Safe at Home in Tanzania

May 22, 2008

Sitting in my courtyard with a cup of cool water, listening to the wind whispering through the dry grass and cowbells ringing, I watch the coals slowly heating up. Sometimes I find myself so secure and safe in my little village, I am completely relaxed. The yellow sun hits on the dry earth and all is good, life is at peace. Maybe it is how time freezes in the village while the rest of the world have no time to spare that makes Tanzania so attractive to me.

It is hard to imagine that some 2000 kms south of here, a killing spree against foreigners in South Africa is taking place. Millions of foreign workers, especially those from Zimbabwe, Mozambique and Nigeria are escaping the violence and rape against them and their families. The attacks have started on the 13th of May and it has not ended, violence is seeping into the rural villages. These “foreigners” have not only been working and living in South Africa, many have already established their homes and raised second generations in the country. Those South Africans who support this rage blame them for the increased unemployment rate and the rise in crime. Ok, so I backtrack a couple of months, on December 30th, 2007, a day before New Year’s eve, President Kibaki magically won the Kenyan election with hundreds of thousands of “unknown” ballots. This somewhat rigged election led to another ethnic cleansing. The opposition, Odinga’s supporters burned and thrashed the regions where Kibaki’s main supporters, the Kikuyu tribe-members lived and worshiped. Most of the people killed were children who could not escape.

I remember reading the blogs of my friends working in Kenya. Alida, a nurse working near El Doret could not return to her village and was confined to a friend’s apartment in Nairobi. Her colleagues back in El Doret were advised not to leave home. “Outside is chaos” was how they described it. No food and no way out, they were just waiting. Almost 200 thousand Kenyans were displaced. Temporary camps were set up, but living conditions were horrid and food shortage was a major issue. As the uproars calmed down, after all the peace talks, Alida and Amy, another friend working in Nairobi had visited the refugee camps. Alida took pictures. What caught my attention was not their poor living conditions, which was not lacking in any of the photos. It was something else, something strong, vital, and healthy. I did not see despair from the pictures, but hope. There was an old man who set up a shop in the midst of disarray. Children were smiling and posing, but they looked genuinely happy. It was not that they were content with their situation, but they made the best out of it. Maybe it was because they found comfort in each other, not being the only ones lost and abandonned that they rejoiced in being alive. Maybe it was the way that they were grateful for what they still have like life, a tented roof, family and friends. Or maybe it was too depressing remembering what they have lost that kept them on the positive side. I don’t know, but I wish to ask them. All I know is that human capacity is limitless when there is faith, hope and friends who walk alongside.

Pondering about the issue of wars and instability, I cannot fathom how across the border in Kenya, the Republic of Congo, Burundi and Rwanda, major uproars and ethnic cleansing has occured within a span of less than 15 years. Up North in Sudan and down South in Zimbabwe and South Africa, it is still happening. Africa is a time-bomb, no one knows when another mass killing will happen. Skin color used to be the major divide in the history of mankind. However, from most these cases, skin color has nothing to do with it. It is the tribal differences, but at the end of the day, Kenyans are killing Kenyans and Rwandans are killing Rwandans. People are killing people.

So, I thought about the “Scramble for Africa”. From the 1880s to the early 1910s, European countries raced through this new and exotic land rich in all natural resources, claiming their piece of Africa. Borders were drawn, an invisible line then divided people, tribes and families telling them where they belonged. Before, Africans roamed freely and lived in tribes, their tribes were their families and that was their country. There were many large tribes that were cut off right in the middle when the imperialists were laying their borders. Imagine visiting your uncle across the river and never allowed to go back home to your wife again. I wonder if it was this involuntary act that grouped very diverse and even enemy tribes together, forcing them to live in harmony that fueled tribal tensions. Tension was always there and people were just waiting for a chance at revenge. The hatred in Rwanda was mainly a left-behind anger against the Belgium colonialists who partnered with the Tutsi monarchy in governing the country during colonialism. It was frightful how the Hutu-dominated democratic government of 1994 advertised and encouraged mass killings of the Tutsis. Tribal tension must have existed, but government propaganda was really the cause of these mass killings.

When I spoke to villagers on this topic, they were aware of the killings through the radio but treated it as a tea-time conversation. Tanzania has been a peaceful country ever since the second World War. Living in the village, you could hardly feel insecure or fearful. One of the biggest fears for the villagers are diseases and the odd elephant that comes to their fields during harvest months. One of the reason for such tranquility is due to the first president of Tanzania, Julius Nyerere who instated a policy that united the nation. The offical language became Swahili and inter-tribe marriage was encouraged. The 60 some tribes in Tanzania gradually identified themselves as “Tanzanians”. Eventhough Tanzanians are from different tribes, they speak one language and share one land.

Coming back to my chair in the courtyard, I awake myself from all these ponderings. Sometimes I find the greatest battle is the one inside my head. At least I could be sitting here, watching the coals burning with nothing to fear. And for that, I thank God.

I'm BACK!

I am back in Montreal, Canada. My internship finished on June 5th with all the work in Tanzania wrapped up and the de-briefing with Emmanuel International in Toronto all done!

September, I will be heading back to McGill for a one-year certificate in ecological agriculture (sustainable agriculture), then "if God likes it" masters after that. So, there'll be lots of schooling ahead of me.
Being back home has been quite warm and welcoming. My friends have been such a wonderful encouragement for me and genuinely interested in my life back in Tanzania. I am, however still in Tanzania time both in body and in mind. Two weeks has passed by at the blink of an eye. As much as I am readjusting back to Canadian lifestyle, I miss Tanzania everyday. However, challenges are waiting for me ahead and I simply can't pass up on it.

My project for the summer is to continue writing little pieces about Tanzania on my blog, so keep posted for my stories.

THANK YOU for journeying with me these past 9 months. I'll be delighted to hear about your journey.

It's just beginning!

Love,
Jen

The School Garden

The school garden in its beginning. Picture with Mwalimu Kiswaga and Eliza.

The demonstration of the plastic bag containers.

Everything was labelled and dated. I think this is Chinese Kale.

The tomato and Chinese kale has been growing very well. (1 month after seeding)

Dirt, Plastic Bags and Food Security

Our everyday view - the desert-like dry-season with its sands and perfectly blue sky.

April 4, 2008

Home gardening promotion is one of my village projects for food security. The top one complaint about why children are not getting enough food is that the villagers simply don’t have money to buy nutritious foods. Apart from the normal ugali (stiff maize porridge) and a bit of relish (usually some local vegetables) on the side, most villagers could not afford foods such as beans and peanuts that are rich in protein and iron to improve their diets. Meat is another luxury that people may possibly have only once a week or even once a month. Some families I know have not tasted meat for a year.

