Hodi from Diane in Arusha!

Sanjay, Stacey and I have been cohabitating, working, eating and brainstorming together for over a week. Never a dull moment!! Sanjay and Stacey have the energy of the bunny squared. It is a challenge to even try to keep up with them, especially for a Shikamoo (Swahili for elder) of advanced years. After eight days with my partners, I am over-stimulated, exhausted, excited, energized and exhausted again.

This afternoon we had the pleasure of talking with Mr. Gidori, the father of Gideon, an adorable, inquisitive and very bright Shepherds Junior third grader. Mr. Gidori is a member of the Parents Committee and we thought it would be interesting to get his perspective on the school. When he walked into Mama Lucy’s living room, I could not get over the resemblance between him and his son. And after talking with him for only the first few minutes the resemblance went far beyond the physical. 

Mr. Gidori explained that he has a small welding business and also is a minister. He had traveled to Australia and had seen the abundance of the “first” world society. I can not begin to imagine the sensory stimulation that one would experience traveling from one of the poorest countries in the world to the continent of Australia. Mr. Gidori loved his visit to Australia but he kept on thinking “How could this be? How could we all have the same God?.”  It was stated in an intellectual way, a curiosity, not in an angry or resentful way.  Mr. Gidori wonders, as we all do, why would God create a world were some have so much and some so very little? What is that all about? Why such global economic disparity from a god who creates humans in his image?  Like me, he does not have an answer, just these unanswerable questions. 

Mr. Gidori’s frankness and thoughtful questioning reinforces what I know…that we are all in this together. He went on to say, “if you tell a man he is weak, he will be weak, if you tell a man he is poor, he will be poor.”  We’ve seen many instances here where well-meaning westerners and missionaries come and build schools, hospitals and charities in “the mzungu way” (i.e., the foreigner way).  I believe this approach in many instances perpetuates exactly the problem that Mr. Gidori has identified by implicitly communicating that Tanzanians are somehow unable to do the work themselves – which could not be further from the truth.  Shepherds Junior is just one of many examples we’ve seen here of incredible intelligent, hard-working, committed locals working against all odds to improve their own community.  This is why Epic Change will continue to empower local leaders and the projects they identify rather than initiating our own. 

Mr. Gidori continued:  “Why is Africa called the dark continent? Africa is full of hope, a continent blessed with enormous amounts of natural resources.” He conveys a sense that by empowering the African population with education, confidence and a trust in themselves, everything they need, they have. 

As Sanjay filmed the conversation, Stacey and I were listening to Mr. Gidori, riveted by his social consciousness and articulation of what I thought was my unique political and social perspective. And here in Mama Lucy’s living room in Kimandolu, Arusha – in Africa, Mr Gidori, a Shepherds junior parent “gets it” and articulates the philosophy better than I do. There is a world full of hope here. And yes, Stacey was choked up and teary-eyed!!! 

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 (Stacey here, as always adding my two cents – and, by the way, I only cried a little:  In fact, we got an email message from Mr. Gidori.  I thought you might like to hear directly from one of the parents, so I got his permission to publish it here.  He wrote:

Hello friends,
It was so great to meet with you today!  As one of the school committee members, and Gideon’s dad, am so impressed with what you Americans are planning to do to help Mama Lucy with the progress of the school in Tanzania. Thanks so much for joining us.
 
I have been reading the website of Epic Change. The blog is so wonderful. I did not know what happened really with the trip of our kids to Tarangire, but now I know in details.
 
We have a common Swahili saying: “Ndege wanaofanana huruka pamoja” which means, the birds with the same feathers fly together.  It looks like we have “the same feathers” according to Stacey’s vision of how you are planning to come and help Tanzanians.
 
Please feel free to ask anything from me. On the other hand I will try all my level best to tell you whatever I feel to tell you. We are friends now!
 
I invite you to visit our ministry whenever you have time.
Blessings!
Gidori)
 
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Spending time with Mr. Gidori was an absolute pleasure-another look at all the potential, all the possibilities that the locals have to create their own destiny. We plan to visit with more of the parents this week. 

