dug in. They finished with food to spare saying for the first time in a while that they were full and couldn't eat any more. Many of the children ate out of trash piles before they came to Kao la Amani and while they always have food now, it is tightly budgeted. Considering this, the feeling of being full is quite a welcome experience.
I also found it hilarious to watch Tanzanians eating food that was out of their comfort zone. It was a complete role reversal as they, rather than I, were now the ones trying foreign food. Pastor nearly had me on the floor laughing as he did not understand the concept of gravy and congratulated me on making a delicious soup. He asked for a bowl so that he could eat it separately. The smiles and thanks I received from the children was incredibly rewarding and made the experience entirely worthwhile. On Friday they asked me when I was going to cook “food for America” again. It was a happy thanksgiving for all.
Half of the food for the Thanksgiving feast! Don't worry the stuffing is at the end of the table.
Gastronomy
One cannot talk about any culture without at least mentioning the food. In Tanzania gastronomy means one thing: the market. Every decent sized town has a central market place where economy meets agronomy. In fact in Moshi, there are three markets with excess business spilling out along the sidewalks of the major roads. Boma has one main market which is open on Wednesdays and Fridays and two older, smaller markets that are open daily. However, Boma's markets are expensive so on Tuesday and Saturday mornings I drive Mama ten minutes down the road to the big market in Sadalla. Here you can find everything from fresh produce to used shoes at a good price – that is unless you are white. Haggling over prices is part of the every day routine and having white skin, and therefore millions of dollars in the bank according to their logic, puts one at a disadvantage.
The sounds, smells, and sights of the market makes the senses tingle with excitement. Vibrant colors of women's clothing blend in amongst neat stacks of bright fruits and vegetables creating a sea of colors. Women sit on five gallon buckets with their legs outstretched across old corn sacks that serve as showcases for their agricultural merchandise. “Kaka Karibu,” they say politely with curious smiles as I walk by. This essentially means “brother, you are welcome to buy.” Voices near and far shout energetically “tatu tatu tatu” (three hundred, three hundred, three hundred) as mamas try to advertise their prices. Strong men in torn shirts wearing tattered shoes whistle at you to move aside as they push homemade wheelbarrows laden with baskets and bunches of bananas down the isles. As you continue, the smell of low tide wafts in your direction from the stands selling dried fish. The smell seems out of place in such a dry place, but one must remember our relative proximity to the Indian Ocean and Lake Victoria.
Boma is parched for the majority of the year, quenched only by biannual rains. Right now we are in the midst of the short rain period where just about every or every other night for about a month we receive a short steady rain. The rain disturbs sleep as it pounds on the corrugated iron sheet roof, but it is a welcome disturbance as it puts food on the tables of many Tanzanians.
Due to the lack of rain, I was surprised to see the variety of crops grown around Boma. I also expected to see strange unrecognizable crops and foreign fruits. However, the crops in this area are very similar to those you find in America and there is plenty of variety. Corn and beans are the largest crops in this area largely because they are not water intensive. However, at farms like ours where we have the ability to pump water from a river year round, you can find everything from potatoes to bananas.
The variety of crops sold at the markets is even more extensive than what is grown in our area because of our proximity to different climates. Villages on the slopes of Kilimanjaro for example are far more tropical and bananas and avocados grow naturally. If you travel farther east you will reach the Indian Ocean and a town called Tanga, which is home to oranges, mangos and other tropical fruits. Dried fish of all different shapes from Lake Victoria in the west make their way to our markets where they sit in neat piles on market stands ready to be wrapped in newspaper.
While many of the raw ingredients are the same as those found in an American kitchen, the food could not be much more different. The best words to describe Tanzanian cuisine would be peasant food. It is simple food that features the flavors of the main vegetable ingredients rather than those of spices. The food is always starch intensive and often lacks sufficient protein. Starch is the focus of every meal because it provides a filler. Every meal is focused around either ugali (boiled cornflower), rice (always white), chips (the British kind), chapati (wheat flower tortillas), or spaghetti which is both completely out of place and cooked to death. Schoolchildren often eat makande which is boiled corn and beans because it is cheap to prepare. As you might expect, this diet creates many skinny children with big bellies.
The next element of a meal is vegetables. Vegetables are incredibly fresh so this is often the tastiest part. Finely chopped greens cooked in sunflower oil, garlic, onions and tomatoes are definitely the most common dish. The greens come in a handful of varieties, but preparation is the same and taste is very similar. We eat mboga, as it is called, nearly every day. Another common dish is green bananas boiled with vegetables. This is one of my favorite dishes because it is filling, has nutritional value, and is quite tasty.
Protein in the meal is often lacking. The focus of Tanzanian food is price and good protein is often not in the budget. Beans are a cheap alternative to meat and there are many days when we eat only rice and beans. When the budget allows, Tanzanians will eat beef, pork, chicken, fish, goat, or lamb, but it is prepared very differently than I am used to. First, butchers do not refrigerate meat. Cow or pig carcasses hang from meat hooks in small shops throughout town and butchers will hack off your favorite part and hand it it you wrapped in newspaper or a plastic bag. Flies buzz around and something black, likely a mold or a fungus, grows on the outside of the hide. Nothing goes to waste and you are particularly lucky if you find a piece of tongue in your meal. Fish are also quite different. The dried fish don't need to be refrigerated and only require soaking in water before cooking. They come in all shapes and sizes but most frequently we eat the smallest ones that are about an inch and a half long. They come with the spine removed, but don't be fooled, they eat the head and eyes which are still intact.
