Working things out

One of the reasons for Whiskers and Nettie to visit, was the Agency Conference. We I'm not that into conferences, so I will not dwell on it, nor do I need to report on it. The other reason was the opportunity to look -check - on projects and the various volunteers.

Big E had a few projects that had been funded by NZHC, and while none were completed he spoke well and justified what had happened and generally made things look pretty good. We went to look at two unfinished water projects, one at Nadasoito and the other at Mswakini. More on those at another time.

Nettie was impressed with the nursery and interested in our ideas of working with schools to improve the environment. I suspect she could see that the funded projects needed some supervision.

Mo & Jo had told her that Hifadhi had no money to support our project. Not our project, but the project we belonged to. Ownership of any project was with the people directly involved - the end users.

Nettie advised me to write up a project funding proposal. She told me that I needed to state that I would control all funds and be responsible for them.

I wrote a simple proposal - funding of the tree nursery to produce trees that could be given out to participating schools - that is schools where we carry out seminars and they only receive trees after the holes are prepared to plant them in. The funding included vehicle expenses.

Mo took my proposal to Harare (with a bottle of whiskey) and returned with the acceptance of the proposal. The rules were that we received money in monthly amounts from the Agency bank account and then after fully accounting for the money spend, another month's would be advanced. I was asked to keep on Big E's case to ensure the water projects were completed.

Then there was something else - Mo & Jo had been working with Nettie on a project to assist primary schools. This included supplying desks, text books, teacher's aids, building of toilets and painting of blackboards.

I could immediately see the potential of this - not only would it help the schools enormously it would help us to access the schools. Each volunteer was to be given five schools to assist, but as it turned out not all vols wanted to take up the offer, so we were allocated ten, and that later swelled to 12 which turned out to be hard work but as fulfilling at the same time.

This was to make an assignment that I could fell very comfortable with - we were very lucky.

Expedition To Nairobi

After the seminars at Engorora and Soko, we were left to work in the nursery. Big E & Round L were concentrating on their Bar and I had been making a few changes in the way we set up the nursery. Josiah was back doing his studies and Missy asked me how we should prioritise to move forward.

I told her that we should start going out into the villages and that I would pin Big E down and talk about it. She too was keen to go into the villages and experience life there. I had started to be friendly with Mama B and the three kids. This was because the nursery was just behind the house (maybe I should draw a map), and each morning after I had had breakfast, I would walk past where Mama B and the kids were having theirs. Always Mama B would say, 'Karibu!' Welcome, but I would just pass and say that I have just finished mine.

One day Big E said to me, 'Each time you just pass, you never take tea with us!' Right there and then, I smiled and sat down with them, and from that day, I had two breakfasts every day! And enjoyed it too!

Usually on a Saturday morning and always on a Sunday morning, Big E was seedy from the night before, and he would take his tea by himself at around 9:00am in some sunny spot. He always wore his teal blue, toweling bath robe - only. Whenever he saw me, he would invite me to join him, ordering a chair to be brought to me and of course, my cup. When assuring Missy that I would speak to him, I had in mind one of these Saturday morning sessions.

The next Saturday morning I joined him in the warm morning sun and we talked about general things as we had become accustomed to do. After I thought he was comfortable enough, I broached the subject.

'We are making good progress in the nursery now, and don't you think it is time to visit the villages to begin working with the people?' I asked.

'Yes that would be good,' he agreed, 'but we have used the money set aside for seminars. Actually we don't have enough money to pay for petrol to travel into the villages.'

'How do you expect to deliver the trees we are growing, if there is no money for petrol?' I asked, 'and we need to be doing more that just producing trees.' I was a bit dumbfounded, but I kept calm and my voice low.

'We have to move along with the fundraising projects.' was his flat reply.

I had my ideas about those fundraising projects, they had been filed in my mental rubbish bin!

So I changed the subject and talked with him until he decided it was time to take a shower.

I mentioned my conversation to Jo, who was skeptical and said that Hifadhi should have enough money for the project as he had been successful in gaining funding - she was a bit angry. Still I decided to remain calm as it was 'early days yet'.

Now what follows had a certain impact on my assignment and the following is what I actually wrote in my diary - note that these days I would probably report it differently as I would see it through 'more experienced' eyes.

Day 54 - 8 Oct

Today Jo and I are to go to Nairobi to pick up Whiskers and Nettie, big noises - one from HO and the other from NZHC. Up early and sowed Cassia simea seed that had been water soaked.

Jo arrived at about 9:00am and we set off - me driving. I had been as far as the Losononi turn-off but after that for a time the area was treeless and quite barren. The grass is brown and dry - this is Maasai grazing land and is over grazed! We were leaving the influence of Mt Meru. The day was partly cloudy and it was warm.

