Final Days in TZed

The days are moving quickly. It's strange to think I only have a week and half left in Moshi. There's no doubt I miss family and friends at home but it's odd to think this experience will be over.





Since July 2nd when I last wrote, I've been getting used to working at WEECE and feeling like a resident of Moshi. At WEECE, I do a lot of computer related odd jobs. I often write emails for the director Mama Mrema which exposes me to a lot of the grunt work she handles. Besides providing microloans to local small business women, WEECE also educates young girls (and one cute boy named Musa) on various skills from computer to basic English. In the beginning, I helped one of the WEECE teachers train two girls came to WEECE for a computer class during their school holiday. I wasn't aware of their whole story but both were my age or older but still trying to enter university. They stopped coming as the school holidays have ended but now another group of 10 young girls ranging in age from 14 to 22 years old come regularly.





It's fascinating to me how multi-functional the office is. Everyday from about 8am to 4pm, these girls come to the WEECE compound for computer, English and sewing. In the morning, myself and two other volunteers from some volunteer organization with a really cheesy name (Cross Cultural Solutions) teach the girls computers and English. It was incrediby nerve-racking and in retrospect really funny, when Mama Mrema suddenly told us to go help the girls with their lessons. I was caught off guard but I've gotten the hang of it :) The girls are at varying skill levels from those who are still learning how to position their fingers on a keyboard and type slowly to those who are becoming fast typists. We do different exercises with them on Word, Powerpoint and Excel. An hour and half of computer lessons is followed by silly exercise time in the courtyard...we've do some funny variation of American games like "Red Light, Green Light" and stretching lol. English class is always an adventure because it's difficult to assess what they know without fluent communication between us. The WEECE teacher who usually translates might often disappear doing other work while we lead the class. My Swahili to English book is the key to these lessons as we can write out translations on the blackboard. My afternoons are usually in an office typing up emails, a grant proposal or some other document while the girls learn how to make a dress or some other sewing skill from another teacher.

The children of Nganjoni Primary School

I'd say more but as always my Internet time is running out :)

Women Education and Economic Centre (WEECE)

I don't have enough the time or energy to write more today but below is an assignment I wrote for the continuation of the Cornell part of our class...gives some picture of the org I'm volunteering with. Today Mama Mrema took us to a town called Nganjoni in what they call "Moshi-rural" to see a secondary school WEECE built and is continuing to expand as well as the site where they will be building a health centre.

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Adey Teshome
July 1, 2009
NS 4630
(Still) In Moshi-town, Kilimanjaro Region, Tanzania

Reflection—Thick Description of WEECE Internship

When I began my internship on Monday, I did not really know what to expect. I knew the women heading the organization were in need of someone with computer skills, that I might be assisting in the grunt work of grant-writing and generally being as useful as possible in any assortment of tasks. As it turned out, my supervisor and main director of the Women’s Education and Economic Centre (WEECE) Mama Valeria (also known as Mama Mrema) was only expecting my professor on Monday, not me, the volunteer! When I showed up at her office, greeting her with a “Hodi” and “Shikamoo, Mama!”, she thought I was a representative of another local loan organization. After I explained myself, she welcomed me warmly. After sitting me down and asking me what skills I have to offer as well as what I would like to gain from WEECE, she set me to work helping her organize her office. Mama Mrema had just returned from Germany, visiting with donors from a religiously affiliated organization. I would soon find that WEECE survives on the financial support of many American and European donors. It’s really interesting to see this world order of money flow from “developed” to “developing” nations in action at this small but effective and locally influential NGO.

WEECE is housed in a very residential street, near KCMC where I took my class these past few weeks. It’s in fact a home turned organizational headquarters. When you pass it from the outside, a sign marked WOMEN’S EDUCATION AND ECONOMIC CENTRE in block letters is the only indication that it is truly an important community base of operations. Anyone on foot enters through the small main office where gentle and yet slightly stern Mama Esther, one of Mama Mrema’s deputy supervisors, does her work. As a full-time WEECE worker, Mama Esther is given very small pay and really can be considered a volunteer. Many of the crucial WEECE workers are paid a very small amount or absolutely nothing. What really seems to motivate them is a belief in the organization rather than any money. The rest of the WEECE space—Mama Mrema and the accountant’s offices, the area where the sewing machines are arranged for lessons—are centered around a modest courtyard. Just beyond the offices is what looks like a residential home. Mama Mrema and Mama Macha (a professor at a local business university and devoted WEECE volunteer) explained to me that the house is sometimes used as a hostel for WEECE volunteers and anyone else in the area. There are small, cozy porches in front of the offices and the hostel where people relax, eat lunch and so on. The entire feel of the organization is one of purpose but comfort because of this setting.

