the REAL African lion safari

Sunrise over the Serengeti

This was one of the most mind-blowing experiences of my life. Driving through the enormous park, its expanse of wheat gold, was a truly spiritual experience. As the wind blew over my skin, the scenery raced by. I never knew what animal I would be lucky enough to see next. I saw more than I could have dreamed of...words, at least right now, cannot describe the experience. Instead, I will just show you a bit of what I saw. I have hundreds more, so when I get home I will be more than happy to tell you the story of each encounter. For now:


a family of baboons


suspention bridge over a river of hippos and crocs


speaking of hippos...


wide open spaces


in the centre of the park


little monkeys


my new friend


marabou storks


it's a masai blanket!


masai giraffe


and babies


part of the famous wildebeast migration

Yes, we camped in the middle of the Serengeti. I slept alone in the back of my friend Jenny's truck, curled up next to a cooler. I felt quite safe, to be honest...despite the frightening signs.


our campsite


it was very safe and cozy

The sky was initially cloudy, but as evening set in, the layer of clouds dissapated to reveal an astouding display of stars. The five of us lay back on masai blankets, had some red wine and recounted favourite childhood animal stories. I breathed in deeply, looked up into the night and made a few wishes. I felt peaceful in what seemed to be the very heart of Tanzania, of Africa even.

And now, for the grand finale...


young male resting in the shade


the morning hunt


going for a gazelle

feel the rhythm

this is the third time I have written this post today.

Today was as close to being a "normal" day as is possible.

I'm now taking Swahili lessons twice a day. Yes I'm overzealous but I have to finish 2 terms in the space of one. My first class is at 8am so I leave just after the sun has risen. Each morning I walk, alongside school children in green skirts or shorts, to the beat of a mysterious drum. I don't know who plays this rhythm or where they sit, but the beat is definitely reminiscent of Jumanji.

My teacher, Dr. Salalah is a crazy woman. She is full of stories and good humour, but when she laughs she laughs so hard that I see the madness gleaming in her eyes. This weeks cultural class is about polygamy. I'll tell you how that goes tomorrow.

After class, if I have time, I will sit and have sweet tea with two women who sell food from under a tarp. The tarp is supported by sticks and the ground on which they work is a shimmering black. Kind of like a volcanic beach in the middle of a grassy field. It got that way from the daily build-up of charcoal chips from the charcoal bundling station beside them. I've gotten to the point with my swahili where I can (attempt to) make jokes. No matter what I say, the people love it. I think they're really just laughing at me. Kids laugh at me a lot too, at my expense I'm sure. Often I'll be minding my own business and will look up to see a group of kids laughing hysterically and pointing at me. I can only smile back though, cause I'm clearly causing them to have a grand ole time.

Today I had a full body massage. It cost 6 dollars for an hour. It was very up-close and personal...but good nonetheless. Man I could get used to the prices here. Did I mention that beer costs 80 cents for 550ml? And good wine is only $1-1.50 per glass. A bottle of the local liquor, Konyagi, is only $2.50 for a 40. I don't go near that stuff though.

Sometimes I'm not sure how serious I want to be on here. I have seen a lot of moving, eye-opening and utterly frightening things. Still, this doesn't seem like the right venue to talk about them.

I will say though, that yesterday I was leaving the apartment with some kids who had come to pick up yogurt. One of the girls slipped and cut her head on a metal banister. It wasn't a big cut but for some reason it bled profusely. Within 30 seconds there was a large pool of blood on the floor below her. Jon and I grabbed medical supplies and rubber gloves of course. Some people from Kivulini helped us and we took her to a nearby doctor. I ended up buying her some iodine, the nurse patched her up and she was fine. The thing is, several of the mamas we work with are HIV positive, as are some of their children. There is no way to tell if this child was or not. I have never been bothered by the sight of blood until this time. I was actually afraid of the blood. I wasn't anywhere near it, so don't worry...but it was so strange to suddenly realize that a human fluid can be such a danger.

So much of what I am around is too big for me, too complex. But I am learning. I am also learning what I can't do.

It's odd how some things are starting to feel normal. I see monkeys pretty often. There is one that lives outside of my school and he eats lunch at the same time as the teachers. He's pretty big. His butt is blue.