Soon we encountered more trees varying sparse to quite thick spacing and they were mostly Acacia trees with flat tops and spreading crowns. Sometimes there is a sward of grass and other times the red earth is clearly visible and that means erosion problems are apparent. The road is sealed all the way, bit it is generally very narrow and there are places where large holes in the side of the road could cause a vehicle to roll if you hit it with a wheel! And of course there are potholes - some bad, most you can dodge.

Soon we spotted some Zebra in the scrub (first time for me), but we were past them before I could stop for a better look, so only saw the striped rumps. Suddenly, right on the side of the road were two Giraffe! I had actually expected them to be bigger, but I got out of the vehicle and took some photos. I tried the whistle I use to make rabbits sit up or stop, but it did not work. When they walk it looks like slow motion. In quite a few places we saw ostriches, the females are a dowdy brown, while the males are black with white wings - didn't see any running though!

Sometimes we could spot gazelles - Thompson's - and they look cute with smooth skin and distinct markings.

Alongside the road Maasai herdsmen, wrapped in their red blankets, tended their cattle or sheep or goats - some have elaborate decoration on wrists, around necks or on their ears - most are tall and thin (or is that lean) .

The border crossing into Kenya was a melee and very busy with tour parties' cars parked in disorganised rows. Men (touts) wanted to exchange money and Maasai women wanted to sell trinkets/crafts, one wanted to put a braclet on my wrist as a 'gift' and I had difficulty getting her to take it back - it was a scam anyway and she took it when she realised I wasn't parting with any cash.

The Border Post buildings were shabby and dingy (shaded) to stay cool, but the immigration officers were friendly and no bother to us. We had to book out of Tanzania first - just one small form to fill in - and then travel the 50 metres of 'no man's land' to the Kenya post. Another form to fill infor a temporary visa - they gave me 3 months and the cost was $US50.00.
This was my first actual border crossing, but Jo was used to it and well prepared because there customs stuff to attend to re the vehicle.

Jo drove the rest of the way to the Nairobi Airport and I sat back to relax and look at the countryside. It seemed to me the further we went, the more wealth became apparent. Don't know what I mean there, but probably : infastructure.

As in Tanzania, some of the Acacia trees are leafless because of the dry season, and some had bright green, new leaves and to me there seemed no apparent reason for the difference!

Saw a large area fenced off in the bush with cattle grazing - the cattle are the humped breed Brahama - that's probably wrong - Zebu.

Atop one hill there is a cement works, meaning there was lime nearby (sea in the middle of Africa?)

We came to a small village and there were street lamps - some were leaning over (bent) and perhaps only 50% worked but there you are... and the center line in the road was marked!

The road came to a T junction - left was to Nairobi, right to Mombassa, and the road had become a 4 lane highway! The turnoff to the airport was actually unmarked, but Jo found it ok by using me as a lookout, and soon we were parked in the airport carpark!

It is a big, busy airport and is made from local stone. The Arrivals Terminal is a separate terminal to the Departures and they are linked by an overhead causeway. Inside the Arrivals Terminal seemed a bit dingy because of the varnished panelling but it was neat and tidy (clean) and ok to sit in (cool). There was barrier to stand behind to wait for incoming passengers.There were stalls for various companies : Avis, Hotels, Safaris and there was an Information Counter.

As we were early, we went to the restaurant (up 5 stories) for lunch. This was a upmarket quiet and refined place (for me). Jo had actually been feeling queasy and was off her food, so we both settled for an omelet.
After lunch we went back down to the Information Counter to see when the plane would arrive,'Due to operational difficulty the plane was delayed until 5:00 o'clock'. We decided against going into Nairobi for the four or so hours because Jo did not know the city very well & anyway we had no spare money & didn't have a clue what we wanted to see there! And Jo's queasy stomach needed to be considered as we all know what that can lead to! So we sat down in a cool part of the terminal and watched the goings on. We had a few laughs at the expense of the travellers - our own fun in a way; airport fun.
We crossed the road to the Departures Terminal and Jo had a Konyagi (to settle her stomach) and I had a Tusker beer; but to be honest neither of us felt like a drink because we were a bit worried at the delay of the plane and thinking about getting home in the dark - late! Close to 5:00pm we asked at the Information Counter why the arrival was not noted on the blackboard! 'Delayed until 8:30pm'. Jo asked if the plane was actually in the air. 'We only have information when the aircraft is 45 minutes away, otherwise the time is only approximately.' Of course we were not satisfied with that answer but there was nothing we could do.

Jo had two bags with her so we took turns at guarding them while the other went for a stroll or to the loo (luck for Jo because she brought her own paper - bad luck too because she was needing it). On one of my walks, I found this guy in a computer room with a small slide window and he was monitoring all flights in and out of the airport. It was he who gave flight information, via a runner, who took it to the Information Counter for announcement. But this computer was right up to date. I chatted to the man in my most respectful Kiswahili and he was prepared to supply the news to me. He could not tell me why the plane was delayed, but he printed me out the manifesto which showed Mo and the others aboard. The latest ETA was 2:00 am which meant that the plane had not left Harare.