Out of all of this food what do I eat? They say when in Rome do as the Romans do, but from experience I have found that it actually takes a bit of searching to find a true Italian meal in Rome. However, in Tanzania you have little choice but to eat the food. While some expensive hotels offer their frighteningly far off take of western food, everyday food is always Tanzanian. Furthermore, to not accept food from a mama is seriously offensive so in the interest of being polite and making friends I grit my teeth and dig into whatever is on the table. Some of the food is very good and some of it is somewhat sketchy. In particular, I have gotten used to eating some pretty strange pieces of meat. After eating rice and beans for a few days straight a piece of pork that is three quarters fat and one quarter meat suddenly looks appealing. I can't say that I will miss the food when I leave, but I also can't complain and I'm happy to eat local food while I am here.
Beans that grow at our farm
The busy scene at the Sadala market
A mama sells vegetables at the Sadala market
Mamas sit on buckets at the Sadala market waiting for business
Pili Pili - Be careful they are hot!
One of the ingredients of uji (porridge) before being ground
African women are strong. They carry everything from bananas to baskets to water on their heads for long distances. There is no rest when they return home as they must cook and clean for the family.
Mamas sell produce on the streets of Moshi
Mboga za majani
Our store room is full after going to market
This hen actually has a funny story. One morning I was on my way out the door to bike to the farm when pastor stopped me. He asked me to take this chicken to the farm so we strapped it to the luggage rack with a rubber strip. About halfway to the farm the chicken suddenly broke free and started running away wildly. A mason who was working on a home nearby helped me catch the bird and tie her back down.
Only in Africa...
A butcher uses an axe to chop meat for a customer. Why not?
A machine works in the evening to grind corn for ugali
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Financial Sustainability/Pigs Project Update
Everything happens in it's own time, nothing goes according to plan, prices are constantly changing, and to be inflexible would drive one out of their mind – TIA, This is Africa. TIA is a phase that I learned on a particularly African day two weeks ago. I say that it was particularly African in that no one did as they promised, everyone was late, and everyone was generally unreliable. I don't want to delve into the details of that particular day, but I mention TIA because it has been a consistent theme throughout the project.
We started the project with an idea, some hand drawn plans, and generous financial support from you. This idea has grown, the plans have changed, and our financial estimates have become somewhat obsolete. Shortly before I announced the project in the previous post entitled “The Need,” we completely overhauled the idea of constructing the stables with wood and instead decided to build with concrete blocks in the interest of longevity. Based on the advice of a mason we did not expect this to increase building costs significantly. I think it was wise to invest in something that will last for years rather than in a project with a short lifespan. However, the advice of the mason was not so sound.
I say that “we” started the project, but I use the word “we” liberally. In reality, it has been I that have been driving the project forward. Pastor Tukai has been helpful in teaching me how everything works and translating a bit, but he is always very busy and I suspect isn't too eager to sweat in the sun. Therefore the responsibility of project manager falls on my shoulders. There isn't a typical day for me anymore as I wear many hats. I have done everything from managing contracts with the “fundis” (a term used to describe any person who fixes or builds something) to sweating in the hot sun digging the foundation. It has been an unbelievable experience learning how business and negotiations work in Tanzania and working alongside African laborers. As I did not raise the money to support the project prior to breaking ground it has been a difficult balancing act between ensuring that we have enough building supplies and ensuring that we have enough money in the bank to pay the laborers. On one hand I don't want to pay workers to sit and wait for supplies, but on the other hand, it does little good to have all of the supplies without any money to pay laborers. It has been a struggle but a fantastic learning experience.
I want to share the financial status of the project to give a transparent picture of how your money has been spent. To date, I have raised $4,335 to put towards the project. This is fantastic and I am incredibly grateful to the individuals who have helped make this dream become a reality. By far the greatest cost of the project has been building materials. As the first row of rooms is 51 meters long, construction has required a plenitude of sand, stones, and cement eating away at the vast majority of the funds. The second major cost has been labor. This has been somewhat of an unexpected cost as I started the project with the understanding that we would be able to find cheep labor and volunteers to work through the church. However, as I mentioned before, I must be flexible and keep the project moving forward regardless of the obstacles. Another major unexpected cost has been general inflation of prices. When I initially calculated estimated costs I based a lot of the estimates on prices that Pastor Tukai claimed he knew. However, I soon realized that many of these prices were from the last time he checked at the shops which in some cases was two or three years ago.
Regardless of financial bumps in the road we now have 27 strong rooms constructed on a sturdy foundation and a good store of building supplies to keep the work moving forward. We are about $700 short of being able to complete the first structure which will be a major milestone for the project.
I have continued to recalculate expected costs as new information regarding building supplies and labor trickles in. As I mentioned, I am flexible with changes, but I do not like to give false information that might be misleading my readers. I have broken the project down into phases in order to be sure that we complete the most important aspects first in the case that money runs out. The first phase was to complete 27 rooms of the pig barn. As I mentioned, this is nearly complete and I am grateful for your help. The second phase will be to build a water tank to store water for the pigs to drink and for cleaning the stalls. This is an essential element of the project with a price tag of about $1,350 that includes the tank, a cement platform, the necessary plumbing and labor. The third phase of the project will be to build a store room for pig food and two small rooms where workers can live. To build this structure in it's entirety would cost about $1,250. The fourth phase will be to continue enlarging the pig barn to increase capacity and potential profit.
I am optimistic but realistic so I have sent my new short term goals carefully. In order to complete the first three phases of the project I must raise an additional $3,300 before December 21st. Economic times in America are difficult and I understand that while some people may desire to make a large contribution they may but be financially unable to fulfill their desire. Therefore, my first goal disregards the target amount I intend to fundraise and focuses on participation. Not only is it incredibly meaningful to me to have a large number of supporters, but also a little bit goes a long way in Tanzania. Even $30 is enough to pay three fundis and three laborers for one day of work. Every dollar counts.
