Tuesday, June 8, 2010

18 Hours and a Dead Goat Later

After a successful orientation in Mwanza with the Arusha team, Emily and I, excited to get the project moving in Arusha, embarked on what we thought would be a twelve hour bus ride. After spending most of the night packing, we groggily awoke after only a few hours sleep, to our 430am alarm clock and the sound of pouring rain; the first major rainfall since my arrival. As our taxi pulled into the bus terminal we were swarmed by people selling plastic bags to put our luggage in. Having been told that luggage gets filthy sitting in the bottom compartment of the bus, among the dust and dirt from the road, we each bought two, and pushed our way through swarms of people onto an already packed bus. Thankfully, Boniface and the Mamas from Arusha were there to escort us, because as we got on the bus a heated argument immediately erupted about Emily and I being in the wrong seats; so heated in fact, that a local policeman had to come aboard and sort things out. After determining that Emily and I were in the right seats after all, we started the bumpy trip.

As I have mentioned before, vehicles in Arusha stop for nothing, and as I stared out my window, captivated by the landscape that grew more lush and mountainous the closer we got to Arusha, a goat trotted onto the street a fair distance from the bus. The bus clearly had no intentioned of compromising its route, and continued to speed down the road running over the goat! Shocked and taken aback I think I let out a scream, and an ``OH MY GOD!,`` which was followed by shrieks of laughter from the locals.

Stopping only twice, once for a washroom break at the side of the road, where Emily and I were forced to relieve ourselves in an open field with no trees or bushes, and the other for a quick lunch, the ride was going surprisingly quickly. I was too preoccupied by our passing of Mount Meru and the deep valleys that characterized the trip, that I was pleasantly surprised when Mama Matei, who was sitting to the right of me announced that we were only a few hours from Arusha. Having already been in Africa for three weeks, I should have known that a prompt arrival was too good to be true, and only forty kilometres from Arusha the bus broke down, as if making a statement that it too would only adhere to “Tanzanian time”. Whereas in Canada a tow truck or mechanic, as well as another working bus would have been sent, here, as the bus groaned to a stop, the driver himself and a few other passengers got out their tools and set to work on repairing it. Five hours later still sitting in a broken down bus in the surprisingly cold night, Emily and I huddled together in shorts and t-shirt sharing a towel for a blanket. Just as we were getting particularly cranky, having spent from 6am until midnight on this bus, the driver gave up and sent for another bus to finish the trip to Arusha.

When we finally arrived, Laurent, a representative of the Youth Self Empowerment Program (YSEP)who we have been working closely with these past few days was there to greet us and take us to our homestay. As we pulled into the Darajab Mbili area, where Emily and I will be staying for the next few months we were greeted by an enthusiastic middle aged Mama Stella, who welcomed us inside. Although it was already one in the morning, we had barely eaten and were filthy from the dirt and dust of the roads. So, after introducing ourselves we were served some of the pilau (spiced rice) she had prepared for us earlier and were offered a shower.
While I wish I could claim that from the start I recognized the value of experiencing life without running water, and the daily necessities that are so commonplace in Canada, for the first time in Africa I went to sleep on the verge of tears. Having spent three weeks in a fully furnished apartment in Mwanza, with a cold, but fully functioning shower, stove and private washroom, although it was a squat toilet, at the home stay in Darajab Mbili I truly experienced culture shock. That night I had my first bucket shower, ate my first meal cooked on small kerosene stove and used a washroom with no door.

The next morning, awoken by the sound of a rooster just outside the house, I stepped outside the room, and as I wandered to the doorless toilet, I had to laugh. Though still slightly discouraged by the significantly colder climate in Arusha, after a breakfast of hot mandazis and chai I was already warming up to the prospect of spending the next three months living a lifestyle completely alien to me. It is incredibly humbling and I must say that I am even enjoying the challenge of making one small bucket of water last long enough to wash my hair, body and feet, which, since Mwanza, seem to be stained permanently black from the dirty.

While the past three days have been long and tiring, yesterday’s meetings starting at 9am and not finishing until around 8pm, the enthusiasm shown by local government officials and prospective women’s groups is encouraging and the project is moving quickly. Tomorrow at 830am we meet with Dr. Mhando, the man who will be making the probiotic culture for us in his lab followed by a trip to the Garabatoni region, where groups have also shown interest in the project. By Friday we hope to have a location for the kitchen secured.
While I wish I could describe Arusha more thoroughly now, it is getting late and a few quick sentences will not do the city justice. So, more on Arusha later! Usiku muema! (Goodnight!).

1 comment:

  1. Oh wow Marta. One bucket of water to remind us over here of our 'haves' status. I'm glad you are well and it was bizarre not to hear from you for a couple of days. I had emailed dad, even though I knew you were en route, asking if he'd heard from you.
    Glad you are well, and enjoy the challenge. The goat story is just so disturbing.

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