Cheater, cheater, hamburger eater!

I know, I know, I'm only two weeks in, but it was all James and Fernando.  They're the ones who wanted to eat at a Western restaurant.  We arrived in Nairobi around 6pm, after an easy hour to the border, then only 6 1/2 hours on a bus (we got on the right one this time).  We're staying at the Methodist Guest House (my grandmother should be very proud) and close to it is a mall with this place called Java House.  I've never been, but my compadres are determined to get a REAL, AMERICAN burger, so I "sadly" tag along.  I can't lie; the burger was great.  And so was the milkshake...oops, double whammy.  I figure I'm about to be in South Africa for 5 days, so I'll be eating really good, Western food/portions there too, so I'll start cheating now.  Oh, and I almost forgot, we went to Planet Yogurt after that for some (as my friends disgustingly call it) fro-yo.  That was awesome, too.  In case you were wondering, mango, passion fruit, peach, raspberries, and pistachio DO go well together.  (This is my fatass post for Week 2)

Piki piki!

So, today I got left at home and frustratingly enough, it had nothing to do with me being late or taking too long to do something.  I was to submit my proposed plan and schedule to the village chairman in Roche at 10am.  All I needed was for Rosie to read, approve, and print my plan and schedule.  In true Shirati fashion, at 9:45 the Hilux (Toyota truck) still hadn't left yet.  Fernando was dropping off a ton of building materials in Nyambogo for a project and so there was only room for him and me (because my trip to Roche was necessary) out of the student crew....so I thought and had been told by everyone.  10 o'clock rolls around, and I watch from the office window as the Hilux drives away with everyone but me in the back...that's odd, I think; they must be taking them to Sota and coming back to get me.  Nope, they decided to leave without me because I wasn't under the tree waiting (even though three of the people knew I was in the office waiting for printing because they had jumped in front of me needing Rosie).  Anyway, my confusion turned into brief frustration which turned into, "Oh no! How am I going to get this paper work to Roche, since I'm leaving tomorrow?" 

Never fear....piki is here!  (an hour and a half later)  I hop on the back of the infamous "piki piki" (which is like a dirt bike/motorcycle) and off we go to Roche....again, so I thought.  We pass by the turn for Roche, and since my Swahili and his English obviously do not go beyond introductions, I have to just hang on for the ride.  We end up only going a few minutes up the road to drop off some kind of root with his family members.  And we're off....short cut!  Rather than go back to the turn off for the "main" road, piki man decides to go the short way through fields and crops.  It was actually a blast!  I felt back at home in Arkansas, haha.  So at 11:30, I get my paper work to Roche.  The chairman has of course given up on me and left, but his assistant enjoys the humor of me showing up an hour and a half late on a piki...he had an idea what happened.

If it wouldn't cost me extra, I would consider taking a piki everyday.  It was a blast, but next time I guess I'll make sure to be under the tree no later than 10, no matter what.

My project starts a'rollin'

This week was my introductory week to the Roche community.  One of the things we are taught at school is that the key to a successful project in a community is engaging your stakeholders: the community members and leadership, directors of similar or complimentary programs, staff of program, and supporters.  Monday, I spent the day at Sota Health Clinic, which is the other local clinic that SHED and Dr. Kawira operate.  I wanted to get an idea of how a longer-running, more established clinic operates and begin building a relationship with Dr. Kawira and gain from her insight into the dynamics of rural clinics in East Africa.  Then, on Tuesday, I had my first meetings with the local Health and Education committees for Village Life.  These are made up of villagers who are interested in the work of VLOP and who are the worker bees and community promoters that ensure VLOP’s work is carried out and embraced by the community.  For the Health committee, I had four people show up: Ongora, Josphat, Tomas, and Rosie, who were very helpful in my shaping of the evaluation, insightful in providing me their original vision and goals for RHC (so I can complete my logic model, which they really like: shout out to my prof, Dr. Bavon, and my eval class), and most importantly supportive in suggesting that I go introduce myself and collect stories and data from the village council and the community meetings.  When is the meeting? I ask.  Their response: tomorrow.  WHAT?! When is the next meeting? I ask.  Their response: in three months.  Looks like I’m going to the meeting tomorrow…flexibility, flexibility, flexibility.  I’m not really nervous about the meeting, as much as anxious because I have NO IDEA what to expect.