My own demonstration garden, my little piece of heaven where I have toiled and hoed for hours on end, and watered, pruned, and built shades for is one of my favorite projects. There are many challenges with my garden. The first is the weather. The extremely dry weather of Usolanga has made growing certain vegetables impossible. After experimenting, I have found peanuts and beans the most strong-surviving types. I was also told that sweet potato would do good in this weather. One of our staff has been growing sweet potato successfully in his own little garden. In order to conserve water, I use grey water which is water recycled from washing hands and dishes, from cooking and from washing clothes. I have fertilized the soil constantly with compost from food remains and manure from animals. This process also prevents grey water from corroding the soil on long-term usage. My garden have also been destroyed 3 times, twice by donkeys and once by cows (that’s a whole other story). Now, I have fenced the garden well, so there should be no more invasions.

Plastic bags is a major pollutant everywhere in Tanzania and even in the village. You could see plastic bags flying around, or stuck on trees, or on the ground as garbage. After some reasearch online, from a source called “Desertification” (www.desertification.wordpress.com), I have found that plastic bags are great containers to grow plants in. It is moveable and could protect water from evaporation. It is basically putting soil in plastic bags and poking holes on the bottom to let water pass. After trying this method in my house for two weeks, it has proven to work exceptionally well. I have grown chinese kale and beet so far. Even carrots have sprouted. I only needed to water every 2 days.

I have taught home garden methods in the primary school in the standard 5 and 6 classes. Everyday, I would mention to the teachers that we should set up a school garden to supplement the students’ diets. Right now, the students all get uji (a watery ugali porridge) in the morning. This program only goes on until there will be no money to buy maize flour. The teachers are keen and told me to come back one Friday afternoon to plant a garden with the students.

After an afternoon of home visits, I made my way to the school at the designated time with my seeds and plastic bags. By the time I got there, the 4 teachers have already assigned students to cut thorn bushes and fenced off an area for the garden. All the students were there and they were just waiting for instructions from me. I said we needed soil and within minutes, 50 students went to get soil from outside the area. Together, we mixed the soil with already fertilized soil (with manure). Then, we needed plastic bags to contain the soil. The day before, the teachers have already announced for students to bring plastic bags. Quickly, another 50 students ran to the office to get the bags. We filled up the bags with soil and started to seed. All the students were either working or looking. Then, I said we needed water, and instantly one teacher commanded for water to be brought. It was all ready, and then another 10 girls got 10 buckets of water. I advised that we label what we have planted. The headmaster was excited and got out bamboo sticks and name cards, writing down the date of planting and the vegetable name. All the teachers were very keen and involved. I was encouraged by their efforts. Then, another two teachers and a group of students dug up a mound so we can directly seed peanuts and a variety of beans.

That day, we planted almost all the seeds I had. The teachers wanted to try everything from tomato to Chinese kale to peanuts and broad beans. It was a bright sunny day, with all the students busying here and there, the teachers smiling and getting their hands dirty in the soil (they get to show off their farmer skills). It was a special day. For me, this means hope. Hope for the future and the food security problem in the village. The teachers and I even talked about growing maize in the rainy season that is coming up in December. We could make our own uji without asking for money to buy maize flour. When the peanuts and beans are mature, we will mill them and add them to the uji as a source of protein and energy.

My next project is to distribute seeds through the school as students can plant their own plastic bag gardens at home. The parents are now busy with their own farms and since every household is linked with at least a child at school, we thought it is best to distribute seeds through the school.

Atu

Our Sister

Atu has been working for the Anglican Church since her youth. She had gotten a scholarship from the church to study nursing and served in the church dispensaries (there are 3 right now in our Diocese of Ruaha) after graduation. She is the gentlest person I have ever met and when she showed us how to treat patients, she would always speak in a slow and soft voice, saying, “We have to be gentle and encouraging because the person is very important and special.” She is a wealth of knowledge and experience in nursing and in all aspects of life. I am honored to work with her and to know her. Atu raises a 4 year-old daughter, Bertha single-handedly while working full-time at the dispensary. As mentioned before, I have never once heard her complain about her life here. She says, “God gives me the strength I need.” Sacha and I have grown close to Atu and Bertha throughout our days here. We are always over for a tea, a chat, or a meal. We like to cook and share our meals together at each others’ houses.

We have always expressed concern about the understaffed situation in the dispensary, especially to the Anglican Church. However, it is hard to find nurses and doctors who want to stay in this village long-term and they are trying their best. Everyone wants to work for the government hospitals. We felt that it is unhealthy for Atu and Gwivaha to work as much as they do. Sooner or later, they will burn out.

For Atu, it seems that endurance has become her second nature. Since her days at the nursing school, she had small benign (non-cancerous) tumor growths on the right side of her face. Throughout the years, she had 8 operations to remove the tumors. Her largest operation was last summer. The tumor had grown to the size of a football on her right side that her lips drooped down and she could not turn her neck. We hoped that it would be her last surgery. Each surgery is another burden for her and her family. What remains now is a face with one side sunken and horribly scarred. Without knowing her history, some people may be horrified by seeing her face. As we get to know her, we barely notice the scars, but we see a gentle, loving Atu who has become our big sister. She has such a golden heart that she looks beautiful to us.

It was not until two days ago that I had heard the news that Atu has another tumor growing inside her mouth. She felt the tumor since the end of February and decided to observe. She did not tell anyone, not even her family about this. Just two days ago, she resolved to announce her condition to us and to the church staff, so they can arrange a replacement nurse to take her position while she goes for treatment in Dar Es Salaam. She asked us and Andrew and Miriam to help her. Andrew and Miriam had helped and supported her through her surgery last year. Days before her disclosure, Sacha and I both sensed that Atu was more easily frustrated and stressed than normal. In January, Atu had gone to Dar Es Salaam to test for new tumor growth and the results showed no sign of it. She was relieved but upon her return, told me that she was skeptical and was worried her tumor would come back. She was worried about Bertha. She was worried about her parents, about being a burden to them. Moreover, she was tired. She did not have the energy or even the emotional strength to face another potentially unsuccessful surgery.

I have noticed that people do not cry or shed tears in the village. Maybe it is true throughout Tanzania, but I have not seen one adult cry in all my days here. It was two nights ago, sitting in Atu’s living room after dinner. It was the day I found out about her condition and the next day Sacha and I were heading back to Iringa. When I heard the news from Sacha that afternoon, my heart just sunk and I remained quiet until we cooked and went over to Atu’s house. We talked about this, shared our concerns and Atu was as composed as usual, showing us her tumor (about the size of a small walnut). Then, after dinner, I told Atu that we’d like to pray for her. As Sacha and I prayed with Atu, we held Atu’s hands so tightly. We prayed that we did not understand all that has happened, but that Jesus went through all the pain she is going through. He understands. It was the first time I saw Atu cry. She put her hands on her face and just bawled. We held her close and she cried in our arms. Bertha woke up and started screaming when she saw her mother in tears. She was afraid and confused. Sacha quickly hugged her and she went back to sleep. I just cried with Atu. We sat there, not saying one word. There was nothing to say. She had such a heavy load on her heart. In the silence, we carried each others’ burdens.