Today the seamstress arrived with a custom made skirt I ordered. I pulled it on over my pants to see if it fit. As soon as I had it on, the women made me turn around so they could see how my butt looked. They examined me closely and seemed quite satisfied...or so I thought after enduring squeezes and pokes. They said, however that I needed to eat a lot more to be a real African woman. Teddy, the shopkeeper explained(in swahili of course): "See, look at Pendo's bum. It's as big as this fridge!"

Pendo, loving the compliment (obviously) replied "But Teddy...she's as fat as this cupboard!"

"But you," said Teddy, pointing at me, "You're just like a giraffe."

I'll take a giraffe over a fridge, thank you ladies.

So yeah, Serengeti tomorrow. I will be safe and promise to take at least a half gig of pics.

It's almost August. Although my restless self will never slow down to the Tanzanian rhythm, I'm doing my best to go with the flow.

bad apples and good maple leaves

Oh Canadian men...my friends, my elders, my peers...

How could I ever have taken you for granted? The amount of annoyance I have been dealing with lately has made even Jim Bob's goers and salmon shirt wearers seem like heavenly angels from above. I am incredibly frustrated with the lack of respect that I have been shown by Tanzanian men. More so, I am sad for the women here who endure much more than the cat calls, stares and unwelcome comments I deal with. It's enough to make a person want to stay inside and avoid the streets.

But I won't back down or stay in the apartment because of some idiotic behaviour. I need to learn some Swahili swear words, that's all.

So yes, back to Canadian men...while some can still be abrasive in the bar circuit, at least they refrain from yelling and harassing in broad daylight when I'm trying to buy eggs.

This is not all men here in Mwanza. I've met many distinguished individuals who respect and honour women, many of whom are working hard to advocate for women's rights. I suppose the worst guys just tend to be the most vocal.

So thank you, all my male friends, family members, and most of all, my incredible boyfriend, for setting a standard to which I will always compare the conduct and customs of other cultures. I miss you and look forward to returning to your company.

* * *

To quickly change subjects, I will be going to the Serengeti for the weekend. What wonders await? I am so excited and just a little afraid, as I will be camping in a tent...in the centre of the park...which is home to many ferocious beasts. It should be great though

time is in flight

this was actually taken in Canada, on the way from Burlington to Owen Sound.

Today, Friday the 22nd the official half-way point of my internship. How does that make me feel?

Like I have begun to see a whole new world, but have so much left to see. Like I am getting used to being away, and brand new hunger for more travel is starting to build up inside me.

I bought Quaker Dino Eggs oatmeal. It was 6 dollars. How did that make me feel when you can eat a meal at top-end restaurant for less than that here. Hmmm?

The other night we were invited to a Street Leader's house for dinner. He arranged for a pickup truck to take us to his house and I wondered how he would get there. Little did I know, the guy was standing in the back of the truck. You can imagine the yelp that I let out when he popped his head in my window!


in the kitchen

Once we got there, I joined his wife and mother in the kitchen to help make dinner. This is not usually done, as guests most often are ushered into the living room and given the best of whatever the family has. I really wanted to see how everything was made though. They thought I was pretty hilarious, struggling to speak only in Swahili. We had a really nice dinner with the whole family. This man was a politician so his family was wealthy enough to have a t.v. and I was treated to seeing The Dears come on MTV. Small world 'tis.


milk delivery boys

Yesterday I went to St. Augustine Seminary to attend an awareness workshop on domestic violence. The facilitator, a charismatic man named Solo, taught about the "causes" and effects of domestic violence. Opening the workshop with the statement, "Domestic violence is just a part of African culture. Why is this so?" he urged all the participants to contribute their thoughts on the cultural roots of domestic violence. Through role-playing, brainstorming and group discussions, we explored how domestic violence affects the family, local society and Tanzania on a national level. It was very strange to discuss violence as such a pervasive presence in the home, but it was eye-opening to hear people's ideas for ways to stop it from continuing.


community volunteers at the workshop

The seminary was situated on top of a mountain. During the lunch break I walked down to the edge of a cliff and all of a sudden the landscape opened up and swallowed my senses whole. I was speechless as I gaped at the sprawling valley below this point.


outcrop


overlooking the scenery


to scale!


path down from the seminary


home
I thought this was interesting

On half and half:

Halfway through, I am partially "in" Tanzanian culture. But I am just dipping my fingertips. Canada is always present with me.

