The program manager explained to me that the social reasons include three norms or traditions, which help spread HIV/AIDS in the community.  The first is that a man may “inherit” his brother’s widow (archaic, I know).  The second is that a widow, and I assume a widower, has a “consolation” period when his/her spouse dies.  People in the community may go into the person’s home and “console” the person for a number of weeks.  The third is that the culture is very “accommodating”.  When a guest enters a person’s home, a person can offer his/her guest beverages, food, and a bed, among other things.  I thought that the program manager was joking when he told me the last one then thought it ironic.

The areas with the highest rates of HIV/AIDS are the Iringa and Mbeya regions.  Within Mbeya, Kyela has the highest rates of people infected.  In the home assistance program here, there are currently between 400 and 500 people enrolled and the outreach program has been making good progress, testing between 100 and 147 people on testing days.

I don’t think that I ever would have known about the HIV/AIDS situation here if I hadn’t learned of the various programs in the area targeting the disease.  There is a stigma against the disease and it isn’t spoken of at all.  The education and outreach seems to be making an impact, which is an encouraging sign that progress is being made against the disease.

Prior to my last trip to Dar, I started attending meetings to announce the new governance and organizational changes that my client is implementing.  The “invitation” was completely unexpected and I was told that I would only have to attend one or two (there are a total of 9 subschemes, an organizational structure comprised of villages).  It became apparent though that I was brought to the meetings as a sign of endorsement for the plan and a way to garner support from the farmers.  As such, the client had really intended for me to attend all the meetings but just didn’t say it right away.

A subscheme meeting, with travel and lunch, often took the whole day.  A typical meeting day went like this  – leave office between 10 am and noon, travel to the subscheme, convene meeting for between 3 and 5 hours, have lunch hosted by a subscheme leader (usually around 3 pm), travel back to the office and then head back to the hotel before the staff kicks me out.  I was initially miffed that these meetings were so time-consuming but resigned myself to them after I realized how important it was to the client that I attend.

Meeting in Segela Subscheme

I went to the meetings with the chairman, senior executive accountant, and usually two other members of the secretariat though all three attended a few times.  Although meetings were scheduled at 10 am, we were always late – sometimes up to 3 hours late!  The secretariat was often rushed and disorganized about preparing meeting materials, leading to our tardiness.  For the most part, they didn’t seem concerned about timeliness…until the farmers at one subscheme angrily demanded a postponement.  We were able to convince them to stay and the secretariat attempted to be prompt for the remaining meetings (we weren’t).  Attending meetings is difficult for the farmers; they have to leave their farms, walk for hours, and go without food and water for most of the day.  I completely understand their dissatisfaction; I get annoyed when I have to wait more than 15 minutes.

The subscheme meetings were held in various places, from churches to schools.  At one subscheme, we sat on benches underneath a tree but squeezed into a room in a small structure when a storm came upon us.  The different locations meant improvisation on seating and the appearance of unexpected guests, like chickens and weird flying bugs.  They were sometimes distracting when the farmers were tired (mchoka).

On average, about 30 farmers attended a meeting.  For a larger subscheme, we had close to 100 attendees.  The chairman told me that a good turnout is about 45 to 50% of village tea committee members.  Usually 2 or 3 women were in attendance though one subscheme had close to ten.  At one meeting, a woman brought her baby to nurse and allowed it to play in a box.

I generally had a passive role at these meetings.  My only speaking part was to introduce myself and to greet the farmers prior to and after each meeting.  The farmers were often tickled that I knew how to say hello (mbogeneli) and thank you (ndaga) in their local dialect though I was ashamed that I didn’t know more.  After the first two meetings, the chairman translated comments and questions that the farmers had.  I was able to note a lot of the issues that the farmers were facing, such as the need to address green leaf theft and fertilizer repayments.

