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.

Bahati kwa Manyata

Bahati means [good] luck and according to The Arusha Times, Manyata Primary School has had some good luck! They have received Tsh60 000 000/- to refurbish the school.
The report states that this rural school is a high achiever and has a role of some 300 students.

I was closely associated with the Manyata (the Times article spelt it, Manyatta) over a number of years and this time will be the subject of another blog when I get to it. But we supplied desks, renewed the rood and carried out other rehabilitation work. Our greatest success was with the environmental project.
Lilian was educated there and her story has been told previously.

It is with some delight then, that I read of the bahati that has come to the school. (I hope there is money in the budget to improve the access 'road'.) I wonder if the same teachers are there. My friend, Tito the Headteacher is not for he was moved on and died. Kitomari who named his daughter after Mag had high standards, so perhaps he remains - I don't know.

This is perhaps one of the problems of education that I witnessed. It is difficult to attract staff to rural schools because there is always a problem with water. Usually no electricity. And travel is a problem and dangerous with overloaded buses or Landrovers.
The district school inspectors have power and are able to cause the transfer of a teacher. And they are able to accept a bribe not to cause the transfer of a teacher. So I guess an inspector can load a school with good or bad teachers. There is much more to this for another time.

But I want to climb on my soapbox, but in this blog.
The sixty million shillings is a very good thing because the outcome will be to improve the lot of a number of people - especially the students as I would hope the funding will cover a few items in the way of teaching aids. But the builders and suppliers will benefit and the school will be able to attract better teaches.

Hang on though. The school is achieving very well the way it is, so will better facilities improve future outcomes? I'm playing the devils advocate here - and of course it will.

But what I am coming to is this - and believe me, I have had a lot of experience.
When I first arrived in Tanzania the national average was 6% of primary student were able to go on to secondary school. Six percent! It is much better that that now, but still low.
However, after these bright young people are educated, there are no jobs for them. I have no idea how to address this but effort need to go into this problem.
There are side issues. One portly Australian told me that he would not employ a local - 'it is easy to bring in a PhD from India, give him a room and a bag of rice and he will be happy!' If this is the attitude, what hope have the young Tanzanians got?
There are well educated Tanzanians selling beer but their potential is much, much greater.

So, in my opinion, the sixty million shillings would be better spent in sustainable job creation - what and how, I'm not too sure, but there are answers.
In all of this one of the fundamental problems with aid is the targeting of it. The West is inclined to impose its perceived priorities which is sometimes misdirected.

Anyway, change is difficult to implement, but unless issues are raised, change has no chance.

Ndoto ya Grace/Grace's Dream

I wrote this short story in an effort to make the environmental seminars more interesting for the school children. It was translated by Mr Kimaro and I made copes to give out to schools. [I used language suitable to be told in the schools.] I drew some pictures - very rough ones - as illustrations. There was no colour photocopy at the time.

I made a large flipchart of of the pictures to display as Joshia read. Joshia had a talent and made an excellent job of the reading.

Through my friendship with a Ministry of Forestry & Bee Keeping official, the story was printed in the Mkulima [Farmer] magazine.

Grace's Dream

As the midwife was cleaning Grace's small body, the light of a bright falling star shone upon her face.
The next day the midwife told the village people about this strange event, and the oldest, wisest man in the village said that some day Grace would do wonderful things for her people.

As Grace grew, she seemed no different to the other children of her village. She caught the usual childhood sicknesses and suffered the usual bumps and bruises; as well of course she was punished for her misdemeanors. It was notices however that the bean and maize seeds she planted always seemed to grow better than anyone else's!

When Grace was about eight years old, on an especially hot and dusty day, she fell asleep in her favorite place - under the big baobab tree [Mbuyu] which grew near the edge of the village. Grace had a strange dream:
The Mbuyu had a gaunt face, and the lower branches bent so it appeared like a person with hands on hips. The face was sad, and the tree spoke to her in a booming voice!
"Please help us.' Begged the tree, 'Our land is being destroyed by erosion, the forests have been felled and the people of the land do not understand how important the environment is to us all! Grace, please tell them and make them understand!'