The second goal does rely on the financial needs of the project. Before I leave I hope to have completed the first two phases of the project and have made some progress on the third phase. While three rooms for the third phase may be a bit ambitious, one simple room would be enough to make the pigs business operational. I think that these goals are optimistic but very realistic.
As in my previous posts I will be redundant in thanking the contributors to this project. It is incredibly exciting for me to watch the construction progress and I hope these pictures give you some sense of this excitement. None of this would be possible without your help and I am very grateful. I want to close by passing on the thoughts of Mama Monica. When she saw the progress of the project just before I left for Kilimanjaro, she was floored by your generosity. She was amazed at the scale of the project and the amount of money that you have been willing to contribute to bring it to life. She is excited and grateful that her large family will be more able to financially support themselves in the future. If you could see her smile and hear her laugh you would understand just how much this means.
Thank you!
We started the project with an idea, some hand drawn plans, and generous financial support from you. This idea has grown, the plans have changed, and our financial estimates have become somewhat obsolete. Shortly before I announced the project in the previous post entitled “The Need,” we completely overhauled the idea of constructing the stables with wood and instead decided to build with concrete blocks in the interest of longevity. Based on the advice of a mason we did not expect this to increase building costs significantly. I think it was wise to invest in something that will last for years rather than in a project with a short lifespan. However, the advice of the mason was not so sound.
I say that “we” started the project, but I use the word “we” liberally. In reality, it has been I that have been driving the project forward. Pastor Tukai has been helpful in teaching me how everything works and translating a bit, but he is always very busy and I suspect isn't too eager to sweat in the sun. Therefore the responsibility of project manager falls on my shoulders. There isn't a typical day for me anymore as I wear many hats. I have done everything from managing contracts with the “fundis” (a term used to describe any person who fixes or builds something) to sweating in the hot sun digging the foundation. It has been an unbelievable experience learning how business and negotiations work in Tanzania and working alongside African laborers. As I did not raise the money to support the project prior to breaking ground it has been a difficult balancing act between ensuring that we have enough building supplies and ensuring that we have enough money in the bank to pay the laborers. On one hand I don't want to pay workers to sit and wait for supplies, but on the other hand, it does little good to have all of the supplies without any money to pay laborers. It has been a struggle but a fantastic learning experience.
I want to share the financial status of the project to give a transparent picture of how your money has been spent. To date, I have raised $4,335 to put towards the project. This is fantastic and I am incredibly grateful to the individuals who have helped make this dream become a reality. By far the greatest cost of the project has been building materials. As the first row of rooms is 51 meters long, construction has required a plenitude of sand, stones, and cement eating away at the vast majority of the funds. The second major cost has been labor. This has been somewhat of an unexpected cost as I started the project with the understanding that we would be able to find cheep labor and volunteers to work through the church. However, as I mentioned before, I must be flexible and keep the project moving forward regardless of the obstacles. Another major unexpected cost has been general inflation of prices. When I initially calculated estimated costs I based a lot of the estimates on prices that Pastor Tukai claimed he knew. However, I soon realized that many of these prices were from the last time he checked at the shops which in some cases was two or three years ago.
Regardless of financial bumps in the road we now have 27 strong rooms constructed on a sturdy foundation and a good store of building supplies to keep the work moving forward. We are about $700 short of being able to complete the first structure which will be a major milestone for the project.
I have continued to recalculate expected costs as new information regarding building supplies and labor trickles in. As I mentioned, I am flexible with changes, but I do not like to give false information that might be misleading my readers. I have broken the project down into phases in order to be sure that we complete the most important aspects first in the case that money runs out. The first phase was to complete 27 rooms of the pig barn. As I mentioned, this is nearly complete and I am grateful for your help. The second phase will be to build a water tank to store water for the pigs to drink and for cleaning the stalls. This is an essential element of the project with a price tag of about $1,350 that includes the tank, a cement platform, the necessary plumbing and labor. The third phase of the project will be to build a store room for pig food and two small rooms where workers can live. To build this structure in it's entirety would cost about $1,250. The fourth phase will be to continue enlarging the pig barn to increase capacity and potential profit.
I am optimistic but realistic so I have sent my new short term goals carefully. In order to complete the first three phases of the project I must raise an additional $3,300 before December 21st. Economic times in America are difficult and I understand that while some people may desire to make a large contribution they may but be financially unable to fulfill their desire. Therefore, my first goal disregards the target amount I intend to fundraise and focuses on participation. Not only is it incredibly meaningful to me to have a large number of supporters, but also a little bit goes a long way in Tanzania. Even $30 is enough to pay three fundis and three laborers for one day of work. Every dollar counts.
The second goal does rely on the financial needs of the project. Before I leave I hope to have completed the first two phases of the project and have made some progress on the third phase. While three rooms for the third phase may be a bit ambitious, one simple room would be enough to make the pigs business operational. I think that these goals are optimistic but very realistic.
As in my previous posts I will be redundant in thanking the contributors to this project. It is incredibly exciting for me to watch the construction progress and I hope these pictures give you some sense of this excitement. None of this would be possible without your help and I am very grateful. I want to close by passing on the thoughts of Mama Monica. When she saw the progress of the project just before I left for Kilimanjaro, she was floored by your generosity. She was amazed at the scale of the project and the amount of money that you have been willing to contribute to bring it to life. She is excited and grateful that her large family will be more able to financially support themselves in the future. If you could see her smile and hear her laugh you would understand just how much this means.