Now if I could just get S and S to slow down to 4^th gear, I may survive the next 2-3 weeks . . . 

Posted: November 18th, 2007 under The Foundry.
Comments: 3

Yesterday was beyond surreal. I’m still not certain it really happened. Earlier in the week, Mama Lucy invited us along on a field trip to Tarangire National Park, a place we’d all wanted to visit the last time we were here as it’s known for incredible herds of elephants, as well as giraffe, zebra, lions, baboons, antelope and many other safari animals. Of course, we jumped at the chance to spend an entire day having fun with the children. As it ended up, we did “have fun,” (if you can call it that) though surely not as we’d originally intended.

As we got on the bus, we noticed children and teachers crammed 3 and 4 to a seat without a single complaint. They were all so happy to be going, and they sang to make the hour-long bus ride to the park pass quickly – of course, they started with one of my favorites “Be Happy Before You Die” which still, though it’s title is morbid, is perhaps one of the happiest songs I’ve ever heard. As they sang “shake-a your body before you die, “ Sanjay, Diane and I shook our booties from the front of the bus to the kids’ delight.

We made a couple of quick stops on the way – one at the National Parks headquarters and another to let the children use the restroom or “choo” as it is called here. As we drove into Tarangire, we saw several antelope, including Thompson’s gazelles and tiny dikdiks. Mama Lucy wondered aloud where all of the elephants were, as we saw evidence of them (i.e., dung and bulldozed trees), but, despite Tarangire’s reputation as “the” place to see elephants, we wouldn’t see even one.

Of course, that could be because our bus got stuck in the sand and, after our unwitting driver spun his wheels burying even our axles in the sand and completely burning out the vehicle’s clutch, we were stuck in that spot for over four hours, with forty children forced to be quiet for fear of predators. No joke. Lions and baboons are fierce creatures, and children make for an easy meal.

For the first hour or so, we made every effort to rescue ourselves. Our drivers dug with their bare hands, covering themselves with sand from head to toe. We got out to push and, eventually, despite our initial protective attempts to keep all of the children on the bus, we unloaded all of the children to lighten the load, and to solicit the help of the older (read: 9- & 10-year-old) boys to push with us. Even our joint attempts were in vain. After that we loaded all of the children back onto the bus, only letting them off in small groups to pee into the wild, hoping (and I’m not joking) that monkeys didn’t carry them off and elephants didn’t charge our stranded bus full of children.

Eventually, two land rovers drove by, stopping briefly but offering no assistance; you can’t imagine how frustrated and surprised we were when these safari guides drove off without rescuing us or even bothering to report our situation to the park rangers. Of course, we’re not entirely certain our own driver didn’t, in a machismo-induced stupor, indicate in Swahili that he had the situation under control.

All the time, we were trying every cell phone on the bus, none of which seemed to be working. Eventually, our luck broke and the driver’s cell phone picked up coverage. Mama Lucy called her friend at National Park headquarters, who called the local park office to arrange for some help. While we waited for nearly four hours in 1-million-degree heat for assistance to arrive, not one child complained or misbehaved, and I set about to interviewing several of them and their teachers (click here for a short, funny clip of Teacher Ruth) to learn more about their lives. I learned so much – 11-year-old Devonshire was sitting next to me, and was incredibly articulate, so I learned most about him. His parents live in Nairobi, but he moved here to live with his grandmother. I asked him why, and he replied that, in Nairobi, there is too much fighting, not with hands, he said, but with guns. He said that he was scared.

Nearly five hours after we were originally stuck, and when we’d nearly given up hope, a bulldozer pulled up. Mama Lucy said that their arrival was not necessarily, however, a response to our call, simply a coincidence; in fact, once they’d pulled us out of the crater that our spinning tires had dug, they left us for an hour or so and continued about their business digging up sand further down the road.