There was peace, a strange peace in the time of quietness, God has heard us. And there we were, accepting this thing called life. Yes, we are accepting it because it has happened to us, not because we have given up hope. We have each other, we have Jesus who walks with us and loves us. We have strength to face what’s ahead.

Please pray for Atu and her family, for comfort throughout these days, and for healing.

Healthcare Workers in Usolanga

April 13, 2008

St. Luke’s Dispensary currently has one administrator, one nurse and one nursing officer (he acts as a nurse/doctor but only has qualifications for nursing) on staff. The dispensary is understaffed and has been lacking in healthcare workers since the departure of our clinical officer, then of Stella, our young nurse. Atu is now our only nurse and is also in charge of the RCH (Reproductive Child-Health Center). Our nursing officer, Gwivaha and Atu are always on call 24 hours a day and with all the responsibilities of the dispensary, has been working round the clock.

Since Tanzania, as most other African countries are in an immense lack for healthcare workers due to the Brain Drain (trained healthcare workers migrating to other richer countries) and just the inability to train workers at a rate fast enough to the increasing healthcare needs. The Tanzanian government is attracting healthcare workers with competitive pay and working hours. St. Luke’s Dispensary is a mission set up by the Anglican Church. Working for a mission dispensary, salary is always uncertain. Comparatively, the pay is lower and the working hours are longer. Living conditions in the village are tough and with the rush of malaria patients (it is high malaria season during from January to May), life is not easy for Atu and Gwivaha. There are many times when medicines are out of stock or, after trying all possible treatments, patients are sent to other clinics because we simply do not have the capacity to treat them.

Nevertheless, Atu and Gwivaha are exceptional people. From talking to them, I understood that they really are here just to serve the people of the village. I have never heard a single complaint coming from Atu or Gwivaha. Without this dispensary, villagers need to walk 3 hours to the nearest government dispensary for treatment. That is why Sacha and I are in the village doing the health promotion/prevention work. All the staffs are occupied by the work in the dispensary that there are no community outreach workers like us.

The above is a rough picture of life and work for our co-workers, our good friends here in Tanzania. We are a team and we are a family. Recently, I have become more concerned about our nurse, Atu.

In front of the computer

When I was sitting infront of the computer posting all my blogs, Ben (baby) Wingfield came by and stole my orange glasses and was happily eating it. Mama Mariam (in the back) and I teased him about how glasses are not "really food", but he just gnawed away. Ben is one of the dearest babies and is a bit over 6 months old now. He has the happiest smiles that is contagious to all who sees him. Of course, when he cries over something, he is quite invincible. As the child of our country reps, Andrew and Miriam Wingfield, he is our "EI Tanzania baby". He is quite popular with the girls and definitely a good PR personel. He is a must at all social gatherings.
We love you, Ben!

Stories

Everyone has a story to tell. As I collected these stories, I found that these stories, of life in the village are somewhat consistent. What happened in this family is likely to have happened in the family next door. Deaths and sicknesses are as much part of daily life, intertwined with laughter and tears. That’s just life!

Renja

Renja is one of the children who come to my house everyday to sing. She is a sweet 5 year-old girl with a beautiful round face and clear round eyes. She has a pretty smile. I have gotten to know her everyday when she comes to play outside my house. Her house is about a 3 minutes walk from mine. Sometimes we’d sit together and talk. She would tell me that she has no mother and she needs clean water. Sometimes she would draw children in the sand and show me her clay statuettes that she has made with the muddy soil. You could see that despite her young age, she is a leader. The children, small and older ones listened to her leading. They would devise plans to get us out of our house when we had told them that we are currently working on lesson plans so we could not play. They would never give up to call our names, “Jeni! Jeni!” and “Sacha! Sacha!”. Then, they would sing really loudly. They know I could not resist children singing outside my house without joining them.

One day, Sacha and I visited Renja’s grandmother. Her grandmother was a beautiful old woman, but signs of age are evident on her face. I found that it was not only age that made her old, but it was her experiences in life. Her son is Renja’s father, a young man not over his thirties. His first wife, Renja’s mom had died when Renja was still a baby. Later, he remarried and Renja had a second mother. The wife, later developed anemia, but gave birth to a premature baby. Two weeks after giving birth, the young mother passed away last November (refer to blog: A Story for Life and Death). Renja and her little sibling were left motherless. When her father was away from home, working on the rice fields, Renja is entrusted to her grandmother’s care. As men are not accustomed to raise their own children without a wife, Renja spends most of her time with her grandmother. The tiny baby was also left to grandma’s keeping. However, she does not have the ability to raise both children. She described to me of her trip to the nearby orphanage by foot to give away the child. There was no hint of sadness as she spoke. Maybe she has parted with the child and left the emotions behind or maybe she felt no attachment to the baby in the first place. Either way, she has left a burden behind. As for Renja, grandma would ask if we wanted to take her to Canada and raise her. Villagers consider us, white people as being really rich (and we do have more in comparison). We have been asked by many villagers to adopt their children. They believe they will have a better life.

Mama Uzuni

Uzuni is one of Renja’s relative. She is studying in grade 1 at the primary school and she also is one of the regulars that come to play at our house. Her name, Uzuni, means “grief” but contrary to her name, Uzuni is a playful girl and very good at crafts. She would make earrings and little drums out of the tall grasses that are now growing. The children know that I have been growing a garden. So, one day as Mama Uzuni (Uzuni’s mother) was collecting rainwater from our house, she asked me if she could have seeds to grow for her garden. I visited her house the following week and gave her peanut, carrot, spinach and tomato seeds. She was very happy and the next day, we planted them together. She had a small garden fenced with thistles and was already growing a type of pumpkin. After planting, we would sit together and chat. When I asked her why she wanted to plant a garden, her reply was simple, “because I have no money to buy food.” Her husband works in the “shamba” (farm or rice paddies in our village) during the rainy season. When he sells the rice, he can get money to help the family buy food and fuel. This husband is her second because Uzuni’s father had died in 2003. When I asked Mama Uzuni how her husband is, she said, “Hivyo ilivyo” (that’s how it is). She says that he could help out with the family. Mama Uzuni does not have any money or means to make money, so the garden could be very important to her. She and her family ate ugali made from maize flour and sometimes had vegetables to accompany the meal. However, she does not have money to purchase foods with higher nutrient contents such as beans, peanuts and milk. Uzuni has maybe 2 meals a day and one of the meals consists of uji (watered-down ugali). Mama Uzuni has been coughing for one month and since the last time she visited the clinic, a month ago, has not been taking any medicine. It is common in the village to contract respiratory disorders mainly due to the closed-in cooking quarters. The women would sit in a mud-made room with very little windows to cook under charcoal and wood. The smoke does not escape the kitchen very well.