Life can become comfortable anywhere, if you want it to, if you let it. Shed your inhibitions and cultural baggage so as not to tamper with your full immersion, but don't forget what you care about. It's easy enough to conform to a different cultural rhythm or mentality, but what have you been taught and where does your own country stand on a given matter? How far should you reach to take in another cultural philosphy and how tightly should you grip your own?

What feels right? Forget what you've been taught and remove yourself from teh paradigm of your homeland. Is there anything here (elsewhere) that feels especially right? Is there a common ground between the two?

Are we so advanced that we've left Tanzania (literally) in the dust? Africa is an ancient land full of mystery and rich history...full of people like me, and not at all like me. Sometimes the landscape here--mainly the urban centres-- feels eerily post-apocalyptic. But then you drive 5 k into the country and it is newborn, uncultivated. Is life primitive in Tanzania or has it advanced too far and collapsed unto itself.

"Hamna Shida," said the treat leader. "We always say we have no problems (think hakuna matata). And yet, we live here surrounded, drown[ing] in our problems."

Everyone is leaning on eachother for help (and yet) all the while each person looks out for himself.

I still say I am just an observer, and there is still a lot to look forward to on this journey.

music and more

I didn't mention it before, because I wasn't sure if it would work out...but it's finished and quite awesome!

Today I went to the makeshift studio of a friend, Martin, to pick up my first Tanzanian recording. As in I recorded a Tanzanian dance song. Oh man, it is just hilarious, you have to hear it. It's called "Hili Penzi" this love (no relation to the Maroon 5 track) and it's a dancehall rap song. I sing the melody and am joined by two Tanzanian rappers. We recorded it in two afternoons and I had a blast doing so. It's completely in Swahili, so I really have no clue what I'm singing about. I had to learn it really fast as the producer wanted to have the first bit recorded in only an hour. So, upon my return I will have some kind of CD release party. Music, African food and drink should make for an interesting night. Come one, come all.


Community kitchen for the yogurt project. It's been halfway finished for months.

Other than that I have been working hard to pull together loose threads of a program that is not working at the moment. Most of our contacts back home are M.I.A., leaving me extremely frustrated. We are doing as much as we can on our end of things, but are receiving very little assistance from home. Nevertheless, We'll continue to accomplish whatever we can here.



This morning I went to visit my friend Pendo at her home. She is 37 and has 9 kids but she is so friendly and funny that I don't notice the demographic differences between us. We were treated to some vitumbua (fried donut-ish snacks, see above) a huge pineapple, mango and hot tea. We sat around the coals as her mom and sister prepared everything for us. Her mom alternated between sorting rice and dancing, while her sister brought out some family photos.


pendo's mom and the rice

All around me the crowd of neighbourhood chilren was growing by the second. It's big news when mzungus come into a quiet suburb. Inside the house, her husband lay passed out on a reed mat, sick with malaria. I felt really awkward being there but Pendo urged me to sit down and relax. Oh, he'll be fine, she insisted. Her daughters brought in fresh water to wash my hands and begged me to take a million pictures of them. It was a really nice Sunday morning.


boy outside Pendo's house

Earlier this morning, my cell phone rang around 5:30 am, waking me out of a deep sleep. A strange voice was on the other end and--in my sleepiness--I had no clue who this confused man was. After several minutes I realized it was Brian, out on the town in London. Apparently he and some of my other friends were right in the middle of "Guys gone wild II" and had decided to call me. After brief words with Bacon and Pranay (Bacon asked if I could bring him home a machete, and yes, they are sold on the side of the road here) while Pranay told me I sounded dead. It was very funny and so nice to hear some familiar voices. I love technology this summer. Thanks guys.

The rest of the weekend was spent at various restaurants. Post-sickness, I also made a return to that stunning beachfront restaurant, Tunza. The sky was incredible






Ian befriending a baby lizard

On the weekday evenings, I sit outside on my balcony and watch the sun go down. It's lonely, yes, but lovely.



For transportation I mostly walk, but when I need a cheap ride in a hurry, I hop on a dalladalla and cram in with at least 12 other people. The smell leaves something to be desired...




the road ahead

I am almost halfway finished this internship. Next week I will talk more about that but for now...best regards.

