Moving in

We moved into the Makumira house 23 May 1997.
It was a busy time and there was a deal of emotion leaving our friends at Sanawari - in particular Mama Baraka, Nai and Olotu.

There was still a carry over of Hifadhi projects, especially the water project at Engorora with Francis. There was also the Muriet kindergarten and some tree deliveries to various villages.

While Paulina did a good job of cleaning the house, there was a lot to do to get rid of vermin (and a great big termite nest), air out cupboards (we had no cupboards at Sanawari), repair mosquito netting, set up nets over beds, wire up the oven and fridge. A bit tricky because were were there for a couple of weeks before I managed to get Tanesco to do their magic and make the electricity flow. Actually it was not quite right - Mama John kept getting 'tingles' from the range whenever she used it without her sandals on (Swahili they are malapa, New Zealand, Jandals) it was because the earth wire was not a good connection as the big Newtonia tree sucked all the soil moisture.
We were used to no electricity, so it did not bother us - we had a gas cooker, water filter and a pressure lamp. When the electricity returned, it was not always reliable and the pressure lamp had to be allowed to cool before relighting. Sometimes I would just get it going and the electricity would return, them moments later cut out again - 5-6 times per night or more. So generally we resorted to the old storm lantern ( kerosene but not under pressure) and candles.

I was nurturing Joshia as well, setting him up to run his NGO. He was busy too with various person projects that he was wanting to complete.

Missy arrived nine days after we moved in. Missy is a delight and we were pleased to see her return and to have her stay with us. She was doing her masters thesis on the effect our projects had on the rural women in the communities we had worked. This was special because we had arranged Joshia to be her translator and because they had no transport, I helped and went back to those projects.

There was trouble with Mama Mwuguzi (I have drafted what happened - not posted yet...), she and her husband faced some difficulty and I tried to help them through it. I don't think they really understood their briefing and were only ten minutes walk from the main road - yet they felt remote.
The fish farming vols were in the house next door but soon resigned and moved out. Then a family moved in - ah I was running the shop for the Agency Field Reps, Mo & Jo when the family, Watunzi Watoto, arrived back from Morogoro where they attended an English course. Well their house in the outskirts of Arusha was broken into and some things were stolen. So I had to do the police thing 'for insurance purposes' and the driving around of them. Then they wanted to move into the vacant house that the fish farming vols had left. This family cause different trouble but stuff that I needed to sort. Mostly smoothing ruffled feathers here and there. Oh well - the house belonged to DME so they made demands on them!

Because we had extended our contract, we were entitled to another forty hours Kiswahili tuition - ah no, not to Morogoro, or to the Danish (where the food makes any vol salivate) but using a room in the CEDAH complex being tutored by Mr. Kimaro. My Kiswahili was coming along well and these lessons were of value.
Something strange happened though: one day he carried the strong smell of alcohol around him, and maybe he even partook that morning - but he was upset about a family problem and was crying. He asked me to take him home, but as we passed AICC he asked to be dropped off. He left me still crying.
Mr. Kimaro's struggle to form Rafiki Trust and start a primary school came to fruition and I went there to share my knowledge and donated some trees to plant around the school. I looked at the website recently and it seems, sadly, he is the late Mr. Kimaro - but his legacy lives on.

Marie came to stay too - she was a vol in Zimbabwe and she stayed for a number of days, wanting to see the sights of the Arusha environs. We were able to her and Missy to Lushoto and Tarangire National Park. Ha! I stopped on the rise of a hill and there was a large bull elephant there and Marie wanted to take a picture - well the vehicle spooked the elephant and he charged us! There was a measure of panic in the vehicle and I must say that I did not waste time changing gear, I planted my foot to the floor. Elephants only bluff though - usually.

To top all this off, we had a family bereavement and it so happened that the telephones at the Agency office were again not working. The post office ones were going so we went in there to make a the call home. At the counter, you fill in a form with the requested phone number. You pay for the amount of time and sit in the waiting area. There was a row of cubicles with a number each and when the connection is made, in you go. The cubicles are basic made from varnished plywood. You get your time, but sometimes the phone link is broken and it has to be reestablished. Of course when the time is up, there is no warning - you are cut off.

It was a busy time and we had visitors. Locals came looking for work or assistance of some kind. Others just wanted to welcome us into the area. Of course, now we had a large house, there was room for the out-of-town vols to stay. They were welcome.

