It is with sadness that I must report that on Sunday 3 April I recieved the news that Mbise died of complications from Malaria and Typhoid on Sunday. This brings forward what I have to say about him and some events - actually, many - that included other people dear to me.
I think the story of Mbise rates a blog of its own - but for now I continue.
I have mentioned Mbise previously, but perhaps briefly. He has told me a great deal about his past and his aspirations as we sat together at night talking, travelled together or worked together. He called 'Baba' - father, or 'Mzee' - old man, always with respect.
I cannot hope to write this up chronologically as I will no doubt remember other things as I go through my diary - my notes were by no means comprehensive.
Mbise worked at the Makumira farm which was owned by DME and as it was policy for them to use a night guard on 'all important property', they took Mbise from the farm and appointed him as our night guard. Now he had been the night guard for the fish farmer volunteers and provided us with an insight to living 'with' them!
DME was not long out of the Meru Crisis so the organization was suffering greatly from a lack of resources - especially funds. I could see that any money made from the farm was used in the running of DME, and as Mbise was very junior in the scheme of things, like most of the DME workers at that time, he was paid infrequently. So he was happy to gain day work in the tree nursery where he was paid Tsh1 000/- per day. (Tsh400/- was equal to NZD1.00! I was higher pay that most places at the time and the work was from 9:00am to 3:00pm with two meal breaks, the food and tea supplied out of our own pockets because we had no budget for it.
Loti was the farm manager in those early days and during the Meru Crisis they feared for their lives, Loti often sitting outside at night with a shotgun across his knees. Mbise once acted as a decoy to attract attention while the Bishop passed in another direction.
Loti was a hard boss I think and the times were hard as well - not only for DME but for the whole of Tanzania. I remember Jo going to Dar es Salaam and government agencies did not have stamps, or even paper sometimes. Sumari, the DME treasurer would never give me a note using new paper, nor would he give me a new envelope - simply he had to make savings where he could.
Our arrival in Tanzania was at about the time that improvements were beginning to happen, even if slowly.
Of course Mbise told me some stories of those difficult times and when a Landrover turned up (provided by the Agency) people tried to bribe him into stealing the windscreen and hiding it under the bridge below us. Of course he did not.
At first Mbise was cool toward us because after the fish farming vols, he did not want their sort of problems again. Basically they did not like the noise from the school, or the students (young men) going past the gate to the river to bathe. More often than not Mbise would be sent to make the complaint to the school headmaster of his deputy. In fact the fish farming vol stirred so much trouble, the headmaster lost his job. I know that such action was not justified and I side strongly with the school!
A school is a busy place and a group of people will make noise; and because it is a school, the bell will ring; also it is a boarding school, a bell will ring calling students to meals - before breakfast. These things are just life and not to be complained about.
As for the bathing students - the water scheme had largely failed, so how else could they clean themselves? Admittedly they could carry a bucket of water back to school (as the girls did) but I myself would do as the boys did.
Just as an aside and to inform; Mbise took me to check the schools bathrooms/toilets to check for leaking taps because with very limited amounts entering the tank, dripping taps were a waste of the resource. He warned me about the stench - ammonia he told me - and it did stink! This was the reason the boys took off all their clothes before entering there because the smell clung to their uniform. Of course many preferred to defaecate outside the school grounds, which posed its own significant health risk.
Mbise was quite formal at first, demanding money for gumboots and a torch - I had those so gave him mine. That first night we fed him with the same meal we had ourselves and continued to do so - we also gave him a large Thermos of sweet coffee. He insisted that we lock the gate but did not want a key at first, and he wanted me rehabilitate the outside night lights. I rigged them with a switch so he could turn them on as required and as his responsibility even if we were not around. I gave him some spare light bulbs to have on hand.
There was a smaller house within the compound (previously the servants' quarters for the farm manager) where at first a woman who was managing the farm worked. It soon became apparent that the company she kept was somewhat undesirable and changed throughout the night. This was perceived to be a security breach and Loti, together with some prodding from us, caused her to vacate the house. This allowed Mbise to move in - not to live, but as a base and somewhere to rest his head from time to time. It was unfurnished but he had a swab of sponge rubber to use as a bed and a box to store stuff in. We had offered him the storeroom which was attached to the house with a separate lockable door, but he thought that too 'close' to us.
DME had erected a chain mesh fence around the property fro the fish farmers, but by now the posts, though treated, were damaged by termites and could easily be pushed over. I went for the look - it the fence looked sturdy, well that was ok by me. But I knew it was not.
