The other day, my wife had her life disrupted for the day while the local utility company was in the neighbourhood repairing power lines. We talked that night via Skype, and she was complaining about the inconvenience of it all. When I mentioned that I was in day three of no power here, we both realized that there are many things we in Developed Nations take completely for granted. What seems to be a « major » inconvenience may simply be daily life for others. What it really comes down to is how we perceive things. I know of people in Chilliwack, BC who think nothing of taking five or more showers in a single day. In rural Afrika, showers are exotic. Water may need to be carried up to five kilometers, and it would be unthinkable to use that water to simply pour out over one’s self.

A couple weeks ago, A transformer station in Chilliwack caught on fire, causing power outages between Chilliwack and Abbotsford. Some people where without power for several hours while the fire was extinguished and repairs made. My son, who is in grade 11, overheard several students complaining bitterly that they could not access the internet to check their Facebook pages and the like. Another one of his friends was angered by this, and quickly pointed out that they had no right to complain so – when there where so many people that could be sick or injured and unable to access emergency services. Again… there is this matter of perception. We often tend to see things only through what inconveniences us and fail to see the bigger picture.

There seems to be two primary types of Western travellers who come to Afrika. The first is the consumnate « tourist » – those who have decided to come here to experience the exotic, go on Safaris and engage in cultural tourism (visit the Maasai in their villages and witness how the « natives live ». They come to see the « Big Five » (Lions, Rhinos, Elephants, Cape Buffalo and Leopards), and are disappointed if they fail to see them all. They pile into 4×4 vehicles and thunder across the Serengeti, returning at night to large tent complete with electricity and confortable cushions to relax on. Their meals are prepared by certified chefs and accompanied by the finest wines. In the nearby village… there is no electricity, running water, gourmet food or fine wine. Some people have not bathed in the solar shower or even eaten more than a bit of rice or cassava for the day. Non-the-less, many tourists come and go, certain that they have experienced all that Afrika has to offer.

The second type of Afrikan visitor is the humanitarian worker. They come bound to assist in improving the lives of the impoverished and destitute. They often struggle with what they see – people who are far below Western standards of living and wish to bring a bit of comfort to them. Wells are drilled, houses and schools built and agricultural improvements implemented. They leave Africa, confident that a small bit of Developed Nation technology and understanding has helped those less fortunate. They leave, and believe that the work they have accomplished is good – and many times it is. They return home and celebrate with hot showers and good meals. Life in Afrika continues on.

Perception is a funny thing. We often see things through our own experience and learned understanding. When something is outside of our own understanding, we relate it to what we have learned. If things do not occur as we expect, then the experience is undesirable. Often times, this leads to a system of « Othering », in which we see ourselves and our values at the « top » and others below. We assume that the Developed world is superior to Developing Nations, and feel the need to bring them up to OUR standards. We believe that they somehow need the same things as we do, and we sometimes have trouble relating differences in lifestyles as being « different but equal ». It is sometimes forgotten that what is important or normal for us is not necessarily important or necessary for another. Sometimes we need to step outside of our own realm of experience and relate things not as they « should be », but as they ARE. When we let go of our own expectations, we are often given the opportunity to develop new and positive understandings of the world around us.

My candlelight musings have led to the need to add to my « Afrikan Survival List ». Having left of with number 11, here are my additions:

12.) Electicity in Afrika is not dependable. Costs for power are exhorbitant, and it is crucial to conserve where one can. On any given day, there are huge line ups of people waiting to purchase power at the hydro comany – much as one purchases time on their cell phone. Generators are extremely expensive to use and maintain. Fuel is costly, and generator repairs can cost thousands of dollars. Sub-standard repairs are normal here, and can result in faulty equipment which continuously breaks down. Try to avoid unecessary use of electrical power. Decide whether using that AC is really necessary, and limit its use whenever possible.

13.) Many people come to this place expecting hydro and hot showers on their time schedules. This is not the case. Showers need electricity to run the water pumps. Unless you are satisfied with a « dribble bath », bath when you can – « take ‘em when you got ‘em ».

14.) The darkness of night can offer special opportunities which have been forgotten by many. Light a candle or two. Relax, write, read, play cards or simply take the time to talk.

15.) Plan your menus around unreliable electricity. Food left in refrigerators can spoil quickly with constant temperature fluctuations due to power outages. Make meals in small batches that can be frozen if necessary, and plan to eat leftovers as quickly as possible. Buy dairy products and meat only on the day they are to be used.

