Monduli cont.

From memory the Monduli Teacher's College complex was built through assistance from Denmark, some 40 years ago and was donated to the Tanzania.

Don, an Agency vol was appointed there to teach the trainees how to teach Chemistry, something he was very good at.

As vols do, we stayed with him from time to time which gave us a change to look around his work environment and around the College. I was very impressed with the amphitheater made of brick and could imagine the students listing to oratory of some great speaker.

One weekend Don had arranged for us to go for a walk up the, not insignificant, hills at the back of the Monduli village. We were all enthusiastic as we all had our personal agendas as reasons to go, but we all thought the view would be good. We were aiming to climb beyond the bushline onto the (supposedly) grassy tops.
Don had hired a guide - with a rifle - as there were elephants and buffalo up there, so we needed protection. Besides we needed to know the best way to the top.

Well the trudge was steep and some became tired, so through experience I placed myself at the rear - not to push but to keep everyone together. The bush was second growth and quite dense and there was no definite track - we were following animal tracks that were random and did not actually go anywhere. My gut feeling was that our guide did not know much about what he was doing. This was confirmed when we reached the top, and there was no open grassed area! We had climbed an isolated knob that was completely bush covered! There was no lookout. I climbed a tree to see out and I realised time was against us to venture further. I did spot just a short distance away, an are that looked like a fenceline and had been cut with the regrowth being just over knee high. We could see out from there. The fenceline went a long way in the distance.
While we rested and took photos, I was interested in our guide's rifle so asked if I could look at it. Well I discovered that it had no bullets nor was he carrying any! This I found out in Kiswahili - which the others lacked conversational use of - so I never let on because to do so would create a fuss. We had not seen any animal, though I had smelled some - but I figured it was too hot for them to be active - and the feed would not rate as their ice cream.

Back at Don's people needed the toilet and a sponge down. Monduli had severe water problems, especially in the dry season. It came from a spring high in the hills, and Don left a tap on so water would flow into a 200 litre drum. Water came on usually at 1:00 am for around 30minutes - but sometimes it did not come at all. In fact in the morning, I boiled water for a cup of tea (my usual was to rise early and make a brew - wherever I was), the water I boiled was water that was to be used for poaching eggs - it had salt! After I had sampled the tea - I tossed it and did not let on to anyone about my waste.

Feeling guilty about my waste, late that afternoon I wandered around the village and saw some kids and young women filling buckets from a tap about a km away. I took one of Don's 20litre buckets and headed for the tap and waited in line. With two buckets in front of me, the water stopped and the line of people drifted off but one young woman said she would take me to a Mama who had a tank.
If you are polite and try to use the language people are just so friendly. The woman had a storage tank - maybe 1000 litres, but I had no idea if it was full or half or what. But the young woman called 'Hodi' and explained that I had a problem with water.
The woman did not hesitate and welcomed me, but refused to help the young woman. Really to do so would cause her further problems and we all realised that. I did not want to take a whole bucket but the woman insisted that I should and that it was ok.
I knew that a full bucket would be reduced by half by the time I got back to Don's because 20 litres of water is heavy and I am not adept at carrying buckets of water for long distances.
The young woman would not have me even lifting the bucket, she hoisted onto her head and we were off to Don's place.

Once there, I thanked he sincerely and demanded she half fill the her empty bucket that I had carried back. She did so and with a smile, she took her share of the water home.

Water is as precious thing!

Around Monduli

Monduli is noted for the Military Barracks and the Secondary Teacher College there. We had some dealings with both institutions - mainly supplying trees. The Major General wanted us to do other business there, but we did not proceed with that. There are noted secondary schools there also (Upendo went to one of them for a year) and a primary school that provides practice for training teachers. Also there is a rehabilitation center there for people - children - who have suffered accidents.
Monduli is the administrative center of the Monduli District.

Monduli is situated some distance from the main Arusha /Dodoma road,and in those days the tar sealed road was pockmarked with potholes, some very large, and even at slow speeds you could not dodge them. Just past the Army HQ the seal peters out and the dust/mud track lead on to the village.
Today the new road is of tar seal making the trip from the main road smooth and fast.

One of our Vols was a lecturer at the Monduli Teachers College and so we had the privilege of being involved with the College and some of the folk within.
I remember picking Don from the airport - well not the first time as the plane did not arrive! But at the time the new road was being built and it was dusty! In the light of day the banana trees were dusty grey. Some of the householders built speed bumps to slow down the traffic - the first night there were a dozen or so, but the next night there were 64! This made a slow trip slower!
The Principal of the College came to meet Don accompanied by some of his students - two of the young women actually wept with joy that they had 'such an expert' to teach them.