The fish farmers has planted calla lilies to stop people from looking in, but they were too short to be effective for the purpose. But once the locals became used to us, they didn't really look in other to greet us; after all what was there for them to see?
Before we moved in, the locals had become used to calling at the tap (below the bathroom window) to collect their household water. Rightly Mbise saw this as a security breach and of course the locked gate stopped access to the tap. We had been used to sharing the water tap at Sanawari, but here the supply was very limited, but he wanted to allow one family. Unlike the culture I was brought up in [meaning family culture] there seemed to be no problem with African culture to show favoritism and obviously Mbise showed it to Mama Upendo.
Mama Upendo, a teacher at Makumira Primary School lived with her three children in the primary school housing just above our house. Her husband had long since gone off on whatever activity he followed, so Mama Upendo was a solo mother.
Mbise told me he first became friends with Mama Upendo when he contracted malaria while working at the farm. He became very sick and she nursed him back to health. They supported and helped each other; looked out for each other. Mbise usually had breakfast with them after working the night with us.
For instance; many were the times that Mama Upendo would embark on her shopping trip to the Tengeru market - on a Saturday - and would still not be home until dark. How did she spend so much time there? Well it varied but you can be she was getting something done to her hair!
Mbise may have gone of on his bike to meet (and protect) her but it would usually transpire that I would go down in the vehicle to pick her up.
The children were - Upendo who studied at Nshupu Primary School, she would walk past earlier than most kids and if I was out in the nursery, she would always greet me; Eriki attended Makumira Primary School and was charged with the duty of caring for the house cow, after school taking her to graze (usually on the school grounds); and Vaileth who also studied at Makumira Primary School and was her mother's close friend.
This family was to play a large part in our future, but for now they were intertwined with Mbise's story.
Mbise took on a role as leader of the nursery crew and was able to interpret the Kiswahili notes I left for them when I was away for the day. You hear stories of 'hopeless Africans' but I can say with my hand on my heart that every day, my instructions were carried out accurately and fully each and every day. Naturally we cam to trust and befriend Mbise and he reciprocated.
More than once we left forgetting to lock up the house! On our return he would smilingly give us the keys and show that he had locked up!
Many a night I would sit with him outside; yarning. That is 'lingo, New Zealand' for talking, telling stories, experiences. Some months the Southern Cross is visible and I would show our flag and explain why we saw it from Tanzania! He liked the way I used stories to explain things, showing examples - he told he he would do the same to his kids!
There are many thing that he told that remain between ourselves and some that I will share as time goes on.
Mbise's
good friend was Richard who had a small business using his bicycle to ferry goods to the small secondary school canteen. Mbise would sometimes help Richard by doing the bicycle run, or carrying out repairs on the bike.
Richard was (is) an entrepreneur and he built up his business so that he was running the canteen which doubled for a time as a shop for the locals. This situation changed later when the Headmaster had erected a fence around the school and the locals were no longer permitted. Even later Richard suffered a fire in the canteen. By this time he owned a small pickup truck and move up the ladder meant there was no longer a closeness between the pair.
But in those early days we saw a lot of Richard and continued to be friends with him; attended his wedding.
Mbise wa
s the bread-winner for his family and pretty much the 'doer' for them - they relied on his ability to make some money.
There was his old grandmother who remained in her hut most of the time, preferring the dark. She wore thick spectacles and had cataracts but even though we were prepared to pay for the removal of them, a doctor could not be found. We later attended her funeral. That's Bibi beside Mbise.
Mbise's father was 'past his prime' and preferred the pombe shop to working, but we was a old and respected man. His mother was traditional old Meru, very hard working preferring to speak Kimeru rather than Kiswahili. Her earlobes were extended with large holes in the.
She had some trouble with her remaining teeth and so we paid for their extraction and her health improved.
His older sister Eli had occasional work at a coffee 'factory' where she stripped the flesh from coffee berries. Eli lived at home and had four children to three fathers; there was her daughter, perhaps twelve years old when we first knew her - she later wanted assistance to study, but we did not pursue that; her older son was born without the use of his legs but worked hard on their small farm; and there were the twins, a boy who was always in poor health and the small girl who was a live-wire. The younger kids like to ride in my vehicle whenever the chance came.
Behind Mbise was another sister, Anna. I have already mentioned her when she birthed a stillborn child. She turned to the Pentecostal church and it is fair to say that she tended to be irresponsible.