16.) Remember that you are not the only one without electricity. Most Tanzanians live with this reality on a daily basis. They have learned to adapt and accept this as normal, and we can also.

The candle has now burned low. My writing is finished and my drink is done. The power has just come back on. It is time to wash up and get ready for bed. Tomorrow is a new day; filled with new experiences and new opportunities.

Until next time,

« Good Night… and Good Luck »

Access to water in northern Uganda is an experience in itself. It affects everything, and every aspect of daily life. It’s about more than just taking a shower or washing your face – water shapes culture.
The water in Gulu District comes from a dam in Bardege about 2-3kms away and captured into tanks, treated, and then distributed to the households. Sometimes this process doesn’t always go as planned.

When my roommate Laura and I moved into our new place, water flowed like a secular arm of the river Nile. Freely. We were so thrilled at all of the amenities of our new house; we decided to have a party.
I will save the details of our intercultural Canadian BBQ for another post, but let’s just say Laura and I are great cooks. We hosted about twenty people that night, and with the party came an enormous amount of dishes. We hid them in the kitchen to forget about until the next day.
The next day arrived.
I stumbled into the kitchen to the aftermath.
I carefully maneuvered my hand through a mountain of pots and turned on small bronze tap. Nothing happened. I turned it again in the other direction. Nothing happened. This isn’t good.
So, like a typical Canadian little-miss-fix-it I felt the urge to check every tap, the toilet, the shower, and anything that might have water flow around the house. I had to see if it was really off- or just a blocked tap/plumbing issue. After a few minutes of CSI-like investigation, I realized the simple answer- no water.
Laura was still sleeping, so I snuck out of the house.
Throughout the course of the day, I managed to recruit some friends for dish duty in exchange for more of Laura’s cooking.
When I returned to the house with the troop of expat women, we decided to send the young ones with the giant yellow jerry cans to the local borehole. The ‘young ones’ included a Washington D.C socialite named Brianna, and myself. Once we arrived at the borehole, I managed to schmooze my way into the line admits a group of locals, mostly mothers and children. Brianna and I knew what we had to do. We filled the 20-liter jerry cans to the brim. I didn’t want to have to make a return trip.
The two of us struggled up the hill in our flip-flops, while the group of locals watched our every step. I think the kids got a kick out of the ‘muzungos’ (whites) lugging around the heavy jugs and spilling all over our selves. After a few different attempts, I think the one-handed-lift-while-speed-walking approach worked the best.
We reached the house, dropped off the water, and the rest of the recruits began washing all of the dishes.

After that unforgettable experience, I realized two things: how much water affects my life, and how much it weighs.

The second day proved even more informative than the first. I travelled with a private guide to Prison Island; a 3km by 4 km island a short boat ride offshore. The guide was excellent, and, being a Swahili instructor, even took time to coach me with my speaking ability. Once we had arrived on the island, he explained the history of the island and the slave trade in Zanzibar and Tanzania.

The Portuguese first came to this area in the twelfth century and quickly established an active slave trade. Tanzanians asked the Arabs to come to their assistance, as they had experienced good trade relations with them in the past. After a lengthy war, the Portuguese were defeated. Their forts, which can still be seen today in Stonetown and on the island, were taken over by the Sultans, The Arabs soon proved no better, however, and took up where the Portuguese left off. The slave trade became stronger than ever. “Prison Island” became so named as slaves who refused to work were sent there once the Stonetown prison filled up. This prison became known as one of the bloodiest and brutal of the prisons, and torture, death and inhumane treatments were well documented. The shackles have been left in what was once the prison cells, but now serve as the island bathrooms.

The old fort, slave market and prison are not the only things to see on Prison Island. Among other wildlife, there are over 200 giant tortoises who call this place “home”. These tortoises were once given as a gift to one of the Sultans, and have thrived and are now protected. Some of the current tortoises here are over 125 years old, and can live longer than 200 years. I also had the good fortune to stumble across a tiny Ader’s Duiker (Cephalophus aders); a tiny deer which can only be found in the Zanzibar islands.

After Prison Island, I had the chance to snorkel along the local coral reefs. What an experience! It was beautiful – all the different corals, sea urchins, seastars of so many different colours and fish of so many different kinds. As I swam along, many of the fish came right up to me to inspect the situation and determine just what I was. It was an experience I will remember for the rest of my life.