Next week, I promised to come back with beans. We will plant beans together. At least if Mama Uzuni can manage her garden year-round, learn to store seeds and dry the vegetables and leaves for storage, she would have a better diet and readily available foods. I hope that more families will want to plant home gardens.

Bahatisha

From the first clinic session in the village, I have noticed Bahatisha. She has remained in the red zone (underweight zone – translates to undernutrition) on her growth chart since birth. Now, at 11 months old, she is still 3.9kg. Her skinny body makes her head large and eyes enormous. Her mother, Mama Bahatisha never misses a clinic session and yearns to help her child get healthier. A few weeks ago, the mother and daughter came to the clinic because Bahatisha had a fever. From then, I have started to visit Mama Bahatisha and Bahatisha regularly to understand their situations.

Bahatisha is only fed uji and suckles on her mother’s breast often. We talked about nutrition, about small frequent meals, about feeding positions and about complementary feeding. It was on my second visit that I knew the mother had long stopped producing milk. Therefore, without breastmilk, Bahatisha is only surviving on diluted carbohydrates. Bahatisha is her fifth child and she was successful raising her other four children, the oldest being 25 years old. When I asked her how she thinks she can help Bahatisha, she replied, “No, I don’t know.” However, after raising four children, she must have some idea. After giving her a list of advices we could do together to help Bahatisha gain weight and improve her health, she was quite determined to start. The mother was willing to do all she can to help her child. Next week, I will be visiting Bahatisha’s father and teaching them to make nutritious porridge (a mix of maize, peanut and millet flour). I pray that the mother will be motivated to follow the advices. If Bahatisha continues to have fever and diarrhea, she will soon lose the 3.9kg that she already has. Already, her body is weak and not defending well against illnesses.

HIV/AIDS

Each day, our eyes are opened to the realities of this remote village when we learn about the situations in which the villagers live in. One of the realities is the vulnerable position of this village towards the potential spread of HIV/AIDS.

In the country of Tanzania, there are approximately 1.5 million individuals living with HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus – the virus that causes AIDS) and therefore are future AIDS (Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome) patients. The spread of HIV is increasing in at an alarming rate in this country and most other Sub-Saharan African countries. Countries neighboring such as Zimbabwe and Malawi have more than 10% of the population living with HIV/AIDS. Governments are campaigning against AIDS, doing prevention, promotion and education about the disease, which has successfully decreased the number of new HIV cases per year. However, the main problem is that these efforts are not enough and a large majority of Africans are still unaware of the dangers of AIDS.

When we take this large-scale, worldwide epidemic and look at this topic through a magnifying glass into the villages for some clues, it is not hard to find some reasons for the fast spread of HIV. The following is an account of our village, a typical rural village in Tanzania.

AIDS is not yet a visible problem in the village of Usolanga yet. One of the reasons is due to its remoteness. A road for driving was built in 1998, but it was not until the early 2000s that a more accessible road was constructed. It was not until the opening of the one road that the villagers interacted more regularly with larger villages and towns nearby. Before the road was built, villagers used to walk to the nearest village which took at least 3 hours one-way. However, with this advancement, the spread of HIV is also made possible. As more people travel out and guests come to visit the village, it has now been reported that a few villagers are showing symptoms of AIDS.

As every village have its own characteristics depending on the population makeup, the main religion and beliefs and their traditions. Each region has a completely different story. In our village, having several sexual partners is common. One might have many wives, or even with one spouse, have many lovers. Any villager when asked about this topic of marriage or AIDS would explain that “the other villagers” all practice polygamy. The doctor explained that there is a saying in the village, “marriage always consists of 3 people”. He would comment that he would never settle for a woman from the village since he knows that she will not “just” be his wife. When asked about the reasons of multiple partners, he replied that it was the pride of men to have many partners. It may be pride, or a different concept of marriage, or tradition, but I think it is ignorance. Most villagers still considered a spouse who had lovers a heart-wrenching truth. They say it’s bad for their hearts (their emotions), but rather live not to confront this established system.

Most villagers know about condoms, but it is against their belief to use it. Another Tanzanian saying, as explained by one of the nurses about wearing protection is that it is like putting sugar in a bag, you can’t taste its sweetness.

Three times a year, the primary school sends older schoolgirls to have a check-up at the clinic and receive tetanus vaccines. The purpose mainly is to test if the girls are pregnant. Girls in the village, as young as grade 3 (10 years old) may already be sexually active. Young boys and girls have girl/boyfriends. Many mothers, when their daughters are old enough, as young as 12 or 13 years old, tell their daughters that they are now, “mature” and need to find money, food, soap and oil by themselves. She will no longer provide the necessities. The mother herself was raised in such circumstances. Girls tend to exchange sexual intercourse for necessities or money to buy them. Girls still in school have asked the nurses for contraceptives.

Usolanga is a breeding ground for HIV/AIDS, it is just a matter of a few years before it will become a crisis in the village. We can do as much as we can in this HIV/AIDS battle and take it step by step.

Seminars:

Villagers, especially women are interested in learning about HIV/AIDS. We have been approached by various villagers to hold seminars on UKIMWI (Swahili for AIDS). Sacha and I are planning information seminars on AIDS with the health officers. We are praying to use both the Anglican Church and the Roman Catholic Church as places where the seminars will be held and open to the public. Our tentative dates for the seminars are in the end of March and early April. We also intend to give the clinic and the health officers HIV/AIDS pamphlets to hand out to villagers. Our goal is to have the health officers continue to teach on this topic and hold seminars for villagers.

Girls’ Club:

Two weeks ago, we have started a “Girls Only” club at the primary school, catering to girls in grades 6 and 7. The youngest being 12 years old while the oldest in class is 16. Since it is held once a week at the school during one of the “free periods”, we have a high number of attendees. As of now, 76 girls are signed up for our class. When Sacha made the name cards, we found that there must have been 4 Veronicas and 5 Zawadis in class. We think it is important to educate girls since they are among the most vulnerable groups of people (next to children) and will become mothers who can influence their family and the society. Women, especially in the developing countries do not know the extent of their power in changing the society. One of the main reasons is their lack of knowledge and education. One other reason is the hierarchy of the family, where men are considered more superior in decision-making than women.