Grace woke with a troubled mind. She remembered her dream vividly but did not understand what it meant.

In the village there lived an old man who had been Headteacher at the village school. Grace did not know him but had heard of his great wisdom and kindness. She decided to go and talk to him.

'Good morning wise teacher.' Grace greeted the old man in the respectful way.
'Oh good morning young child.' The old man's greeting was just as respectful.
Grace was a little embarrassed and shy, so looked at her feet because she did not know how to begin.
'How can I help you?' asked the old man. But Grace continued to inspect her feet. 'You can call me Olasiti. What is your name?'
'Grace.' she spoke softly, then brightened, 'Isn't Olasiti the name of a tree?'
'Yes, it is a tall strong tree!' replied Olasiti.
'Mzee Olasiti, what is erosion?' Grace asked.
The old man rubbed his chin in thought, then replied. 'See that ditch over there where the rainwater has washed the soil away to make a deep gulley?'
'Yes I see.' said Grace.
'That is erosion. That gully was once a road, but when the trees were cut down there was nothing to prevent the water washing the dust and soil away to form the gully.'
'How does that happen?' asked Grace.
'Well, when the rains come, water begins to trickle down the wheel tracks and the more rain that comes, the fast the flow of water. Soon the water has enough strength to carry the soil with it so the wheel tracks become deep ditches to form that gulley you see there. The fertility is washed away!'
'Mzee Olasiti, why does cutting the trees cause this? I don't understand.' said Grace.
The old man replied. 'Trees prevent erosion in two ways. When it rains hard, the drops hit the soil with such force that the soil particle are moved and begin to wash with the flow of water. The leaves and branches of the tree protect the soil by breaking the force of the raindrops. The leaves can even break big raindrops into smaller, less powerful ones. You know, this helps the soil to soak up water instead of running off and causing erosion.' Olasiti stopped for a breath, and Grace was enjoying listening to the wise old man.
'You said there were two ways trees prevent erosion.' Grace reminded him.
'Yes. The roots hold the soil together. Very small roots that are hard to see. With the roots holding the soil, erosion is less likely to happen.' he paused, 'Some of Tanzania's trees are special because they add fertility to the soil, which encourages other plants to grow. This too protects the soil.'
'I think I understand.' said Grace.
Olasiti continued, 'In the dry season, have you noticed the whirlwinds?'
'Yes, great clouds of dust!' replied Grace.
'That is erosion too! The dust is actually valuable top soil - the soil that has the most fertility for crops. After the rain has scoured the land, the wind comes to make things worse! The sun dries it and the wind blows the particles away. Even worse though, when man makes the ground bare by lighting fires, or even trough cultivation. The wind takes valuable fertility away!' The old man seemed sad.
'That's awful!' exclaimed Grace, 'What can be done about it?'
'First people need to be aware of the environment.' Olasiti began.
'Environment!' Grace was excited, 'That's the other word -' she trailed off not wanting to mention the talking Mbuyu.
'Hmm,' Olasiti gathered his thoughts, 'A healthy environment is vital for our existence - do you understand?'
'Not really.' answered Grace.
'Well the environment is all our surroundings. The land, the rivers, the trees, the animals, the birds, the mountains - everything. One depends upon the other - understand? I have just told you how the soil depends on the trees for protection. The eagle depends on trees for a home and on smaller birds and animals for food. Other birds depend on insects or seeds. Everything depends on everything else - wel for survival!'
'Like I depend on my mother!' Grace put in.
'Exactly right, but it goes deeper than that. When a leaf falls from a tree, the leaf becomes food for ants or termites and smaller plants called fungi. After those things have used the leaf it returns to the soil as fertility which helps beans and maize to grow. So we need insects and even the plants we can't see.'
'I think I understand why the environment is so important,' said Grace thoughtfully, 'but I don't think my family or my friends know about it.'
'There is much more to the environment that I have told you Grace. It is a precious thing and easily harmed.' reflected the old man.

