Lillian

This is Lilian Said aka Lily Wawa.

We first met Lilian at Manyata Primary School where we were conducting an environmental project - which actually led to school building refurbishment. But that is another story.

The dirt track into Manyata is on red soils and when it rains, it is like walking or driving on ice. Suffice it to say that access is a problem there.

The connotations are often wrong when when mentioning poverty. The people of Manyata are subsistence farmers who have few resources and struggle through life as best they can. Certainly they don't have too many coins to rub together.

Lilian and her siblings live with their mother who grows rice and sometimes has a surplus to sell. She works when there is available work but demonstrates her community spirit by serving on the school committee.

Within the school environment project we noticed that Lilian was interested in trees and she became chairperson of the Environmental Committee we helped set up. She took charge of the small tree nursery (as pictured above) carefully tending the young trees and instructing her fellows as they came to assist.

In this pic Lilian is standing third from right after receiving her prize for one of the ten best trees grown in the season.

She liked to participate in the roll plays that were part of our environmental seminar and she sang the lead at the time I was honoured with a Risala - sung by a group to formally thank us for the help we had given the school.

It was obvious to us that Lilian was a very bright child and we knew she would pass her Standard Seven national Examination.

Standard seven is the final year at primary school and at that time (and things are now much different) only 6% of pupils were able to go on to secondary school. Although many passed, their parent were unable to afford the state school fees. There was a deal of corruption involved where passed were stolen or sold. There was an option that if a family could afford private (and that included church) schools, then students could attend there by passing an entrance exam and even if they failed the national one. As time went on, even those passing the national exam could not go to a state school because there simply were not enough spaces. Again I state that the situation is now much improved!

We decided that should Lilian pass the national exam, and we thought she would, then we would help her through secondary school. Sure enough, one day Lilian appeared at our doorway to tell us she had passed her exams and had been offered a place at Maji ya Chai Secondary School. We knew this school well because Loti was the School Committee Chairman there. It was a new school and the committee/teachers were working hard. Fees for state schools were reasonably modest and we were please to help Lilian and her family.

The school principal - a very fine principal indeed - often thanked us for sponsoring Lilian and he assured us she was a top student. I fact she was top of her form and was fiercely competitive not allowing anyone to approach her.

We had told her we would support only until she had passed her O levels at the end of Form IV but her result was so good and her principal encouraged us to sponsor her to Form VI and her A levels.

Of course she passed those exams with flying colours and began talking 'University Study'.

The daughter of NZ friends was visiting us at Makumira and she met Lilian, became inspired and offered sponsorship. So Lilian went off to university in Morogoro.

Our friend's daughter took on some volunteer work and was unable to continue with the sponsorship, which is entirely fair. She made it clear to Lilian that her sponsorship was limited.

Lilian came back to us for assistance. A friend tried to find sponsorship for her through his church but was only able to raise a modest amount. My brother came to the party for this year, so Lilian starts back at her second year at the start of August.

This is part of the reason for this blog and why there are advertisements. I'm hoping that enough revenue will eventuate to pay Lilian's fees for her last year's study. the cost is just over Tsh 800 000/- which equates to under USD 1 000.00 though in reality, it is a hard ask to live on the bare minimum in a place like Morogoro where commodities have to be trucked in and water sometimes paid for!

Lilian is studying the Environment, and Wildlife which will, on passing, give her automatic right for a job in the Wildlife Service. This would be a fabulous outcome and I can imagine one very proud Tanzanian mother attending the graduation ceremony.

Manyata School plantings after the first season

Editorial

History is an important thing! Why do you think Indiana Jones searches for artifacts and wants to preserve them?
Well now, my history can't in any way equal that of Indiana Jones, but it is worth recording things, if only to give someone a bit of a laugh or maybe, perhaps learn something - even inspire.

I suppose there have been some distinct periods: school days, New Zealand Forest Service days,
nursery days and Tanzania days.
I've learned the odd thing, and like everyone, my person history has moulded me into my ever changing self.

I was thinking of opening a separate blog so as not to mix things up, but have decided to go along adding things as they come to mind. For my Tanzania days, I have good reference as I kept an extensive diary while I was there.

It is difficult to know if it is good policy to record proper names, and I have my own policy on that. I will name correctly the people I respect and have done things that are good (in my opinion) and others I will make up names, more to tickle my own particular sense of humour.

I welcome comments as I do have a philosophy of my own as well and that will reveal itself from time to time.