Mbise's younger brother was a restless youth and caused Mbise some grief, even stealing from him. I saw him working sometimes at Liganga, loading trucks but finally he headed off to the mines.
There was a younger girl who I saw only occasionally. She was sent to away as a house girl and recieved no education - well school education; you can be she was educated!
I came to know them all very well as Mbise would insist we go there from time to time, 'for a soda' which meant an extended meal. Or I would transport him, or goods there. I guess we lived cooperatively.
Mbise's family attended the adjacent Mulala Lutheran Church and we were often roped in to attending celebrations of one kind or another - among them confirmations and weddings.
Of course Mbise had his dreams and he shared them with me as we chatted in the evenings, looking at the stars, listening to the frogs and other night songs.
He had a friend who had a small business using his bicycle to collect small amounts of milk from local farmers and transporting the 25km to Arusha to sell for a profit. Mbise thought it a good business but only wanted to farm dairy cows - I guess similar to the Makumira farm. This I told him would be difficult because zero grazing cattle involved a lot of work collecting feed and transporting it - the answer to that he told me was to have a motorbike, and better still for me to buy him one.
Well we would never buy a motorbike for him, but we did decide to buy him a bike. We had a high regard for him and could see how a bicycle would improve his life a great deal. On foot and even taking short cuts that I did not know about, the journey would take at least an hour and a half! Mbise's home place was high up the mountain from us and he would have to push his bike most of the way - but he could carry things on it - the downhill journey was quick. Form his home to Nkoaranga was about on the contour, but then from Nkoaranga it was downhill on a steep, tarred road. Zoom! But he could also take a rougher road through Nkomansa much faster and easier on the body than walking - well maybe.
Mbise was
excited when we told him we were to buy him his bike [the most expensive item he had ever had] and rightly he carefully instructed me the the type of bike to buy. Because the terrain he was to cover was rough, a heavier frame was required - the double bar!
He came with me to buy it at shop [he had sussed out] beside the main Arusha market. He knew the price [Tsh 30 000/-] and I saw him raise his eyebrows when the shop owner told me the price. Tsh 40 000/-, Mzungu price. By this time I knew the ropes and Mbise was all smiles, and proud of me, when the bike was loaded into the truck - Tsh30 000/- paid and a free pump!
When we arrived back at Makumira, Mbise wanted a handover ceremony and pictures! He really was very grateful.
Mbise was more than an integral part of the tree nursery, he was integral to our lives in Tanzania. He explained much of the psyche of the Meru people, helped explain the nuances of Kiswahili and advised us on what was appropriate around Makumira. It is fair to say he talked me into doing things; like helping Mama Upendo by carting maize fodder (and stockpiling it under our huge Newtonia tree), taking people to hospital, going to funerals, transporting people to weddings and finding local fundi. He also told me village gossip, urban myth and stories of the lives of people within the Meru area. I found his advice on the trustworthiness or not of individuals to be pretty much correct.
Mbise loved his bike and was always modifying it 'to make it stronger' or 'to beautify it'. He became a proficient bicycle fundi and painted it, added all manner of ornaments and reflectors, mudguards with slogans written them extorting his thanks and loyalty to me.
There was a time when bandits (a gang of 20 or more) were terrorizing the district. I found some electronic 'horns' that had all manner of sounds - sirens, wails, honks, beeps - you name it. I kept one for ourselves, gave one to Mama Upendo and one to the secondary school headmaster, Mungure. They were to use them as an alarm and I told them the story about the boy who called 'Wolf!' so it would not be used as a play gadget. But Mbise saw Mama Upendo's and bought one for his bike - you could hear it miles away. And the local kids loved it; encouraging him.
One day Mbise reported that he was sick and on inspection, I saw his face and body was covered with painful sore - it looked like cold sores to me, so I knew the pain he would be in. I rushed him to the doctor we attended and he diagnosed herpes and gave me bad news. What followed was traumatic and strategies found.
A short time later, we returned to New Zealand as we had extended our contract and the return trip was part of our agreement.
On our return, our field rep, Mama Mbembe, told us our house had been robbed, but little was taken and Mbise was ok.
He was most upset that he had 'let us down' by not scaring away the thieves! Mbise assured us that he was not sleeping, though it is likely. He thinks that three were involved and they slapped him with a panga (busk knife). That is curious - thieves usually cut - therefore they possibly knew Mbise and about his blood.
With Mbise disabled, they kicked the door in a quickly ransacked the house taking binoculars and a transistor radio and a few other small things - we had hidden some valuable items and money too well for them!