Oh well, we just had to wait it out! We had concerns that Mags at home will be worrying, but there was no way to get news to her. The people around the airport were friendly to us and the new shift of taxi drivers kept asking us if we needed transport into town! The guy at the computer did not mind me going back for information and a chat. Jo was on hot coals anxious for her husband Mo. Finally the guy told me that the latest ETA was 8:30am Monday morning! What to do? We decided to spend the night in the car (long wheelbase Landcruiser). The meals were off at this late stage and Jo managed to down a chocolate eclair and I had two Samosa - I must say my hunger remained, but we could find nothing else!

It was never dark in the carpark and for us trying to sleep, the lights annoyed us. Jo took the back seat and I the front - Jo seemed to sleep but I was too uncomfortable because of the gear lever!

Day 55, 9 Oct

It was not long before we found that it was getting cold! Even though Nairobi is on the Equator, the altitude makes nights to be cold. Jo wore only a T shirt and I a thin cotton short sleeved shirt, but I had a cotton sweater and like the gentleman I am, I gave it to Jo and froze myself!

In all the time we had been at the airport, we had not seen women dressed in kangas as in Tanzania, but when I extracted myself at 2:00am for a toilet break, I saw 5 or 6 women dressed in kangas mopping the tile floors of the building.

At about 6:00am I went to the Information Window and was surprised to see my friend there already; after our greetings he informed me that the flight was not in the air! We did not feel that good because we had nothing for morning ablutions (no toothbrush, no shave - well Jo didn't need to - no change of underwear etc) but we decided to take breakfast. The tea was the usual sweet, milky variety that I was beginning to look forward to; but the restaurant did not open until lunch time! After a while we abandoned the idea of the restaurant, and went to the downstairs cafeteria. We decided to have toast and sausage; I was very hungry. The toast was half cooked in toastie pie maker, and the sausage was about 4 cm long and 1 cm thick, which was small for a Kiwi guy! Jo was not hungry, her upset stomach and worry about the incoming flight disturbed her.

It was time to check on the flight - this time, if there was a problem, Jo did not want to know! However my friend confirmed that the flight was in the air and due to arrive at 12:00 noon! We had been worried about Mags back at Sanawari expecting us home last night - we knew she would be frantic with worry. The oldest of Big E's sons comforted her with the idea that we could have run off the road! Communication were difficult at best during that time, but at the airport, there was a post office, so we wrote an fat for them to send to the Agency Office where we knew Mags would go because she was covering for Mo & Jo when they were not there. There was a great deal of difficulty for the post office lady find a line to send the fax and 'policy was retry every 15 min.' Well finally the fax went through, but just as Mags closed the door to the office - as far as she knew, there was no communication!

Another flight arrived from Harare, the scheduled one, at about 11:00 am so we went in to watch the passengers arrive and we stayed there for the 'real' to arrive. When Jo caught sight of Mo, she flushed with excitement and relief, hugging me twice in her glee! I too was pleased to see him and the others as they approached - Whiskers was wearing a broad grin!

Apparently the hydraulics in the tail of the aircraft failed soon after takeoff and they were luck to land safely! The repairs took a long time - the replacement pipe could not be fitted, so the split on was brazed up! They had a frightening experience and some of the passengers refused to return to the aircraft.

Whiskers hinted strongly that he wanted a T-shirt from Nairobi, so despite our fatigue, we went into the city - I will describe the city later. So this delayed us for a couple of hours.

The trip home was uneventful and we chatted. I drove from the border back to Arusha, straight up to Sanawari, where we were greeted somewhat enthusiastically by Mags and Mama B and Maua who had been keeping her company.

Exhaused, I went to bed almost immediately!

But this event put me in the good books of Nettie who was to help with our assignment!

The First Seminar

The first seminar was at Engorora village, just past the Kisongo market area. I was still struggling with Kiswahili and anyway Big and Josiah were swapping between that language and Kimaasai, so it didn’t really matter to me.

But they did seem to be going to a lot of trouble it was obvious that they were going to provide food because Mama B had made a pile of chapatis and boiled a lot of eggs. There were going to be speakers on different subjects, and Josiah had made up a number of pots to fill as a demonstration. The seminar was to last for two days.

I had the use of the Agency Maruti. This is a long wheelbase car like the Suzuki 4WD so often seen. They are India made and I found it to be an amazing vehicle. I had actually had a LJ50 with the Forest Service – a small two stroke with oil injection and it too was an amazing vehicle!
This vehicle had actually been assigned to Johnny Boy, but he had not yet arrived, but fate took a hand when a person assigned to Mbulu could not come due to ill health. The new Landrover was then allocated to Johnny Boy and the Maruti was assigned to me. Handy that because we hardly ever managed to wrestle the Suzuki from Big E or Round L!