Grace never forgot about her dream of the Mbuyu speaking to her and she remembered what old Olasiti had told her.
One day soon after, Grace saw her father cut down a Mgunga tree.
'Father! You are destroying the environment!' she told him.'
'I know that trees are becoming scarce in the village, but if I do not cut this tree, we will be unable to cook our food - then you will starve.' Grace's father replied.

Grace thought about this all day and at the evening meal, she said to her father, 'You are right that we need to cook our food and trees are the best fuel. We should make plans. It is easy to go from one day to the next and not worry about the future, but what happens to future generations?'
Grace's father was a little embarrassed. 'Maybe we will have to move away....'
'But father, that's not fair! This is a good place and our generation has to move away because your generation did not care for the environment.' Grace said quietly.
'I understand what you are saying Grace, but it is very difficult.'
Grace butted in, even though she knew she should not. 'No father, it's not difficult! plant some trees before you cut one down!'
'Hmm, that's possible.' he conceded.
'Of course it is father! Why not find out how much wood we need in a year and plant trees to harvest for fuel?'
'A good idea,' said her father, 'but there are difficulties.'
'You told me once that nothing in life comes easily.' Grace reminded him.
'Well,' her father decided,'you are in charge of growing our trees!'

Grace had no way of knowing how much wood was needed, she simply began working on a small tree nursery and during the rainy season, she planted them around their homestead. Many grew.
Over the following years she faced many problems; there were droughts, goats, cattle, hens and fire. She learned to cope with the problems and her successes became greater than her losses.
At first the village people laughed at her and watched her carry water during the dry moths to water her trees. It was hard work and they watched from their shady resting place.

It did not take long for the trees to grow and they provided shade on those hot dry days, and they gave shelter from the wind - the house wasn't so dusty anymore. And there was fruit and fodder for the cattle - even her father's crops produced more because of the extra fertility and shelter.

Grace became an expert on growing trees and when people saw her successes, the asked for her help and advice. Grace gave it willingly and shared her experience, seeds and seedlings. Gradually as the village environment improved, so did the quality of life there.

Grace had grown a small forest and there was more than enough fuelwood from fallen branches and she was able to sell other wood products, the value exceeding the income from her father's cattle - this was indeed a blessing for her family!
Harvesting caused some worries at first for Grace because she loved her trees but she learned about 'coppicing' and either tinned her trees or replanted harvested ones. Grace was practicing 'sustainable forestry'!

Over the years Grace shared her knowledge with anyone who would listen and gradually the message spread, like the ripples in pond when a stone is thrown in! From village to village the environment slowly improved.

The old wise man had predicted that Grace would do wonderful things for her people and he was correct! But Grace would say it was not her, it was the trees that did the wonderful things for the people.

Nadasoito

Nadasoito village is close to Mkonoo village so naturally enough the people there wanted to participate in an environmental programme like their neighbors.

Julius, the Ward Councilor came to our house in Sanawari to lobby for us to go there and he was ambitious to see large areas of trees planted in his home village. He had also come to talk to Big E about the water project.
I made the undertaking that the I would ensure the project would be completed. [As I had some pressure from Mo about it!]

There were discrepancies between what Big E had budgeted for, recieved and used. Things like concrete blocks for the tank being substituted for rocks gathered locally by the school kids; and claiming Tsh250 000/- for rolls of polythene pipe when the actual cost was Tsh30 000/-. I did not condone this sort of thing and I fronted Big E about it with a satisfactory outcome - which I may reveal later.

In the end, I took materials from Big E's store, and had him buy other necessary materials; then Joshia I motivated the village men to carry out the work. Though I supervised the installations as I can do plumbing work.

I noted that there was an 'illegal' branch line going into a private boma, and when I mentioned it to Joshia, his look made me think this issue be left alone.

The people were happy to receive their water.

When you encourage people to plant trees, one of the first constraints is water, and for Nadasowito this problem was addressed, but there are strategies and gradually we were to develop those. But the Primary Schools Assistance Project opened to door for the local village people to participate in tree planting activities.

