Still Here!

I’m still here! Although I haven’t added to this blog for quite a while – not that anyone will really care but it is as much for my own recreation as informing whoever reads the stories. I do have a lot more to add and will get there. I have started editing some of the blogs – poor grammar and spelling needs fixing!

I’ve been side-tracked for over a year writing for the now defunct Readwave. Some of the stories I have added to my Stories Blog, but I have more there to do as well.

Also I’m up to only day 494 of my seven year diary, [which I’m not posting] so while I haven’t added anything here, I’ve been busy enough.

Something happened that made me want to add to this blog.

It is so easy for people in first world countries to turn a tap and there is water. The thing though with abundance, there is usually waste.

I have been on (nagging) about this before. Water is not wasted, even if you tip it down the drain, it finds its way into the water cycle and is recycled.

Micro-droplets within the glass or bottle of water you drink today have passed through the body of Cleopatra! Now there’s a thought!

Chota Maji – Fetching Water

These days people go the gym for exercise, which is a good thing. Probably not enough people go, but for those who do it is good for their health and a way of keeping fit. It is not all that safe to jog along the road any more. There are those who want a magazine type body; six pack abs and firm, round butts.

But to some recreational exercise is unfathomable stupidity.

Upendo and her siblings used to collect water from the tap at our house, but the vagaries of the water supply meant that very often she had to go down to the stream, which was below our house.

The stream starts right there as a spring of clean fresh water that flows out of a bank with a normal flow of perhaps a bucket per second – ok, twenty litres per second.  [Hidden is an overdose of natural fluoride, but that’s another story]

It therefore takes but a second to fill a twenty litre bucket. That done the plastic lid is put on, but not all can afford a lid, so vegetation is put on top of the water to help prevent spillage.

A full twenty litre bucket of water weighs twenty kilogrammes – that’s the allowable weight of your airline bag.

So the next step is to lift it onto her head. Helping a person lift a bucket up onto a head is called twisha, but I have noticed that not many people help each other like that – it is probably a pride thing not needing to ask, because if you do ask, help will never be denied.

Once the bucket is on the head, it is a steep climb out of the stream bed and up to the flat area of the track. There are 105 difficult step to take. Footwear is sandals, malapa, jandals, thongs or whatever you know them by.  No tramper or bushwalker would countenance such footwear! Always the track is slippery because of spilt water.

Once the flatter track is reached, there are thirty metres of flat easy walking before the climb up a steepish, stony, clay road – this is a one hundred metre climb.

The road continues but off it is the track to Upendo’s house. This narrow track climbs very steeply for thirty odd metres, no steps, just making way among small rocky outcrops. Once up the steep part, there are another eighty metres of moderate slope but easier walking to negotiate. The five steps up to the house must be a final hurdle.

Don’t forget this tortuous walk is done with a straight back and twenty litres of water on her head. How much water do you use? Africans can do a lot with a litre of water.

Upendo doing squats? Not likely!

'It Only Takes One Girl'

I saw an interview on Al Jazeera of an old guy who had taken a child bride. He thought it was his God given right to take a child bride and it was 'his teachings' that had given him the right.

The programme was highlighting issues of child brides focusing on the lack of choice for the girls.

Apparently worldwide there are annually ten million girls under the age of eighteen who are married off  against their will.

I read 'It Takes Only One Girl' by Gabriella - she has created a blog because she wants enlighten the world and to empower  child brides.

Gabriella points out that daily, 23, 000 child brides are married off throughout the world. And if you imagine a (barely) teenage girl being married off to a fifty plus year old man, you should feel at least some outrage.

Of course 'marrying' means 'nuptials', and that means driving something large into something small - possibly with some force! This is bad enough, but soon these very young girls find themselves pregnant.

The result of a difficult birth process is that the birth canal is damaged, ruptured, as well as the lower bowel because the canals are very close.

The result is that these kids lose control of their bodily wastes, and to put it crudely, they leak with the inevitable causes smell, causing them to be abandoned as being 'repulsive'! This leads to a life of pain and being ostracized. 

This medical condition has a name - obstetric fistulous. The condition can be successfully treated with an operation costing US$450.