When Professor Rebecca came to discuss my work at WEECE, Mama Mrema and I were sorting through the mass of papers, folders and envelopes on the one wooden shelf framing the walls of her office. The three of us sat down to talk amidst the piles of paper scattered on the ground. It was a moment that emphasized Mama Mrema’s hard-working and get-it-done attitude. As we began to discuss the specifics of my responsibilities, Mama began to discuss more in depth the gender dynamics that fuel an organization like WEECE. The conversation veered away from my role as a volunteer to things much larger. This is indicatory of how Mama Mrema operates—it was important to her to impart certain lessons and information to Professor Rebecca and myself in that conversation. I enjoyed the mini-introduction to WEECE and Mama Mrema’s personality. She has a deep, throaty laugh that demands attention and makes everything seem funnier. This culture of prefacing the names of older women with “Mama” makes everyone seems more maternal and nurturing—but Mama Mrema really does have the air of a mother who has many years of life experience behind her and has everything under control for the young girls under her wing, which includes me now. I’m looking forward to these weeks of working with her.

Tuesday and today has given me a nice feel for WEECE. Mama Mrema, Esther and Macha are key players here…they’re all very strong people who have been devoted to WEECE for many years. Today the other American volunteers and I spent the majority of the day with Mama Esther. This morning before and after we waited to go into the neighborhood and visit loan recipients with her, she just gently led us through a conversation full of wisdom. She described how WEECE began with a small group of women and grew through information spreading through word of mouth. She went through the loan stipulations such as returning the amount of the loan at a certain due date and requiring women to attend educational seminars that teach personal budgeting, saving and even health issues. She reminded us that as we told her about our lives yesterday and why we came to Tanzania, she also has a story. She told us that she was the first-born child and although some people believed educating a girl was wasting money, her parents allowed her to enter primary school only because she was “clever”. With an unhurried and deliberate story-telling style slowed down even more as she processed her English, she described how she entered primary school at form three, skipping first and second. She was first in the class from third to fifth. Although she made it through middle school, it seems she didn’t finish secondary, ended up looking for employment to help her family and later getting married. After becoming a parent, her priorities switched to her children, one of whom is a teacher and the other studying to be a medical doctor. She tells us that her son, the doctor, asks her for money to for his studies and even though it’s difficult for her because she makes very little and only has money because she has saved diligently, she gives him money. She says she does this so that when she gets older than her current 68 years and the time comes for her to stop working and depend on her children, her son will be able to take care of her.

Blast from the (recent) Past

Excerpts from my journal in the past weeks, before I started blogging:

Friday May 30, 2009
Moshi-Town!

I have so many things to record. I really have to get in the habit of writing everyday if however brief. At least putting those critical thoughts and experiences from the day is important! I’m experiencing all these things that feel so profound…things that I feel like will really define who I am as an adult, as an African, as an American…will help expand my understanding of the world.

So much richness:
The case studies we’ve been going over in class covering a million subjects in health and development in “low-income” countries like Tanzania. The energy in the classroom, the intelligence, the purpose and passion behind everyone’s input is just inspiring and so exciting. I could never imagine at the beginning of my college experience that I would be part of something like this. There were moments in that small, comfortable classroom when I truly felt like a global citizen, a growing student of global health. And to be in exchanging ideas, debating, discussing with Tanzanian medical school students—it was just amazing for me.