Once I was done, we headed back to Stonetown. On the way, I spoke with the guide on the political issues facing Zanzibar. Despite a booming tourist industry here, Zanzibar remains a greatly impoverished area. Much of the money generated here lines the pockets of government officials who are seemingly quite short-sighted in the growth of the economy. While tourism accounts for 60% of the economic sector here, unemployement stands at 20%. The remaining 20% is in the market sector – running street booths or small businesses. While fishing is a major industry here, it does little to benefit the people of Zanzibar. Fish is sold to restaurants catering to the tourist, which jacks up the price for locals who are often unable to afford the elevated costs. One litre of average-quality rice costs 2,000 TZS. If you live in an extended family of 10 (often the case), that means you must purchase up to five litres of rice minimum daily. Calculate 10,000 TZS to feed a family of 10 with rice for one day. The average person in Zanzibar may net 5,000 to 8,000 TZS a day… and you can add up the figures…

When we arrived back in Stonetown, we walked through a good part of the city, seeing the “House of Wonders” (the first, oldest and largest “Palace” in Stonetown). We walked past the Historic Slave Market (now underneath the Anglican Church) and made our way through many of the narrow and crowded marketplaces. We ate at a traditional Zanzibar restaurant, where I was able to savour chicken curry, curried tuna, green bananas in a coconut curry and Hibiscus juice. Overall the weekend was both educational and fun.

“When we arrive”, he explained, “You will take your bags and walk quickly with me to the ticket office. Do nothing, and show nothing.” Nodding my head, I agreed, as I had read that many scams went down in this place. Some taxi drivers are simply not to be trusted, as they will take you to a ticket office “front”, where they curteously take your bags for you, take your money, and ensure you that your ferry is soon to come. Of course… it never comes – and if it does, it is a slow ferry that arrives many hours later and takes up to nine hours to make the crossing to Zanzibar. You board, and find your bags mysteriously missing on the other side.

We arrived at the ticket area, across the street, and as soon as I stepped out of the taxi, I was enveloped by at least 20 men, eager to help, grab my bags, and show me the way – all for the manditory “tip” for their services, of course. The driver grabbed my bags for me and escorted me through the throng to the front office. He patiently waited as my passport was checked and my tickets to and back were printed out. 160,000 TZS later (plus taxi fare), I was on my way to the ferry. One final obstacle remained before I boarded – the employee who led the way, carefully asking 20,000 TZS for his “very good” services rendered. Sighing, I smiled, pretended not to understand exactly what he was asking (sometimes it pays to be an ignorant white tourist), handed him a 500 TZS tip and took my place on the top level of the ferry, camera ready.

At exactly 7:00 a.m., the horn sounded and the engines engaged. I watched the shoreline of Dar es Salaam drift slowly away, wondering just what was to come next. The ferry ride across was exillorating. The wind whipped through my hair, and the fine salt spray slowly coated every part of my body. Careful to preserve my camera, I was forced to put it away. Large schools of flying fish soared through the air as the ferry passed – looking the part of small, incandescent birds as their fins glistened in the overhead sun. The time passed quickly, and before I knew it, Prison Island came into view and I knew that the first stage of my journey was coming to an end.

After making my way through the customs line-up (although Zanzibar is technically part of Tanzania, it has its own government), I was met by an employee of the tour company I booked through. We walked through narrow streets to my hotel – the first wonderful smells of Zanzibar cutting through the overwhelming scent of salt water. I settled in, and then made my way once again through narrow alleyways, some so tight you could place a hand on each wall to either side of the street. I settled on a place that seemed inviting and relaxed in the shade and breeze overlooking the beach.

Tourists walked along the beach, cameras in hand, as “street” vendors hawked their wares. I silently smiled as a couple sitting near me were approached by a man selling sunglasses. The glasses could not have been worth much more than 3,000 TZS a piece. The elderly gentleman, quick to impress his partner, diligently had her try on several pairs. Settling on the “perfect” pair, he asked the price, to which he was informed “30,000”. Once again, displaying his keen negotiating skills, he turned to her and announced that it was far too much! He began haggling, settling for 25,000 TZS. Turning proudly to her, he handed her the glasses, declaring, “See, that is how you do it here”…

The beach area was alive with activity. Children played along the water’s edge, carefully burying their clothes in the sand to hide them from anyone wishing to take them. Running gleefully into the water, they played away as life took place all around them. Tourists gathered in groups, waiting for traditional wooden vessels to take them on short trips through the harbour area and back. On the street above, people were in constant motion – each with a mission that carried them ever onward.