Losinoni

Firewood transport, Losinoni

Another water story, and there are several more, but after this one, I will return to other matters.

Losinoni village is away off the Arusha-Nairobi road and is quite remote and very dry. NZHC funded a clinic there a few years ago and we carried out an environmental project at the school as well as the Assistance to Primary School Project.

There is a water pipeline that comes down from the southern slope of Mt Meru and uncannily, we refurbished the intake of this pipeline much later as a part of another project from Kisimiri. In fact the two villages continue to vie for water and it is not unusual to find a plastic bag stuck into the feeding pipe of one or other of the villages. Going up there is said to be risky, because Kisimiri Juu has the reputation of growing the best cannabis in Africa! I never felt in danger up there, though access is only by foot and a long march it is! Later perhaps I will tell the cannabis story too.

We carried out a successful planting program at Losinoni primary school, as usual offering prizes for the best tree shelters and eventually, best trees. Drought had struck yet again and the water from the pipeline was much reduced. The village chairman proclaimed that water from the pipe could only be used for drinking and for watering stock. The school was told that the irrigation for the trees had to stop.

My incentive, though was too much of a temptation, and when we arrived to check on the trees, we found them all to be healthy and growing well. We had been warned about the water problems and had expected the trees to be suffering.

The children, under the cover of darkness, had 'stolen' the water to irrigate the their trees! No wonder they were not suffering. I admit I felt some pleasure they were doing this, and in doing so they had created a better environment for themselves.

Losinoni was a desperately dry place! The track in there was dusty and the Maasai people endured a tough life.

Mama Na'nii had a small tree nursery which she took pleasure in showing us, and we encouraged her by offering whatever assistance she needed. Outside the school, Mama Na'nii was one of our main contacts in the village and she would often invite us to take tea with her.

One day, Josiah left my Mags and me with Mama Na'nii while he went off on some private task or other.

The small nursery

As we talked, Mama Na'nii was breast feeding her young son, and as he took a breath, be pushed her breast in such a way that a stream of milk shot across the small table in my direction! Mama Na'nii kept talking as if nothing at all unusual had happened! Certainly I kept a calm expression and did not flinch, but I knew not to look in Mags' direction because the humor of the situation would surely have shown!

Water at Mti Mmoja

Mti Mmoja is a Maasai village situated on the main Arusha-Dodoma road and the primary school is just off the main road at the end of a 200 metre track. Mti Mmoja Primary School was part of the environmental project we were running and also a participant in the Primary Schools Assistance Project.

Whenever we discussed tree planting in any of our project areas, one of the first concerns that was mentioned was water and the associated problems of tree survival and water availability.

Waterhole at Mti Mmoja

The only water source at Mti Mmoja was from the water holes created when the main road was being built. The holes had been excavated to obtain hard fill in the roading process and it was a matter of luck, that the holes actually held water after the rains.

These water holes serve also as livestock watering holes, and cattle, goats and donkeys wade into the water to drink, of course defecating and urinating at the same time. The animals stir up the bottom of the waterhole as well, which makes the base a porridge of stinking liquid especially when the the ponds begin to dry out! They are not so bad just after the rains, but as the drought sets in the water becomes a toxic broth. It was also a home for malaria carrying mosquitoes!

The village people, including the school children have no choice but to use this water for all their domestic uses - yes drinking and cooking, as well as bathing and washing clothes! There is just no other water source.

It is not surprising therefore, that it is difficult to attract school teachers to the area (this is a problem throughout rural Tanzania) so teachers tended to be either from the village, or were very dedicated, or perhaps the other extreme! But the situation is a major constraint to the kids' overall education.
The Head Teacher at Mti Mmoja was a dedicated woman who had the welfare of her students at heart and plainly pointed out the water problems to us.

It had become a habit to always carry two twenty litre containers of water in my vehicle and each time I passed Mti Mmoja, I would give the water to the teachers to make palatable chai (tea). This was always greatly appreciated and we built a bond of friendship there.

Behind the school were some concrete 'domes' and one day the Head Teacher took us there. They were actually huge underground water tanks! Apparently some forty years ago, Canadians were growing large areas wheat in the area. This was before the Maasai had settled there and Nyerere's villagisation programme (Ujamaa). The Canadians had recognised the water problems and had solved the problem for themselves by building the tanks (4 million litres each) with a large concrete pad as a catchment area to collect and channel rainwater into the tanks.

The domed top if the tanks.