What a different experience traveling with a multicultural group. My goodness…I feel like I’m constantly juggling so many thought processes and feelings. Trying to negotiate the communication between myself and the Tanzanian students while observing the dynamics between the white and Asian students and the Tanzanian students. We were sitting in Professor Rebecca’s house yesterday for our weekly check-in meeting. Sitting there with all these American students who had no immediate cultural or heritage connection with Africa and hearing them comment on their experiences while we lounged in my Professor’s beautiful, sunny, airy house that looks like some exotic colonial bungalow surrounded by a gorgeous garden and separated from the rest of Moshi by a tall metal gate-- too fascinating and just such an extreme juxtaposition from my time in Ghana. I mean, the element of economic privilege was certainly there in both experiences—in Ghana, the second house of the friend who guided us was four times the size of Professor Rebecca’s…but the racial privilege, the cultural dynamic is a very new experience that I’m still grappling with.

Just being in Africa again is so amazing to me. It’s difficult to put accurate words to. This is so funny, I almost can’t believe I’m in this other extremely different environment when just two, three weeks ago, I was totally engrossed in my Ithaca life. Now, tonight, I’m sitting in my room in Moshi, Tanzania vibing with my Bob Marley in the background, scribing to the light of our pretty green tea candle. The lights are out (again) and Choumika is sound asleep in the bed next to me.

I felt so responsible traveling here, with my passport, book bag and the program laptop close to my body at all times. Traveled from NYC to Boston and leisurely made use of my 6 hour layover in Boston like a true world traveler lol…figured my way around the Amsterdam-Schipol airport and met up with the rest of the group. Getting off the plane in Kilimanjaro Airport was surreal. You just step off that plane, into this new land filled with this blend of anxiety, rushing excitement and a bunch of unexplainable feelings! I love breathing in the smell…I almost recall a certain, aromatic scent greeting me when I stepped into Ethiopia at eleven years old…the same in Ghana and then here in Tanzania. The smell combines with the warm, balmy night air embracing you to create this unique natural welcome. I remember observing the nervous expressions of other students in my group during our connecting flight, the one that made the nearness of Tanzania more concrete to us…and trying to reassure them.

Then we spent our first night at the Lutheran Uhuru Hostel and the next day spent in orientation at our Professor Rebecca’s house. That night we all came to my host father Bwana (Mr.) Chuwa’s home where we were given the best loving Tanzanian greeting by his sister. We soon realized we had walked into an engagement party for Monica Chuwa and through a lovely speech by Bwana Chuwa were introduced both to an important part of Tanzanian culture and to all the 30 odd seated guests! Baba Chuwa explained that in Chagga culture when two young people want to be married the man’s family must come to the girl’s family and ask for her hand. According to Bwana Chuwa, the man in question specifically approaches the woman’s family and asks to marry their daughter. The family then goes to their daughter and asks if this is the man she wants. When she answers in the affirmative, the party ensues! We unfortunately missed this ceremony but I was glad we were able to hear the explanation from Bwana. Then the ever busy and helpful Bwana Chuwa accompanied by Rebecca and her husband Kevin carted off 5 pairs of Cornell students (and Eric!) to their respective home stays. That was when Choumika and I were greeted by Monica and started to settle into our home for the next 9 weeks.

The past week has been almost a blur when I look back at it. We were thrown into this environment so fast! I also had almost no down time between Tzed and Ithaca…my ability to adjust is being finely tuned in these past weeks. I mean we arrived in a new country on Saturday night and by Monday morning we were expected to be functional for class. A class about complicated global health dilemmas in which we are supposed to work with students from another country and school system to create an oral presentation of a case study in only three days! We definitely did it and I am so glad for all the great things I went through in the past 5 days. It’s fascinating, daunting & intense to think we’ll be here for another 8 weeks. Tonight we all went to El Rancho restaurant (which is confusingly an Indian cuisine lol) ….ah. Just a beautiful time, beautiful… Tomorrow we’re going on a “Chagga cultural tour”…I’m a little skeptical but it should be nice. I’ll try to put my biases away. I’ll never put the critical lens away though…

Wednesday June 10, 2009

Traveled to Uru Kyaseni today. Most amazing drive, majestic Mt. Kilimanjaro peeking through the banana leaves, children at the school on the side of the road watching us curiously, the little baby at the one house that excitedly waved to the bus and started waddling towards the road as we passed by both times, leaves from the roadside foliage whipping by sometimes reaching through the window as the dala dala teetered precariously on some large bump in the road. Tropical green, rocky road in a dala dala rented out for us by Professor Rebecca, accompanied by Sister Pilli of the Community Health Department (also trained as a diabetes nurse). Uru Kyaseni is only maybe a 40 min ride away from KCMC in what they call “Moshi-rural” area. We visited a health center that provides service for many people in that area. They said that people closer by attend this center and mobile clinics attempt to reach folks farther out.