Mbise conscripted some senior secondary school boys to guard the place while he went off to advise Loti and Mama Upendo - taking some time. The secondary school boys helped themselves to more stuff!
He was distraught because of his perceived failure to guard our property, but our losses were not great and it was just a matter of repairing the security breach.
Oddly though Mama John gave up her job as our housegirl, which threw a bit of suspicion her way. Then her husband, Daudi, called me down to his house because he had found our transistor radio (a twelve channel one - reasonably valuable). Mbise thought it risky for me to go, and he accompanied me but while the radio was very similar, it was not ours. He had seen it somewhere and pretended he wanted to buy it, so was showing it to while 'trialling' it. To my knowledge Daudi had never been in our house and should not have know what our radio was like - odd.
I took Mbise and Mama Upendo, together with her children to Tarangire National Park - locals seldom have the opportunity. It was a good trip 9though Vai was constantly carsick) and we saw a good number of animals. But as was Mbise's way, on our return through Arusha, he insisted on buying me (and Mama Upendo & Co) a meal of nyama choma and a beer!
We had purchased a small plot of ground and on it built a house for Mama Upendo and her her family, but even before that, Mbise had asked us to keep an akiba, savings, from his wages. In my experience this is fairly unusual and from time to time he called on some of his akiba.
As is usual for many tribes in Tanzania, sons, especially the elder, ask their fathers for a plot of land and finally Mbise was given his.
Yes we wanted to help him build his house and we asked Samson the builder, to work on Mbise's house. While his house was to be substantial, we used a different plan and technique to that of Mama Upendo's. Mbise wanted a hallway with a door to the outside at each end. We bought burnt bricks and the mortar was termite mound-earth that was harvested from an area just below our house. This was very effective.
The building process is perhaps a story on its own, but one small part: From his akiba, Mbise wanted to buy the roofing iron. Went went off to town to make the purchase and of course Mbise did not want to pay one shilling more than he needed to. So he approached a vendor on the street. [I never use them because they can be shifty - eg they drain a couple of kilos from a bag of cement, then cut the price a little, selling off the accrued amount of cement to another customer] They had an example of a sheet of iron on the footpath - a good, solid 32 gauge sheet. As they loaded the sheets onto the roof-rack, I could see daylight through it - so did Mbise. I checked and stamped on each sheet was the mark stating 32 gauge. I told the guys it was not, and unless they could provide sheets the same as the sample, they could remove it. They had no proper 32 gauge, so it was removed. Not in bad humor though - but the guys asked for a few shillings for a soda, but knew the meaning of my grin and the grinned back.
Mbise was thrilled with his house and we had the ceremony to bless it and we helped with the curtains and other bits. But soon after, Mbise's habits changed. On Sundays he would shower and change his clothes before his trek home. Previously he cleaned up at home because he would become sweaty on the journey.
It took s
ome detective work, but I found he was courting Mama Riziki, one of our nursery workers. We had a high regard for Mama Riziki and were thrilled for Mbise.
We moved back to New Zealand, and Upendo told me that Mama Riziki had moved in with Mbise. I suffered a liver abscess, collapsed lung and some drama and Mama Upendo died - I don't wish to be glib about these events but the tale is long.
But it transpired that we returned to Makumira late 2002 to expand on our previous projects and to sort out loose ends that occurred.
By now Mbise was a guard at the Makumira Secondary School. Of course when we left I wrote him a glowing reference and had a word to the Headmaster. So while Mbise no longer was able to work at the nursery or keep watch over us, he was close and we did have good contact with him. and he was always there to help us - and we him.
He named his first born after me.
I phoned Mama Riziki and she told he his loss had caused them huge problems because so many of his extended family (and her's) depend on Mbise's wage.
He is a huge loss to them all - leaving me with questions.
A meal Mbise organized at his parent's home Anna on left, Mbise right. (loved to pose).
Mbise's sister and her four children.
Our first Christmas at Makumira. We arranged for Mama Upendo, Upendo, Eriki, Vai and Mbise to some for a breakfast and I dressed up as near to Father Christmas as I could and came down the stairs banging my fimbo, stick. It startled the kids and we had fun.
Mbise's mother milks the house cow. His father looks on. The farm is typical rural Meru farm -well tended and productive. Small because farms are divided up for families.
Completed house. Samson, the builder on left and his workmate in the red shirt. I was happy with the outcome.