Of course we were asked if we could help to refurbish the tanks, and after a thorough inspection, I agreed to write up a proposal to apply for funds. The tanks were in remarkably good condition and the village chairman had the hand pump stored away safely. The channeling was in good order, but the concrete catchment area was in poor condition because cattle had camped on it for many years and had broken it up. But to refurbish it would not be too costly, and I obtained a good price for crushed concreting gravel from a nearby quarry. The area would need to be fenced to keep livestock out.

NZHC approved the proposal and we were ready to start operations when, as I drove down the Sanawari road, I was flagged down by a man driving a vehicle with a major international aid organisation's logo on the door. He asked me about Mti Mmoja water tanks and told me that his organisation were prepared to become involved.

We met and this man told me that the organisation had the funds and the ability to carry out the whole project. I knew that NZHC preferred not to be involved in joint projects and on checking that was confirmed.  I was busy enough in our own projects, so after informing the village authorities of Mti Mmoja, I advised NZHC that because of the circumstances, we no longer required the funds. I felt confident the people of Mti Mmoja would get their water.

Repairs on the catchment area began with the delivery of a load of crushed rock and four bags of cement - only four bags!. Nothing else happened! I continued to visit there regularly, and one day the Head Teacher sadly told me that she thought the organisation had 'eaten' the money for the refurbishment. [the eaten term is the colloquial way showing corruption or waste].

To my knowledge, sadly, the tanks remain disused and the Mti Mmjoa people continue to suffer from a polluted water source.
Perhaps one day, I will find some funds and return there to fix the problem!

Mama Bustani

We were visiting Likamba village one hot day, contemplating the effects of erosion, which is not always caused by water.  I felt sorry for the Maasai women as they trudged down the dusty road because they were dressed up in their finery to go to the market at Ngaremtoni.  I was embarrassed that my little Maruti  kicked up a cloud of fine dust that coats everything and probably sticking to the oil (Vaseline) they rubbed into their skin to make it shine. The dust will dull any shine!

The dusty road into Likamba

At the village office, the Mtendaje (Village Executive Officer) told us that there was a woman in a remote part of the village who had a small tree nursery, and that she wanted us to give her some advice.

This woman, who's proper name, we never actually knew, was always referred to as Mama Bustani -  'bustani' meaning garden, a tree nursery is Bustani ya miti.

Mama Bustani holding an Avocado tree seedling. Mama Bustani's sister is in yellow.

Josiah looks on.

Mama Bustani had a very small compound and her tree nursery consisted of perhaps 100 trees that she had grown from seed she had collected around the village. The trees were not thriving very well and I knew immediately that they were suffering through lack of water.

I asked her where she collected water, and was told that she borrowed a donkey every third day and she went to Kisongo,  threes hours away to bring back two thirty litre drums of water. This water had to be divided between household use, including cooking, washing clothes, personal hygiene and the tree nursery. This is why the trees suffered.

When she irrigated her trees, most of the water simply went into the soil around her pots. This is because when soil dries out it the pot, it shrinks allowing water to pass freely between to pot wall and the soil block, so the tree gets very little water. What little water she could afford was being lost!

I advised Mama Bustani to shift her trees and make a 'basin' for them to sit in. I also told her I would bring her a sheet of plastic on my next trip. Deep down I don't think she  believed I would ever return, but Josiah assured her that the effort would be worthwhile. We returned the next week to find she had done exactly we we had advised, so we laid the plastic sheet in the basin and carefully placed the plants in their pots on it. Mama Bustani was pleased with the results and her eyes gleamed and she smiled broadly.

Her gratitude turned to tears when I produced the two 20 litre containers of water! We used about 10 litres to water the nursery and she was able to save the rest! She told us that our water was cleaner and sweeter than the stuff she collected. She was very happy indeed!

After that, whenever we went to Likamba, I always popped my two containers of water in the old Maruti and we would visit her. She was always grateful and the trees grew well. 

I asked her what she was going to do with the trees, and her reply was that half she would plant on her farm, the rest she would sell.

In the end, I bought her surplus trees, to add to those from our nursery at Sanawari, because it was her I paid a slightly inflated price by way of encouragement. Just for motivation.

As a footnote, after our projects had moved away from Likamba, Missy and I returned there to gather information for her Masters degree thesis. Mama Bustani was still using the techniques we had taught her, her forest was growing, and when Missy asked how she had used the money she had made, her reply was, 'My husband provides for me, what need do I have for money? I grow trees for my own interest so I gave him the money because he would know how to use it best!' This was a surprise to Missy who was studying woman's issues, but for my part, I was glad that extra trees were being planted in the area.

