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.