Thank you!
"It's Kili Time"
Six days ago I departed to attempt to climb Kilimanjaro, Africa's highest peak. Kili is a big business here and climbing is a bit of a tourist thing to do. However, everyday since I arrived I have looked up at the sleeping beast of a volcano and wondered what it would be like to look down. So I decided to give it a shot and chose the Machame route, nicknamed the whiskey trail. The name is somewhat of a response to the much easier “Coca Cola” trail (Marangu route).
To climb alone is very expensive, so I agreed to join a group and ended up being paired with an italian couple on their honeymoon. Can you say third wheel? Actually they were incredibly welcoming and we both enjoyed each other's company. The first two days were easy trekking but from the first few steps I could tell that the honeymooners were going to have a hard time. The motto on Kili is “Pole pole” (slowly, slowly) so that your body has time to adjust to the altitude, but these two took it to the next level.
On the third and fourth days, I realized that I was wasting energy at this painstakingly slow pace and started to walk ahead at my own pace. I wasn't in any rush but enjoyed walking alone, relishing the peaceful silence on a mountain that is often crowded by tourists and keeping a steady rhythm stopping only to take pictures. The porters got a big kick out of my independent style. When I arrived at camp on the third and fourth days they greeted me with warm smiles and laughs asking where the other two were.
The porters really appreciated my efforts towards learning Swahili. I spoke mostly in Swahili with them and we laughed and joked together throughout the day. On the third night after I had eaten a hearty meal of pasta, a Tanzanian attempt at western food, the porters invited me to come eat with them. “Karibu ugali,” they said. Though I was stuffed it would have been terribly rude of me to refuse the plate so I joined them inside the small cooking tent around the camp stove and tasted their “ugali na mboga” (boiled cornflower with vegetables). The food was quite good, but the company was even better. We sat around laughing and talking in Swahili and feeling good.
Finally it was time for the big ascent. We arrived to the fourth camp at about 4pm and had time for a quick nap before dinner. The day had been long, and though it had not been overly strenuous, my legs were starting to feel the burn. Since the start we had ascended at 1811meters (5,942 feet) we had climbed to 4,662 meters above sea level (15,295 feet). We stood 327 feet above Kili's smaller sister Mt. Meru which poked out above the clouds to the west and were higher than I had ever been in my life. Though I was lucky enough to not feel any symptoms of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) altitude affects everyone. If you have ever been above 15,000 feet you can understand that it just feels different.
Tired and excited for the next day I tried to get some sleep before the 11:30pm wake up call. There was an eerie tension in the air as thunder reverberated across Kili's stone and Ice walls. It was almost as if Kili was laughing in the faces of those attempting to summit. It was a little unnerving and disruptive, but after about three and a half hours of restless sleep, it was time to push back and go for the top.
I woke up tired but excited. We drank tea, an essential part of a Tanzanian day thanks to the English, and dressed for the cold. At 12:30AM we took our first slow steps into the snowy night following the path illuminated by our headlamps. Looking up I could see a trail of lights dancing back and fourth dawned by those ahead of us. There was something beautiful about the sight of the lights moving slowly up the steep incline.
For the first half hour the two Italians, the two African guides and I stuck together, walking at a frighteningly slow pace. I knew after about five steps that the honeymooners weren't going to make it. I am reading a good book about Kili that refers to this as “attitude sickness,” which can be nearly as dangerous on the mountain as altitude sickness. Not only would it have taken them more than seven hours to summit at their slow pace, but they didn't have the necessary strength because they did not have confidence in their abilities. They feared rain, walking too far and just about everything that the mountain might throw at them.
Fully understanding this reality, our assistant guide Octavian called me forward at about 1:00AM. We moved together, slowly but persistently through the night. Slowly we caught up with climbers who had left ahead of us. While some groups stopped to rest, we stopped only to pee or adjust our many layers of clothing. About halfway between Barafu camp (summit base camp) and the crater rim, the adrenaline had warn off and the previous day's climb combined with little sleep and very little in my stomach began taking its tole. We pushed on. Step, step, step... my mind cleared of all thoughts except the placement of my footing and the hope for the prize ahead. Step, step, step... I began thinking about all the formative experiences in my life that had given me the strength to complete the task ahead. We passed more climbers and continued to make headway as we neared the summit.
The last hour of the vertical climb was difficult. I did a little research on altitude and learned that the pressure at 19,000 feet is about half of that at sea level. Therefore, the atmosphere pushes about half as much oxygen into your lungs at this altitude and your body must work much harder to gain the oxygen needed to survive and function. Furthermore, the last half hour before the crater rim is one of the steepest points in the trail. Despite this fact, I could not let a little discomfort stop me. At 4:50AM we reached Stella Point, the edge of the crater which stands at 5,745 meters (18,848 feet). The vertical difference between Stella Point and the summit of Uhuru is only 493 feet and the walk is probably only about a mile, but I swear on my life that this is the longest mile I have ever walked. Every few steps you stumble a little because your are exhausted and your muscles lack oxygen. Even Octavian stopped and swayed like a drunkard along the path.
With desire in my heart and a drive to succeed that kept me going, we reached the summit at 5:30AM. Despite leaving Barafu camp a half hour after most climbers, we were the first climbers from our route to reach the summit that day by at least twenty minutes. As you can tell I don't have a competitive bone in my body. I was very proud of my achievement and stumbled over to grab the sign marking Kili's highest point. Octavian and I had reached the summit of Africa at 5,895 meters (19,341 feet). I will never forget that morning on Kili.