By the time a meeting ended, I was famished.  The local leaders usually provided us lunch, with the wealthier ones providing the subscheme members food as well.  Some farmers heaped 5 or sometimes up to 10 servings of rice because it was their only meal of the day.  The food was prepared and served by the female leaders or the wives of the leaders.  We typically had rice and beef.  Sometimes, we also had vegetables.  When the chairman hosted, we had rice, beef, chicken, mchemso (boiled banana), and this tomato and onion dish.  We also had sour milk, which I really don’t like.  It is basically milk that has been allowed to sit for several days, giving it a lumpy consistency and a very sour taste.  I had to feign being full (msheba) since I didn’t want to offend.

At the last lunch, which was hosted at the chairman’s house, I was asked to thank the hosts on behalf of all the guests when we were ready to depart.  The secretary usually held this honor so I was uncomfortable and humbled.  I tried my best to rise up to the occasion and said a few basic words in Kiswahili and the local dialect.  I also managed to say in a somewhat intelligible way, ‘god bless you’ (mungo akubariki) to the chairman’s wife.  It was a phrase I learned the day before under the tutelage of the chairman and everyone seemed appreciative of the effort at least.

The meetings were a great way to see each of the Board members in their home subschemes and amongst their constituents.  Every single one of them beamed when we arrived and presided in their subschemes with pride.  I really believe that they all want to serve the farmers to the best of their abilities and this belief has given me a sense of duty to do the best job I can for them before I leave.

Another volunteer is coming to Tukuyu for two nights next week. She asked me for bus tips, which I have decided to share below:

• Get a seat in the front by the window (usually any seat in rows A through D is pretty good).  The stops are short and the bus WILL LEAVE without you if you are not back on in time
• Bring a bandana and sunglasses.  It gets hot and dusty on the bus by the window
• (For women) Wear a skirt for short calls, which entail going to the bathroom on the side of the road.  The short calls are fast and some areas have no cover.  You generally have about 3 stops during the day.  I avoid drinking water
• Bring toilet paper and hand sanitizer on the bus for the short calls
• Bring a travel pillow for napping.  I don’t sleep the night before so that I can sleep on the bus, which helps pass the time
• Bring ear plugs if noise is an issue. The bus will get loud because they play music videos and soap operas during the ride
• Bring your own lunch.  The food at the stops are expensive and not very good when sitting for long periods.  I like to have fruit or the cous cous salad from Oyster Bay shopping center
• I would recommend keeping all valuables, including the laptop on you.  There is shelf space on top to store things but I have heard that people have had items stolen

- Tips from a veteran Sumry bus rider

It is apparently the second time that lightening has hit the hotel.  Lightening storms occur quite often in this area, killing many people in Rungwe each year.  The Landmark Hotel is the most prominent building in town so it is not surprising that it would be hit at some point. Over dinner, Barry, the founder of an NGO providing services here, said that the hotel should put up a copper wire on the roof to attract and ground any future lightening strikes.  I think it’s probably a good idea.

Fuse Box

Yesterday, I did one of my now frequent long bus journeys. The start went off a bit more smoothly than the last time since the driver showed up on-time to pick me and another volunteer up. We reported to the bus stop at 5:15 am, giving us plenty of time to store our things in the luggage compartments and to get settled. We were lucky to get seats next to each other and in the middle of the bus. By the time we had bought our tickets, the bus was already full. My main client contact took the same bus and had to take an aisle seat.

One thing that stuck out about this bus ride is that a man came on-board before we departed and started preaching to everyone seated. The other volunteer and I couldn’t catch very much with our limited Swahili – “sixty six”, “big profit”, and lots of “allelujas!”. I can’t say I was trying very hard though; I was so exhausted I tried to sleep through it, which was impossible because the guy was standing two rows away from me and bellowing out the sermon. Also, at one point during the sermon, when I guess people were suppose to shake thy neighbor’s hand, the woman in the aisle next to me slapped me to wake me up, grabbed my hand, and shook it. The sermon ended shortly after when people who were listening waved at the preacher and applauded.