It was important to talk to the school - that is the chairperson and the teachers about what assistance was required. Now having been to a number of schools, we knew what was required in a general way, but by talking/negotiating the ownership of the project is turned over to the school - and that is appropriate.
Security for text books was deemed to be important so lockable cupboards were provided. Classrooms in most schools had no windows, just the gaps for them. Often there were no doors, or badly performing doors. The Headteacher's office usually did have a door and usually not windows, so while they may be dingy, the office was the most secure area in the school - so text books were stored there.
The contract for the school desks was with our friendly brothers from Ngaremtoni and the contract price included delivery. I was gratifying to see new desks in the classrooms numbered and usually with the Agency logo written on them.

We carried out our environmental programme in the school and in the village. We found the message spread from the school to the village and Joshia's reading of 'Ndoto ya Grace' added to the understanding for the kids.
We found it was important to carry out follow-ups and one of the tools we used was to make a show of measuring and taking a record of the trees that were planted. This was merely done to motivate the students and village people into caring for the trees - it was just a little bit of bullshit that worked.
Each student prepared a planing pit/hole and was later given a tree. A prize was given to the ten best tree shelters, then for the best performing trees.
We thought the Nadasowito tree shelters were not up to scratch, so we took the three environmental prefects on a field trip to Mkonoo Primary School where the shelters were to a high standard.

Visions in Action asked us to take out a group of new recruits to help them decide how they wanted to spend their year as a volunteer.
I had been worried that village people were confused about a medicinal tree called Mwarubaini locally. There are two trees with the name - one is Neem the medicinal tree and Melia a poisonous tree. The trees are similar in appearance to the untrained and Neem does not grow in the cooler areas of Tanzania.
The easy way to identify the difference is by the seed [they have a similar shaped berry]. Melia has a ribbed seed while Neem is smooth. I demonstrated this by peeling the flesh from the berry of the Melia. There was no Neem there because it is too cool at Nadasowito. Many people wanted to talk to me that day, and I did not get to wash my hands! We were provided roast maize cobs as a snack, and because of the poison from the Melia still on my hands, I was violently sick that night and it took a few days for me to recover!

Nadasowito Primary School was the first at us to be guests of honour at the Std VII graduation ceremony. This was after the Std VII national examination - the results of which determined if the student qualified for a place in a state secondary school. The fees of state secondary schools were cheaper and at that time only about 6% of all students went on to secondary school.

The graduation ceremony was an emotional time for these young people and the school did its very best to give them a fitting send-off. Not easy in those financial times [even now].
The letter of invitation was very respectful and I was prepared to return that respect. I had another appointment that day with Mama Faraja's group at Monduli. The Headteacher was happy with that constraint, being happy that we were prepared to attend.
There was singing and dancing, speeches, the presentations and role plays. Followed by a meal and a soda for the school leavers.
Some pics:





















April 8, Day 598:
To Nadasowito - even used Hidhafi's Suzuki. Big E was crook with the booze though! Made two trips and took over 100o trees for the village people. A bit difficult though because of the muddy condition of the road out there and it meant I had a lot of trees to prepare for delivery [load up too]. 300 trees was for a special project to be overseen by the Ward Councilor but he was late and Obedi, the village environment motivator, took us to the village office where we found him.
Joshia took out another load late in the day - I had other work at the Agency office.
Tired by days end but a person turned up wanting to buy 600 Michongoma - so I had to clean them up and help him to load them.

Mkonoo

The village of Mkonoo came about through the programme initiated by Julius Nyerere to bring about more order and stop the nomadic way of life common with many tribes in Tanzania.

To reach Mkonoo, the road passes through the poorer areas of Unga Limited, down a long ridge where houses become scarcer and to where Edgar Rice Secondary School is situated. On through farmland to a bridge spanning the Temi River with the road becoming steadily worse. There is turnoff to Mkonoo and the road continues straight to Nadasoito and Muriet.