Of course, as you do, he often stayed with us at Sanawari, and we stayed with him at Monduli where we had some adventures. His accommodation was within the a compound where the rest of the lecturers stayed. The whole complex was built with a reddish/yellow brick and was quite impressive.
His new friend Mama Faraja lived there too and and through their friendship we came to know her. Mama Faraja was a primary school teacher at the Demonstration School.
I had always found it strange that she used the name of her second child, rather than that of her first. It transpired that Mama Faraja was of the Meru tribe and her clan name was Nyeti - that became significant when we had our second spell at Makumira. It tied in a bit.

Of course our main area of involvement was with the primary school - Ngarash. There were enthusiastic teachers at Ngarash which made our work there somewhat easier and encouraging for us.
We also carried out small scale plantings around the villages, mainly the parents of school children.

Within the greater village area, there was a mixture of Tanzanian tribes and expats, but the outlying area was almost exclusively Maasai and Sunday saw the busy Maasai market.
Many of the Arusha region's 'walinzi' (night) guards came from the Monduli area - at least until security business became established.

In it's own way Monduli was a vibrant place, with extensive plantings of Jacaranda making a blue/purple show and the flowers making a carpet on the road. And of course there was the unruly hub of the bus terminal.

The Military Base - more correctly, Tanzania Military Academy - is situated on a small hill before the road dips and later turns very sharply to the left. Way back on the main road is another complex, mainly accommodation I think. We drove beside that area on the way to Meserani Chini as part of the Primary Schools Assistance Project - but that's a different tale.

I don't think there is anything secret or sinister/controversial about the Military Academy, but I was not unwise enough to take photos. The main gate is neat and well maintained and nicely trimmed bougainvillea growing on mowed grass stretches each side of the gateway.
The Major General (well that was the title Big E gave him) was an ndugu of Big E - that word can mean a relative, or from the communist time, comrade - sometimes it is hard to know which. But on our way back from Mswakini Big E wanted us to meet him 'as he is committed to tree planting'.

As you would expect, to see the O/C of any military organization can be no spur of the moment thing. So we sat at those gates and the soldier - a military policeman - spoke into a telephone not appreciating the proximity of Big E who wanted to take hold of it.
After a short wait, another military policeman hopped into the passenger seat and order that I drive forward and gave me directions. The guy was friendly and courteous but firm.

Once at the parking area, the policeman escorted us to the office of the Major General. He was affable and ordered a soda for us and some of those small packets of biscuits and we chatted about our various projects. Sure he was interested about tree planting and had already carried out some extensive plantings. He asked if we could sell him some trees later in the year.
Big E had obviously told him that we had this Primary Schools Assistance Project and were going to buy desks, tables, chairs and cupboards. The Major General had a brother who had carpentry workshop - he would be delighted to be awarded the contract.
Tanzanians try to look after their kin/ndugu and there is always posho for facilitating business deals. Posho is a consideration and can be anything from a cup of tea to a more spectacular handout. I could feel the strings being pulled.
I had also found that in Tanzanian society a direct refusal is unwise, rather give a little. For example if someone comes to the door and asks for a kilo of sugar - you don't tell them to bugger off - you give them perhaps half a cup.
So I told them that the desks were already being made, but their ndugu could build some of the cupboards. This was accepted and we left there happily with the promise to deliver some trees later.

Actually the cupboards were made to a poor standard and only six were made. There was no bad feeling over this - I think the Major General was trying to generate business for his ndugu but the ndugu didn't really want it.

Big E did not come with me on the day of the tree deliveries, but the military policeman recognised me and the route to the Major General was the same, as was the soda and biscuits. He personally took delivery of the trees and promised that they would be well planted and cared for. He arranged for us to eat at the canteen which was outside the gate and across the road. He was to take care of the bill. It was a good place and after that we ate there from time to time.

During that time transport to the main road was difficult of the soldiers and many tried to flag me down. I stopped once to tell them that the Agency did not allow us to give rides to people in uniform. Not really true, but we would not feel safe transporting those guys, but the word soon got around and mostly the flagging stopped as far as we were concerned.

