Neema

Neema with her mother and siblings

Neema with her mother & father

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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