The Meru Crisis

Makumira is an area of the traditional lands of the Meru tribe, and while there are other tribes living in the area, the Meru language is most often used. This is a good thing because this makes Kimeru a living language and nurtures it.
This can cause problems because when people speak 'the language of their house', outsiders often feel excluded. Most understand this and use Kiswahili as a matter of manners but I know I felt out of it at times. I became used to it and it was curiously used as respect for me because when we were visiting somewhere and there was a Meru engagement between Loti and them, very often it was about what I preferred to eat or drink - better than whispering I guess!

Within the Meru area there was this crisis.
I'm not really qualified to to write about this but there is scant written history about it and that needs to be addressed. What I have found is quite different to what I have been told - and I was told by folk who were amongst it.
The crisis was a in fact a war and while we were there, below the surface there still simmered some feeling at some times.

I hope I write this with some sensitivity and hope I am accurate, but I remain open for input and opinion. I will leave out names.
Let's start with what I have read:
The crisis occurred between 1990 and 1993 and the Tanzania army was called in to quell the situation.

The background is that in 1972 there was a rationalization which formed a smaller Northern Diocese and the Arusha and Pare Dioceses. The Meru people chose to remain with the new, smaller Norther Diocese and it was recorded that some 20% of the 360 000 members were the Meru or Rwa tribe. The remainder of the Northern Diocese, except for Karatu, were of the Chugga tribe.
The Meru people claimed that the Chugga tribe controlled the Northern Diocese with 25% of each church's funds profited the Chugga. The accused the Chugga leaders of nepotism and a failure to support schools/education in all areas. But back further, the Germans used Chugga soldiers to punish the Meru for the slaughter of missionaries. The Meru tribe was decimated, reduced to a mere 5000.

The catalyst was the issue of forbidding alcoholic beverages at social functions which went against Meru social practice. Pastors were accused of blessing beer and whiskey at Chugga functions but refusing to do so at Meru functions.

One charismatic Meru man was punished by the stripping of his church rank because he served beer at his son's wedding. The punishment incensed the individual along with many Meru people.
He was the chairman of the Meru Social Development Trust and used its resources to form a new diocese in September 1990. His committee declared its formation in October, registration processed December and was inaugurated 1 January 1991. The official new Diocese was created with the approval of the Northern Diocese Bishop on 11 March 1992. [making two of them]
There were deep divisions and crops were burnt, livestock killed, some people killed and many injured, and some Tsh 70million worth of Diocese property was destroyed.
There were many arrests after the army was brought in to make peace.

What I was told:
Firstly, it was never mentioned that there was a row over alcohol. Sure mbege was brewed and that is a low alcohol traditional brew. Also piwa which is also a traditional brew but it is powerful, unsafe and will straighten any curly hair!
I attended many, many DME functions and never at any time saw even a hint of alcohol and I respected the fact that they did not take it and followed their example. So if alcohol was indeed an issue, it must be by the people who went on to form the AMEC church.

It was confirmed about the ugomvi between the Meru and Chugga tribes and after that charismatic fellow and his team [they had definite power as leaders of various fields, including politics] decided to break away from the Northern Diocese so they took over some of the church assets.
In response to the chaos that followed - loyal Lutherans wanting to take the property back - the Bishop agreed that a new diocese could be formed for/by the Meru people.
The fighting, I was told, became over the very name of the new diocese; the loyalists wanting Meru Diocese and the 'rebels' preferring Mount Meru Diocese.
There was serious fighting, ambushes and vigils that I was told about, and loyal people put their lives on the line.

The outcome was the 'rebels' forming the AMEC church (splitting from ELCT) and the loyalists forming the Meru Diocese (remaining with ELCT).
For us arriving there in May 1997 there was no danger at all that we noticed. The main effect was that DME were still reeling from the financial losses of the crisis. Even note paper was in short supply. This made our contribution even more important to them.
Later we were to notice some of the divisions between AMEC and DME but personally and professionally we were unaffected.

Makumira

We had stayed at the Makumira house when the fish farming vols were living there. Their tenure was less than auspicious and they did not get on with the locals so well. I think I will write about them, because some of the story is funny, but I temper that because they complained so loudly to DME about the noise from the nearby secondary school, that the Headmaster has to be replaced! That is not what we are about!