The World Water Crisis

 

While approximately two thirds of out planet is water, the largest proportion is salt water, and only some 3% is 'fresh' water. The availability of fresh water available to the world's population is is less than 0.007% of the world's total water.
This is serious indeed and anyone can do an Internet search to find the exact figures.
In England for example, if you take a glass of water from the tap, you do so knowing that the water has already passed through the bodies of seven people.
Here in New Zealand, dairy farming has put extra pressure on the water resource and the fecal count in waterways means that all drinking water needs to be treated. And again, the resource now has a limit on it, and therefore a value.
Within Footsteps NZ-TZ I will record some of my experiences relating to water and hope that somehow there will become a greater awareness of the need to conserve the finite resource that it is.

Humankind has contributed to the rapid decline of water quality, but some natural resources are polluted as well.
The water from the slopes of Mt Meru has contaminants of fluoride and other salts. This causes browning of teeth, and in some cases bone deformities.
People visiting this part of Tanzania often assume  people's teeth have been poorly looked after or are rotten from eating sugar cane. Not so, the cause is fluoride in the water!
Of course the local population is aware of the contaminants but they have no choice but to drink it.

To illustrate just how finite the water-for-consumption resource is, whenever or wherever water is consumed at least on molecule has passed through the body of Cleopatra!   

Neema

Neema with her mother and siblings

Neema with her mother & father

Sylvester and Paulina had moved out of their one-roomed cottage to be replaced by Sylvia, an unmarried woman of about 25 who worked on the farm, her greatest claim to fame being a member of the church choir.

I used to walk down to the farm to buy milk from my good friend Samweli, who was in charge of the milking. Samweli daily walked some 10km to and from his home, which was away up the slopes of Mt Meru!

It was in those old, wooden, ramshackled milking sheds that I first met little Neema. Well not really met, more like became aware of her. She was shy and hid behind the shed peeking out wide-eyed at the mzungu 'white guy'.

Each day I would just greet her, and gradually she plucked up more courage to formally greet me and shake my hand. "Shikamoo mzungu!' she would say.

I became aware that Neema had a hard life, Sylvia would go away to choir practice, leaving her alone in a house that in reality was remote. It gets dark there at 7:00pm and because of poverty, there is no artificial light, not even a candle. Neema was but 8 years old and had to cook her own ugali - usually with nothing else to add to the flavour. Ugali is a stiff porridge made from maize flour.

Sylvia had long been used to her life alone, and did not really think too much about looking after her young niece and probably didn't want to.

Old Samweli was good to the little girl though and gave her the job of filling the meal (pollard made in the process of making maize flour) at the head of the cow bale. It was he who told me of the problems Neema faced, and how hungry she had become, and how frightened she was when he left for home well after dark. In a way, I think he was looking for me to help her in some way. He told me that she particularly liked bread which was a bit of a luxury to rural Tanzanians.

Most evenings after that I would take a few slices of bread with me, or perhaps fruit or sometimes biscuits and Neema would always reward me with one of her bright smiles!

Samweli told me that Neema actually came from Ngarenanyuki where her parents had too many children to care for so had sent her to Sylvia to relieve their family situation.

I told Neema that I worked in the Ngarenanyuki area and asked where her parents lived.
'Across the river,' she replied, which is the vagueness of Tanzanian directions.

One day Neema asked me to take her to visit her parents. The request did not surprise me and I agreed without hesitation or thoughts of consequences.

I had enough authority to get Sylvia to fill a bag with maize [cobs] for it was in season, and I was well aware that she actually stole them from the farm, but it was a worthy donation of the farm in the scheme of things.

The day before we were to go, Neema was waiting for me on the side of the road, and when I stopped, she climbed on to the step of the Landrover and asked what time she should be ready. I think she could not really believe she was actually going with me.

'Usinidanganya, don't trick me.' she said to me hopefully.

Sure enough, she was waiting with her bag of maize at the roadside and she thought she was Christmas sitting in the front passenger seat! I stopped at Usa River to buy some sugar and tea to give to her parents as well.

We picked up Loti at Ngongongare and he was delighted to see the young girl - he did not even demand the front seat! Our journey took us through the Arusha National Park and Neema was excited to see the giraffe, warthogs and baboons, which made me realise that her only journey through the area was on the old Landrover 'buses' where people were packed in and a small child wouldn't be able to see much at all.

She had not met Loti so was very quiet and respectful towards him, even shy.