Still on a ridgetop the road passes through farmland that can be dry and barren but when it rains the rich, red soil bears abundant crops - as long as the rains continue. Navigation is easy in the dry because you can see where you are going, but when the maize is higher than the vehicle - it is easy to lose your way! When the road is wet, there is a challenge for what I call a 'road' here is a dirt track, formed through use rather than by any road-making machine.

First there is the hospital - large for the area, as it serves a wide area - but like many hospitals at the time, under-resourced and under-staffed. Josiah knew a nurse there, so we would call there from time to time and he would bring her beans or rice. I had the opportunity to witness the treatment and the problems faced there and was frustrated at my inability to offer assistance.
I was able to provide some trees to plant in the grounds though and the shade from them I believed to some comfort to the patients and their families.

It is only a short distance to the village center - three or four small shops, a carpenter shop the village office and a large godown where food could be stored. The shops sell bread, soda and other general grocery items.
Transport for the village people was by foot and goods were carried by donkeys - punda. Of course there were lorries and tractors with trailers but those were at a cost.

Actually, along this road I saw a pile of maize cobs being 'threshed' by a tractor running over them - in circles! Ingenious but costly!

Onwards a little and there is a large water tank - dry. Built some time previously but is was this tank that water from Big E's project was to fill. We will get to that.

Close to this tank is Mkonoo Primary School.
First time we were met by the Headteacher and filled in his visitor book. Schools have a visitor book and a log book, and it is good for donors to know this and record what has been given this is transparency - uwazi.
For those interested there is always a buzz of insects and the bird calls [doves & pigeons have a special appeal for me] but the buzz in the Headteacher's small dark office made me look up. There was a large beehive working there - filaments of comb maybe half a metre long hung down and the bees busied themselves.
He was a bit frightened of them and the beekeeper in me wanted to take a closer look. But I thought it must have been there for a long time with no problem, so I just admired it.

Pic: With the Headteacher in the senior classroom
This Headteacher was a bit of an environmentalist. He had the school kids keep a vegetable garden and used the farm to grow maize and beans.
Hifadhi had supplied some trees and particularly the Grevillea were being eaten by termites and Big E's solution was to interplant with Mpilipili - Pepper Tree. This species was not eaten by termites but they were clever enough to find the food they needed. Oh the kids too did damage - breaking twigs off to clean their teeth. Toothbrushes were an expensive luxury then.

During my other life as a Forester and Nurseryman, I knew well the dangers of agricultural chemicals and throughout my time in Tanzania I witnessed so things that still worry me.
Here at Mkonoo I saw a large pile of harvested red beans being treated with insecticide powder by the senior students! Rolled up sleeves they were manually mixing the chemical into the beans!
Many people in Tanzania contract stomach ulcers through eating the red, kidney beans - maybe because of chemicals, but that was not my opinion. Tanzanians prepare food carefully and any chemical residues would be washed off. The cause is the red pigment in the beans! I taught all who would listen to soak the beans overnight - preferably in hot water - but this pre-cooks them. Cold water did the trick - then wash the beans completely to until no more red pigment was visible - then cook them. This was a success.

I had written a short story - 'Grace's Dream' - Ndoto ya Grace - and Joshia translated it accurately for me. I printed into a small booklet and Joshia read it at all the school seminars. I even did some drawings. I have copied it to pdf but it does not go into this blog - I will have to type it on when I have time - this was a successful tool in our seminar.

The tree plantings were successful and the Primary Schools Assistance Programme proved very successful to give us entry into the villages. At least with the Maasai, it was necessary to have the approval of the elders to work with the village people. The 'formal' way is to gain entry via the Village Chairman and Village Executive Officer.

Pic: Tree Deliveries

Mo had been lobbying me to complete the water project to be shared between Mkonoo and Nadasoito. This was funded by NZHC and was Hifadhi's and the responsibility of Big E. I had trouble getting his cooperation and I knew he had been fully paid out for the project.
I found a few anomalies - no, a lot! Without detail, it was the old trick - budget high, do a cheap job and then there are spare funds! Actually I detailed this and it became useful later on.
Anyway I did take the project over and Big E did do what I required him to do and the village people did get their water.