Gabriella focuses on the power of education as the means to eliminate the practice of child brides. She also believes that saving just one girl constitutes a victory!
I would go further, saving one child from any of the terrible occurrences that frequent this Earth is indeed a victory and education is a key that opens so many doors.

I tend to be a little more impatient. First I saw at the cost of repairing these small, often frail bodies the cost seemed low, but multiply that by the need and it amounts to a substantial figure.However, some of the countries that all the practice of child brides are rich. Still somehow funds must be found to address the wider problem.

The thing is barring accidents that will happen statistically, obstetric fistulous could be eliminated if the practice of taking child brides was stamped out!
To balance the equation, there must be a few of these old codgers who are nice to their child brides which may be a positive thing for the girl. So I am not saying all the oldies are necessarily bad. But the bulk of them are are! And and anyway if the girl has no say or control, civilization should change that!

This  'cause' is  the stuff of feminist movements, because, of course females identify with the problem more easily.
However to stamp the thing out, you need governments, justice and the police  to be on side. Most are usually  these are masculine roles. And those people don't readily identify with the girls, (actually most couldn't care less) - they are more likely to identify with the old codgers, especially if the old buggers slip them something nice under the table - or openly!

So anyone who cares should lobby their government to apply pressure on the governments of countries where child brides are acceptable. Not at all easy, and education has a role here. The message needs to be 'out there'!
As that guy said on Al Jazeera, it is his God given right to take a child bride. If that is what they believe, then religious leaders have a role and need to be taken to account as even passive tolerance amount to condoning.  The guy  is wrong, no God sanctions child brides!

Within cultures there is order and tradition. Making changes can tip balances and cause chaos, so I believe that cultures evolve and it is unwise to aggressively impose change from the outside. Education is a good and handy - but cutting dicks off might achieve quicker results!
However this particular issue needs changing from today and the downstream implications can be dealt with as they arise.

Therefore, shaming the guys who take child brides seems to me to be the way to achieve quickest results.
Shaming like : Saying, 'This man has taken a child bride so she will not expose his impotency. He hires boys to impregnate his wife because he can't do it himself.' Name the men!

Maybe that's all too extreme and difficult - but I hope I have highlighted the issue.

Happy New Year

2014 dawns and I am a little behind in adding to my blogs. It is a matter of little holdups and I am enjoying writing for my grandchildren.As well I am typing out my diary - there are seven years of it  and I am only up to day 282.
Into 2014 I will get back to this.....

Life in Africa Sixteen

 From My Diary

Well now, I haven't added anything to this blog since early May. This is because I am typing up my diaries.
I kept a daily diary and while everything is not included it is quite full. As of now, I'm up to Day 137, 31 December 1995. And we were in Tanzania for seven years, so there is a lot to do yet.

It is interesting though to read some of my thoughts - many naive, some embarrassing and some downright uninformed.

Of course everyone looks at things from their own point of view and it took a long time before I saw things in a different light. Once I was thinking and (even) dreaming in Swahili my views and attitudes changed. It is amazing that Swahili remains in my everyday language. Also we were living and working in rural villages which is different to mixing daily with the expat community.

It is not my intention to post my diaries (one reason is that it is difficult to put on) but it is more private in nature.

So, on with Life in Africa Sixteen.

 These kids joined us in out wait for the village chairman to arrive at Olkung'wado. Well it was us who were waiting, and the kids came because they knew us as they were students at the local primary school.
The village office has changed now but then it was a fairly bleak place. We were going to negotiate to carry out plantings within the village - it you like to green up the grey concrete look of the place. The initiative in the end was not successful.

These are mostly the same kids but the picture shows the growing village of Olkung'wado. Partly built buildings/houses and all built with the concrete block. It made the village look grey.
The had been rainfall because the grass is green and kept short by browsing animals.
The browsing animals made it difficult to establish trees in in the village.
A woman who owned a bar, replaced the sandy soil
with good soil (2 cubic metres) and made a tree shelter of bricks in order to plant a Ficus benjamanii which we supplies - it grew well.

As a contrast, over the ridge and above King'ori is the village of Mareu where there is more rainfall and the bricks are burnt from locally quarried soil. Much cheaper and from my point of view more destructive to the environment.
These kids had been sent by their mother to collect some tree seedlings that we had dropped off at the church but we could see the girl had her hands full, so we transported them and the trees to their house.