It is natural for us to feel a little uneasy around the military (and police to some extent) in many countries because we never see them at home. And there are always those stats about the armed forces in third word countries being rife with HIV. You hear such thing, but you don't really know.
However, what is not generally know or understood (and this also is hearsay but from reliable sources), when Iddy Amin was doing his thing in Uganda, there was not much intervention from the UN or US or the Brits, it was largely left up to the Tanzanian army to clean him out; the cost was high and the country still remain in debt for that campain.

Engorora Pt III

Across the Main Road it is somewhat drier than the Engorora village and it is a settlement of more traditional Maasai houses. Mainly we worked with Francis who was a keen environmentalist/tree planter and who was a leader in the area.

Francis suffered from a problem I often encountered when planting trees in most of the villages. He had made a plea to receive more trees than was usual - I was guarded about supplying extra trees to anyone because I was well aware that people faced problems with water as well as browsing animals and some people are just plain greedy wanting as many as they possibly could!
Well Francis prepared his holes well and received his trees and true to his word he did care for them well, taking the responsibility himself (as against handing the work to his wife or his children) so the trees grew well. He was vigilant that browsing animals did not damage his trees. One night though, 'marauding' donkeys (I haven't said much about donkeys yet) trampled through his property destroying a large proportion of his trees - he was devastated.
But this sums up what can happen. Alfred's trees turned out to be the worst in the other part of the village - why? Well he too took more trees than he could look after and assigning young Miriam to carry out watering duties, did not supervise her well enough. The trees were alive, but not thriving as they should.
The woman who mostly tended the vege garden also lost most of her trees. She lived a little more remotely from the village and water became a problem for her during the dry season - she had a health problem and could not water her trees - they all died.

These problems I learned to take in my stride and to work around in an effort to cause better outcomes. But I had to keep my whits about me. School kids were classic at, on inspection day, placing twigs/branches of live trees where their tree had died to fool me into thinking their tree had survived and in the hope of winning a prize. And in this village area a guy was begging me for trees. He had promised that his holes had been prepared - we went to check; no hole shad been prepared, so he recieved no trees!

Josiah was a staunch believer in education through motivation, and I went along with the idea. I realised that it had been a technique of mine over the years without actually thinking that it was 'motivation'. Josiah liked the idea of providing food, people would come, then snap, you give them a lecture, or at least instruction on environmental matters. The only trouble with that idea is we did not have the project funds to do it on a large scale, which meant that whenever we provided food, the funds came from our own pocket.
So before Francis had his mishap with the donkeys, I transported the environmental group from across the road to partake in a soda and bites and walk around Francis' plantings as well as some of the other plantings nearby.
Then on another occasion, we transported the environmental group to the Sanawari nursery where we provided a 'high' meal and were surprised to find that Mama Baraka also enjoyed the day.

Francis kept making requests to me for a project to bring water to this side of the village. Again this was an extra and there was no funding set aside for such a project. Josiah too was very keen, he had a vested interest as he had some land closeby where he grew beans.
Missy was about due to end her time with us and she made a request to her church back in the USA which resulted in enough funding to meet the budget I had worked out.
The first step of course was to gain a water right. There was a water line running from Arusha to outlying villages and our request was to hook into it. I spoke to the Water Board (my name for it) and the guy I knew there approved the taking of water, but we needed a letter from the village each side of where we were to take the water. This was a difficulty because the village chairman of each village saw the letter as being a cash cow prime for the milking. We had no budget for this and we could not raise money from within the village [the beneficiaries].
So I just left it for a month. But there was a constraint - the rains were due and the slippery nature of the black cotton soils meant that I would be unable to transport in the materials. And I thought it a good thing for Missy to see the project completed if at all possible.
Josiah and I went to negotiate with the village leadership of the lower village and they finally agreed to allow a hookup as long as it did not exceed a one and a half inch saddle clamp.
The upper village still wanted a substantial amount of money, so I suggested that we go back to the lower village and ask if we could take the water from within the village. This meant an extra roll of polythene pipe but would allow an extra branch line to within that village. It was agreed so we could go ahead. [The upper village then wanted the same deal, but we did not carry that out]
The village men dug the trench with the only difficulty being a dry creek bed which would carry water during the rains. We laid the pipe ourselves and made the joints as well. There was no holding tank required, just the standpipe and tap.
The project was completed with no further problems and Missy was thrilled to see the water flow. Francis too was pleased with the project.
It was Francis' genuine wish to have water close to his home so that his wife could have a better standard of living but sadly she died two years later. I have memories of her wide, welcoming smile and the love she had for her children. Maybe the water is in her memory.