Mbise's mother and father present him with a cake at the 'official' opening of his house.
Mbise and Mama Riziki made a happy couple!
I think the story of Mbise rates a blog of its own - but for now I continue.
I have mentioned Mbise previously, but perhaps briefly. He has told me a great deal about his past and his aspirations as we sat together at night talking, travelled together or worked together. He called 'Baba' - father, or 'Mzee' - old man, always with respect.
I cannot hope to write this up chronologically as I will no doubt remember other things as I go through my diary - my notes were by no means comprehensive.
Mbise worked at the Makumira farm which was owned by DME and as it was policy for them to use a night guard on 'all important property', they took Mbise from the farm and appointed him as our night guard. Now he had been the night guard for the fish farmer volunteers and provided us with an insight to living 'with' them!
DME was not long out of the Meru Crisis so the organization was suffering greatly from a lack of resources - especially funds. I could see that any money made from the farm was used in the running of DME, and as Mbise was very junior in the scheme of things, like most of the DME workers at that time, he was paid infrequently. So he was happy to gain day work in the tree nursery where he was paid Tsh1 000/- per day. (Tsh400/- was equal to NZD1.00! I was higher pay that most places at the time and the work was from 9:00am to 3:00pm with two meal breaks, the food and tea supplied out of our own pockets because we had no budget for it.
Loti was the farm manager in those early days and during the Meru Crisis they feared for their lives, Loti often sitting outside at night with a shotgun across his knees. Mbise once acted as a decoy to attract attention while the Bishop passed in another direction.
Loti was a hard boss I think and the times were hard as well - not only for DME but for the whole of Tanzania. I remember Jo going to Dar es Salaam and government agencies did not have stamps, or even paper sometimes. Sumari, the DME treasurer would never give me a note using new paper, nor would he give me a new envelope - simply he had to make savings where he could.
Our arrival in Tanzania was at about the time that improvements were beginning to happen, even if slowly.
Of course Mbise told me some stories of those difficult times and when a Landrover turned up (provided by the Agency) people tried to bribe him into stealing the windscreen and hiding it under the bridge below us. Of course he did not.
At first Mbise was cool toward us because after the fish farming vols, he did not want their sort of problems again. Basically they did not like the noise from the school, or the students (young men) going past the gate to the river to bathe. More often than not Mbise would be sent to make the complaint to the school headmaster of his deputy. In fact the fish farming vol stirred so much trouble, the headmaster lost his job. I know that such action was not justified and I side strongly with the school!
A school is a busy place and a group of people will make noise; and because it is a school, the bell will ring; also it is a boarding school, a bell will ring calling students to meals - before breakfast. These things are just life and not to be complained about.
As for the bathing students - the water scheme had largely failed, so how else could they clean themselves? Admittedly they could carry a bucket of water back to school (as the girls did) but I myself would do as the boys did.
Just as an aside and to inform; Mbise took me to check the schools bathrooms/toilets to check for leaking taps because with very limited amounts entering the tank, dripping taps were a waste of the resource. He warned me about the stench - ammonia he told me - and it did stink! This was the reason the boys took off all their clothes before entering there because the smell clung to their uniform. Of course many preferred to defaecate outside the school grounds, which posed its own significant health risk.
Mbise was quite formal at first, demanding money for gumboots and a torch - I had those so gave him mine. That first night we fed him with the same meal we had ourselves and continued to do so - we also gave him a large Thermos of sweet coffee. He insisted that we lock the gate but did not want a key at first, and he wanted me rehabilitate the outside night lights. I rigged them with a switch so he could turn them on as required and as his responsibility even if we were not around. I gave him some spare light bulbs to have on hand.
There was a smaller house within the compound (previously the servants' quarters for the farm manager) where at first a woman who was managing the farm worked. It soon became apparent that the company she kept was somewhat undesirable and changed throughout the night. This was perceived to be a security breach and Loti, together with some prodding from us, caused her to vacate the house. This allowed Mbise to move in - not to live, but as a base and somewhere to rest his head from time to time. It was unfurnished but he had a swab of sponge rubber to use as a bed and a box to store stuff in. We had offered him the storeroom which was attached to the house with a separate lockable door, but he thought that too 'close' to us.
DME had erected a chain mesh fence around the property fro the fish farmers, but by now the posts, though treated, were damaged by termites and could easily be pushed over. I went for the look - it the fence looked sturdy, well that was ok by me. But I knew it was not.