Stonetown seems an odd mix of tourist frenzy and traditional East Afrikan life. Women in berkas pass in silence Hords of cameras weave their way through narrow streets, as chanted Islamic prayers sing our above the din of market vendors selling their wares. The smells of tropical fruits, meats and seafood waft their way through the masses of people, mixing with the pungeant smell of salt water. Mosques and centuries-old sultan palaces tower above the streets, marching counterpoint to the tin roofs, satallite dishes, electric wires and water-holding tanks below.

As I write this, the Muslim call to prayer has been announced once again over the towering loudspeakers present on almost every mosque tower. It seems a way of life here – some rush to prayer, others simply lay, relax or talk together outside of their doorstoops, as the blazing sun continues to watch everything from overhead. Tomorrow, I explore the spices, herbs and traditional cookery of “exotic” Zanzibar. Sunday, I hope to touch ancient history as I visit Prison Island, the holding area for slaves to be sold as late as 1872. There is so much to see, do and discover — and so little time. I will post pictures once I return to Dar, as I seem to have forgotten my download cable…

Until next time,

“Good Night… and, Good Luck”

Even though I worked diligently to break the task into smaller units, I was still focussed entirelly on the “elephant”. I am starting to think a little differently. By breaking those overwhelming tasks (the elephant) into smaller parts, it allows one to ultimately conquer the end goal. The part missing, however, is actually celebrating each of those small packages as an accomplishment in of iself.

Tanzania is full of elephants – and not just the literal ones. Buracracies, power outages, congested streets, limited infrastructres and poverty all blend together into one giant vat of stew that can make any task almost insurmountable. One cannot simply “get in and get out” – accomplish that giant project and still have time to ride off into the sunset (“who was that masked man”)…

My first month here has been full of frustrations. It seems sometimes like there is always one more thing that has to be overcome. The main project seems like it will never be completed. I have had to learn that, if one focusses only on the primary project, disappointment is more regular than success. As a result, I have begun to compile my “Tanzanian Survival List”.

1.) Break the project into small, daily tasks (“one bite at a time”)

2.) Focus on the small things – they all add up.

3.) Take the time to CELEBRATE each accomplishment – simply moving quickly on to the next task will ultimately lead to more frustration.

4.) Reward yourself for each success, no matter how small it seems. In Tanzania, even washing your clothes or cooking dinner can become a major task.

5.) Take time to appreciate the small things. Watching a gecko, wondering at an animal’s antics, or savouring that aromatic cup of coffee is not only satisfying, but quickly places things in perspective.

6.) Breath, and… smile!” Other people here do – even in the face of floods, disasters and abject poverty.

7.) Hakuna shida.

8.) Relationships are more important than goals here. Take the time to create them!

9.) Time is different here. Watches are for important meetings, and even then, do not rule outcomes. Take the time to learn about “time” here. Take the watch off your wrist – it is ultimately an invitation to theft, anyway.

10.) Make your lists, but remember they are not written in stone – see list number 8.

So ends my first of three months here in Tanzania. I look forward to the next month, and the month after; and each experience a new day will bring. Today, my reward for the past week is a trip to the Pugu Hills Nature Reserve, outside of Dar es Salaam. I look forward to posting some new pictures.

For now, signing off.

“Good Night… and Good Luck”

After just over two weeks in Tanzania, I have come across a very important phrase to help me through each day – “Hakuna Shida” – “No Worries”. Everything seems to take more time here. I am learning that “to do lists” have to be constantly changed as each new event unfolds. What i THINK I will do each day may not exactly go as planned. Scheduled meetings may occur hours, days later… or not at all. That important meeting may be changed several times before it actually occurs… Hakuna Shida.

What I am slowly learning is that “time” carries a different significance here than back home. In North America, we are glued to our watches and clocks. “On time”, “On-the-dot” and exact measures of time rule our every waking moment. Time is valued differently in Afrika. “Time” is a measure which is meant to be played with and worked with… It is not the golden rule by which we measure our very existance. This is not to say that time is not important here — only that time does not rule our success or failure.

Today was a perfect example of how time plays out here. We have waited for several days now to get set up in our space to begin the job(s) were were sent here to do. Each day has passed, and, time and time again, we were told “not today – perhaps tomorrow”. My frustration grew yesterday, as I felt that my “time” was being ill-spent. I finally decided, as once again, I was told that we had nothing to do – “not today – perhaps tomorrow”.