The story wasn't a fairy tail for everyone. The Italian newlyweds made it about halfway to the summit before they nearly collapsed. Even more interesting is the story of a Belgian couple that I met on the third night. Both parties are physicians. The man specializes in dive medicine, and the woman specializes in altitude and climbing medicine. They say that doctors make the worst patients and here's an example of why.
The Belgains set off for Uhuru Peak at 12:15AM. They had felt fine up to this point with the exception of mild headaches, normal side effects of adjusting to altitude. They were in phenomenal physical shape and the climb hadn't bothered them thus far. About an hour from Stella Point, the woman started vomiting and feeling terrible. Knowing that this was a symptom of cerebral edema, the man gave her a shot of cortisone which reduces the swelling in the brain. Later that day they explained to me that had their judgement not been clouded by a desire to reach the top and the time and money spent planning the trip, their medical senses would have told them to descend immediately. However, they continued trekking and reached Uhuru Peak. I passed them on my decent as they trudged the last forty five minutes between Stella Point and the peak and wished them well. However, upon reaching the peak it became apparent that all was not well. The woman was barely coherent and sat dumbly. The cavity surrounding her brain had begun to fill with fluid and if she did not descend, the disorder could be fatal in as little as two hours. Acting quickly, the man and their guide took turns literally running the rag doll of a woman down the slopes to Barafu camp. Once at a lower altitude she began to recover and was soon back to normal. This is an example of how dangerous climbing any mountain in any conditions at this altitude can be. I thought a lot about what had happened to her and wondered what I would have done in her position. I have to admit that I think I would have pushed on just as she had. I learned a very serious lesson that day and will not forget it for future climbs.
The rest of the trek was not so interesting or beautiful. We descended quickly and arrived back at camp at 7:45AM. After about a half hour of blissful sleep we ate breakfast and continued our decent another 11.5 kilometers (7.15 miles) to Mweka camp on the decent route. This was a miserable walk, after such a long morning, but I bit my lip and pushed through it. In the afternoon after a short nap I enjoyed one of two overpriced Kilimanjaro beers that I bought from the ranger station at the camp and shared with Octavian. It seemed only fitting to share such an appropriately named beverage and we smiled as we toasted “maisha mrefu” (long life).
Climbing Kili was an experience that I will never forget. I made new friends in our lead guide Freddy and some of the porters. I experienced some breathtaking scenery that will be forever etched in my mind. I learned some valuable lessons about altitude and will be more prepared for future climbs as a result. Finally, I achieved a substantial goal, and I am very proud of this accomplishment. Now when I look up at Kili's snowy Uhuru peak, I smile. My burning sense of wonder has been replaced by incredible memories.
To climb alone is very expensive, so I agreed to join a group and ended up being paired with an italian couple on their honeymoon. Can you say third wheel? Actually they were incredibly welcoming and we both enjoyed each other's company. The first two days were easy trekking but from the first few steps I could tell that the honeymooners were going to have a hard time. The motto on Kili is “Pole pole” (slowly, slowly) so that your body has time to adjust to the altitude, but these two took it to the next level.
On the third and fourth days, I realized that I was wasting energy at this painstakingly slow pace and started to walk ahead at my own pace. I wasn't in any rush but enjoyed walking alone, relishing the peaceful silence on a mountain that is often crowded by tourists and keeping a steady rhythm stopping only to take pictures. The porters got a big kick out of my independent style. When I arrived at camp on the third and fourth days they greeted me with warm smiles and laughs asking where the other two were.
The porters really appreciated my efforts towards learning Swahili. I spoke mostly in Swahili with them and we laughed and joked together throughout the day. On the third night after I had eaten a hearty meal of pasta, a Tanzanian attempt at western food, the porters invited me to come eat with them. “Karibu ugali,” they said. Though I was stuffed it would have been terribly rude of me to refuse the plate so I joined them inside the small cooking tent around the camp stove and tasted their “ugali na mboga” (boiled cornflower with vegetables). The food was quite good, but the company was even better. We sat around laughing and talking in Swahili and feeling good.
Finally it was time for the big ascent. We arrived to the fourth camp at about 4pm and had time for a quick nap before dinner. The day had been long, and though it had not been overly strenuous, my legs were starting to feel the burn. Since the start we had ascended at 1811meters (5,942 feet) we had climbed to 4,662 meters above sea level (15,295 feet). We stood 327 feet above Kili's smaller sister Mt. Meru which poked out above the clouds to the west and were higher than I had ever been in my life. Though I was lucky enough to not feel any symptoms of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) altitude affects everyone. If you have ever been above 15,000 feet you can understand that it just feels different.
Tired and excited for the next day I tried to get some sleep before the 11:30pm wake up call. There was an eerie tension in the air as thunder reverberated across Kili's stone and Ice walls. It was almost as if Kili was laughing in the faces of those attempting to summit. It was a little unnerving and disruptive, but after about three and a half hours of restless sleep, it was time to push back and go for the top.
I woke up tired but excited. We drank tea, an essential part of a Tanzanian day thanks to the English, and dressed for the cold. At 12:30AM we took our first slow steps into the snowy night following the path illuminated by our headlamps. Looking up I could see a trail of lights dancing back and fourth dawned by those ahead of us. There was something beautiful about the sight of the lights moving slowly up the steep incline.
For the first half hour the two Italians, the two African guides and I stuck together, walking at a frighteningly slow pace. I knew after about five steps that the honeymooners weren't going to make it. I am reading a good book about Kili that refers to this as “attitude sickness,” which can be nearly as dangerous on the mountain as altitude sickness. Not only would it have taken them more than seven hours to summit at their slow pace, but they didn't have the necessary strength because they did not have confidence in their abilities. They feared rain, walking too far and just about everything that the mountain might throw at them.