Seminars are a common way of providing development in Tanzania, and the participants are usually given a pen and exercise book to take notes. ‘People do not arrive if you don’t feed them’, which is the reason for the food. The usual demand is that at least 25% of the participants be women – this is to ‘empower ‘ women, up I found underneath all, they have their own type of power.

So I took Josiah with the food and the equipment out to Engorora, while Big E went to collect the guest speakers – they were late and one of the speakers had to be replaced by a ‘less than expert’; but that did not matter because despite the promise of breakfast (at 9:30) people were only arriving in their small groups.

The seminar was held at the school, a wooden building; and for the first time I saw the problems education was facing in Tanzania. Now it is much better as sometime 2002/3 Tanzania was provided with a huge aid package from Denmark to target the education problems.
The building was of wood and termites had caused a lot of damage, so the door did not shut and weatherboards had fallen off. There was one desk to three students. A newly constructed class was made out of slabwood (waste from the sawmilling operation) this new building housed two classrooms with no desks; the kids sat on boards that stood on large stones or bricks. The blackboards were painted black, but most of the black had worn off.

Engorora School Building – Maruti Outside

The Slabwood Classrooms

Inside the classroom - the desks came later

I asked the Head Teacher how far some of the students had to walk to school : 4 miles was about the farthest! Most arrived with water containers because there was a water tap in the school compound.
The water came from Mt Meru. It was a line established for the Army Base at Monduli some kilometers away. It was supposed to be exclusively for Army use, but many villages had tapped into it illegally; so much so that finally there was not enough water going to the Army Base, so the line was closed down and they established another. The village people were left to suffer no water.

When the seminar participants had finally assembled, the women members were coerced into preparing the food that we had brought with us and after Grace was said the food was washed down with the typical milky, sweet tea.

The participants were given a school-type exercise book and a pen to jot down notes. Much care was taken to draw the margin on each page and as the speakers spoke, all took notes. Josiah spoke well and so did Big E and he used the picture in a book as a teaching aid – though nobody could see it. There were other speakers as well, talking about health and other matters.
Josiah demonstrated a jiko fuelled by sawdust – now this was remarkable! A jiko is a small, circular metal drum that holds a cooking fire. It usually fuelled by charcoal (one of the major causes of deforestation) of firewood. These jikos are most common in towns where firewood is more difficult to find; in rural villages three stones is a more common type of fire.

Mama B cooking on jiko

Now Josiah’s demonstration was to place a bottle in the center of the jiko and tightly pack dry sawdust around it, then carefully remove the bottle. With tinder, light the center where the bottle has been removed. The sawdust burns slowly at first, but soon produces hot cooking embers. Sadly this did not become popular and did have issues with sourcing sawdust – but it was available!
Another guy expounded the use of a solar dish to cook with, but the cost was way over what local people would be able to pay!

After lunch there was a demonstration on sieving soil using the wire netting frame commonly used for cleaning maize, beans or coffee. There was a supply of soil and rotted cow manure on hand to be mixed together with some water so the texture was correct.
There was on man there dressed in traditional Maasai regalia, and I did so want to take his picture, but had forgotten my camera.
So next day, I took our camera – phoo, he turned up wearing a brown suit!

Mixing soil

The seminar continued the next day was spent with a demonstration of cutting the polythene tubes correctly to length and filling them with soil – there is a knack in filling them. The bottom must be well packed to avoid the soil falling out when being handled. But softer further up so the seed can germinate easily.
The group was given some various seeds and they were told that they could start their own tree nursery.

Big E was happy with the seminar, and another was conducted at the village of Soko a few weeks later. I had some reservations – the side issues did not reinforce the environment/conservation message and there was no follow-up planned. But nonetheless I had learned a lot.
I found out later that he had been funded for these seminars and somewhat more than was actually spent! But that’s another story for another time.

About the Assignment

I had the title 'Environmental Co-cordinator' which could mean a whole raft of things and I had thorough job specifications but that implied there was a level of funding available, but there wasn't.

Once we had moved into our house - that is the joint one with Big E and his family - there was a lot to organise before we could start anything. One of those things was to learn Swahili, or as anyone who speaks the language, Kiswahili. Using that word shows you have a knowledge of the language - a sort of in-house cut above those who are less familiar with the language.

We were given 30 hours of lessons by Mr Kimaro - one on one teaching. Mr Kimaro is still a good friend and we were given extra lessons by him later. These days there are more formal lessons given at the Danish Centre - expensive and perhaps better - but by not learning from Mr Kimaro, something is lost!

We were not good students, which is no reflection on Mr Kimaro! We were establishing the nursery and trying to fit into the local, Sanawari culture, talk to Big E's kids and much more, so our attention span with Mr Kimaro was limited.