Engorora Pt II

There was a small area beside the primary that was allocated to a local women's group and there they grew vegetables. This was encouraged by Hifadhi and probably funded as well.
The tie-up was logical for us really. The same people had children at the school and of course, houses or farms in the villages.

Mama Miriam was one of the leaders within the women's group and her husband, Alfred was an Evangelist and also participated within the village and environmental project.
For those who do not know, an Evangelist is a church worker who has somewhat less power than a pastor, but is able to carry out certain functions that help out the pastors in pastoral work as well as in the services/ceremonies.

My sister liked to support us in what we did and sent a child's cardigan which we gave to the young Noah, the young son of Mama Miriam and Alfred.
This small family lived in a traditional house - well no, not the round, Maasai houses - square, wattle and daub iron roofed house. Inside was plaster of mud and an earth floor. Pride taken in keeping the house clean and messages/art decorating the walls. Access is always given to hens and in a way they act a vacuum cleaners because they eat up any spilled food scraps. Alfred was building a new house of concrete block - to be completed in the future.

Alfred was given a bicycle by Hifadhi and this is an example of well intentioned aid turning out to be inappropriate. The bicycles were were bought from donations from a New Zealand secondary school which is a very good and cool thing for them to have done. But Big E gave the bicycles out as he saw fit, taking ownership of a project that was community based and should have been given out on a democratic basis. Had that been done, I think Alfred would have recieved the bike! But Big E gave it to him without consultation. Now, Alfred already had a bike, and one day when I visited Mama Miriam, she asked if we could please take the bike back! Why? Well there was resentment to Alfred and to Mama Miriam and whenever there was work to be done in the garden, they would be told, 'You recieved the gift, you do the work!'
I held a meeting, where I told the village people what had happened and how Alfred had recieved his bicycle. They saw that Alfred was not at fault and forgave him.
This is a good example of the need for democracy and openness.

The tree planting project throughout the village was successful and it was usual that we carried followup checks, not only to gather information for ourselves as to the performance of different trees in different conditions, but also to motivate the villagers to tend their trees.
Alfred presented a hen to me as an appreciation. I accepted gifts like these not because I wanted a gift, but because it showed our work was valued, even in a small way.

Motivation of the village people could be carried out in any number of ways, it was just putting our minds to it. One day I transported the members of the women's group to my Sanawari nursery. Of course we provided soda and some bites, then they took a selection of trees home with them.

I will always remember the good times we had at Engorora, because the people there are warm and open.

One thing to mention here that is unusual in our culture, but may well be changing in Tanzania. Even a women's group prefer to have a man running their group becuse they fell 'inadequate'.

Engorora Pt1

Just beyond Kambi ya Maziwa is the village of Kisongo where there is a Maasai market held each Wednesday.

A few hundred metres past the market site there is an indistinct turn to the right which leads quickly to a junction, left is the open cast marram [volcanic ash] mine and to the right, Engorora Primary School [the school is now known as Kisongo Primary School] and sub-village.

Back to the main road, just about opposite the turn into the Marram mine and school - there is a track that leads to Francis' house and to where we eventually carried out a water project.

Now before I go on, this Marram mine. Marram is used for road surfaces - infrequently because of the cost, as a material/ingredient in concrete bock manufacture and in the making of concrete. I used it for topping my planting pots to hold down the sawdust seed-topping so it was not washed away while I was irrigating.
The mining was all done by hand and the 'boys' would have their own particular pile. Of course there was intense competition for the sale, and they all knew I paid well, so I had a false sense of popularity whenever I went there.
Four and six tonne lorries would also come, and they were filled by man and shovel. I did not paying a higher price because it was hard, dangerous work and some have lost their life during a rockfall.

I have already covered the first seminar at Engorora which was held in a school classroom. But the focus then was on the local villages, but when I had to source funding for our projects, I found it better and more appropriate to focus on primary schools. That is not to say we forgot about the village people, and indeed Engorora was one village where we were very busy.

Engorora village comprised mainly Maasai people but there was a large number of Arusha tribe as well and as most usual some other tribal members.
Big E being Maasai was, I guess the main reason he wanted to work there and Joshia too had a reason to be there - his father had taught at the school so he had many friends and it was his home place. The main village leader we most often worked with was of Joshia's clan.