I basically embark and disembark in darkness, spending the daylight hours on the bus. I’m starting to recognize the drivers, ticket people, and entertainment programming, both the music videos and the soap operas, on the tv. I know that I will look back in awe at having taken and adapted to so many of these bus rides. On my first bus ride, I only got off to use the rest stop once. For this ride, I started getting off at the short calls, which are stops in the bushes for restroom breaks. Though finding a sheltered spot can sometimes be tricky, I find that going in the bushes is actually more pleasant than using the restrooms at the rest stops.

Things started getting “field-y” as soon as I got back to the Landmark Hotel. Although I had left a written note giving the staff permission to move my things, they left everything in place this time. I also told them my return date so that the staff could move me into my preferred room. As of this moment, I am still staying in a room with two king-sized beds because the staff still didn’t save my room for me. :’(

Today, I got the usual stares and “chinese, chinese!” as I walked to lunch and to purchase a few items. On my way back to the office, a man actually got up from his seat and came to shake my hand and say some things that I didn’t understand. Since he didn’t seem unfriendly, I felt like a minor celebrity.

When I got back to the Landmark Hotel, I had to settle part of my bill with Martes, who was managing the front desk. He is overly friendly with me again, which is uncomfortable. Today, he said he missed me and was glad that I was back. When I complimented another woman on her suit, he said that I looked really good, especially since I “got fat” while in Dar, and that when I wear black, my arms are big. I’m not sure what was more unsettling to me – that I showed noticeable weight gain from gorging on non-local food while in Dar or that Martes was paying me a direct compliment (culturally, Tanzanians like the women a bit thicker).

As I was literally running back to my room, another staff member saw me, grabbed my arm, and ran with me up the stairs. She then grabbed the key from my hand, opened my room door, and entered my room. It was really odd. She just stood there hanging out in my gigantic room with two king-sized beds. I felt like I had to be a good hostess so I offered her some chips and then waited for her to leave but she stood there and ate the chips. I then went to my computer, sat, and started working as she hovered over my shoulder eating chips. It was apparent she wasn’t going to leave. Finally, after a few minutes, I decided to offer her more chips, softening the blow for what was to come. I then walked to the door, opened it, and said good night, gesturing her to walk out. She didn’t seem offended but I didn’t really care at that point.

I’m sure that things will be better tomorrow. The first day back always seems a bit traumatic. There are mzungos in the hotel today so hopefully the attention will be distributed elsewhere during the rest of the week.

The volunteer who had previously gotten sick while staying with me in Tukuyu also got into Dar last night.  She has been feeling ill again and was told that she should see a real doctor.  Medical care outside of Dar is extremely suspect, with most doctors diagnosing everything as malaria.  Two weeks ago, my client was feeling a bit ill and had attributed it to malaria even though the area we live in is quite temperate.  Last week, the receptionist was also out sick.  When I asked what she had, I was told malaria.

The volunteer and I met at our hotel and decided to get a bite to eat at one of the two major shopping centers located in the Peninsula.  Slipway is a small plaza with shops, restaurants, a grocery store, and a little playground.  The highlights there for me are usually the ice cream shop and the Shrijee’s, a local grocery store.  Yesterday, the volunteer and I went to the Japanese restaurant and had sushi and a bento box, which cost Tsh 12,000 and 15,000 respectively (approximately US$8 and US$12).  The meal, though not the best Japanese, was such a nice change from local food.  We then went to the Italian restaurant for creme caramel and a fruit cup.  Yummy!

View of Slipway from the Water

One of the volunteers said that Mbeya is the 4th largest town in Tanzania.  The region includes Tukuyu and Kyela has about 3 million people, though only 400,000 people reside in the town itself.  The main crops grown in the immediate area are maize and round potatoes.  I’ve heard that the best rice is from Mbeya but I learned during the trip that the rice is actually grown in Kyela and brought to Mbeya (just as the bananas are brought there from Tukuyu).