In the class, we teach about AIDS through the “Why Wait?” curriculum developed by the University of Malawi. It is about protecting oneself, being confident to make good choices in life and saying “NO” to unwanted pressures such as being cohered into sexual relationships. We also teach an English session, which is one of the main attractions of the class. Many girls do want to be able to study in secondary school and English would help them in entrance exams. Knowing English is also an asset for finding a job in town. There is also a session on the Bible. What does the word of God have to say about today’s lesson? When we asked the girls if they believed in God, they all raised their hands. We also have a section of fun and games. The first week, we played a name game and all the girls who participated had fun on the field where we made 2 big circles, called out names and had a bit of running. It was a beautiful Thursday afternoon and we shared it, laughing unabashedly together. Next week, we will be learning a song together in Swahili. In return, we will teach an English song. The girls are exceptional singers and their voices in unison give such a fresh and lively feeling.

Already, we have held 2 Girls’ Club classes. The first class was about how we perceived ourselves and how we think others perceive us. The girls wrote down their descriptions, such as “I am pretty” or “I am smart and practical” or “I am ugly”, and so on. When we asked the question, “This bottle of water is half-full or half empty”, the girls were asked to choose one answer. About 90% of the class chose half-full, which means that they have quite a positive view on life. When we taught and did activities, the girls wrote down everything diligently in their exercise books. They are very attentive and we did not have any problems arise in class. We did mention that the class is optional and we only want to teach students who are willing to learn. The girls however, were really interested in coming to each class. When we taught about AIDS, we enjoyed our little presentation using umbrellas to explain the immune system. Previous interns have left a good lesson on AIDS. It required using 2 umbrellas, one normal umbrella and the other with holes. We then got a student to hold one umbrella while I held the broken one. Sacha poured water on us (water represented diseases), guess who got wet? The person with the holes in the umbrella got wet, which meant that the HIV virus has damaged her immune system to make her susceptible to diseases. In the beginning of each class, we ask them a question, “Are you special?”, then the whole class replied, “I am special!”. Since the first class, we have taught them that they are special and reinforce it every class. They really are special, each one of them and we want them to know that. In our eyes, they are unique. Imagine through God’s eyes, how beautiful they really are!

Perceptions

Perception - that is probably the main reason of surprise and shock for me on my Tanzanian journey. “Be culturally sensitive” was what we were taught back in training school and all the “International Work” seminars. “Observe and understand, then immerse yourself in the culture”, the words that was repeated over and over in those sessions now are more than ever a reality. However, rather than following the steps in acculturation (definition: assimilate oneself in a culture), I find that my own perception of a Chinese girl and university graduate from Canada, and even as a Christian is being proved, disproved and as a result transformed in the everyday life and in no proper order of the way “things should go”. I find myself wondering, sometimes in jaw-dropping amazement of what I have learned and understood.

Appearances:

The definition of physical appearance in Tanzania is almost the opposite of the western one. Here, the more colors, designs and motifs you wear, the higher you are on the fashion board. The bright and shinny tops and skirts, the purple, green or multicolored suits are all among the latest of fashions. Since second-hand markets are teeming with monotone shirts and pants from North America, Europe and Asia, why wouldn’t anyone think that their new clothes made from local fabrics are higher end? I have been refined in my tastes and find the wild colors attractive and cheerful.

Apart from clothes, the physical size and height of a person determines their strengths and weaknesses. As Sacha and I partner together in the village, we are mostly inseparable when we go out for our rounds. Sacha, a tall 6ft. (180cm) Canadian girl is paired with her short Chinese sidekick of 5ft. 3in. (158cm). Although I am average height or even taller than the average Tanzanian woman in the village, however, beside Sacha, the contrast is great. Even I would laugh at our dynamic duo. Because of our differences, some villagers would ask if Sacha was my mother and I was her child. I suppose when I can grow taller, I’ll mature in age too. Another day, some friends were worried that I could not endure the hard work in the field because I am small and shouldn’t have any energy. They were also worried that I could not live in the village by myself and this is due to my height. Gladly, I demystified them by working well in the field and stayed in the village alone while Sacha was away. Apart from height, contrary to western beliefs, large behinds are considered extra-charming here. A big “wowowo” could turn young man’s heads any day. Mama Flora explained, “Women look nice with a big wowowo and you can shake and dance!” A taboo in Tanzania is to show one’s knees, especially women’s knees in public. A woman who exposes her knees is considered one of a bad reputation or profession. The breasts, however are considered nothing more than a lump of fat that produces milk for the baby. Womanhood, in Tanzania of any size and shape is celebrated and that is a rare concept in many parts of the world.

Love, Hate and Politeness:

Tanzania, and especially the Swahili language is one full of courtesies. The beautiful people of Tanzania are among one of the most polite people I have met. When meeting someone, even a stranger, you always greet them and ask them how every aspect of their lives are, from work to family to activities to weather. Always, the reply is “nzuri” (good), “salama” (safe or peaceful) or “safi” (clean). When meeting an older person, the younger one would greet with “Shikamoo” (literally means “I want to hold your feet”) and the reply is “Marahaba” (I am delighted).

Whenever I pass by any house, I am welcomed with Karibu (welcome) to have chai (tea) and ugali (stiff maize porridge – the main staple in Tanzania). There is not one time when I visited a friend or villager (even strangers) during lunch or dinner time that I am not asked to join the family for chakula (food). There is always enough, even when there is nothing left to offer. Whenever a guest passed by the house, the host or hostess would always stop work and attend to the guest. There is always a lot of “asante” (thank you) that goes back and forth. When there is no more to say, you say, “asante”. By the end of a visit, we would have thanked the host more than 5 or 6 times (sometimes even more), thanked God and gotten thanked for coming. Our friend, Ellie who taught at the Kilolo secondary school enjoyed the politeness of the students. The students called her “madam” or “miss” and always offered to carry her workbag, groceries or water buckets for her. Being a teacher is an honorable profession in Tanzania.

I have experienced that love and hate is rarely expressed in a straightforward way. In the village, lovers do not hold hands and would never show public affection. However, men holding hands with men or women with women are common sights, an expression of friendship. When people fight or are angry at each other, there are many ways that they could convey their feelings. Apart from the confrontational quarrels and fights, one could just buy a kanga (local cloth that has a proverb printed) with a bad proverb such as “I hate you”, or “You cry always” and wear it just to show their adversary. You could dedicate a song and message for someone on the radio expressing angry feelings or buy “I Hate You” cards from the store which comes with a picture of flowers and is decorated with hearts. The message, however, is not as lovey-dovey as the picture. The bookstore owner explained to me that “I Hate You” cards are, “ good cards to give because how would someone know that they have offended you if you didn’t give them a card?” (they are usually sold-out). Then again, there are also the “I am sorry” cards and “I forgive you” cards. It is a great idea! Why waste your worries and words when you could send a card that conveys precisely what you are feeling and is more refined and poetic.