He gave us print-outs and Mags made coffee as much to keep us awake as being a good host to him, but also the act of making the coffee gave her a spell.

Mr Kimaro would trudge up the road, dusting off his shoes before shouting 'Hodi!' You don't knock on doors, you call out 'Hodi, hodi!' and receive the welcome 'Karibu'. Joshia actually taught us that in Maasai villages you should call out three times, and if the 'Karibu' is not said in reply the third time, you do should go in - something delicate might be happening.
He would be sweating because he would have been late and had hurried up the hill to be on time. Mr Kimaro was interested in us and we talked about all manner of things, each learning from the other. Importantly, he taught us about manners and the display of respect/affinity that is so vital if you want to become a part of the community!

After our 30 hours of lessons, I guesshe may have been a little disappointed about our progress but later on he would have found that I did a reasonable grasp ot the language. Some two years later we received another 40 hours lessons from him. Later again he raised money to start his own primary schools - from modest beginnings and I was indeed proud to visit the school, conduct an environmental seminar and supply trees for planting in the school grounds. He in turn celebrated my Kiswahili. This man had a tough row to hoe, and he has achieved his dream to educate the rural poor of Tanzania - if you have a few dollars in your pocket, he will use them well!

Mostly though, I taught myself Kiswahili by studying the dictionary, listing to usage and emulating what I heard - I had decided for myself that I actuall wanted to be able to use the language. Maua, Mama B's daughter, Maua used simple language to help and much later Mama Upendo wanted me to teach her daughter English - I gained most of my Kiswahili during those lessons!

So at least in those early days, I had a struggle with the local language. Big E and his secretary, Round L spoke good English and I had little choice but to take advice from them. A young American woman came to ask if she could work with me, and I never regretted my decision to have her on board. Missy fitted in so well, was only with us for a year, but later came back to stay with us, write up a thesis for her Masterate, return for holidays and eventually working in a similar field providing assistance to various counties including Tanzania. In some small way, I think I inspired her into that direction. But I believe she has turned out to be a valuable outcome to our assignment in Tanzania.

Big E and Round L were very keen for us to come up with ideas for income generation for the NGO Hifadhi Mazingira. Big E had a job (attending there seldom) with the Municipality, and he was sure that he would be given land on which to establishes tree nurseries - they wanted three of them. Basically they wanted us to grow trees for sale, and pocket the rewards. They had also written up a large proposal to establish Car Wash Bays, selling hot food, and raking in the money! We were expected to evaluate this proposal and find the funds to establish the project.

Well we never did any of those things! I didn't think the car wash bays was a goer because there were boys washing cars in the river and from buckets. I was wrong; for three years later the bays did begin to spring up and washing in the river outlawed. And later as a large project generated by central government, most of the roadsides in Arusha had trees nurseries on them - but most faded away because they could not make money; so my instincts were right about that!

Big E and Round L were busy with final construction of a bar, Naabi Hills, named after the Gateway into the Serengeti but with the initials of their first born daughters. Actually this bar was funded out of project money that had been granted for what should have been 'our' project.

Of course we we unaware of this at the time, and now I suspect that our presence was a bit of an embarrassment to them. Likewise, Josiha was not available to us because he was attending an 'upskilling course' which, he revealed later to be French lessons, because he did not trust Big E and co, so took the lessons in the event of him becoming a safari driver! From the point of view of Hifadhi Mazingira, it was good that Josiha was away because they did not need to pay him!

Missy and I usually forced the issue of having regular Monday morning meetings with Big E and Round L to plan out what we were doing, but it was always difficult to get past the issues of a lack of finance and income generation. I often raised the issue of the donated second hand computer that Round L operated which was situated in our living quarters. Round L would go in there while we were away and I was not comfortable with the security of that situation.

All along, I had known that I would be growing trees in a nursery situation and I had had a good look around my own environment - our back

A start in the Nursery

yard. I could see that there had been the remnants of an old nursery behind the house, and asked Big E's youngest boy, Ole about the area. Mchongoma is a thorny hedge plant that is very popular as a security fence and the kids had grown them to make some money - in the event, Big E sold them and pocketed the money!

So I asked Big E if we could revive the area and establish a nursery. He agreed, and showed us some rolls of polythene tubing and a store of various seeds - so he had been thinking about things!

These rolls of polythene were actually a long tube of plastic, flattened and rolled up. Cut into sections of perhaps 100mm long, then opened out to make a plant pot with no bottom. It was of course a bit tricky to fill them, you had to pack the soil solidly on the bottom so the bum did not fall out of it!

In clearing the grass and weeds, we found some other pots with trees in them, so we cleaned them up too - they were mainly Madras Thorn more suitable to the Dar es Salaam climate, but if they could be established, they make a very useful tree.