Pic: Water tap - Mkonoo.
The taps are brass and usually came from China as they were the cheapest. They soon fail and there is a waste of water. A cause of the failure is if no water comes - a kid will belt the tap with a rock - when it eventually comes, it can't be turned off.

The school recieved around one hundred desks, teachers' tables with chairs. Text books with teacher's instruction copies, science kits, plastic blowup globes, maps (world and Tanzania).


Pic: The teachers standing outside the classroom show their delight to receive the text books!

Village householders also wanted to participate in the environmental project and many people took advantage of our trees - I will highlight Jamatatu later. As motivation we took the school environmental committee to look at successful plantings around the village and they were also rewarded with a badge to were on their shirt - Misitu ni Uhai it read. 'Forests are Life.

Pic: Presenting a bike to a village motivator.

Funds were raised by a secondary school in New Zealand on the instigation of Big E and his friend, an ex Agency field rep. The idea was excellent. To award a motivator to tour around the village encouraging and giving advice to the village population. The scheme was flawed in that the motivator was appointed by Big E, not the village [or participants] and the motivator was not given training.
The man at the back of the pic is the Ward Councillor and he caused us to do a large planting at Nadasoito. Some years later, I met him in the streets of Arusha and he hugged me with some delight, saying that our tree planting had been very successful.

This contrasts with a gift from another quarter. Mama Kuku has carried out a lot of aid in the Arusha area and has raised large amounts of money to fund many projects. She gained her name because she was involved in large scale poultry farms. Mama Kuku had a truck that returned to Arusha from Moshi with no payload, so she loaded it with trees that she bought at Same. 60 000 trees ended up at Mkonoo, but because there was no training or distribution method - most died.
I went to see Mama Kuku and her husband at their Tengeru home and we managed to coordinate future tree deliveries within our project. During our time in Tanzania we saw many well meaning attempts at assistance fail because of a lack of understanding of the protocols to achieve favorable outcomes.

Riding the Ungo

An Ungo is a winnowing basket used mainly to clean beans, maize or rice. Often not using the wind as to clear husks from seeds but to remove stones or damaged seeds. And it is an art to use them correctly.

There is something else about the Ungo. Jini(s) ride them! What is a Jini?
Well a Jini is an evil spirit that has taken the body of a person, and the Ungo is their mode of travel. I don't really know what a Jini is but it is something like that - and they don't always travel on the Ungo.
Oh yes? It is when young Nai first told me about having seen a Jini, I gave the understanding smile - Nai was but seven years and had seen the Jini up a tree beside the river.
There was a wire crossing the river and some of the children used the wire to cross the river (I actually did not see the setup but the description was that there were two wires - one to walk on and one to hold on to).
The next day, the wire broke as children were crossing and two died. This I was told was the work of the Jini!
Accidents happen.

Sometime later, I heard a report over the local radio station - in news bulletin.
A man driving a new Toyota double cabin stopped to pick up (give a lift to) a beautiful girl. Once in the car and along the road a little, the beautiful girl turned into a leopard! The man stopped the car in panic and ran off. The beautiful girl drove off in the car.

Sometime not so long ago, there was a report in the Arusha Times newspaper - a very reputable newspaper - that a Jini had arrived in Arusha town suburb having flown from the town of Moshi. He was stoned by locals.

Mama Baraka went to the funeral of her friend's sister at the village of Ngaremotoni. Three days after the funeral, the close friends gathered as part of the wake to sit together to honour the deceased.
Three women were preparing food for the wake when suddenly they became aware of an old man - mzee - sitting on a jiko - a small, encased cooking fire. The fire was burning and he was eating charcoal; some of it glowing hot. The women tried to speak to him, but he refused to answer, so they called some of the men in but he remained silent.
The men began to beat him with their fimbo - sticks, drawing blood. The man said nothing but drank his own blood.
They took him outside and tied his hands together and bent him forward then secured the rope around his neck. During this time he said that he had come from Moshi.
They tied him to a tree and at midnight, they went out to check on him. He had disappeared! The rope was still tied and uncut!