So, I prepare my notes for the meeting, make sure that I know what I’m talking about, and catch up on all intentions and recent news of Village Life with regards to the health center and uji project.  I show up to the village council building (at 12:45 rather than noon as I was told because, well, in the words of Leo in Blood Diamond, This Is Africa).  On the drive, Rosie taught me some more Swahili, so as I am introduced to the Roche village chairman, Jackson, I introduce myself, where I’m from, and that I’m a student at Clinton School, ALL IN KISWAHILI! WOOP WOOP!  After my full intro in Swahili, Jackson acknowledges my impressive Swahili and then informs me that he speaks English well, and he is right, so the rest of the meeting needs no translator.  He is happy that I have come to him first, so that he is aware of my presence in his village and he pledges to help me set all interviews up so that I have no problems or road blocks.  Our meeting goes well, and he is very responsive to my project plans and ideas.  He does, however, inform me that he does not think I should go to the community meeting today, but that he will happily call a special meeting for me in a few weeks (Sounds great to me!).  So my last days before leaving for South Africa, I will be putting together my schedule for the next 8 weeks and my project plan to be submitted to Jackson and the village council.  Friday, I plan to start recording data from patient and health center records…and then on to survey development.

A little touch of America: Movie Night I

Due to Nando’s plea for something American, I brought 9 movies from home.  Everyone was excited to here this so we put together our first Movie Night!  Wednesday night, after dinner, we assembled with beers and cokes, popcorn (thanks to Esther), and my movies, all by candlelight.  I gave them all of their options and to my surprise James was able to rally everyone behind The Big Chill.  Now, this is one of my favorite movies, and I love to watch it when I’m away from home because it reminds me of all my great, close friends I have in the US, Arkansas, Little Rock, but it wouldn’t necessarily be my pick for first American movie in a few weeks of being in Africa.  However, all but the two of us have seen it, so I go with the group….it’s a total flop.  Although no one will admit that they didn’t like it, you can tell people are very disappointed.  Even James is like, “not as funny and uplifting as I remember the movie being.”  Luckily, the soundtrack is great, so people enjoyed that. 

I was not willing to let movie night be a total bust, so I turned it into a double feature with…yes, one of my favorite Disney movies: Finding Nemo!  Anta has never seen it, so the five of us who are left, salvage movie night and greatly enjoy Finding Nemo, Fanta, Sparletta (banana soda), and popcorn, all by candlelight.  Success!  Next movie night will include probably V for Vendetta and hopefully, the culmination of our African experience: The Lion King!

Monday Market Mayhem and our first birthday

Every Monday, farmers, merchants, and ranchers from all over the area come to Obuere (South Shirati) to sell anything and everything available in about a 60 km radius.  The area that normally is an empty courtyard and the makeshift soccer field on which I played on Saturday (when I was asked to referee and then was informed that I was obviously biased towards my friends’ team and didn’t know half the rules of soccer and so relieved of my duties) had become the scene of at least a thousand vendors crammed into wooden booths, sheets spread out to reserve space and herds and herds of animals.  Ranchers selling goats, cows, sheep, and donkeys for anywhere from 3000 Tsh/goat ($2) to 300,000 Tsh/cow ($200). Farmers selling rice, beans, cassava, pineapples (nanasi), passion fruit, avocados, maize, and fried goods that I have fallen in love with: kitumbua which is like a fried rice cake that tastes like fried rice pudding and some fried dough whose name I can’t for the life of me remember (migazi?).  Vendors selling anything from shoes to kitchen necessities to traditional cloths to various sundries.  And the clothes! Gobs and gobs of clothes!  We’re still not entirely sure, but I think the Salvation Army or other donation organizations in the US must distribute clothes (I’m guessing not for profit but selling at cost of shipping) to registered vendors who then sell them to the local area.  The t-shirts are from all over the US, whether a racing shirt from the Juvenile Diabetes 5K in Harrisburg, PA, a commemorative shirt from regional Scouting day in North Carolina, a Froot Loops t-shirt, or a Chicago Cubs jersey (I almost bought it, but it was torn).  I even found Power Ranger sheets just like the ones I grew up with and even more oddly, the same St. Jude t-shirt that all of us on the Up Til Dawn board were given for our fundraising efforts with St. Jude…over the next 8 weeks, I will be on the lookout for a shirt from Arkansas or LR.