We made good progress clearing the site and it became time to start filling pots and growing seedlings. The nursery jargon is potting media, and I asked what was used - 'just dig soil out of the ground'. We had saved some soil from the discarded pots, and Ole helped me scrape up some more. I scrounged a piece if chicken netting to make a screen so I could sieve the soil, but I found the texture to be too tight for good plant growth. I asked Big E for some sawdust (to add in) and he brought some for me in the wee Suzuki. But fertility was a problem too, (I later used dry, rotted cow manure but had no access to it at this time) so I tried to make compost.

Pots set out and shaded area

There were no worms! Siafu probably kept the population low. Termites took the vegetative matter away, so compost as I knew it was not possible. I collected fresh cow manure from Mama B's cow and watered it down using it as a liquid fertiliser.

There were no tools available, Ole borrowed a wheelbarrow from a neighbor - a miss-shapen thing but adequate - and a short handled shovel; well the blade was flat and the handle made out of piece cut from a sapling, but it worked for me!

I could see that the tree roots would soon go through the bottom of the pot into the soil below, so to avoid cutting them, I asked Big E to buy me some plastic sheeting to use as a 'floor'. New car tyres were wrapped in strips of thin, pink plastic sheeting and Big E had them sewn together to make sheets! Cheap but effective enough!

The seed was labelled wrongly and the Dovyalis (Mchongoma) was old. I was learning and reading a lot. Dovyalis needed to be fresh, almost straight from the apple, dried and sown. Viability of seed was often very short except the hard seeds like Acacia and Leuceana. So I began to collect seed myself.

I found that growing seed in a seedbed and pricking out was not a good way because the small seeds needed to be watered and shaded. If water became a constraint, then the seedling did not survive. I found it better to direct sow, and thin out seedlings, maybe if water was available prick out the extra seedlings.

I did all this to emulate what could be done in the more severe conditions encountered in the villages. I hit upon an idea - direct sow and cover the seed with a thin layer of sawdust - this hold moisture and keeps down any weeds. Cover the sawdust with chips of marram (volcanic ash) to stop it washing when watering - with a can. There was a small supply of marram there, but Big E removed it to the bar once he twigged on that I was using it - and gave me instead a handcart filled with stones from the river. When that ran out I talked him into supplying marram because it was much better!

So this is how the nursery started and how we became established - there is much more to it, but this is a long enough read for now. I will continue it on next.

Mama Roger's Sequel

Mama B brought Mama Roger and Roger to meet us. Mama Roger was a strong, wellbuilt woman of the Chugga tribe. Young Roger was a bright, friendly lad and he bowed his head in greeting in the Maasai way. (Bowed head and saying shikamoo and I was required to place my right hand on his head and reply marahaba. This was respectful and normal and actuall Mama Roger greeted Big E in the same way.)

As I have said, Mama B was one in a million and she was showing wisom and offering help to Mama Roger, for she knew the situation, while we did not! We sat together and drank tea and chatted generally. Mama B told us who Mama Roger was and how difficult life no was for this young widow.

Mama Roger suggested that we might like to buy some books from her as they were written in English and were of no use to her. They were field guide books to birds and mammals that her husband had used. The Chagga people are well known for their business expertise and this was showing through. We agreed to look at the books. She had them with her.

The books were dog-eared, but in good shape, and in fact I had thought of purchasing them at Kase Bookshop in Arusha.

Mama Roger had her price which was slightly inflated on the new price. We agreed to pay the price, but in our way of security, told her to come back tomorrow after we had found the cash.

She wrote in the books Zawadi kutoka Mama Roger. A gift from Mama Roger. I think now Roger would like them back, and I will be trying.

This was the wisdom of Mama B though - no doubt Mama Roger had asked her to facilitate a meeting, and Mama B had protected us by staying there and making sure she did not ask straight out for money. I think the money was for food.

By now Mama B trusted us and confided that there was trouble for Mama Roger. Her mother in law did not like her and did not want her to inherit the house she shared with her husband. The woman wanted the house for herself! Further, Roger was a rightful heir but Mama Roger would benefit should the house go to him. I noticed that Mama Roger and Roger spent a lot of time with Mama B much to the chagrin of Big E. In fact when he arrived home unexpectedly, they would hide - sometimes at our house!

One day Mama Roger came crying to me 'They have tried to kill Roger, I must get him away!' She had come to ask for money to send him away. Mama B confirmed that the story was true, he had gone to school and someone had tried to poison him! I gave her some money, and he was whisked away.

Later we were asked for more money because Mama Roger wanted him to go to boarding school somewhere by Manyara National Park. During school holidays, Mama B would protect him under her roof - Big E argued against that because we heard him, bit Mama was strong in her love for the boy!