My beloved Beaco Resort was booked but the receptionist recommended the Calm Inn Hotel, a new hotel located a bit out of the town center on the freeway across from the Meta Hospital.  The Calm Inn didn’t have much of a website, making it a bit of a gamble, but room rates were cheaper than those at the Paradise Hotel, a hotel that I had stayed at once before and that was slightly older.  Features include a full-service restaurant, a bar, and pay-for-use internet terminals.  Though the Calm Inn didn’t offer shuttle service to and from the bus stations (as advertised on the website), it offered free breakfast for one person per room and satellite television (a plus for one of the volunteers).  I’ve included hotel information and room rates below since details were hard to find on the web.

Calm Inn Hotel

Calm Inn Hotel

When I arrived at the Calm Inn Hotel, I found that it was quite nice (though like the Paradise Hotel, it had a Chinese hotel-like feel to it). There were two buildings connected by an elevated walkway and both were enclosed in a walled compound.  The deluxe room I booked had oversized furniture but was larger than the room I had in at the Paradise Hotel.   The Calm Inn also offered nice touches such as plastic flowers on the bed and free gifts (e.g. free bottled water, comb, toothbrush, toothpaste, and petroleum jelly).

Deluxe Room at the Comfort Inn Hotel

We had a few issues with our rooms and service.  First, the hallways and rooms are bathed in mosquito repellent daily, making the stay a bit toxic.  I had to air out the room for a few hours by opening all the windows but still smelled the chemicals while sleeping at night.  My room, which is located on the ground floor and facing the street, also had little insulation from outside noise.  I woke up to a bit of banging and chatter before 7 am yesterday morning (a Sunday).  Another volunteer smelled a fuel leak in the middle of the night (probably from the backup generator) and had to switch to a room to the upper floor.   I’d recommend anyone staying at the Calm Inn to book a room on the upper floors and facing away from the street.

English language may also be an issue.  Lidia, the receptionist I booked the rooms with, was really helpful in reserving my room but the receptionist I met with upon my arrival had problems with English and with understanding directions without making assumptions.  One volunteer arrived from Iringa at 1 am and, when I arranged a taxi to pick up the volunteer, the receptionist had the taxi arrive first to the hotel, insisting that I also go to the bus stand even though both parties had each other’s number.  Overall, the experience was fine for the price and the other volunteers enjoyed their stay.

A lesson (one of many) I learned on my trip is that the dala dalas do not run late at night from Tukuyu to Mbeya.  One volunteer was traveling from Kyela to Mbeya but got stuck in Tukuyu (it was around 8 pm).  I ended up having him stay at my room at the Landmark Hotel for that night, which honestly felt a bit strange considering I hadn’t met him yet (I had underwear hanging out to dry).  He took the first dala dala out at 6:30ish and met us at the Calm Inn a little after 8 am.

Sisi Kwa Sisi Office

I had arranged for a hiking tour with Sisi Kwa Sisi, a local cooperative with tourism services.  Felix, our guide, was kind enough to meet us at Calm Inn.  We took the dala dala into town, made a quick stop for water and gear, then started the hike from town at around 9:30 am.  The hike was a bit steep in some parts but gave us beautiful views of the town.  I don’t think we really knew the extent of the town by just being in it since the town center itself is so small. We hiked past Eucalyptus trees, two women gathering firewood, and along a grassy path with electricity poles. Along the way, we also saw cement steps in some parts for prayer.  Felix explained that the majority of the town is Roman Catholic and that people would often come up to pray on the mountain despite vandals destroying parts of the praying structure.  Felix also told us about Sisi Kwa Sisi, which means “Us for Us” but is really about the collective doing everything itself and being self-sufficient.  I found that message very powerful.

Felix

Path and Cows

The weather was gorgeous until we started towards the steepest part.  We really weren’t prepared for rain; in fact, one volunteer didn’t even have hiking shoes and hiked in casual dress shoes.  Luckily, Felix had given us walking sticks and raincoats.  When we got to the steepest area for ascent, the rain became a downpour and Felix gave us the option of turning back or going in the rain.  My compatriots, being overachievers, wanted to keep going so Felix found an alternative less steep route for us.  One of the amusing things about the last part of the trek was Felix’s estimations of how far the peak was (it was hidden behind a ridge so we couldn’t see where we were heading).  When we were about an hour away, Felix told us that we were about half hour to destination and when we were about half an hour away, he told us we were seven minutes away.  I don’t think he realized how out-of-shape we were and that, as expat field volunteers, the most exercise we got was walking inside our hotel rooms.