Tonight, we celebrate one of our hostel-mates’ (Akeel) birthday.  It just so happens to also be one of Esther’s sons’ birthday and another son’s birthday tomorrow…so we celebrate!  Esther (Dr. Kawira) baked a “mahogany” cake, which is a frosting flag of dark brown (mocha), white (vanilla), and poopie brown (peanut butter), but unfortunately for me is all chocolate cake (I must admit that when I walked in and saw the cake and frosting on top, I thought…hmm, I’ve never seen a country’s flag be dark brown, white, then light brown; what an ugly flag! Haha).   To my delight, she also made popcorn and had ICY COLD cokes for all of us.  For the next hour I munched on salted popcorn (one of my vices) and Fanta chungwa (orange).  We also enjoyed the cello skills of Esther and guitar skills of James (as true, cliché Americans, we jammed out to Hootie-Hold My Hand, Oasis-Wonderwall, and of course Happy Birthday.

New experiences abound! (My first Mennonite church service among other novelties)

So, there’s something about being on a different continent, in a different country, possibly out of your comfort zone that makes you go crazy and try things that you either never have in the states or that you would never be able to back home.  For instance, I decided to buzz my head the day before I left for East Africa – anyone who knows me, knows that my hair has never been shorter than like 3 inches - it is now a 2 guard on a trimmer and on my flights in the US I had multiple people thank me for my service to our country…I was so caught off guard, I couldn’t even say anything.  I also had my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich the first day I was in Shirati.  Now my close friends and family know that as crazy and “un-American” as this sounds, it is true; I have never had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, just something about the combination and resulting texture has pushed me away.  Anyways, when the only options for lunch are bread, butter, red-plum jelly, peanut butter and banana, I figured I’d try it…I believe I was correct in my past 23 years of assumptions, but I can now say I’ve at least had one.

(Disclaimer: I apologize for the long post, but this was just too wonderful, exciting, and descriptive to not include all for my friends) So, on to my big experience.  James and I decided to attend Sunday church services at the Mennonite church across the road.  We were told it started at 7:30am, so forgetting that we were in fact in Africa, we showed up on time…us and 6 other people: the minister and assistant, sound guy, and 3 children (probably their own).  By 8:30 the church was filled, people cramming onto the benches that should fit about 8 comfortably but easily had 10.  There had to have been 700-800 people in the L-shaped church.  In front of us was the stage on which stood the offering chests, minister, his assistants, backed by a large silky white and pink drape.  The tables were covered with sheets of turquoise and lavender…it reminded me of either an Easter service, Foxfields at UVA, or a day on Nantucket with the Kennedys.  The service was similar to one in the states (I figure, as I have never been to a Mennonite church in the states or in fact to many other church services besides Friday night services at Temple, which are obviously very different), but one difference: dancing!  They call their dancing troupes “the choir,” as these groups not only dance but sing with pre-recorded background music coming from the electronic keyboard.  The dancing was amazing, I was in heaven, and taking down in my head every move they made.  The first dances were by a group of 12 young girls, who did the dance as if it were like riding a bike and it was just another thing they had to do to make their parents happy.  The next was what I considered the real choir as it was older congregants standing in a semi-circle singing and then moving into a few different formations.  My new friend, William Jones, who sat next to me and explained most of what was going on, was included in this choir.  And then came the older troupe: 8 men, 8 women, lined up in 4 columns of 4, women doing a simple but flowing dance and the men doing an intense step-show-esque routine.  It was a great combination, and I felt that I was watching the Tanzanian version of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (correction: Eight Brides for Eight Brothers). 