Mama was a regular visitor to us, and we enjoyed her company. One day she asked us for more money. She had decided to fight for her house. She was determined and strong, telling us that Big E had promised her husband that he would protect her and help her, but that was not happening.

Village disputes are often heard before the village chairman, perhaps with the mtendaje and with a few village elders. Mama Roger needed to entice them by providing nyama choma - grilled meat and beer. So she needed the money to do pay for it. Well they ate the meat and drank the beer, but other issues cause a postponement, and the next week she had to ask us to help her buy more meat and beer. They listened to her and to her step mother but could not resolve the matter, suggesting she file a case in the primary court.

With no resources, Mama Roger asked us to to help pay for a lawyer, which we did. Meantime her mother became ill and was in hospital but the medical staff could find nothing ailing her. One Sunday afternoom Mama Roger asked us to to and see her mother in hospital. Relatives care for the daily needs of patients and hospital are not what we have in New Zealand. The woman was quite frail because she was not eating and Mama Roger was worried. With no medical cause fir her ailment, the conclusion was a hex had been put on her! The removal of a hex was through prayer, powerful prayer, but this had not worked. An Indian preacher arrived and prayed with and she sat up in the bed and spoke in fluent Hindi! She did not know the language! But she was cured~ take that as you may.

The lawyer proved costly and the summary the first hearing was before the primary court magistrate. Later as Mama Roger returned home, she saw the magistrate eating and drinking with Big E at his bar.

There was more cost for the lawyer, and I suggested to Mama Roger that she was not going to win - but she would not give up. Tearfully she returned with the printed judgement - she had lost the case, and the court documents read that she was denied the right to speak, and that none of her witnesses were allowed to speak. It was a costly sham!

Mama Roger later found a small corner area of land a built a small single roomed house - wattle and daub, and we helped with the roofing iron which she found second hand. When it was finished she asked us for a meal there with Mama B.

Mama Roger began a business trading in beans and in her Chugga way, she was successful. We continued to watch Roger whenever he returned home - he is a fine young fellow!

Mama Roger's father, who owned a bar took ill and she gave up he business to run the bar and nurse her father. I think she is doing just fine now!

Our First Funeral

Before I start on this episode, I should say that the main focus of my assignment was environmental education, and I will get to that.

I also remember the words of my good friend Ndosi, the General Secretary of the Diocese of Meru. Tell people about the good things. There are plenty of bad things, but tell of the good.

Of course the bad things make the most interesting reading, but I do feel bound to be sensitive.

I kept a full, daily diary and readingwhat I have said especially as in this funeral, I was off track a bit, and I came to understand Tanzanian people better. For this I will use more from my diary.
Big E had told us that his cousin had died, and the day of the funeral, Josiah told us that he would be going, emphasising the word respect. I got the message that it was appropriate that we should go. This is so because shows that you want to be part of the local community, but as Mbise told me much later; you go to a funeral to be with them at a sad time - to identify with them, to give them 'pole' (a word meaning much more than 'sorry'). His personal take was that you go to a funeral because you don't want to be alone at your own!

Bid E's oldest son, Mwiba escorted us on the short walk to the funeral site. As is most usual the burial was to be on the property of the diseased. The women were sitting on the ground separate from the men who mostly (especially the elders, wazee) sat on some boards that were resting on bricks or rocks. The women were spectacularly colorful in their kangas (a wrap around the waist and another the same as a shawl over the head, or at least around the shoulders). The colors and patterns of kangas and more expensive kitenge are limitless and it us unusual to see two women wearing the same, unless it is intended so.
The men generally dressed in western type clothes, some very well dressed while others looked like they had just been working on the farm. Perhaps 10% wore traditional Maasai robes.

There is some ranking shown among the wazee, the oldest ones come a bit late to show their importance and are given a seat by a younger person vacating it in deference to the older man.

Mwiba sat me down and retreated, as he was young and this was planned, for Big E appeared and spoke in Maasai to the man next to me. Obviously he told him to keep by me and explain things to me. This man spoke very good English!

There seemed to be a delay, and I looked about me. 'One very old guy dressed in what had been a padded jacket, but now in tatters, sat with his eyes closed. He regularly coughed deeply and slowly and without spitting, he allowed phlegm to drop from his lips to the dust between his feet. Then he would cover it with his fimbo, a stick carried by men. Don't think bad of this guy - he was probably very sick and handkerchiefs were not around much then - much less tissues. He was coping with his problem in the best way he knew.'

'The thing about Tanzanians that I find hard to get used to is that they do not mind body contact! They will press against you or hold your hand - they don't mind pressing together so of course you can smell body odor and bad breath. My guide was continually belching (with real eruptions) not loud, but smelly!' This is true enough, we NZers like our space, but after a while you get past this type and simply accept it. I'm a bit embarrassed now that I wrote it!