Fully understanding this reality, our assistant guide Octavian called me forward at about 1:00AM. We moved together, slowly but persistently through the night. Slowly we caught up with climbers who had left ahead of us. While some groups stopped to rest, we stopped only to pee or adjust our many layers of clothing. About halfway between Barafu camp (summit base camp) and the crater rim, the adrenaline had warn off and the previous day's climb combined with little sleep and very little in my stomach began taking its tole. We pushed on. Step, step, step... my mind cleared of all thoughts except the placement of my footing and the hope for the prize ahead. Step, step, step... I began thinking about all the formative experiences in my life that had given me the strength to complete the task ahead. We passed more climbers and continued to make headway as we neared the summit.
The last hour of the vertical climb was difficult. I did a little research on altitude and learned that the pressure at 19,000 feet is about half of that at sea level. Therefore, the atmosphere pushes about half as much oxygen into your lungs at this altitude and your body must work much harder to gain the oxygen needed to survive and function. Furthermore, the last half hour before the crater rim is one of the steepest points in the trail. Despite this fact, I could not let a little discomfort stop me. At 4:50AM we reached Stella Point, the edge of the crater which stands at 5,745 meters (18,848 feet). The vertical difference between Stella Point and the summit of Uhuru is only 493 feet and the walk is probably only about a mile, but I swear on my life that this is the longest mile I have ever walked. Every few steps you stumble a little because your are exhausted and your muscles lack oxygen. Even Octavian stopped and swayed like a drunkard along the path.
With desire in my heart and a drive to succeed that kept me going, we reached the summit at 5:30AM. Despite leaving Barafu camp a half hour after most climbers, we were the first climbers from our route to reach the summit that day by at least twenty minutes. As you can tell I don't have a competitive bone in my body. I was very proud of my achievement and stumbled over to grab the sign marking Kili's highest point. Octavian and I had reached the summit of Africa at 5,895 meters (19,341 feet). I will never forget that morning on Kili.
The story wasn't a fairy tail for everyone. The Italian newlyweds made it about halfway to the summit before they nearly collapsed. Even more interesting is the story of a Belgian couple that I met on the third night. Both parties are physicians. The man specializes in dive medicine, and the woman specializes in altitude and climbing medicine. They say that doctors make the worst patients and here's an example of why.
The Belgains set off for Uhuru Peak at 12:15AM. They had felt fine up to this point with the exception of mild headaches, normal side effects of adjusting to altitude. They were in phenomenal physical shape and the climb hadn't bothered them thus far. About an hour from Stella Point, the woman started vomiting and feeling terrible. Knowing that this was a symptom of cerebral edema, the man gave her a shot of cortisone which reduces the swelling in the brain. Later that day they explained to me that had their judgement not been clouded by a desire to reach the top and the time and money spent planning the trip, their medical senses would have told them to descend immediately. However, they continued trekking and reached Uhuru Peak. I passed them on my decent as they trudged the last forty five minutes between Stella Point and the peak and wished them well. However, upon reaching the peak it became apparent that all was not well. The woman was barely coherent and sat dumbly. The cavity surrounding her brain had begun to fill with fluid and if she did not descend, the disorder could be fatal in as little as two hours. Acting quickly, the man and their guide took turns literally running the rag doll of a woman down the slopes to Barafu camp. Once at a lower altitude she began to recover and was soon back to normal. This is an example of how dangerous climbing any mountain in any conditions at this altitude can be. I thought a lot about what had happened to her and wondered what I would have done in her position. I have to admit that I think I would have pushed on just as she had. I learned a very serious lesson that day and will not forget it for future climbs.
The rest of the trek was not so interesting or beautiful. We descended quickly and arrived back at camp at 7:45AM. After about a half hour of blissful sleep we ate breakfast and continued our decent another 11.5 kilometers (7.15 miles) to Mweka camp on the decent route. This was a miserable walk, after such a long morning, but I bit my lip and pushed through it. In the afternoon after a short nap I enjoyed one of two overpriced Kilimanjaro beers that I bought from the ranger station at the camp and shared with Octavian. It seemed only fitting to share such an appropriately named beverage and we smiled as we toasted “maisha mrefu” (long life).
Climbing Kili was an experience that I will never forget. I made new friends in our lead guide Freddy and some of the porters. I experienced some breathtaking scenery that will be forever etched in my mind. I learned some valuable lessons about altitude and will be more prepared for future climbs as a result. Finally, I achieved a substantial goal, and I am very proud of this accomplishment. Now when I look up at Kili's snowy Uhuru peak, I smile. My burning sense of wonder has been replaced by incredible memories.
The view from Barraco Camp on Night 3. The "Breakfast Wall" awaits us in the morning. It's a much better morning wake up than a cup of coffee.
Uhuru is getting closer. I stand at the top of the "Breakfast Wall" excited for the climb ahead.
Mawenzi peak, one of the three peaks on Kilimanjaro rises to the east of Uhuru. The sun casts a beautiful glow over the peak the night before the climb.
Success! Octavian and I smile and hug in excitement and 5895 meters (19,341 feet).
As I descend, weary climbers continue the ascent under the light of the rising sun. Mawenzi rises in the east.
After a tiring decent to Barafu Camp in the morning I look east to Mawenzi which has been blanketed by snow from the previous evening.
Guides, porters, and mzungus pose for a team picture on the final morning.
Monday, November 1, 2010
John
Two weeks ago Mama and Pastor Tukai had a meeting with the government health services department. Apparently Hai district (our district) has 22 orphanages and the government is convinced that the orphanages are running a dirty business and making a profit. Consequently they plan to shut down many of the orphanages.