I asked Mama Baraka what she thought of it 'Sijui.' I don't know.
'A Jini?' I asked.
'Aye.'

I have resolved never to laugh at another culture's food or beliefs - and I stick to that.

There are many more stories like this and as I find them in my diaries I will write them up.

Indian Visitor

One Saturday morning, a young Indian guy called at our Sanawari house with a problem.

He was taking his brother to hospital and had run out of petrol!
I felt sorry for the young guy, but as usual, before handing any money over - it always pays to check.
'Where is your car?' I asked.
'Down on the main road.' he replied.
'So you walked for fifteen minutes up here to find me?' the question was rhetorical. But he answered that he had.
Now his car would be fifteen minutes away from the hospital and how did he know that I was even there? I strongly suspected a scam!
I made a show of feeling in my pockets (I seldom had cash in my pockets at home). 'Don't you know it is foolish to carry money or have it in your house? Sorry I have no money here.'
The man left with no ill feeling.

Few days later, Missy told us of an Indian guy who had called on them asking for money. The description matched and the story was the same. This time one of her friends had given him something - not much, more a token.

Short but not so sweet

I have tried to separate events from Sanawari and Makumira, but sometime there are connections and separation is not logical. But for the record our period at Sanawari was August 1995 to July 1997 and Makumira from July 1997 to September 2000 & from September 2002 to November 2004.

Day 392, 15 Sept. Something gross happened. As I sat the Maruti waiting for a meeting [this was in Arusha town] A lame man walked up to me with his hand out, begging. His leg was bandaged up but there was a long rip down it. Puss was oozing out of the bandage and he was in poor condition and filthy! I had my window down and was prepared to talk to him and probably give him some money. He raised his leg and scraped some puss from the bandage and held it under my nose! The stink revolted me and I wound up the window. He used the puss to write roughly on the window!

Again as I sat in the truck, a man came up begging. He looked fine to me so I asked him why he was begging for money, he was fit, had two hand so he could work. He just pointed to his feet and said nothing. They were stubs, knocked off through leprosy! I gave him some money and made a vow to always check before making judgments.

I was a nodding acquaintance with a woman in town who sold bananas at the gate of Mt Meru hospital. On Saturdays however she begged in town pretending to be blind!

For a time there was a woman in town who had a problem of some sort. She would pretend to be very busy doing something. She would walk purposefully in one direction then pretend to look at something or pick something up then walk purposefully in another direction. She seemed to do this all day - never asked for money, just did that.

There had been bandits on the road at night and for a time it was dangerous to venture out.
One night at about 9:00pm there was a gonging at the gate of our compound at Makumira and our night guard came to the door. An old guy had fallen off the footbridge that crosses the creek just below our house. Some, [that's his name] a secondary school teacher thought this guy had hit his head seriously and needed medical treatment. The guy was drunk, very drunk! I refused to take him, but Some and Mbise, our guard talked me around. I agreed on condition a member of the drunk guy's family accompany us because I did not want to get stuck with the old guy. or be up for payment. A young man was found.
Mbise came too and half way down our road the drunk crapped himself! But it was watery one and leaked on to the back seat of the truck! And in copious quantities by the smell.
At the small hospital at Kilala, run buy local Catholic sisters, the guy refused get out of the truck! I suppose embarrassed at his state or perhaps just drunken stubborness. No coaxing would get him to get out, so I gave him my stern voice and told him to go with the sisters and not be a nuisance - he complied.
After I had asked the sisters if they could control him and they had affirmed they could, I told the young man who was his son, that he was to accompany us back and he was to clean the car!
Well we arrived at the gate and the young fellow opened the door before we had completely stopped and ran off!
It became Some and Mbise's job to do the cleaning as they had encouraged me to take the guy, but Some was cunning enough to do little.
In the event the guy was not really hurt - just some bruising, but a few days later, he arrived at our door, this time sober and apologized - sincerely.
At least that was something, but I suspect Mbise had something to do with it as Mbise would.