 Our first Christmas at Makumira was with a family we grew to be close to a number of reasons and this was to increase as time went on.
They did not have the concept of Father Christmas or the exchanging of gifts on Christmas morning. They were keen though to have and decorate a Christmas tree!
The family came down for Chai & cakes and I sneaked away and returned dressed in red and banging my fimbo. The younger ones did not know who I was and I handed out the gifts. I had set up a treasure hunt for the kids as well and they had fun finding the little clues and gifts. Just a little New Zealand thing.

At Christmas tome there are Conformation ceremonies in nearly all the Christian churches. This one happens to be a special one, way up at Ugweno in the Pare Mountains.

 The kids, especially the girls see this time as an opportunity to be dressed in the best finery of their lives! This of course is at great expense to the families involved and the churches try to dissuade the practice - but with only limited success.

It is a point of pride for the families as well and I guess the families could use the amount spent on other things. Just a little of Life in Africa I guess.

The other point of pride for many Tanzanians is their house cow. Here is Mbise's mother with her cow and his father looks on.

A good number of the house cows are zero grazed, which means food is brought to them, rather that allow them to graze in the villages. This cause a very real commitment because hand catting and carrying fodder is a big job. Kids are co-opted to help but imagine, you cut the fodder (very often simply on roadside and unused areas) near your house and as the season goes on they have to go further and further to find feed.

 One particular Maasai boma housed young Neema (her school name) seen here on the right. Because she showed interest and skill in the seminar and with the school plantings, her father appointed her in charge of the boma and farm plantings. She did very well.

Valeska is an interesting village in that there are a number of tribes there and at least from my point of view, I enjoyed the diversity.

The girl in black was explaining to us that she had passed well in the national examinations, but her father was not interested in her going to secondary school. In this case it was not a question of money, he simply did not see value in secondary education for her.

These are issues apparent in Tanzania, but not only Tanzania, and while I have great sympathy for the girl, I would not do anything against the wishes of her father.

This Mama asked me to take her photo, and I gave her a copy.

She is the mother of Neema and had a sense of humour that I could identify with.

The picture tells its own story.

 

 With Mt. Meru in the background the church leaders came out to open a new parish just beyond the Leguruki village.
It is certainly a spectacle to see the leaders dressed in their regalia.
I enjoyed the opportunity to witness the event which is quite close to the home of the Bishop.

Ngabobo Primary School

The village of Ngabobo is more remote. After passing by the Ngarenanyuki Secondary School, there is a road to the right, just before the high bridge. This road eventually reaches Sanya Juu [after going past Ilkirimuni] but way before Ilkirimuni there is a junction in the road heading North. This is the road to take to Ngabobo.

In our early days there, there was a police post at the road junction. Just a little wooden banda in the shelter of some Acacia trees. The reason for the banda was because the road went on to Kenya. A smuggling route. Apparently vehicles stolen in Tanzania made their was through here to Kenya - I suspect other smuggled goods too, probably both ways.

The police abandoned the post at some time - I think the police came from Sanya Juu - there was no accommodation here and I bet the cop/cops on duty were quite vulnerable - and gradually the building materials disappeared into some Maasai hut or other.

Ngabobo seemed to have a reputation,at least among school teachers. To be posted to Ngabobo was about the worst low-light of a teacher's career!

Ngabobo is a Maasai village established in a dry savanna area. There was a water race that we needed to cross to drive into the school, situated in the North of the village. The water is high in salts and cannot be used for drinking. There was a problem with drinking/household water and women made the long trek to the spring at Ngarenanyuki.

On our arrival at the primary school, we found that the building were ramshackled and there were few teaching resources.

No wonder the students did not perform well - poor resources, unmotivated teachers and parents who mainly did not see the value of education.

We were able to bring a few resources to the school and the National Parks authority rebuilt the school to a high standard.

The Headteacher lived on the outskirts of Olkung'wado, so he had a long journey daily. Later he had a bicycle.

As well as a planting programme, for which we supplied the trees, the Headteacher and the environmental teacher requested materials for a tree nursery. 