The fish farmers has planted calla lilies to stop people from looking in, but they were too short to be effective for the purpose. But once the locals became used to us, they didn't really look in other to greet us; after all what was there for them to see?
Before we moved in, the locals had become used to calling at the tap (below the bathroom window) to collect their household water. Rightly Mbise saw this as a security breach and of course the locked gate stopped access to the tap. We had been used to sharing the water tap at Sanawari, but here the supply was very limited, but he wanted to allow one family. Unlike the culture I was brought up in [meaning family culture] there seemed to be no problem with African culture to show favoritism and obviously Mbise showed it to Mama Upendo.
Mama Upendo, a teacher at Makumira Primary School lived with her three children in the primary school housing just above our house. Her husband had long since gone off on whatever activity he followed, so Mama Upendo was a solo mother.Mbise told me he first became friends with Mama Upendo when he contracted malaria while working at the farm. He became very sick and she nursed him back to health. They supported and helped each other; looked out for each other. Mbise usually had breakfast with them after working the night with us.
For instance; many were the times that Mama Upendo would embark on her shopping trip to the Tengeru market - on a Saturday - and would still not be home until dark. How did she spend so much time there? Well it varied but you can be she was getting something done to her hair!
Mbise may have gone of on his bike to meet (and protect) her but it would usually transpire that I would go down in the vehicle to pick her up.
The children were - Upendo who studied at Nshupu Primary School, she would walk past earlier than most kids and if I was out in the nursery, she would always greet me; Eriki attended Makumira Primary School and was charged with the duty of caring for the house cow, after school taking her to graze (usually on the school grounds); and Vaileth who also studied at Makumira Primary School and was her mother's close friend.This family was to play a large part in our future, but for now they were intertwined with Mbise's story.
Mbise took on a role as leader of the nursery crew and was able to interpret the Kiswahili notes I left for them when I was away for the day. You hear stories of 'hopeless Africans' but I can say with my hand on my heart that every day, my instructions were carried out accurately and fully each and every day. Naturally we cam to trust and befriend Mbise and he reciprocated.
More than once we left forgetting to lock up the house! On our return he would smilingly give us the keys and show that he had locked up!
Many a night I would sit with him outside; yarning. That is 'lingo, New Zealand' for talking, telling stories, experiences. Some months the Southern Cross is visible and I would show our flag and explain why we saw it from Tanzania! He liked the way I used stories to explain things, showing examples - he told he he would do the same to his kids!
There are many thing that he told that remain between ourselves and some that I will share as time goes on.
Mbise's
good friend was Richard who had a small business using his bicycle to ferry goods to the small secondary school canteen. Mbise would sometimes help Richard by doing the bicycle run, or carrying out repairs on the bike.Richard was (is) an entrepreneur and he built up his business so that he was running the canteen which doubled for a time as a shop for the locals. This situation changed later when the Headmaster had erected a fence around the school and the locals were no longer permitted. Even later Richard suffered a fire in the canteen. By this time he owned a small pickup truck and move up the ladder meant there was no longer a closeness between the pair.
But in those early days we saw a lot of Richard and continued to be friends with him; attended his wedding.
Mbise wa
s the bread-winner for his family and pretty much the 'doer' for them - they relied on his ability to make some money.There was his old grandmother who remained in her hut most of the time, preferring the dark. She wore thick spectacles and had cataracts but even though we were prepared to pay for the removal of them, a doctor could not be found. We later attended her funeral. That's Bibi beside Mbise.
Mbise's father was 'past his prime' and preferred the pombe shop to working, but we was a old and respected man. His mother was traditional old Meru, very hard working preferring to speak Kimeru rather than Kiswahili. Her earlobes were extended with large holes in the.
She had some trouble with her remaining teeth and so we paid for their extraction and her health improved.
His older sister Eli had occasional work at a coffee 'factory' where she stripped the flesh from coffee berries. Eli lived at home and had four children to three fathers; there was her daughter, perhaps twelve years old when we first knew her - she later wanted assistance to study, but we did not pursue that; her older son was born without the use of his legs but worked hard on their small farm; and there were the twins, a boy who was always in poor health and the small girl who was a live-wire. The younger kids like to ride in my vehicle whenever the chance came.
Behind Mbise was another sister, Anna. I have already mentioned her when she birthed a stillborn child. She turned to the Pentecostal church and it is fair to say that she tended to be irresponsible.
Mbise's younger brother was a restless youth and caused Mbise some grief, even stealing from him. I saw him working sometimes at Liganga, loading trucks but finally he headed off to the mines.
