Afterscenes - 2 Years Since Tanzania

It's been, as the title says, almost two years since I've been back from Tanzania. Even though it has been a long time since my return, people and events, my memory of Tanzania is still so real.

In movies, sometimes there's after-scenes where it shows the lives of people after the whole story has ended. Life goes on, not always pink and rosy, but it still continues.

So here's some after-scenes:
Andrew and Miriam are still the country representatives of EI Tanzania and continue to manage projects in the country. They have, however had an addition to their family, another charming blond boy named Samuel. I'm also still anticipating the adventures of Andrew, Miriam, Ben and Sam.

Not long after returning to Canada, Atu had new tumor growth. With the help of Andrew and Miriam, she had the opportunity to go to Kenya to see a specialist and have surgery. Her conditions seem stable at this point. I still pray for her health and for Bertha. Bertha must be so tall now and going to school!

While working with Bahatisha, a severely malnourished toddler, I felt quite hopeless when her situation was not getting better. I knew the consequences and have seen it over and over again in the village with children alive one day and dead the other. So I could only pray for her and God did the rest. The pastor's wife in the village has a dairy cow and when I told her about Bahatisha's situation (her mother did not have breastmilk), she offered her two cups of milk a day. We would boil the milk for sanitation and follow nutritional guidelines in diluting the milk to feed Bahatisha. In Iringa town, I consulted a British pediatrician friend about her situation. She prescribed me zinc, iron and vitamin A supplements. We also incorporated nutritious flour (milled from numerous local grains and nuts) to improve her protein intake. With these nutritional intervention and prayer, every month Bahatisha gained an average of 1 kg. Thick black hair began to grow on her head, replacing the yellow and brittle ones and her eyes were more attentive and aware of her surrounding. This is one of my biggest rewards and for Mama Bahatisha, she always has a smile when she sees me. That's a major change since her days at the clinic. I am still praying for her to healthily grow up, past the age of 5 and into adulthood because I know the harsh realities of the village.

The Rainwater Harvester project in Usolanga finished in December 2008. Now, women no longer need to carry buckets of water to the clinic to give birth. A small step in the water system of the village in my point of view is a major stride towards a safer and cleaner future for Usolanga.

As for us, Joe and I have recently both finished our master degrees. He studied International Relations while I concentrated on Environmental Assessment. Sacha is currently more than halfway through her master in Nursing. Sacha and I still see each other at least once a week because we both live in Montreal. Tanzania was once a place where our lives mingled so closely. Now, our personalities, interests and futures diverges completely. One thing for sure is that Tanzania will always be on our hearts.

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit a Christian school in China and give a presentation about children and life in Tanzania. It has been 3 years since I have visited China so to most of my friends, the newest event in my life was my trip to Tanzania. Preparing for the talk, I reviewed all my pictures and blog entries. There is no doubt that part of my heart is still beating for this land and their people, my people. I am part of my little village.

After the presentation, the primary school children wanted to pray for these African children. One of them prayed, "God, even though we have a lot and the African children have very little, please do not let us look down on them. Help us remember that we can learn from them about facing the hard things in life."

So, I was thinking to myself, was this Tanzanian safari a success? What did I accomplish? Realistically, my 9 months in Tanzania was too short to see any profound effects. As I was familiar with how things worked in the village and gained the trust of the villagers, I had to leave. I really don't know what success is and how it should be measured with my line of work. In text books and reports, it was the percentage of deaths lowered, the attendance at school increased, the rate of disease contraction decreased and so on. But what does that really mean? I believe my villagers in Usolanga has done more for me than I could ever do for them. They have showed me that there is no limit in the size of love and caring. They have made me one of them and opened a door for me into their lives. I learned from them lessons that I could never learn elsewhere. When I returned to Canada, people would say to me, "Life in the village must have been tough for you." My response was always immediate, "Not at all, it was great! I loved living there and would go back anyday!" Nothing was ever too hard. Actually, every new experience was a new adventure. I had a blast! Then I really pondered about this type of comments from friends and acquaintances when it came so many. If it was not for God's grace and calling in my life, I could not have gone to Tanzania and adjusted to such contrasting environment so quickly and happily. I think the same goes for Sacha, Joe, Andrew and Miriam. Rats and bats, snakes and cockroaches, the dry sun and dust, life without electricity and running water are part of the lives of those I love. And I love to be with them. Because of them, I lived a life worth living.

Well, I guess this is a nice wrap to my story of Tanzania. Maybe it is time for me to start another adventure and continue my documenting work.

So, Kwaheri (Good-bye) for now and Hello for later.

These are my final words on this blog, but I'm in the process of setting up a new one, so keep posted.

Note: You could catch me here at my new blog: http://www.proceedingwithgrace.com

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.