Being Chinese:

For the most part, I am known as a mzungu (white person) because compared to most Tanzanians, I have white skin. I do sometimes get into a long discussion about why my skin color is yellow and a bit darker than white, therefore, not white. For those who understand the difference in skin colors and facial features, they call me, “Mchina! Mchina!” (Chinese! Chinese!).

The Chinese people are not as foreign to Tanzanians as other nationalities. During Tanzania’s socialist days, in the 60s, communist China was a brother to the nation. The Chinese government sent hundreds of Chinese workers to Tanzania to build the first railroad, the Tazara Railway. It runs from Tanzania to Zambia and is still in use. However, a ride to Zambia took 2 whole days on the train and only 24 hours on the bus. During the 80s and 90s, there were many Chinese that sought Tanzania as a land of good venture. Chinese doctors opened Chinese clinics and used Chinese Medicine to treat patients. Others built shoe-making factories, restaurants, garages and nowadays internet cafes, and so on. Everywhere around the world, the Chinese people work hard to strive in everyway possible for a better life. It is the Chinese motto to endure hard work and its bitterness. Many Tanzanians commented to me that they liked the Chinese people because they are hard workers and smart.

On the opposite side, due to the spread of mass media and the craze over oriental martial arts in Africa, I am automatically associated with kung-fu. The only Asians they see on TV are Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan and Jet Li, all masters of the art. In the market when people see me coming, they often signal to me by using their own kung-fu moves. Because I am Chinese, I should know kung-fu. Sometimes I jokingly admit that I am actually Jackie Chan’s sister. Most people believe me right away, yet I of course tell them the truth in the next instant that neither am I related to Jackie Chan (maybe I am by some far ancestry) or know kung-fu. Sacha, however, knows Hapkido (a Korean martial art) and self-defense. She can single-handedly chop three pieces of wood boards. When she showed her kicks and moves to a friend in the village, she immediately became famous. A rumour was spread within young people that Sacha beat up a fundi (a carpenter working in the clinic) and made him cry. As rumours go, it was not true, but we do feel happy that no young man wants to bother those two “white girls” who lives behind the clinic.

Masai:

The Masai people continue to amaze me. This tribe is especially famous for their tribal rituals, colorful “Shukas” (cloth worn by the Masai people) and their nomadic behaviors. As herders, the Masai usually travel long distances to find good grazing lands for their cows and goats. They are good walkers and usually have a lean body with very little fat but all skin and bones, but are tall with long necks. The Masais are famous throughout the land for their fearlessness to wild creatures and ability to bring down a lion if needed to.

Being a prideful tribe, proud of their way of life, they adorn themselves with beaded necklaces, earrings, anklets, walking sticks and sturdy walking sandals (the sandals are bought from the Swahili people from the coast). Traditional rituals include the special “jumping” contest between the men. As the men chants, they each jump as high as they can to show their manhood. The highest jumper is considered the strongest and a good potential as a husband for the ladies. As the boys reach manhood, they are expected to leave their village and wander in the land, finding their own paths in life. This is a coming-to-age ritual. Although traditions in the Masai villages didn’t change much, the times are changing. Masais now are usually equipped with a bicycle (a luxury in the village), a cell phone and plenty of cash. The Masais are rich people since the herds are worth high values. It is like owning stocks, until you sell them they are only virtual assets. The Masais do not like to sell their cattle. They like their way of life and only sell a cow when they need emergency cash. A cow is around $300 or 300,000 shillings. Considering that the average wage of a storekeeper is 45,000 shillings per month, the Masai people are very rich. However, in a material world where money is as important as water, the Masais don’t seem to care about it. Happiness could not be bought and nothing in the world could make them happier than living the life they have inherited from their ancestors.

Nowadays, the Masai tribe has become a large commercial business. They are featured in paintings, woodcarvings that are sold in every tourist attraction. The Masai people travel to touristy places like Arusha (near Mt. Kilimanjaro) or Zanzibar to sell their beadworks and necklaces. However, they no longer make their beads over fire like the olden days. The beads that they use now are imported from Croatia. It is easier to buy imported beads than to make their own. A lot of them also found jobs as guards due to their ability to fight the wild. Our clinic night-guard is a Masai man. Those who are born in families where education is valued go on to secondary school and even university. However, education is not a priority for most of the Masai people I meet.

In Kenya, the Masai tribe is on the verge of extinction. It is due to the government reducing usable grazing lands for the Masai people. In Tanzania, the Masai people have no obstacles in finding grass fields for their cows and as a result, there are plenty of Masais roaming the land. I believe that it is their pride in their culture that sustained their traditions and ways of living. Other tribes may retain some customs, but as one observes, they are quickly being assimilated into the mainstream culture, losing its original charm and flavor. The Masais hold their head high and stride in their long legs as princes of the land. It is a rare confidence that most people have lost or have never known.

Little Bits of Life

February 13, 2008

After my parents departure, I returned to the village for some “real” work. Life and work in the village has its ups and downs, definitely many challenges and chances to be stretched as a person with each circumstance.

School:

Since the second week of January, I have been scheduled to teach at the primary school. I had my lesson plan ready and was excited about teaching nutrition in Swahili. However, when I went to school on my scheduled starting date, there was no one at school. The teachers forgot to inform me that the district education board decided to add one more week to Christmas vacations! So, there was no school that week. Another week, in the beginning of February, I returned to the school to teach but was informed by the teachers that school is closed that week. The teachers were helping the government register villagers for voting. In order to earn an extra income, the teachers helped with the registration process. Apart from the teachers and dispensary staff, there are few educated individuals in the village to carry on that work.

Finally, this week, I got to teach! I prayed lots and really enjoyed teaching. However, on my first day, instead of teaching the 2 periods that I was assigned to, I ended up teaching 4 periods due to a misunderstanding of the period lengths. I finally understood that the first bell means the starting of class, the second means that one period has finished and another is starting and the third bell is for break time. Poor grade 3s and grade 4s got so bored because it was such a long class!

On the second day, I taught grade 5 and grade 6. They were very smart and understood everything. Thank God also, that I was able to teach very well with my limited Swahili. I did pray a lot beforehand and trusted God in guiding me. That day, the boy who sounded the bell probably fell asleep because he forgot to ring the bell, so I only had 15 minutes to teach the last class.

I remember walking into the grade 5 class and thinking that there were relatively few students in that class. Everyone indeed thought that it was a small class, but when asked how many students are in that class, it was 45. The grade 6 class had 120 students. Many students sat on the floor since every seat was taken. I remembered growing up in Canada where the class size limit was 30 students per class. Here, there really is no limit in class sizes. Although sometimes naughty and playful as normal children, the students in the class were really attentive and listened well despite the crowded classrooms and poor lighting.