Eventually, after our driver learned that the bus would no longer work at all, the bulldozer returned, and hitched us to the back via a single chain. As soon as we were hitched, I continued in my quest to document the entire experience and fearlessly leapt from the bus to grab a few photos. Of course, the bulldozer started tugging and I was forced to walk – in a wild game park – to catch up to the bus. Luckily, I’d narrowly averted a baboon attack, as only minute or two after I got on the bus, we saw a few wander past. Once they remembered not to leave without me, they picked me up and the dozer drug us for at least a half hour back to the park rangers’ offices. The chain broke on a couple of occasions, and we were jerked back and forth over terrain that no bus was meant to cover.

As we were dragged, Mama Lucy shared some of the history of her career, which was incredibly interesting. I plan to videotape her story later, and will definitely post it here once I have.At the offices, Mama Lucy, Sanjay, Diane and I went to ask about a spot where we could rest and give the kids their lunches. It was already 5 p.m., so the lunch which they’d earlier missed was now becoming supper. As we were waiting at the office, Mama Lucy’s phone rang and she received word that her sister-in-law had passed away at the hospital. While she stoically struggled to hold back tears, she informed us that her sister had gone to the hospital, but that her illness was only minor, so the death was totally unexpected. As she rounded the corner to call the children for lunch, she started to cry, although she fought hard not to. At times, no language is enough and, in our current situation, with this further terrible news, neither my English nor limited Swahili vocabulary had the words to express how sorry I was.

We called the children from the bus, and served them from buckets chicken, curried beef, muffins, fruit and potatoes that Mama Lucy and the teachers had probably worked half the night to prepare. The children ate with hunger, asking not for more fruit or muffins, but several asking for multiple helpings of meat and potatoes, which I served. I saw one child fold what she could into her pocket for later. Little Naomi had joined the trip despite the chicken pox covering her face and, given her illness was refusing food. (We’re hoping she was no longer contagious, or are waiting to find out Monday that she’s transferred the disease to 40 of her friends.)

The teachers, who’d been sitting squished in the back all of the bus all day insisted on carrying and serving all of the food, but we likewise insisted on helping and instead served their meals to them. They work so hard; I wonder the last time anyone has ever prepared a plate for them.

As the children finished up their meals, someone informed our group that it was now 6pm, and the park was closing. Despite the fact that our bus was not working, the park insisted that we vacate the premises, and the bulldozer towed us outside the front gate, where we sat and now waited for another bus to arrive. While we waited, the teachers served a small bite of a birthday cake that little Junia, a boy who turned 7 yesterday, had brought to share while the children sang “Happy Birthday” to him. We reboarded the broken bus and continued to wait. To keep the children busy, we told stories, as did they. Leah told us the story of a little girl who wanted to touch the stars in the sky, and tried to convince butterflies to carry her up to see them.

As the evening wore on, we switched to a new topic, and the children wanted to ask us questions about ourselves and about America. George asked, “What tribe are you from?” Another asked what tribes we had in America. Leah asked questions so insightful you can’t imagine them from a third grader in a third world country: “What motivated you to return to Tanzania?” “Do you love your president?” she asked and continued “Were you happy when Saddam Hussein was killed?” I responded hoping, likely in vain, that my answers were nearly as intelligent as her questions.

9-year-old Gideon then insisted that Sanjay teach them some Spanish and, finally, after 8pm, our rescue bus arrived. As we began to drive, I said “moto kubwa” (big fire!) as I noticed flames in the distance. As it turned out, the massive flames were visible from inside the bomas of the Masai (mud & stick hut communities). As dry as it’s been, I don’t know how their fire stoves don’t set the plains of Tanzania ablaze. We continued to experience further delays when we were stopped at a police checkpoint and nearly waylaid as the guard tried to stop us since the driver wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. Fortunately, after some negotiation with Mama Lucy, he allowed us to continue. Though we were further delayed behind a wedding, funeral or celebratory procession of some kind, and stopped en route to drop several children off at their homes, we eventually made it back to the comfort of our pseudo-home at the Arusha Resort Center. At the bar downstairs, we drank the coldest soda we could find to quench the greatest thirst we’ve ever had. I took a freezing cold shower, skipped dinner, and fell to a coma-like sleep (which, fortunately, was not induced by African sleeping sickness brought on by the bite of a tsetse fly in Tarangire, but only by complete and total exhaustion.)