There was a younger girl who I saw only occasionally. She was sent to away as a house girl and recieved no education - well school education; you can be she was educated!
I came to know them all very well as Mbise would insist we go there from time to time, 'for a soda' which meant an extended meal. Or I would transport him, or goods there. I guess we lived cooperatively.
Mbise's family attended the adjacent Mulala Lutheran Church and we were often roped in to attending celebrations of one kind or another - among them confirmations and weddings.
Of course Mbise had his dreams and he shared them with me as we chatted in the evenings, looking at the stars, listening to the frogs and other night songs.
He had a friend who had a small business using his bicycle to collect small amounts of milk from local farmers and transporting the 25km to Arusha to sell for a profit. Mbise thought it a good business but only wanted to farm dairy cows - I guess similar to the Makumira farm. This I told him would be difficult because zero grazing cattle involved a lot of work collecting feed and transporting it - the answer to that he told me was to have a motorbike, and better still for me to buy him one.
Well we would never buy a motorbike for him, but we did decide to buy him a bike. We had a high regard for him and could see how a bicycle would improve his life a great deal. On foot and even taking short cuts that I did not know about, the journey would take at least an hour and a half! Mbise's home place was high up the mountain from us and he would have to push his bike most of the way - but he could carry things on it - the downhill journey was quick. Form his home to Nkoaranga was about on the contour, but then from Nkoaranga it was downhill on a steep, tarred road. Zoom! But he could also take a rougher road through Nkomansa much faster and easier on the body than walking - well maybe.
Mbise was
excited when we told him we were to buy him his bike [the most expensive item he had ever had] and rightly he carefully instructed me the the type of bike to buy. Because the terrain he was to cover was rough, a heavier frame was required - the double bar!He came with me to buy it at shop [he had sussed out] beside the main Arusha market. He knew the price [Tsh 30 000/-] and I saw him raise his eyebrows when the shop owner told me the price. Tsh 40 000/-, Mzungu price. By this time I knew the ropes and Mbise was all smiles, and proud of me, when the bike was loaded into the truck - Tsh30 000/- paid and a free pump!
When we arrived back at Makumira, Mbise wanted a handover ceremony and pictures! He really was very grateful.
Mbise was more than an integral part of the tree nursery, he was integral to our lives in Tanzania. He explained much of the psyche of the Meru people, helped explain the nuances of Kiswahili and advised us on what was appropriate around Makumira. It is fair to say he talked me into doing things; like helping Mama Upendo by carting maize fodder (and stockpiling it under our huge Newtonia tree), taking people to hospital, going to funerals, transporting people to weddings and finding local fundi. He also told me village gossip, urban myth and stories of the lives of people within the Meru area. I found his advice on the trustworthiness or not of individuals to be pretty much correct.
Mbise loved his bike and was always modifying it 'to make it stronger' or 'to beautify it'. He became a proficient bicycle fundi and painted it, added all manner of ornaments and reflectors, mudguards with slogans written them extorting his thanks and loyalty to me.
There was a time when bandits (a gang of 20 or more) were terrorizing the district. I found some electronic 'horns' that had all manner of sounds - sirens, wails, honks, beeps - you name it. I kept one for ourselves, gave one to Mama Upendo and one to the secondary school headmaster, Mungure. They were to use them as an alarm and I told them the story about the boy who called 'Wolf!' so it would not be used as a play gadget. But Mbise saw Mama Upendo's and bought one for his bike - you could hear it miles away. And the local kids loved it; encouraging him.
One day Mbise reported that he was sick and on inspection, I saw his face and body was covered with painful sore - it looked like cold sores to me, so I knew the pain he would be in. I rushed him to the doctor we attended and he diagnosed herpes and gave me bad news. What followed was traumatic and strategies found.
A short time later, we returned to New Zealand as we had extended our contract and the return trip was part of our agreement.
On our return, our field rep, Mama Mbembe, told us our house had been robbed, but little was taken and Mbise was ok.
He was most upset that he had 'let us down' by not scaring away the thieves! Mbise assured us that he was not sleeping, though it is likely. He thinks that three were involved and they slapped him with a panga (busk knife). That is curious - thieves usually cut - therefore they possibly knew Mbise and about his blood.
With Mbise disabled, they kicked the door in a quickly ransacked the house taking binoculars and a transistor radio and a few other small things - we had hidden some valuable items and money too well for them!