With this knowledge, Mama and Pastor Tukai enter the meeting. The bureaucrats on the other side of the table proceed to lecture Mama and Pastor about all of the things that they need to be doing at the orphanage. They say that all orphanages must buy a water storage tank which costs about 600,000 TZS (about 400 USD). They also make some rules about volunteers working with orphanages. It's all a big racket considering the government contributes absolutely nothing financially to the orphanages.
At the end of the meeting, which would be more appropriately termed a chastising, the child services officers say that they have a child that they need to place and ask Kao La Amani to assume the responsibility. Pastor and Monica look at each other with confusion and anger. How could these people sit there and make ridiculous rules and accusations, then change face and ask a favor? The health services officials respond that Kao La Amani is the best orphanage in Hai district and they have nowhere to put the child. They treat the orphanage like a child care program with little regard for the difficulties it must overcome. However, in the end Pastor and Monica disregard politics and agree to take on the child. How can they make a desperate child suffer for the government's bad behavior.
John arrived at the orphanage while I was working at the farm. The sisters gave him a shower, clean clothes and something to eat. Three of the Irish girls were working in the classroom and met him when he arrived. They explained later that he was terrified. The poor kid had never seen a white person in his life and was now in a foreign place with strangers of his color and strangers of another color. John was an orphan that lived with his grandmother. Recently however, they took a bus together and she simply left him as she no longer wanted to care for him.
Over the days that followed his arrival to the orphanage, we have seen John begin to settle in. He has become close with one of the older boys named James and feels comfortable confiding in him. One day he asked James, “do you mean to tell me that they will feed me three meals a day and give me clean clothing, and if I am sick they will take me to the hospital?” This was so foreign to John who was used to being neglected and receiving a maximum of one meal per day.
It quickly became apparent that John's health was not great. Dada Marietta took John to the hospital to get examined. When I returned home from the farm that day the mood was morose. John had tested positive for HIV. The poor kid is eleven years old and cursed with the death penalty. Dada Marietta and Mama immediately took the appropriate precautions and moved him in with the two other HIV positive girls. He now receives daily medication and his health seems to be improving.
Mother to child transmission is one of the largest causes of the spread of HIV in Tanzania and likely the reason why John is HIV positive and has no parents. The scale of the HIV problem in this country and throughout Sub-Saharan Africa reminds me of how important HIV education is. Even if scientists created the miracle cure for HIV today, it would take years (perhaps decades) to eradicate the disease from this continent because of the lack of education. It is a curse with no short term end in sight.
With this knowledge, Mama and Pastor Tukai enter the meeting. The bureaucrats on the other side of the table proceed to lecture Mama and Pastor about all of the things that they need to be doing at the orphanage. They say that all orphanages must buy a water storage tank which costs about 600,000 TZS (about 400 USD). They also make some rules about volunteers working with orphanages. It's all a big racket considering the government contributes absolutely nothing financially to the orphanages.
At the end of the meeting, which would be more appropriately termed a chastising, the child services officers say that they have a child that they need to place and ask Kao La Amani to assume the responsibility. Pastor and Monica look at each other with confusion and anger. How could these people sit there and make ridiculous rules and accusations, then change face and ask a favor? The health services officials respond that Kao La Amani is the best orphanage in Hai district and they have nowhere to put the child. They treat the orphanage like a child care program with little regard for the difficulties it must overcome. However, in the end Pastor and Monica disregard politics and agree to take on the child. How can they make a desperate child suffer for the government's bad behavior.
John arrived at the orphanage while I was working at the farm. The sisters gave him a shower, clean clothes and something to eat. Three of the Irish girls were working in the classroom and met him when he arrived. They explained later that he was terrified. The poor kid had never seen a white person in his life and was now in a foreign place with strangers of his color and strangers of another color. John was an orphan that lived with his grandmother. Recently however, they took a bus together and she simply left him as she no longer wanted to care for him.
Over the days that followed his arrival to the orphanage, we have seen John begin to settle in. He has become close with one of the older boys named James and feels comfortable confiding in him. One day he asked James, “do you mean to tell me that they will feed me three meals a day and give me clean clothing, and if I am sick they will take me to the hospital?” This was so foreign to John who was used to being neglected and receiving a maximum of one meal per day.
It quickly became apparent that John's health was not great. Dada Marietta took John to the hospital to get examined. When I returned home from the farm that day the mood was morose. John had tested positive for HIV. The poor kid is eleven years old and cursed with the death penalty. Dada Marietta and Mama immediately took the appropriate precautions and moved him in with the two other HIV positive girls. He now receives daily medication and his health seems to be improving.
Mother to child transmission is one of the largest causes of the spread of HIV in Tanzania and likely the reason why John is HIV positive and has no parents. The scale of the HIV problem in this country and throughout Sub-Saharan Africa reminds me of how important HIV education is. Even if scientists created the miracle cure for HIV today, it would take years (perhaps decades) to eradicate the disease from this continent because of the lack of education. It is a curse with no short term end in sight.
Colgate/EA Reunion
From Arusha I boarded a dalla-dalla traveling west. As the dalla-dalla pulled over to let me out, I must admit I had second thoughts. We were in the middle of nowhere. After a quick phone call I walked about forty minutes off the main road to Emily's home and village. This was definitely not Boma Ng'ombe.