It was plain from our first visit to Engorora that it suffered the hardship of poverty that was so common in Tanzania. The school was built of timber and pretty much falling to pieces and an additional classroom built by the parents was made from mabanzi, slabwood; the cheapest building material available. The kids sat on rocks or boards because there were no desks. There were very few text books and teachers' copies [guide] were non existent.
Back home our neighbor's daughter mobilized Otepopo Primary School [our local school] and they sent pencils and rubbers as well as exchanging a questionnaire that I had prepared which I hoped would show each school the difference between the other - it was successful. Things like walking distance to school and to collect water. As well Joel thought it would be good to send some of his collection of toys - mainly Matchbox toys, cars & trucks. Such gifts were not available to rural kids in Tanzania and they valued them greatly.

Water was a difficulty in the village and there was a tap near the school which had been taken from the time that went to the Military Base at Monduli. In the end, it was not sustainable for the Military to allow people to take water from their pipeline as it compromised their supply, but other arrangements were made.
Sometimes though the water was unreliable and people would sit and wait - creating a long line of people, containers and donkeys. Mostly orderly but there were disagreements.

Despite the water problem, our tree plantings at the school were successful and the whole school took ownership of them. Even during the weekend and on holidays, a roster was set up so someone was there to prevent straying livestock from damaging the young trees.

The seminars were successful and during this time I was able to interact with the kids and this helped me with language and my ability to communicate. It is well known that if you are friendly with the kids, the parents too become friendly, so I was able to spread the environmental message.

The environmental programme was successful and that success spilled over to the village where we worked with the village's women's group. But Engorora school did something that personally pleased me. There was such interest to care and protect the trees the students planted that a roster was made to tend and chunga [guard from grazing animals] and irrigate the plantings.

The Primary Schools Assistance Project supplied 200 desks, some teacher's tables & chairs, text books, science aids as well as slates and chalk for the junior classes.
It is usual that items are numbered within a school's assets and I noted that the desks also bore the Agency's mark, which was a nice gesture.

Even when we moved to Makumira we still had some connection with the school - somewhat fostered by Josiah. But not entirely.

Happy Saturday

If I say that Tanzanians are different to us, the connotations can be many - but I don't mean any of that.

I sometimes saw at Sanawari something I remember happening when I was a child but due to lifestyle changes we have pretty much lost it - family life and togetherness.
That might sound a bit soppy but I make no apology.

Friends of Mama Baraka [or her kids] would gather by the communal water tap close to our door and do their washing. As their clothes and kangas are light material, they were spread out on the large area of grass/lawn to dry. There would be chatter and hi-jinks making a dreary job to be fun. But they were together. On more than one occasion, I joined in on the fights with soap-suds!

After most had taken their dry washing home, Mama Baraka and Mama Lillian (maybe Mama Titi too) would sit in the shade and sip on the local, mild millet brew (mbege) out of a communal kibo vegetable oil container, and chat.

A number of kids used to ask for help to lift their bucket of water onto their head [twisha]. Boke was one of the more regular ones and we came to know her well because she used to live next to the bicycle repairman, William. Boke was the recipient of things like tennis balls, pens or a few shillings.

The Maruti loses a wheel

The Maruti was always parked outside our bedroom window, and we were in sort of a compound. The yard was surrounded by bougainvillea hedges and there was no gate, but we felt safe enough although it was a busy suburb.

One Sunday morning, I walked past the Maruti and notices something awry - I went back to check and found that the front wheel had gone!
The theft of the wheel was bad enough, but the worst part is to go to the police and fillout the forms - you need a police report for insurance purposes.
I had been to the police before and it is not the most pleasant of experiences. It is always busy and the demeanor of the police can be intimidating. And there are the sorry sights of some of the folk who have been arrested and being processed.
I had no real problem as I was 'known' and knew how things worked. There was the usual wait of finding carbon paper and the pin to hold the sheets together. Then before the report can be handed over, there was the fee to be paid and the yellow receipt form to be collected. A chance to pay posho but not taken up by me.
The police are too busy to investigate small crimes like this and they had no transport, so if I wanted someone to look at the scene, then I would have to take him - and the less contact, the better.

Back at Sanawari, the wheel hub was held up by a brick, and that brick came from the hen house at the back of the property. The outline of where it had sat could still be seen. There was the mark where the wheel had been rolled out the gateway and down the road.

I always suspected Baraka, and I think his parents did too, though they kept quiet. There was embarrassment for them and I did not find out until much later.
Baraka had cause a girl to become pregnant and while the news was kept from us, Baraka had need of some money 'to help out with the situation'.
Thinking about it, it was obvious that he was the culprit, tying up my previous thoughts on the issue of the stolen travellers cheques.