The compound consisted of a few maybe 4 buildings, some with tin roofs, aligned along a red dirt path. We started off in this small room with some medical supply boxes packed in the corner. As we sat waiting for the female doctor in charge to greet us, a woman came in with a bucket of water balanced on her head and gracefully emptied it into another container in the room. As she walked carefully into the room, I noticed the yellow cylindrical cloth on her head providing a resting place for her burden. It's so clever, the "appropriate technology" (as my mother calls it) of women all over the world. Sister Pilli introduced us to the doctor and we responded to her “Karibu sana” with choruses of “Asante sana!” We headed to the MCH (Maternal & Child Health) clinic to find interviews for all the student groups present (us with family planning, one group studying infant feeding patterns of HIV+ mommas, another studying maternal mortality)…My group was able to interview one nurse and three mothers of varying ages. It was so amazing to be in the type of environment I’ve only dreamed I might work in some day. So amazing.

We saw mothers weighing their children. They all come with these cloth slings and hang their children from a scale, the kind we use to weigh fruits in American supermarkets! Little infants and larger toddlers dangled from the same scale. I observed another instance of appropriate technology as one mother wrapped her baby’s cloth diaper with a plastic bag. Afterwards, she carefully but deftly swung her baby on her back and very naturally held out her conga towards me so that I could help her fix her sling. I was caught off guard but so pleased. I placed the conga gently over her baby, adjusted the cloth around the baby's bottom and handed her the front part, feeling part of this normal routine for her. It was an unexpected gesture that made us feel more connected, like two women, two human beings rather than us students as outsiders, observers with some kind of superiority.

Later, we saw one of the women we interviewed outside socializing with the other women. I saw her seated in a corner of the porch outside the little MCH building where women were weighing their babies. She had these buckets in front of her, the kind I’ve seen janitors use or filled with paint…women were gathered around her and it took me some time to figure out that she was selling small snack items. I immediately went over and started buying from her and soon the whole class followed suite. It was so cheap…even cheaper than in town because these snacks contained only vegetables. Meat is too expensive I suppose? 500 Tanzanian shillings (Tsh) for two samosas! Barely 50 cents. It made me wonder how she makes a living…I gladly bought a cake and two samosas from her. My miniscule way of thanking her for the interview, of contributing in some way to her life.

End & Beginning

We finished our class exactly a week ago, with group presentations taking up the majority of the last two days. We finally presented the work that felt as though we had been developing for three months rather than three weeks. I was somewhat sad to see the class end-- learning with Tanzanian students has been challenging and rewarding. It was frustrating to realize the ways in which the students are at a clear disadvantage to the Western educational system. Their typing skills are very undeveloped and they are not used to English writing intensive work. Considering how writing intensive our project was, we had to think of ways to work around this time and time again. On the other hand, I saw how equipped these students are for practicing medicine. Many of the students I met are very much hard sciences-style learners and very good at learning in that fashion. And as native Tanzanians, they are in touch with the realities of practicing without optimal resources, adapting health recommendations to the culture etc. I chose not to say good-bye to them. Rather, I'll try to keep in touch as they begin their clinical rotations and we begin our internships. I'm still close to KCMC so it should be easy!

Then on Thursday we headed out for a 3 night, 4 day trip to Zanzibar before we all dispersed to our internship placements on Monday. We packed so much into our few days there: we went out the first night we got there :), went on tours of the main tourist area Stonetown and then Prison Island a historic and incredibly scenic place just an hour boat ride from Stonetown. We of course hit the town that night as well, ate, drank, spent excessively (my wallet still hurts) and then the next day went to another tourist trap called Kendwa Beach. Touristy and wazungu-like as it all was, it opened my eyes even more to the beauty of this continent. Kendwa was so amazing-- difficult to put into words. SO-- I'll take this opportunity to use the gift of visual imagery rather than my words :)

view from our hotel, the Bandari Lodge

sunset on the ferry from Dar es Salaam to Stonetown, Zanzibar


warning sign before we entered an old slave chamber on our city tour

the outdoor market!

zanzibar used to be the "spice capital of the world"...

you would think it still is from this market

More pictures when I have better Internet tomorrow.