I hope you're all doing okay in the crazy heatwave I've been hearing about!

recovery?

It finally happened.

For over a month I had been in the best of health of my life. I'd been faithfully going to the gym, laying off the drinks, triple-washing every food item, boiling and filtering water, taking all my meds etc...and STILL the bugs managed to get me!

I don't know what caused it, but lets just say two nights ago you would have found me half passed out on my kitchen floor, surrounded by plastic bags, alone in the darkness at 2 am. I was so sick. As I clung to the floor in between bouts of nausea, I opened one eye and came face to face with a cockroach. I blinked, looked around and realized there were actually quite a few of them peering at me from dark corners. At that time I welcomed their presence, while simulatneously realizing this was one of my lower moments. Jon came in and gave me a malaria test, which involves pricking your finger for blood. Apparently that was too much for me and before my skin was punctured, I fainted. Ah yes it was lovely. No malaria though, so that's good.

I'm still not really sure what's wrong but I've been drinking copious amounts of juice, tea and water with rehydration salts (pray you never have to drink this). The problem is, it could be anything. I am feeling much better though.

As you can guess, it's been a relatively slow week here. I'm reading a book about a dragon, which takes my mind off to yet another faraway place. I read Life of Pi but didn't enjoy it. Has anyone else read it/liked it?

At language school we had a cultural lesson about "going to the market". What began as a lecture about seasonal produce prices quickly turned into a rant session. As Dr. Salala told us the correct prices for vegetables and fruits, our class became really frustrated. We all insisted that we are charged much more than the prices she was listing. We realize that Tanzanians think all wazungus are rich, but it is simply not the case, as most of us have come to Mwanza as volunteers.

Somehow, this inspired Salala to seque into a lecture on socialism and how it is a superior and very healthy economic system and way of life. Funny, because Tanzania is not even a socialist country anymore. Hmmmm. One of her main points was that here money is viewed as a "flexible commodity, like any other market item." She said that in Tanzania you are expected to give according to how much you have. To be frugal or to save your money when you could be sharing it is the worst of offenses here. In theory, even though I am not making a summer income, I should be paying 5 times the price a Tanzanian would pay. It's certainly different than Canadian, capitalist philosophy. There are many good aspects of this system of ujumaa (of one), but it can be difficult to wrap one's head around at times.

Tomorrow I am going swimming. I cannot wait to jump in that pool and swim the first lap. Then back and forth until I just relax in my element. Simple pleasures, folks.

Alright, so more pictures on the way. Keep safe and treasure that Canadian tap water. I'm pining for it now.

time to play a little catch up

Ahhhhh, the internet is finally back up here at Kivulini. Now I have the luxury of sitting in my own building and typing without watching the internet cafe clock count down at a rapid pace.

So, where can I start?

FridayWe did a lot of work today, most of it involved trying to get in touch with the Western Heads East people back home. We haven't really heard from anyone (except my supervisor, Sandy) which is, frankly, cause for concern considering they've sent me to freaking Tanzania. After sending a rather angry email to a certain housing exec who hadn't answered any of our emails or called, we found out that he'd gone in for "emergency sugery," which I found out today was for appendicitis. Oooops. But still, we need help over here and it's not coming through at present time.

To take my mind off the project, I went out for Indian food at the New Mwanza hotel. Between 5 of us, we ordered 7 dishes. They arrived at the table in silver pots with little candles warming them. I ate a lot. An "expensive" meal here is only $10 Canadian, so it's pretty sweet.

Saturday
I had been invited by Kivulini to an event, but I didn't really know what the nature of it was. All I knew was that pendo told me I should wash my feet for it. (SIDE NOTE: It's not really my fault they're dirty; I wash them like twice a day but there is mud and dust everywhere here and it sneaks into my shoes). As about 15 of us piled into the Kivulini van, we turned to Markus (a large, jolly yet opinionated man from Switzerland with a shaved head) and his wife yohanda and asked,

"So, Markus, is this a wedding or something? Where are we going?"

He replied (in an Arnold Schwarzenagger-esqe accent):
"I don't know. I have no clue what's going on or where we're going."

And yet he was there, dressed up. And so was I. This kind of thing happens a lot when you don't speak the language.