We spent the day walking around with flyers, speaking with people we passed and advertising the free HIV testing that SIC was sponsoring at the medical clinic. It was all very exciting and I was glad to be a part of it. At one point we were talking to a fiery Masai Mama trying to convince her to get tested. As we talked and she grinned through her few brown teeth, she motioned wildly with her hand, and her aged boob popped in and out of her native clothing. We parted ways smiling widely and laughing as the girls tried to trade me off to the Mama in exchange for her taking the HIV test.
In the afternoon, we caught a late rush of students walking home from secondary school. One of the Tanzanian employees of SIC nicknamed 'Swigs' worked with us to educate and convince many of the students to get tested. He is clearly passionate about his country and has a great vision for his life of helping children. This particular day we were successful in testing and educating a number of adults and many children. I think that education truly makes a difference in fighting HIV and these few tests will pave the way for many more in the future.
SIC is doing great work through international collaboration and commitment. You can explore what they are doing by visiting www.sichange.org. I was glad to be apart of what they are doing if only for a day.
One of the SIC volunteers takes an HIV test to show the students that it is quick and painless.
A Time for Change
Oh yes we would like changes! Poverty, lack of job for youth, corruption of all kind of discrimination are the outcome of poor ruling system, bad policies, ok let us eliminate that! The majority should be respected! Good day Josh.
Text message from my Tanzanian friend Hashim
Received at 6:48 am on Sunday October, 31st
Yesterday Tanzania held it's national elections for President, Members of Parliament, and Councilors. It is an exciting time in this country because elections occur every five years. CCM, the ruling party has governed Tanzania since its founding in 1964. However, many Tanzanians now call for change. The air is electric with passion that has been building over the past few months. “Now is the time for change, now is the time for Chadema” (the challenging party) many people cry out. The youth are tired of the corruption and empty promises that has characterized the current administration. Tanzania needs infrastructure, people need jobs, and most importantly Tanzanians need a government that works for the people not against it. Many hope that Chadema, the democratic party will bring this change.
CCM has strong support in many areas, but more importantly they are skilled at steeling votes. Pastor Tukai explained to me that while Chadema may win many positions in Parliament, CCM will likely win the Presidency because they pay off voters and manipulate the system. Yesterday, a friend of mine told me that he would be unable to vote in the election. When I asked why, he explained that he is a University student and he had to register to vote at his University. When CCM learned that the majority of University students support Chadema, they closed the Universities during the voting period claiming that they did not have enough money to fund the schools. The timing is quite convenient.
For the past few months, trucks like this one loaded with speakers have roamed the streets blasting patriotic music and partisan messages. This particular truck carries Chadema's red white and blue flags branded with a black peace sign. The trucks often stop on roads like ours to hold rallies and give politicians an opportunity to talk about issues. The soap box has come a long way for a developing country.
Workers in Moshi at a tire shop fly CCM's green and gold flag marked with a crossed hoe and axe. People wear hats, tie banners to their cars or necks, and raise partisan flags in support of one party or the other. We haven’t received word of the results of the presidential election, but we do know that Chadema swept the Parliamentary and Councilor elections in our district.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Photos
The sign outside of the orphanage
Pastor Tukai
Dada Ana lives at the orphanage and is a nursery school teacher. After hand washing clothing, she hangs it out to dry in the courtyard.
Biana smiles with her big eyes, excited to receive a new sweatshirt.
The younger kids pose for a picture with me in their new Kimberton Whole Foods sweatshirts. (Left to right: Biana, Calvin, Melik, Usufu, Nema, Patrick, Flora, Mary, Deo, Norbati, James, Michael, me)
A boy in town fixes the brakes on the Pajero.
I saw this Land Rover in Moshi at the mechanic's “shop.” It easily could be the original model.
Trucks like this rumble down the roads transporting bricks, sand, stone or other building materials. Sometimes I feel like I am in Castro's Cuba with the state of Tanzanian vehicals. Most cars and trucks are over twenty years old and mechanics constantly fix them with used parts.
These are the men and the tractor driven machine that we hired work hard to grind the corn. They get a huge kick out of having me work beside them. I don't think Africans are used to seeing white people work hard.
This is one of the pigs at the farm in the current "barn." The new barn will be made of concrete blocks and will be both more secure and longer lasting than the current one.
Two of the nineteen piglets
We hired three men who work with a machine to build bricks for the pig barn. Two of them joke together while they work.
This machine presses a mixture of sand, cement, lime, and water together into a 18” x 9” x 5” block.
Farmers and laborers work barefoot or in sandals. They laugh at my hiking boots.
Pastor Amasawe, a friend of Pastor Tukai, works with me to build the foundation for the pig barn. He and I dig through the rocky, dry soil, place stones and pour concrete.
Pastor Amasawe and I smooth out concrete over stones that will support the corner bricks of the foundation.
Five Irish girls, including the one that origionally helped set up the orphanage, are staying in Boma for two weeks and helping out with the kids. They conduct fundraisers in Ireland and raise the majority of the money that sustains the orphanage. Yesterday, we took all of the children to a park in Moshi to play games and run around using a small amount of the money that they raised. The children wear Irish “football” jerseys that a donor contributed. Days like this are a real treat for the children.
Hawa smiles as she takes a break from running around. Both she and her younger sister live at the orphanage. She is a great young girl, but there is a sadness in her eyes. Prior to coming to the orphanage she and her sister lived with their father in a house that was no bigger than the bathroom at the orphanage. A mama intervened and helped the girls find their way to the orphanage. The father was crazy and unfit to raise children.
Norbati laughs as he tries to jump his way across the field during a sack race.
Hawa and Makulata, two ten year old girls, jump their way across the field laughing.
Norbati is tiny for six years old. He put on my backpack and told us that he was going to climb Kilimanjaro.
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