View of Mbeya

Cross on Hill

Green Path

The peak was a bit anti-climatic, with just an iron something or other to mark our arrival (though somehow a herd of cows ended up there).  We did see beautiful views of the fields nearby though and the rain cleared enough for us to enjoy a nice lunch on the side of the peak.  I can’t remember the exact time that we got up there but guesstimate that it was around 1-ish.  The rest of the journey was backtracking down the path we got up, which was a bit slippery but nice considering the weather cleared up.  We got back into town at about 5 pm and took the dala dala back to the hotel to shower before dinner.

View from Top of Loleza Peak

Part of the reason, I was excited about going to Mbeya was the opportunity to eat non-local food.  I was surprised at the lack of food options in the town however. From what I gather, there is one Chinese restaurant (which is on the outskirts of town), the AppriCourt, and the Sombrero Restaurant, which does not have Mexican food.  The volunteers and I basically ate at hotels the whole time, which was ok but not entirely satisfying.  I really wanted thin crust pizza and a burger.

Yesterday, we wandered around town, ate lunch at the Mbeya Hotel then split up around 4ish.  I made the fatal mistake of trying to catch the dala dala from the Mbeya Main Bus Terminal rather than Kobwe (sp?) which is known to have more frequent buses and got scammed into buying a higher priced fake ticket.  It is a long story but basically I was trying to avoid getting scammed into paying a higher cab fare (Tsh 7,000 versus the real rate of Tsh 3,000) and opted for the closer bus stop instead.  When I arrived at the terminal, a person led me to the dala dala and told me that the ticket was Tsh 2,500 instead of Tsh 2,000.  He even gave me a legit looking receipt (with Tsh 3,500 nooon it) then drove me around a gas station and back to the terminal.  I started to realize that something was up when a random stranger came up to the dala dala, asked why I was back, and asked how much I paid for the ticket.  Luckily, the ticket guy felt sorry for me and gave me a ticket for the dala dala anyway.

Taking the dala dala is a really traumatic experience for me.  I mentioned in my blog that the last time I took it from Mbeya, a man offered to give me children (as in make babies with me).  This time, as I waited for about an hour, a drunk man came and sat next to me to chat.  John (is his name) was actually quite nice and had a pretty good command of English.  He asked me about three times though what ethnicity I was (I told him Chinese twice then Korean the last time), where I was going twice, and his breath was pretty reeky.  He got off at Manjira/Kobwe (sp?)

The dala dala ride was also quite long for really unexpected reasons.  Not only did I have to wait for about an hour for the dala dala to leave but the bus stopped twice for long periods of time because of a dispute about a child (mtoto) dressed in a little pinstripe suit.  At about the 2nd or 3rd stop in Mbeya, after we had stopped for a bit, I noted that the ticket guy took a woman’s bag, flung it out of the moving bus, and then had a woman get off.  A man then took her child, who looked a bit scared, onto his lap.  When we got to another stop a bit later, still in Mbeya, we ended up stopping for 45 minutes because a pandemonium had developed about the child.  Two women, I assume relations of the woman kicked off the bus earlier, came by to claim the mtoto and a crowd gathered around them as they argued with the man on the bus.  I think the dispute eventually was settled by a man who looked like a mediator and the two women took the mtoto.  Today, I asked David about the incident and he said that it probably involved a man and a woman who isn’t his wife fighting over a child.  He didn’t sound too surprised.

The last hour of my ride wasn’t too bad though we almost hit some children and passed by an accident.  I sat next to a nice student who offered me a piece of roasted corn, giving me the whole part and keeping only the little tip for himself.  I was so humbled by his generosity that I gave the corn back and told him that I was full.  I got back to Tukuyu around 8 pm and passed out at 9, weary from the hike the journey.