We were in a small compound sitting under banana 'trees' and the area, as always, had been swept clean. There was no dust just hard clay. My guide asked me the usual questions; if I spoke Kiswahili - kidogo, was I a Christian - ndiyo, what sect - sijui.

He produced his hymn book and asked if I could read Kiswahili - well even after seven years, my reading was too slow to keep up with the singing!
There was no music, but hymn after hymn was sung and most people did not seem to need a hymn book, more, they seemed to know what number each was in the hymn book! During a lull, my guide asked me if I wanted to sing (actually not my strong point) and took a hymn book from his coat pocket again. I was in the middle of a trio, for the guy on the other side of me joined in too! Yep me! and we led the others off singing again and others took hymn books from their pockets.
After a while, a ute arrived (ex mortuary) with the casket (body within). The women set up a loud 'yip,yip, yip', as some ten or so young men carried the casket past them as they carried it into the house. Close family members followed the casket inside and my guide told me they would view the body and come to terms with the death.
We just kept on singing. And singing. And singing!
My guide conveyed the news to me that the Pastor had not arrived to perform, the service. We could see the wazee council talking, trying to work out what should be done. An hour of singing and quiet passed and during the conversation, it transpired that my guide was in fact an Evangelist - sort of lay preacher! I suggested to him that he could conduct the service. Well he did not have his regalia and he did not want to step onto another's turf. But the delay lengthened and I cajoled him until finally he decided he would approach the wazee.
The casket was brought out of the house and set up ready for the service and everyone stood, crowding close to the casket. At that very moment the Pastor arrived - he had forgotten that he was required. My guide returned to me - happy!
I did not understand the Swahili, but the service was a typical Christian one, and I realised when the eulogy was spoken.
After the benediction, the women first filed past the casket to pay last respects. There were wailing cries and 'yip, yips' and a few broke down completely. Then it was the men's turn and I was in the file, first noticing the Grevillea timber which was unvarnished. The upper third of the lid was open to the corpse's neck and there was a black cross draped over the casket. He had cotton wool in his mouth which gave an impression of a smile.
The grave was perhaps 50 metres away and was surrounded by banana trees. I could not actually see the interment, but there was a short prayer and most of the young men took a turn to cover the casket. Some young girls and women paced flowers, mainly bougainvillea, on the grave. A large wooden cross was placed at the head.
We felt sombre, even though we did not know the diseased, and on our walk home, we met with Big E to whom we offered our 'pole' and he appreciated out presence there.

There is a sequel to this. The widow, Mama Roger became a very good friend and her son, Roger (perhaps 4 at the time) liked to be with me. For a time Mama Roger fell on hard times and we found that her husband had died of AIDS. He had been a safari driver and she sold us his guide books so she and Roger could eat! There is much more to this and I will continue - labda!

Racism

Maybe at first this subject is one for my soap box; but not so! We had a little game in Tanzania!

Racism is a sorry, sad thing but it has been in existence for as long as man has trod this Earth. I guess broadly without racism, there would have been fewer wars.

It's not for me to judge if I am racist or not but by commenting about my experiences, some may see new light. I am of European extraction living in New Zealand and consider myself a New Zealander. My skin is what is called 'white', but I remember my art teacher helping me mix a colour that is approximately mine. We agreed the colour to start with was yellow!

The indigenous people of New Zealand are Maori; some would dispute the term because they too travelled here rather than being a seed that grew here. Such debated can go on and on but is not what I am about.

Every race has is different, and within each race there are tribes and conflict between tribes may arise through racism - viz Rwanda. And there are complications like the Crusades, where religion was the flux, but racism the reason.

But that's not what I'm on about either!

Scientists have tested DNA and found that we all come from the one mother! I guess that is had to believe for some, but it is very interesting. And for racists, a good lesson - but anyway they are unlikely to believe it. As a layman, I don't have any way of knowing if this true or a scientist theory yet to proved!

Well let me tell you about a game my wife and I played on our travels.

We called it Match the Person. I once saw a movie in Greymouth where some indigenous warrior looked exactly like my friend Mick! Not only in looks, but in habit as well.

In the boredom of sitting in various airports, we looked at people and thought they looked like people we knew at home. They looked alike even though they were of a different race! The only difference was their colour! So, one of us would spot someone and whisper the persons name for the other to locate. There were a lot of people who looked like folk we know.

We expanded this in Tanzania because we came to know people who were carbon copies of people back home - except for colour and other minor differences.

But it was not only looks - Malakai was just like Hughey in habit and personality.

Of course there were many more and I don't need to quote them. But it is proof to me that the DNA thing is on the right track.

I am happy that Maori are different to me and that they have an interesting culture. I wouldn't like to live with the Maasai, but my experience of their culture is a treasured memory.

Of course we are all different; I expect the English to different to me, and the Americans, but rather than denigrate each other; wouldn't it be worthwhile to celebrate each other's differences?