We questioned her as to where her parents lived but she was vague, repeating that it was across the river and 'up'. Tanzanian directions are always vague and we could not be sure where she meant. We both knew the area very well.

The were two river crossings; fords - one up to Mwakeny and Kisimiri, and the other a short cut to the Ngarenanyuki clinic and village beyond and then to Uwiro. The latter seemed unlikely. The other route crossed the same river but there were bridges and we expected that she would remember those. As it turned out that was a wrong assumption.

We crossed the ford to Mwakeny and she said she recognised the area but it was a  hopeful guess. At the village, she knew nobody and the village leaders we met did not know her or her parents. We continued up to Kisimiri and called at the primary school, again Neema did not recognise the area nor did the teachers know of her parents. Neema became anxious, I think because she did not know how long my patience would last.

Through Uwiro and Neema brightened saying that her older sister attended Ngarenanyuki Primary School, so we passed by there. Her sister did study there, but she was not at school this day, but we were told to go into the village where someone was sure to know her.

Loti's sister lived nearby, so many people knew him around there. We stopped in a dry creek bed where some people Loti recognised were standing. They in turn recognised Neema and told us that her parents lived up a difficult track beside the creek bed! Incredibly the village was called 'Kwa Iyani' which is the way Ian is often spelt - named after a long-gone settler in the area!

Neema was excited to see her grandfather sitting on a stool outside his house and when we stopped to greet him, kids from all directions converged upon us and soon Neema's mother arrived. The reunion was tearful and happy, so we left them and carried on with our own duties in the general area.

Back at the house, we were told we must have something to eat, and as we waited I looked around at their environment. They were obviously desperately poor and the small village of perhaps ten houses was perched on a dry, barren ridge. I judged it to one of the drier areas within the broad Ngarenanyuki region. They had a lot of kids!

Neema's father had been located and he had gone off to 'borrow' rice and kill the only chook I had seen there. As we ate, I asked if the kids could join us, but there simply was not enough to go around, so Loti and I ate while the rest went hungry!

As we prepared to leave, were were asked to take two other girls with us, a sister of Neema's and a smaller cousin. Victoria and Baati were excited about the expected trip, for they had never been beyond the first bridge! Loti was unconcerned, but I though Sylvia might not be too happy at all!

The journey back was a thrill because everything was new to these exuberant girls, they called out their greetings to the giraffe, warthogs, baboons, National Park Rangers, the tar sealed road, the brick buildings of Usa River, the lorries, the buses and anything else they had never seen before!

I was right; Sylvia was none too happy with the extra mouths to feed and I think she squarely cast the blame in my direction! However, Neema enjoyed the company and I received plenty of attention whenever I called for milk or manure. And of course I always had food!

After a month or so, Sylvia convinced me that it was time to return Victoria and Baati to their parents, and this time I used a donation from the Waianakarua Lions Club to buy a substantial amount of food to take with us.

I enjoyed the journey back because the girls sang most of the way - using a 'new' song Habari gani? Nzuri sana! How are you? I'm very good! A greeting but they made it out to greet everything and everyone they saw! Even Loti was called by his name rather than any respectful title he should have been given.

As we approached Kwa Iyani village they sang. "We have arrived eh! We have arrived, eh! We have arrived at Baba and Mama's [house].

Neema's parents were very grateful for the food, likely they would share it, and all were happy when we left there. From time to time we returned there with food from donations of relatives and friends and we know it was distributed around the whole village.

Neema was lonely again and Sylvia had taken up with this guy who had a violent facet within his character. Horrified, Samweli told me that Neema was witness to this guy pulling a knife on Sylvia! I am not sure, but I think Loti reacted to my expressions of concern resulting in Neema being removed back to Ngarenanyuki.

I next met Neema at Olkung'wado Primary School where she was a student - the school is in the same education district, so not too far away from her home. Her uncle was the Head Teacher there. So I was able to still take bread to her uncle's house because I also knew him  as well as his school which was part of our environmental project.

More often than not, Neema was at her uncle's house when I called there, so she was missing out on school, and I suspected that she was being used as a house girl. This saddened me but I kept quiet.

Neema's uncle was appointed as District Supervisor of Primary Schools in the Ngarenanyuki District and I noticed she was not at school, nor was she at home. I found out that she was actually working as a house girl for a relative in a far distant village. This is what happens when families are so poor that they are unable to provide for their children. Neema will have no more education but she will work for her keep. Sometimes these situations are good, sometimes not.

Now I have no idea where Neema is or how she is faring - I can only hope for the best.