Mbise conscripted some senior secondary school boys to guard the place while he went off to advise Loti and Mama Upendo - taking some time. The secondary school boys helped themselves to more stuff!
He was distraught because of his perceived failure to guard our property, but our losses were not great and it was just a matter of repairing the security breach.
Oddly though Mama John gave up her job as our housegirl, which threw a bit of suspicion her way. Then her husband, Daudi, called me down to his house because he had found our transistor radio (a twelve channel one - reasonably valuable). Mbise thought it risky for me to go, and he accompanied me but while the radio was very similar, it was not ours. He had seen it somewhere and pretended he wanted to buy it, so was showing it to while 'trialling' it. To my knowledge Daudi had never been in our house and should not have know what our radio was like - odd.
I took Mbise and Mama Upendo, together with her children to Tarangire National Park - locals seldom have the opportunity. It was a good trip 9though Vai was constantly carsick) and we saw a good number of animals. But as was Mbise's way, on our return through Arusha, he insisted on buying me (and Mama Upendo & Co) a meal of nyama choma and a beer!
We had purchased a small plot of ground and on it built a house for Mama Upendo and her her family, but even before that, Mbise had asked us to keep an akiba, savings, from his wages. In my experience this is fairly unusual and from time to time he called on some of his akiba.
As is usual for many tribes in Tanzania, sons, especially the elder, ask their fathers for a plot of land and finally Mbise was given his.
Yes we wanted to help him build his house and we asked Samson the builder, to work on Mbise's house. While his house was to be substantial, we used a different plan and technique to that of Mama Upendo's. Mbise wanted a hallway with a door to the outside at each end. We bought burnt bricks and the mortar was termite mound-earth that was harvested from an area just below our house. This was very effective.
The building process is perhaps a story on its own, but one small part: From his akiba, Mbise wanted to buy the roofing iron. Went went off to town to make the purchase and of course Mbise did not want to pay one shilling more than he needed to. So he approached a vendor on the street. [I never use them because they can be shifty - eg they drain a couple of kilos from a bag of cement, then cut the price a little, selling off the accrued amount of cement to another customer] They had an example of a sheet of iron on the footpath - a good, solid 32 gauge sheet. As they loaded the sheets onto the roof-rack, I could see daylight through it - so did Mbise. I checked and stamped on each sheet was the mark stating 32 gauge. I told the guys it was not, and unless they could provide sheets the same as the sample, they could remove it. They had no proper 32 gauge, so it was removed. Not in bad humor though - but the guys asked for a few shillings for a soda, but knew the meaning of my grin and the grinned back.
Mbise was thrilled with his house and we had the ceremony to bless it and we helped with the curtains and other bits. But soon after, Mbise's habits changed. On Sundays he would shower and change his clothes before his trek home. Previously he cleaned up at home because he would become sweaty on the journey.
It took s
ome detective work, but I found he was courting Mama Riziki, one of our nursery workers. We had a high regard for Mama Riziki and were thrilled for Mbise.We moved back to New Zealand, and Upendo told me that Mama Riziki had moved in with Mbise. I suffered a liver abscess, collapsed lung and some drama and Mama Upendo died - I don't wish to be glib about these events but the tale is long.
But it transpired that we returned to Makumira late 2002 to expand on our previous projects and to sort out loose ends that occurred.
By now Mbise was a guard at the Makumira Secondary School. Of course when we left I wrote him a glowing reference and had a word to the Headmaster. So while Mbise no longer was able to work at the nursery or keep watch over us, he was close and we did have good contact with him. and he was always there to help us - and we him.
He named his first born after me.
I phoned Mama Riziki and she told he his loss had caused them huge problems because so many of his extended family (and her's) depend on Mbise's wage.
He is a huge loss to them all - leaving me with questions.
A meal Mbise organized at his parent's home Anna on left, Mbise right. (loved to pose).
Mbise's sister and her four children.
Our first Christmas at Makumira. We arranged for Mama Upendo, Upendo, Eriki, Vai and Mbise to some for a breakfast and I dressed up as near to Father Christmas as I could and came down the stairs banging my fimbo, stick. It startled the kids and we had fun.
Mbise's mother milks the house cow. His father looks on. The farm is typical rural Meru farm -well tended and productive. Small because farms are divided up for families.
Completed house. Samson, the builder on left and his workmate in the red shirt. I was happy with the outcome.
Mbise's mother and father present him with a cake at the 'official' opening of his house.
Mbise and Mama Riziki made a happy couple!
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