It turned out to be a Tanzanian wedding for the Kivulini Secretary. It was very interesting and beautiful. the odd thing was that neither the bride nor groom smiled at all the whole time. I asked about this, but apparently it's a tradtion of sorts. Dinner was heaping platters of rices and salad, which you pile on a plate and then eat with your (right) hand. I spilled everywhere. Within 5 min my tacky, 1930s VV shirt (see below) was covered.


The wedding party.


Low-tech security protecting the church.


me, Pendo and Teddy outside the wedding.

The wedding ran long, so I missed my aeorbics instructor's kickboxing competition. Today he told me that he won though, so that's good.

At night we headed over to Tunza Lodge in response to my friend Ian's text "Fancy a sundowner and some lovely food?" Lovely it was. I sipped Amarula (you can get it in Canada but it's really cheap here) and had the most amazing food I've had since Brian and I had boconcini pizza in Little Italy in May. Real butter. Wow it was great.


sunset at Tunza.


red hibiscus

Sunday
Got up bright and early to catch the ferry to Ukerewe island. Described in The Rough Guide to Tanzania as "One of the doziest places around," it was just that. Nansio, the main town was pretty tiny. We were the only wazungus there, and received many open stares. To entertain ourselves, we rented bikes to tour the island. After riding about 50m I realized my bike was incredibly busted and should never be ridden by a female. I wanted to see the island so I kept riding, but received many injuries.


billboard.


brand power.

At night I watched the mist rise on Lake Vitoria as locals did their washing and bathing along the shore. Afterwards we returned to the hotel bar where I had a few Amarulas and then settled in for an evening of televangelism on the hotel t.v.'s only channel.


A misty night on Gallu beach, Ukerewe.

MondayWhile eating breakfast, I became quite concerned to see the ferry leaving the docks 3 hours early, considering it was the only way to get back to Mwanza. I kind of panicked, thinking I would be stuck on the island wdithout enough money for another night at the hotel. After drilling the hotel staff, we found out that a smaller boat would be arriving in a few hours to take us back "home" to Mwanza. While we waited for the ferry, I was speaking with a tiny old lady who had helped us get tickets and find the proper boat. She was very kind to me and and when I handed her a small amount of money as a thank you, her face beamed with gratitude. She said, "Chakula na chai kwa leo!" (this is food and tea for today!).



In a bit of a creepier moment, when we were sitting on the curb waiting, a stumbling drunk man wandered up holding a half-full beer bottle. He yelled at us to give him money and got right in our faces. I avoided eye contact and continued writing in my book until he ripped the pen out of my hand. Jon took it back from him and the man started yelling. He was really making a scene and people were starting to gather, but we didn't want any trouble so we tried to ignore him. Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed my face and one of my braids. I was stunned, but he backed of when Jon stood up to defend me. He shook his bottle at us, made a kissing noise at me and stumbled away. Not a good way to end a nice trip. Fortunately, the ride home was uneventful. I listened to The Dears on my discman and daydreamed for 3 hours.

It was surprisingly comforting to step back onto Mwanza soil and walk the familiar streets home to the apartment on Uhuru st.


Bismark Rock, Mwanza port.

This week I have a lot of work ahead of me in order to make sure this project stays sustainable. I also have my first test at Swahili lessons! Tomorrow afternoon, Pendo and I are going to the Maasai market to order some custom-made bracelets. I'm also buying some fabric here to have clothes made. I only brought grubby stuff thinking I would blend in, but people put a lot of care into appearances here, so I look pretty scruffy in my oversized linen pants. It's a gradual adjustment, living in Tanzania as a Canadian...from the inside out!

I've been here just over a month now. The time is flying but I miss home more than ever. It's certainly a challenge to be in love and be an ocean apart.

I also miss cartoons and hot chocolate and riding functional bikes.

Happy Birthday Mom! I love you!

short and sweet

Our internet is STILL down, so I my postings will have to suck for a bit while I hurriedly type and post in this cramped internet cafe. I promise to send interesting stuff very soon.
some pics:
Here is my first Khanga


This proverb translates to "I am satisfied"


Traditional African meal of spincah, ugali and meat with sauce


And this was living in my room!


Soon I will give ya'll some more!