Dispensary:

The nurses have found that some children have come to the dispensary with oedema (swelling) in their arms, legs and faces. This may be a sign of Kwashiorkor (a kind of Protein-Energy Malnutrition (PEM)) which means that the child has had chronic lack of protein that caused abnormal metabolic changes in his/her body. As a result, I am recently researching about Kwashiorkor and suitable dietary interventions. I wish to produce pamphlets on Kwashiorkor, other PEM, and malnutrition disorders such as anemia (it is prevalent in the village) and hold classes for mothers of malnourished children in the months to come.

Clinic Day:

The clinic day this month was as usual (weighing and recording growth charts), except that I have started a list of children whose weight status is in the grey and red zone (underweight and malnourished zones). I intend to have home visits for these children and their family.

If you are in Tanzania, as you meet more people, you will quickly realize that the names that people give their children are quite interesting. The popular names are Neema (Grace), Yohanna (John), Ruka (Luke) and other Christian names. Some people name their kids Zawadi (gift), or Baraka (blessing) which are all good names. However, there are those who are named Shida (problem) and names like Sitaki (I don’t want) or Tatu (Three) which in my opinion are not the most positive names to bear. So on Clinic Day last week, we called out children names that made all of us in the room couldn’t resist our laughter. We called out, Kikwete (the name of the president of Tanzania). When we asked the Masai mother, “Where is Mkapa (the name of the former president)?”, she responded with, “Oh! He is at home!”. She had named her older child Mkapa! Another name we called out was Baba Yake (His father). I am absolutely intrigued with the names that people give their children.

Home Visits:

As mentioned before, I have started to keep track of specific children that are considered malnourished or have other health problems who come to the dispensary or to Clinic Day. I am starting home visits to help me understand the situation of the family and plan nutrition education for the family to improve their family’s nutritional status.

I have done two home visits this week. One visit was to a family where the child, Sofia, 4 years old has Juvenile Arthritis (JA). She has had arthritis for 3 years already. Her hands are deformed with joints that are crooked. Her mother brought her to the clinic because her left shoulder joint hurts. She could not lift it up. I visited her and explained to her mother and father that I wish to come often with more information about JA for them. The family understands that she has a bone problem and had gone to the town hospital for check ups before. However, they have no idea about the actual disease and what they can do for their child. Sofia is a beautiful girl with big bright eyes. It is hard to think that she is in so much pain everyday.

The Rain:

I am more than happy to report that we have had 3 consecutive days of rain in the village! Everyone is overjoyed since collecting rainwater is a clean source of drinking water for the families. They don’t have to collect water from the river. For myself and the few others that are planting a garden in the village, we are thankful for the rain to feed the seeds and allow them to grow. As for all the villagers, it is a blessing for their riverside farms. In this rainy season, most families have moved to the riverside to farm. They grow mainly rice in paddies, corn and beans. I have been praying for rain for 3 months and thank God for each rain in this dry place.

The rain is also a basis for an adventure. When it rains, the road out of the village becomes a muddy pit with the water forming a river on its sides. There is a path nearby the village where cars easily gets stuck, so sometimes you can’t even leave or enter the village by car. On Tuesday, on my way back to town, I got a lift with the dispensary administrator. We came to this stretch of mud and looked at the bus that got stuck in the mud. It completely blocked the road in front. So the driver decided to follow another’s track and pass off-road. As he started off, the car got completely stuck in the mud too! So all the men got off the car, and many other men came since they were waiting for the bus to get de-stuck. They got muddy as the rain poured and the water rose to the knees to cut tree branches, collect rocks and dig the mud to help the tires get out of the mess. We tried several times with many men pushing the car, and it didn’t budge. During this time, our friend from the village came with his daughter to help out. The daughter came to sell maandazi (fried bread) and chai (tea). She was smart, making a business out of the two vehicles’ muddy situation. I thought it quite amusing. I looked concerned since I just watched this event but everyone just told me, “hamna shida” – no problem. Well, there were enough men to help that all the women just stood by the side and watched. I soaked my bare feet in the mud and felt much warmer than staying in the car. We finally succeeded to get de-stuck but got re-stuck again. It took 2 hours of trying and by that time, many people, men and children have come to watch the show. Finally, the village tractor came to tow the bus and our vehicle out of the mud 50 meters into safe-to-drive road. By the time we were free, we followed the extremely slow bus for an hour until we were safe to pass. Our normal journey to town took less than 2 hours, but that day, we took 5 hours. The real adventure has just begun in the rainy season.

Parental Guidance

February 1, 2008

After returning to the village for two weeks in the new year, my parents had come to visit me in Tanzania. I was fortunate to spend time with them, introducing to them this land that I have come to love. Although I had been here for 4 months, I was as curious and excited about the new experiences that we were met up with. My parents also gave me a different perspective to my life here.

They also brought with them gifts from Chinese friends. I was very touched that the friends in China had given us so much in prayer, in thoughts, in material support. Some donated pens, coloring pencils, little toys for the children and much more. One of my father’s colleague donated 20 winding flashlights that did not need batteries. It was a blessing when we passed it out to some people in the village. Due to the dark nights and no electricity in the village, this flashlight has really helped a lot of people. When our solar panel is not working well, the nurses can use the flashlight to help find the veins of patients or even to find the right room key. I sincerely thank all of you for what you have given to us here. We can do very little in the big-scale, but our job is to help in everyway possible in the lives of those around us.

One of the highlights of my parents’ short visit is our day in the village. It was more of a camping experience for my parents. We visited all my friends in the village in the heat of the day and my father videotaped everything. The children at the primary school was finishing their classes and all turned their attention to the 3 Chinese people (which they considered “white people” or guests) and all came running after us as we left the primary school. Imagine having almost 200 students running your way, it is almost as intimidating as being a rock star followed by crazy fans. We quickly tried to escape such great attention, but were still being followed for quite a while with giggling kids.

As we fellowshipped with the village pastor and his family, we blessed each other with a prayer. My father prayed for the church as a blessing from the church in China. We were all moved that we could be standing together, praying in one heart, Chinese and Africans.

After visiting all my friends in the village, we retreated to our village home. Dad quickly went to set up the charcoal stove (he set up good fires due to his camping experiences as a youth) and mom was chopping and cooking while I ran around trying to find everything we needed. We had Stella over for dinner that night and sang together, “Hakuna Mungu kama wewe” – There is no God like You) under the especially starry night. It was overall a good time at the village.