After all the dancing and singing and preaching, they brought the offering chests to the front of each section, and one by one we proceeded by the boxes, James and I dropping 500Tsh ($.33) into the slot for visitors (which nicely was not labeled as “mzungu” but something with a much more welcoming connotation.  When we thought the hour and a half long service was concluding, a man in a very nice brown suit walked up to the front, waving a cassette tape, explained something, and then started shouting “mia tano, mia tano”!  Luckily William was next to us, and he explained that this was the monthly fundraiser, and from what I could tell at first it seemed like a live auction….I guess you could call it a live auction, but like none that I’ve ever seen.  People would hold up a 500 Tsh bill and after the collector had put the money in the basket, the donor received the tape.  Only problem, as soon as someone else gave mia tano the tape was taken from the initial donor and given to the new.  Some wouldn’t even get to hold the tape, but only touch it before the next person paid mia tano and stole it away.  This went on for…an HOUR.  Towards the end there were finally two people that were going back and forth, mia tano, mia tano, mia tano, and our side found ourselves chanting for the women near us, Mama Ogiri.  People on our side of the church were even giving money for Mama Ogiri to win it, which finally she did.  There is no rhyme or reason for the time when the fundraiser ended, as if the auction caller just up and decided he had gotten enough money.  In the end (30 minutes after the fundraiser ended and they had also had people come up and make pledges), the church raised about 200,000 Tsh (approx. $135).  Four hours later, James and I had had the experience of a lifetime, but more importantly had not eaten breakfast, and so ran home for what would now be brunch as soon as the final benediction had been given.  I look forward to going back for the dancing, but plan on avoiding fundraising Sundays.

Life in Shirati Part Mbili: Discovering my neighbors and hood

On Thursday I was also able to become acquainted with the town of Shirati.  Nyamusi kindly took me on a walking tour of the Kabuana area of Shirati (there are two major sections of town: Kabuana and Obuere).  I got to see his home, which is very nice, with a full living room and TV, bedrooms for all the children, and a kitchen/dining room of purple and gold (I’ll go with royal colors rather than mention THAT school down south of AR).  He’s currently building a home in the back for him and his brother, which is tradition. Most of Kabuana revolves around the main road that goes through town (similar to small towns in Arkansas), and there are store fronts and vendors everywhere.  There is one pub and restaurant, Girango, and the district hospital is directly across.  Nyamusi’s mother owns a kinda five-and-dime shop that sells phone minutes, school/office supplies, greeting cards (Nando and my postcard), and various sundries.  The hospital is a big compound with multiple wards, inpatient care, a surgery “theater”, an entire nursing school, and a leprosy unit.  Only in recent decades have the leprosy patients been allowed to be in the same area as other patients because of the stigma that surrounded lepers for so long.  I then saw the outpatient leprosy camp as well as the new camp that they are currently building to house 16.  It’s very nice and exciting that these people (mostly older men who were already affected badly before modern treatments) are finally taken care of and included rather than cast out to live by the lake.  Shirati, I have found is very similar to a small town in Arkansas in that they have pretty much anything they need food/living wise.  The only problem is major medical specialty procedures must be done in Mwanza (the Little Rock or Dallas of the region).

We were invited to a wedding reception on my second day here.  It was held at the Motel 2000, the biggest hotel in Shirati, which is owned by Manine Kawira, the brother of the couple who own SHED where I’m staying.  The party was for Chris, a “doctor” (really a med tech but townspeople call him doctor) at Shirati Hospital who is from Musoma, 2 hours S of Shirati.  James and I go decked out in local shirts that were made by one of the seamstresses in town, and the hotel is totally decked out in white drapes with blue and white lights behind the head table where the bride, groom, and their two attendants sit.  In front of them is a table with three cakes (one for them and one for each family) and one bottle of every coke available, a bottle of champagne, and water.  The program is pretty long with a lot of talking (in Swahili, so I’m clueless), but it includes a lot of speeches and background music, most notably a long talk by what turns out to be the baker of the cakes.  After her talk, the groom presents a cake to his new family and the bride to hers.  Then loud music starts playing and with the cokes and Fantas (I chose black current, which is grape on a sugar high, SO GOOD!) that we have all been given, everyone present gets up and in line clinks bottles with members of each family and the wedding party.  Finally, comes the gift giving, which is ceremonial in that each gift is given in front of everyone, one by one…we made it through four gifts and our patience ran thin and had to go home…so unfortunately we missed the feast and party afterwards but maybe next wedding…