Moshi-town: In the Shadow of Kilimanjaro

Moshi is a medium-sized town in Northern Tanzania, about a 6 hour drive from Nairobi, a 9 hour drive from Dar es Salaam (the capitol of TZ) and an hour away from Arusha, another well-known Tanzanian city. It's what you can call suburban I guess-- lacks the bustle and development of an urban environment but is certainly not rural. It's what they call a hub of education with one of the nation's best medical schools Kilimanjaro Christian Medical College (KCMC), where we've been taking our class.

Moshi (which means smoke in Swahili) sits under the shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro, the tallest mountain in Africa at some 19000 ft. Getting a glimpse of Kili while walking down the road to class is the most brilliant feeling. It's amusing to me how the view is still stunning to me after four weeks of being here...and it's simply part of the backdrop to those who live in Moshi.

KCMC is one of the best and largest med schools and referral hospitals in Tanzania and yet our classroom is the only one equipped with wireless and a router for internet. The router we use in our classroom, all the while complaining at the slow and laborious connection, was bought with joint funds from our ourselves and Tanzanian classmates. And my host sister was describing to me yesterday how she will be forced to travel to Arusha for an X-ray of the wisdom tooth that's bothering her. She told me KCMC doesn't have an X-ray machine and the one at Mawenzi hospital downtown isn't working.

In TZ, and I'd imagine in other African countries that follow the British educational system, students enter medical school straight out of secondary school. All of our Tanzanian classmates are fourth year medical students...they laugh and cringe as we describe the American system to them-- four years of undegrad and THEN medical school. For them, five years of med school is followed by a one or two year internship (parallels residency in the States) and specialization programs that range in length from 18 months (MPH) to 4 years. For example, one of my friends here plans to specialize in surgery after med school. General surgery is four years, plus some additonal time to learn a specific type. We compare and contrast our educations in our talks but it seems each has it's ups and downs.

Our classroom, a bit empty late on a Friday afternoon.

Midpoint

The past four weeks have flown by and yet we've done so much...taken a health policy class on nutritional and general development issues in a country where the subject is relevant right outside your door, learning to live in another family's home, living in an African country as a first generation Ethiopian and yet distinctly an American, a "mzungu", connecting to all the crazy events happening in the world (Ahmadinejad got re-elected-- what?!) through Aljazeera which seems to be the only newstation we watch in my house...and all in beautiful Moshi-town.

We've reached the midpoint in our summer program in Tanzania. Our class is wrapping up this coming Wednesday and we start our internships on Monday. I'll be working at the Women's Economic and Education Centre (WEECE) very close to my home. It's not directly health-related but I'm still looking forward to learning about how their micro-finance programs affect the local community.

www.weece.org/

I'll try to synthesize my thoughts/events from the past few weeks soon and post for ya'll :)

Much love from Moshi, Tzed.

The pretty gardens right outside our classroom...With the Coca-Cola owned water company Kilimanjaro!

My first time on a safari...felt like a Wild Thornberry. Ha ha...It made me so proud to have my roots in this continent...the trip was full of incredibly beautiful landscapes. Will post more pictures soon.





Have you ever ridden in a open-roofed safari van? Bumpy roads + roofless car with space on the back to sit outside + giraffes, zebra and wildebeest chillin in the expanse of fields around you = amazing safari. We were were sticking our heads out the roof or riding out on the roof 90% of the time-- so much fun, like a mini-roller coaster/outdoor zoo :)

Coca-Cola is invasive and omnipresent. The plastic tables and chairs at cafes, the signs on all the small roadside stores, the billboards, the local water bottling company-- All Coca-Cola owned!

Hujambo

I've been in Moshi-town, Tanzania for three weeks now...under the shade of Mount Kilimanjaro.