I appreciated my parents’ visit to Tanzania. For them, it was a broadening new experience. My father would always say, “If I can come to Africa, that means someday I can go to the moon.”. He never imagined stepping foot on African soil, but God brought them here. I appreciated their visit even more on a personal level. It means a lot for me that they see this place, the place I work, the place I live now and the people I have come to know and love. Their coming was an encouragement for me. Although the visit was short, we experienced a bit of life under the African sky together and that’s what mattered. Sharing life with those you love is so much sweeter.

Christmas in Zanzibar

December 30, 2007

Reading out the destination name on my ferry ticket, “Zanzibar” already cast a spell on me. What will I expect from this Christmas vacation to a mysterious island in the middle of the Indian Ocean?

A month before Christmas, Sacha and I were sitting in the courtyard of our house in the village, reading the Lonely Planet, the Rough Guide to Tanzania and Footprints to Tanzania, trying to figure out where we would go for our Christmas days off. Sacha came to a strong and decisive conclusion that we have to relax on a beach this Christmas. Of this idea, I had no opposition. Where best to go for the white fine beaches than an island? The island of Zanzibar.

Zanzibar, formerly its own entity has joined Tanganyika (the present Tanzania mainland) in 1964 to form the Republic of Tanzania. Tanzania got its name as a combination of Tanganyika and Zanzibar. Zanzibar is governed under the Republic but also has its own president and cabinet. Prior to democracy, Zanzibar was governed by a line of rich sultans who thrived on the island’s various trade activities. The intensive spice trade in the early times rendered Zanzibar an exotic name of Spice Island. Among the trade of goods, the island was infamous for having one of the largest slave markets in East Africa until the market, Africa’s last was closed down in 1873 through the efforts of missionary David Livingstone in lobbying against slavery.

The long history of the island has left marks which formed what is today, a land of richness in culture and people. The island, mainly Stone Town, the central commerce area was influenced by Arabic, African, and Indian cultures, lasted through times of Portuguese power, British protectorate and socialism. The streets, once booming with Arabic, Indian and African merchants are now the narrow alleyways where children played soccer. The magnificent palaces that housed 1,000 royal family members and their servants in its glorious days are now no more than museums under construction and forgotten ruins. Nevertheless, history has only made this now peaceful island more worthy of its fame.

We spent two days in the infamous Stone Town. True to its name, a town with stone buildings, each linked to the next with alleyways as puzzling as a labyrinth and only wide enough for passing pedestrians and motorcycles. The Arabic style houses with their special Zanzibari doors gave the town a mystic and romantic air.

It was a couple of days before Christmas this year and coinciding with one of the last Islamic holidays. Due to Arabic influence, Zanzibar is roughly 90 percent Muslim. The one-day celebration turned into a four-day party for the whole island. Strolling along the harbor of Stone Town in the Forodhani Gardens (famous for its 20 or so foodstands and 50 cooks firing up each night - my favorite dish was the Zanzibari pizza), the festive air filled the night. Almost everyone stopped work and traveled to Stone Town to celebrate. As we sat with local Zanzibari young people, we greeted them, “happy holidays” and they would joyfully reply, “Merry Christmas” to us. It felt so easy and comfortable. We had different religions and customs, but we enjoyed ourselves as people. It is one of the few places I have traveled where religion is not the tension source that separates people. I am a Christian and proud of it, yet the next Muslim is as happy for me and not shaking his head in disapproval. Thank God for this grace that I have received from a friend, a fellow human being, a brother or a sister. How many times we forget this, that under the different skin colors, the different customs, the different religions, the different ethnicity, we are all the same, people blessed with life. Imagine how places like Canada or USA or Rwanda and Kenya would be like if we all realized this fact? I wonder.

Zanzibar is known as one of the hot spots for expats in the Christmas season. One of the main reasons is for its pristine beaches. World-class beaches surrounded the island situated in the Indian Ocean. If you picked any beach on the island, it would probably get a 5-star rating for the fine white sand, the lack of tourists (compared to places like Cuba, Mexico, Dominican), the captivating clear, blue and ethereal green waters. What I liked best was the lack of intensive development.

As we headed to Bwejuu, a beach on the east coast, we rode in an open-air daladala (mini bus) with 10-20 chairs, metal sheets and wood panels all tied up on the rooftop. Once in awhile, the bus would stop to pick up more passengers or luggage that had fallen off. On the bus, also headed for the beach, I recognized a friend, but couldn’t pinpoint from where. When we saw each other, we immediately knew that we were classmates at McGill University. Erica was her name. She had come to Tanzania also as a CIDA intern. Throughout the trip, we had met many CIDA interns from Tanzania, from Kenya on their holidays. It’s a small world and being Canadian connected us.

As we arrived at the beach resort, “Mustafa’s Nest”, a rasta-run chill place about 1 minute walk to the beach, we were met up with bad management. The budget get-away had lost our booking, but in reality had mixed up every client’s bookings. Sacha and I ended up with a staff room that night. Mustafa’s Nest is a cozy place with lounge chairs, terraces, a nice restaurant, garden and a hilarious, yet absent-minded team of staff. We met and connected with the guests, making great friends throughout our few days there. After swimming in the beautiful green ocean and seeing the moonrise, we headed back to Mustafa’s for dinner. Dinner at Mustafa’s was delicious and fair-priced, but it just took 3 hours to cook. So, we started ordering lunch after breakfast and dinner after lunch. Either way, we still ate at 8 or 9 at night. One night, Christmas eve, the lock to our room was jammed. One staff, Mzee (his name is Mzee – meaning “old man”, it is respectable to be called an old man in this culture) came running with a jack to pry open the door. After half an hour, he succeeded to pry, kick (Sacha helped kick too with her Hapkido kick), and back-bump the door open. After informing the staff that we were “no way” staying in a room with the door open all night, we got a free upgrade to a 3 beds massive bungalow for one night. We consider it God’s Christmas gift for us.

In the morning, the village women would walk for a kilometer out towards the ocean when the tide is out. They would faithfully harvest seaweed as a way of livelihood and income for their family while their children played with the water and sand. The ocean creatures, the small crustaceans would fill the shallow water holes and the crabs would parade the beaches. It was full of life. The cows would stroll down the beach to find pasture. Apart from some salesmen and masseuses (they gave massages, did henna and braided hair), the beach was ours and the villagers welcomed us. It was beautiful.

On Christmas morn, Sacha and I prayed and gave thanks for a different Christmas experience. A Christmas without family around, without attending a Christmas service, without the same Christmas feasts, without lights and shopping malls blasting Christmas music, without any of our familiar Christmas specials and traditions. But it was a good Christmas, one that we know each day is a celebration of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. It was a relaxing Christmas on the beach, but the same God by my side in my walk with Him. This Christmas, I rested and thought how great God is, in creating the ocean, the sunrise, the moon, the beach, the tides and most of all, people.