We had some reservation but decided to assist and teach the pupils how to manage a tree nursery.

Results were mixed. The worst was holidays and weekends when livestock passed through the school grounds damaging the nursery and tree plantings. The water race was some distance from the nursery so watering was not quite what it should have been either. 

We do not only plant seeds in pots - we plant them in brains as well.

Outside the new school block funded by the National Parks Authority, the pupils pose for a picture after a short seminar and inspection of plantings.

The Headteacher said they did/had not earned the prizes we had brought, but we found a way to hand them out.

We held a small competition among all the schools of the Ngarenanyuki area 'for the best work for the environment.' While Ngabobo were nowhere near some of the other schools in their achievement, I none the less had a soft spot for the pupils.

So we gave a football and a netball. The thrill of such gifts does not last long because thorns are everywhere in the savanna and there is no way of repairing damaged balls.

During the food shortage, we had some much food - beans and maize - to deliver that I hired a larger truck to assist with the cartage. 

For the uninitiated, it is daunting going to depots to negotiate for trucks! The guy we hired was really good and the deliveries went without untoward incident.

We always delivered food to the schools so the village authorities did not need to become involved. Food delivered through the village authorities tends to go in different directions.

There was a cholera outbreak at the time we were delivering the food to Ngabobo. This was possibly cause by a lack of household toilets and that was addressed shortly after.

Instead we delivered the food to the Lutheran church and that went well.

One young boy could not understand how he had missed out in the food - his siblings were given his share for the family. In the big truck there was some spillage so he andI gathered it up and he went off happily.

There was a water pipe to the area but over the years it had become almost useless. This was due to various damage including to irrigate some crops neared Olkung'wado.

We had some small amount of funds and were able to rehabilitate the line. The repairs could only be termed 'temporary' but at least in the meantime there was good water in the village. And the village people have the responsibility to guard their resource. 

Beyond Ngabobo, there is another small Maasai village called Ngareiani. 

The Pastor took us there because he wanted us to help them, but it was too late in our assignment to take on another task.

But look at the name. Iani - the village is called after the man Ian, who was a settler/farmer there in the past. So that is two village called after him (if it is just the one man, which is likely). 

I wonder who he is/was?

Life in Africa Fifteen

My interest in Africa was first stimulated when as a lad, I was taken to watch the movie Were No Vultures Fly. I recall very little from the story, but in my mind's eye, I see the vultures flying. Rarely in our travels did we see vultures circling a kill, but when I did I would look at them and remember that movie. Their dowdiness is no comparison to Lilac-breasted Rollers but everything in nature has its beauty.


'A horse in striped pygamas' The patterns on a Zebra are always fascinating. Sometimes the white is covered with the red dust of the savanna but more usually the white is quite sparkling!
This was taken on a trip through the Ngorongoro Crater.

A brick kiln near Karatu had the environmentalist in me grumbling.
To produce these bricks there is a lot of fuel-wood used - equating to trees. Brick works decimate the land leaving huge craters where the soil has been excavated.
On the other hand, building materials are needed and people need to be employed. Burnt bricks are much cheaper than concrete ones, and can usually be manufactured close to the building site. Cost is a huge factor and a newly built burnt brick house looks very good!.

 Wildebeest and Zebra congregate together which is protection for them against predators. This herd in Tarangire keep a watchful eye.

A Kori Bustard roams the grassy plains. These are quite large birds and apparently are the heaviest bird in the world capable of flight. They do not fly much though preferring to hide from predators rather than fly away from them.
Kori Bustards eat mainly insects but will take lizards and similar prey.

These Baboons were in Tarangire National Park but we saw Baboons regularly when we passed through Arusha National Park on our way to to work in the Ngarenanyuki area.
Looking at those darting eyes, it is interesting to speculate what is going on behind them - certainly they have a measure of intellect - after all they are primates. 
Watching them groom and feed is much like 'people watching' at an airport!

A large male baboon sitting on a termite mound in the Tarangire National Park. I wondered if there were and live termites in there and if they nipped his bum!
Termites aggressively defend their homes and trails.
Anyway the baboon looked like he was enjoying himself.