My anxiety grew – thinking that I would never accomplish what I had set out to do. As I sat before a computer screen in my room, unable to access my emails from school, I finally remembered that phrase from my Swahili lessons: “Hakuna Shida”. I closed up my computer, grabbed the first Bajaji to the beach, and sat watching the scenes unfold before me. Several Ibises searched for food along the sea edge, as a crab scuttled on by – carefully avoiding the Ibises standing in wait. I realized then that this was “time” as it was meant to be – taking every moment to prepare for things to come.

Today, this realization came to fruition. We were called at precisely 9:00 am that we should come to set up our office spaces and computers. By 2:00, we had a comfortable space to work in, and all the software we needed to do what we needed to do. One of the students we are working with finally had the meeting with a high official they needed, and we are ready to begin our work for the next 2 1/2 months.

“Hurry up and wait” is not a bad thing… it simply means that things can (and will) happen in their own time. Everything we do is a means to an end. What we do today prepares us for what is to happen tomorrow. Our “time” is never wasted, as long as we work toward our ultimate goal.

I do not know what will happen the rest of this week. Maybe I will be mapping. Maybe I will go to a Nature Reserve. Maybe — I will…. See. All I know is that everything I do will ultimately end in success.

If I learn nothing else from this experience, I think it will be… Do everything you need to to accomplish your goals, and…

Hakuna Shida…

My fellow student here had the additional stress of a AC unit which was no longer working. She sat in (relative) silence with me in the downstairs main room of our house as we attempted to work on Swahili homework and pretend that all was OK — which it was not! Fortunately, the electricians were onsight by 11:00 am. They worked most of the afternoon to fix her AC, while we sat in the heat – each wondering WHY we were here in the first place…

Cassandra, at one point, offered a valuable option to our mental downturn. She related a lesson she had learned a while back – when things are going wrong, focus on at least three positives. The question is… what are the positives in my situation? 1.) I have a family who loves me. 2.) The work I am doing here is important! 3.) No matter how difficult things may seem, there are always others who are having a far more difficult time of it than I believe I am experiencing myself.

My sweat-soaked shirt now put into perspective, I was now able to focus on the work I needed to do for the day. First, I was going back into the field to do the kind of work that I love doing! Secondly, I knew that (if the power came back on), that Cassandra would ensure the AC was turned on in my room and ready for me when I got back, and… if all else failed, I could always go out and get ICE CREAM! If that isn’t incentive for feeling the heat, what is? (Thanks, Cassandra, for making sure my AC was on when I returned )

Three hours in the field, and an ice cream treat later, my viewpoint on my time in Tanzania has been readjusted. I continue to learn so much every time I go to the flood-devastated area I am working in. I think the most important lesson learned from today is that, no matter how difficult I may think things are for myself, I can always return “home” to a relative comfort and my comfort food — yes — I did had my ice cream treat. I returned home to find my AC on, a cool bath to be taken, and a game of Rummy to boot. I have to wonder — what do the people devastated by the recent floods have to look forward to? Perhaps my lack of AC seems a little less important in the long-run…

Now that I am back from the field, and have had a comfortable evening, my mind-set is a bit more positive. Thank you, Cassandra, for the reminder… I guess that “old” dogs CAN learn new tricks

It is off to bed for now, and a full day tomorrow — Swahili lesson, errands, and some more time spent in the study area make up the plan for the day. For every “negative”, our time is best spent on determining at least three positives…

“Good Night — and — Good Luck!”

Learning Swahili has taken up a good amount of time. The rewards are great, however, and many people I meet and greet are very happy that I am attempting to speak their language. As many Tanzanians also speak English, they are quick to correct and prompt as I stumble my way through in halting speech that must sound like a youth – incorrect tenses and all. My instructor is excellent, however, and has done amazing things in teaching what little I do know in just three hours of lessons, however (not including the time completing my assignments).

One of the unfortunate things I have come across here is the remains of the devastating floods which hit the valley in December – shortly before I arrived. The sad outcome of these floods were the “informal settlements” which have been built in a large part of the flood plain areas. The homes built here are essentially shanties in many cases – hardly what could be deemed up to building codes. Many people lost their lives and had property and belongings swept away as water torrented through and covered homes to the roofs. Even now, physical evidence of the massive outflows can be seen all through the creek beds and even along the beaches – garbage is littered along many of the ocean fronts. According to “The African” (a local newspaper), 25% of the 26 km long valley running into Dar es Salaam has been “illegally settled”. The valley itself is between 722 and 785 metres wide, and over 3/4 of it has been encroached by these settlements.

It has not been ALL work, however – times spent on the ocean beaches and meeting the many people I have already has been a great and positive experience. I look forward to the many weeks to come, and all of the adventures and experiences lying in wait!