Since we last wrote, we’ve spent some time at the school playing with the children and working with Mama Lucy. There have been a few interesting and, we’re praying, minor setbacks.

• The seller of the land we wish to purchase for the school has now discussed the matter with the elder who manages the tribal land, and the elder is unhappy with the sale. This type of conversation is typical of local real estate transactions, and we expect the matter to be quickly resolved once he learns that the property will be used to build a school.

• The owner of her current location visited the school yesterday and has informed Mama Lucy that he wishes to build a hotel on the land beginning in January. We’re still hoping (and she believes) that he’ll postpone his plans and allow her to remain until a new facility can be built, although we plan to search for “Plan B” while we’re here (which may just be Mama Lucy’s back yard.)

• Finally, Mama Lucy has been trying to obtain NGO status from the government for months, and has been assured for weeks that it is nearing approval. While she’s in Dar Es Salaam to mourn her sister-in-law, she now plans to visit the state department too. All of the paperwork, forms and inspections have been completed; it’s now just a bureaucratic hurdle.

We are addressing developments, and are still hopeful that construction will begin this year. Last year, she was able to construct three classrooms in her back yard in less than 6 weeks over the holidays, so we’re hoping for (and working hard to ensure!) the same speed and progress during the last few weeks of 2007.

We’ve gotten a cell phone – feel free to call us at +255 (0) 784 245 221. We’re not certain whether you need to dial the zero or not from the US. Internet is still a mess, as we are not able to connect at our apartment, and are relying on barely open and reliably slow internet cafes. I’m also happy to report that our meals are improving – for the last two nights we feasted on roasted red pepper and garlic pasta that I made. It was actually delicious, or at least a radical step up from our previous curry-like concoction.

In addition to the Muslim prayers that we hear sung over the loudspeakers at 4:30am every morning, last night we heard fireworks last night in the distance ringing in Diwali or Hindu New Year – so happy New Year to all!

Read on . . .

Posted: November 11th, 2007 under The Foundry.
Comments: 1

Karibuni Tanzania!!!

Well, we made it! After spending a full night as the only mzungus stranded and sleepless at the Dar Es Saalam airport, we’ve now been in Arusha for over 24 hours and have just survived our first “home-cooked” supper which I haplessly concocted from local rice, vegetables, dried coconut milk, burnt peanuts and whatever spices I could find. Actually, I think food poisoning can set in up to 12 hours later, so let the countdown begin. Hopefully, our gastrointestinal systems will survive until morning. This visit, we’re fending for ourselves in the food and shelter department which, so far, has been an interesting, educational and liberating experience. Should be fun.

Already we’ve been to the school to visit the children and have met with Mama Lucy to plan our short month here and already, our approach has been confirmed: the stories of Shepherds Junior are truly incredible.

Mama Lucy shared a story today of Sayuni, an orphan girl who’s about 5 years old. The teachers were having a staff meeting and discussing the problems in their class, and Teacher Rachel (who teaches pre-unit class, the equivalent of American kindergarten) asked her coworkers for help. Her student, Sayuni, was coming to class filthy every day because nobody at the orphanage was able to take care of her and wash her school uniform. Teacher Rachel wanted to make sure that the child wasn’t ostracized by the other students and was well cared for. She talked with her fellow teachers, and, among them, they collected enough to purchase the child a second uniform. One teacher volunteered to buy the detergent to clean the child’s clothes, another to buy lotion and soap to wash the child and another to wash the child’s clothes regularly. These teachers’ salary is about $100 USD per month; the generosity of those who have nothing is truly inspiring.

We ate lunch at the school today too, a simple seasoned rice dish called pulau. As we were served just after the children, Mama Lucy explained that she and the teachers always eat whatever is provided to the children, and said that they would only serve to the children what they were willing to eat themselves.

Not much time to write – so much to do.

I hope you are moved, as we are, by the generosity of those who have so little. While we’ve raised nearly enough for the land, the exchange rate is not working in our favor, and we could certainly use your donations and subscriptions to ensure we have funds to initiate construction.

Much love.

Posted: November 8th, 2007 under The Foundry.
Comments: 1