I had just climbed back in the Toyota when a bedraggled man came up to the window, said nothing, but threw a pinch of white powder on to my lap. He had startled me but I noticed as he walked to the next car that he was wearing a woman's pink corset over the other clothes he was wearing. This made him look like something out of a circus!
I think the powder was salt, though I never tested it and I never saw the guy again!

There was a man often seen around Tengeru who wore many clothes. He was bulky with clothes and always recognizable. We never knew why he did this, rumour has it that the town's youth banded together and stripped him down to give him a bath! Afterward he slowly gained in size as he collected and wore more clothes.

Muriet

Muriet village can be accessed through Nadasoito village via Unga Limited, but we most went there via the Dodoma road, turning off at a junction the name of which eludes me, but there is a large market there - Thursdays? - and the road to the sand areas and nearer, Olasiti Primary School. Lorries full of marram or sand often waited there to be hired.

Muriet has lately been in the news because the Arusha dump was established there and the smell and smoke no longer make it a pleasant place - though I have not been there.

Big E's brother John took us to Muriet in his car with a boot-full of trees from the nursery. I have no idea why this happened but I guessed Big E had made a promise to someone and had talked John in to taking me there.
Just how John knew where to turn off was a mystery to me but the faint track was smooth and easy driving. The road was not the lorries carrying sand made the road like a moonscape. However we were unable to reach the house of the man John was to give the trees to because of a shallow irrigation ditch. So a wheelbarrow was brought to transport them to his house.

A few people had gathered there and I demonstrated the planting method to them. John instructed the man to to distribute the trees among the people there and we were off.
I asked Josiah about this the next day and in the African way, he knew people there and had a connection. The connection comes through the Maasai inter-relationship and the church.

Through Gideon and his extended family, Muriet was one of our more successful project areas. The village was not well sited because of a high water table in the wet season and this limited access during those times - certainly I was challenged in the Maruti from time to time. Most homesteads were located in higher spots, which made living there a little more comfortable.

Gideon and his family became very keen tree planters and cared for all the trees we supplied. They also made sure the rest of the village people did the same.
Basically we ran the programme as with other villages. Providing a seminar on the environment and how to plant and care for trees. It was then up to the village people to prepare the planting hole - Joshia called them pits - my recommendation was you had to fit a 20 litre bucket into the hole. The soil was mixed with dry cow manure (or similar) and the mix was then returned to the hole. The hole was marked with a stick. The trees was then supplied ex our nursery and we often awarded an inducement for the best tree shelter [sticks, bags or whatever to provide protection from livestock and shade] - the inducement may be an avocado, pen or tin mug. Of course it was necessary to carry out followups and measure the trees' progress to be able to award merits.

At one household, we had inspected the plantings and I had given out some fruit - including mango - and had one avocado left. There was a small girl - knee-high to a grasshopper - whose name I found later was Neema. She had been following me around and looked at what I looked at and copied whatever I was doing. I gave her the left over avocado and told her to plant the seed inside [and how to do it]. About a year later, I was back in the village and passed her homestead. While talking to her father, she tugged on my trouser leg and said, 'Mzee, Mzee, come look at my tree!' It had grown to about 50cm and was healthy. Joshia showed her how to erect a shelter - though avocado trees are not palatable to stock. But this is what tree planting is all about! By now the tree will be fruiting.

Most of the village people were of a younger generation, Gideon himself had a modern outlook and had a metal work business (fundi) but others were more traditional. I always enjoyed calling on one Maasai boma where there were two wives - never met the husband - one of the wives had remarkable success with her trees, while the other was frankly hopeless, but she had the most children and they were well nurtured.

A group of women banded together as Mazingira Group so we were able to support them with materials and encouragement.

There was a desperate need for a preschool, chekechea, and we were asked to assist. Fortunately we managed to raise enough money to lay a cement floor, build a cheap slab wood building with an iron roof and a water pipeline to the building. We paid for the materials and the village people did all the work.



Green Arusha Society still work with the village which is the catchment area for Olasiti Primary School where we did little more than supply a few trees.