There are plenty of elephants in Tarangire and we had a couple of frights when a bull ran at us aggressively. One time in Manyara National Park we sat in our car  surrounded by elephants - young Vai was wide-eyed and fearful.
When you look at elephants and how they live, you have to admire their strength and poise.

As water becomes scarce, the creek bed slowly dries up. This one is quite sandy so the elephants are able to dig  little holes to reach any underground water with their trunks.
They don't use their trunk like a drinking straw! They suck up some water, then put their trunk to their mouth and fill their mouth. Anyone who watches David Attenborough will know that anyway!

An area of Tarangire National Park and the river crossing. Down on the flat was a good area to spot lions coming to drink.
These are wild animals rather than zoo animals so you can't expect to see animals all the time.

Sunset in the Tarangire. Baobab on the skyline.









I took some special people on a trip to Tarangire - locals seldom  have the opportunity. We have Upendo, Mbise, Mama Upendo, Vai and Eriki.
They are standing below a Mbuyu (Baobab) a favourite of mine. It was a good trip.

A young lad managed to sell us this big tortoise so we took it into the park where we released it - a good outcome for the lad and the tortoise.
From time to time we were offered thing that in reality we had no person had good reason to own. Things like ostrich eggs, lizards and small animals. We mostly bought them and took them some distance and released them.



Way up above Lushoto township, we found and old man who had a tree nursery. I regularly bought a few trees from him - more to give him some money [probably to buy pombe - the local booze].
These kids were usually around to help - the old man's grandchildren. His daughter lived with him, or should that be the other way around?

 Kids at Mateves. Our activities at Mateves involved working with the village people and it was not until later when we found the primary school.
The school was pretty much in need of major infrastructure assistance but we were able to contribute with desks, text books and teaching aids.
There were 'science kits' available but they were not to a high standard at all.
These kids were beside the road where a friend of Joshia was growing maize.

Muriet village where we carried out an reasonably extensive planting project. There was a mixture of tribes there - mainly Maasai and Arusha.
Always keen to pose for photographs these kids give me a big smile.
The new power line was installed right above the village, but these people were unlikely to afford the electricity or even the wiring to use it.
Then the Arusha Council established a stinking rubbish dump  closeby. A sad thing to happen to the village.

A German woman brought her grandmother to our house at Makumira. The elderly woman was the second wife of the farm manager who had lived in the house. We conversed in Swahili and because she didn't speak English and we didn't speak German and it turned out that she was proposed to by her husband in the room this picture was taken.
There was an urban myth that the first wife was buried in the compound but her grave was robbed because of the likelihood that she was buried with a gold cross. I found no evidence of the grave - which means nothing.

Watering by Hand

When I tally things up, I have spent a good deal of my time irrigating/watering trees! Even in the commercial nursery here in New Zealand where we have good technology, it always takes time!

At Reidston we had a submersible pump down in the Kakanui River, but it could be guaranteed that if there was a long weekend or the Easter break approaching - the thing would break down.

Daily watering of cuttings was required - even though there were misting systems, and then in the yard, the sprinkler heads had to be checked that they had not jammed - always a soaking for me!

And out at Hilderthorpe the same was true, though we had no submersible pump! Though from time to time it would not prime and this involved time as well.

Not to mention the shifting of pipes in the paddock or the big mobile irrigator and its particular idiosyncrasies.  

In Tanzania the lack of technology made irrigation a routine each evening. I stuck to my philosophy that I would always water by using a hand watering can, because if I did not, how then could I expect the village planter to water their trees by the same, daily method.
This was quite and undertaking because no matter how long my day or how tired I was, the job had to be done. Of course when I was away I made arrangements, but always it was obvious that sometimes the watering was missed.

I learned never to take the advice of locals who would say, 'Listen to the thunder, rain will soon be here - no need to water!'
Usually I would begin watering at 6:00pm as the sun was going down and it would take as much as an hour and a half. It was always in the evening so the plants utilized the water and evaporation did not occur.
As the weather became hotter, it was a matter of maintaining the plants, not encouraging growth - there was never enough water to do that.

By planting time the rains usually had come [otherwise we could not expect survivals on out-planting] and it was easier to add moisture to the pots for transportation.

So, if I tally it all up, a good part of my life has been spent watering plants to keep them alive.