The house is a grand old double story built from stone - thick stone and in it's day very well made. When we visited the fish farming vols had tried to sound-proof the building and slept downstairs. They complained about the school bell ringing at 7:00am to wake the boarders even on the weekends. I didn't think it was out of the ordinary.
The school had serious problems with water and so the students (boys & actually young men) would pass by the boundary fence to go down to the nearby creek to bathe (and wash clothes). The fish farmer vol thought the boys were smoking cannabis and would report them to the Headmaster, who would line them us so the fish farmer vol could identify them - he did this by recognizing their clothes. Well they responded by going down to the river nude! This really upset out fish farming friend!
Once as I sat with him on the veranda, smaller kids passed, looking in to greet us. The fish farmer vol thought they were invading his privacy and even suggested to me that he would throw a stone at them. Tanzanian kids are just friendly - and inquisitive. I regard those traits as being a blessing. Mostly they would look, waiting for a wave, they would respond (later invariable calling out, 'Shikamoo!'), which is nothing but a respectful greeting, and then they would carry on their way.

One weekend we were all invited to the house by the fish farmer vols and on the Saturday morning after the school bell had raised his ire, some fundis (craftsmen/welders - you don't add a 's' for plural in Kiswahili but we did for our own use) arrived to steel doors to the garage.
Now fundis know their stuff, and make the best use of what they have - a westerner may even laugh at them, for example using a stone instead of a hammer - sometimes standards are not high and safety was not so high on the agenda; but I have admiration for them.
Anyway, this welder they had did not have a plug, so they wired directly into the socket. Well there was a 'boom' and not only was a fuse blown in the house, but also on the pole down the road! So there was no electricity.
This set our friend the fish farmer off! He had needed electricity to be a good host to us all. But mostly he blamed the fundis for shoddy work!
He took off to Usa River and made contact with Tanesco, the power authority and they promised to come later.
The fundis did not want to go away, preferring to wait for the electricity to return - the fish farmer made them wait outside the gate! Then it rained so I suggested the guys be allowed to wait in the garage. The idea was vetoed!
However by this time my language was better and I went to them and gave them money for a soda each at the school canteen (where there was shelter).
Power was restored and the doors were fitted and the weekend ended happily.

There was a 2 metre high post and netting fence to mark the compound; built for the fish farmer vol. But by the time we moved in termites had eaten the posts and the fence was less than secure. The fish farmer vol had planted calla lilies to block out the view of passers by, but now these held up the fence. The gates were good but we usually only locked them during the night - I always wondered if we were locking people out, or ourselves in.

By the time we were to move in, the fish farming vols had moved to one of the houses across the main road - there were other adventures but enough said. He did give me some advice though.
He did not trust 'Kojak' the name he gave to the General Secretary, nor did he trust the ex farm manage, Loti.
Well I took on Loti as my co-worker - one of the best choices I have ever made! And I rank the General Secretary (retired) as one of my best friends for whom I have great respect. (I did not like writing that word beginning with 'K').

We never realised at the time just how much this move would impact on our lives, but we were to find that working with DME was to be very different to Hifadhi.

DME is a Lutheran Diocese covering a very large area, principally ministering to the Meru tribe but not excluding the other tribes.
DME suffered from a lack of financial resources caused mainly by 'The Meru Crisis'; but not withstanding that, there was a huge organization and the door was opened to us to work in villages, schools and churches. The Bishop - he must be honored - The Hon Bishop allowed us to work in any area, with any religious group, say that we were there to help the people of Tanzania.

Taratibu means 'formalities' and i like using the word. DME had those.
It was policy to have a night guard - actually a guard all day long, but that was unaffordable. The fish farming vols had Mbise, but he had returned to become a farm worker.
Oh another explanation: The house was the 'farm manager's house' but was renovated for the fish farmers. The farm still operated and they milked some cows, grew some coffee, grew some maize and leased plots for growing maize and rice. In it's heyday, the farm produced Papaya milk - sap/resin from the Pawpaw not tree. The plant is classified as a herb rather than a tree but looks like a tree sure enough. The house was build by the German farm manager - just by the way: his wife is buried in the compound. Grave robbers apparently looked for the gold cross that 'she was sure to buried with' but I have no idea if there was a cross or not. Then there came to visit us a very old German woman who was the farm manager's second wife. He had proposed to her in the small bedroom of 'our' house - she sat on the bed as she told us. Unable to speak English, we conversed satisfactorily in Kiswahili - old as she was, she had not forgotten the language.
Mbise did not really want to become a night guard again, but the pressure was put on him (I guess by Loti) and he acquiesced. Mbise figured largely in our life. But on his first night on duty he managed to acquire my Red Band gumboots and my only torch!

Then it occurred that we employed a house girl. For those unfamiliar with the term it is simply a maid. or perhaps a servant. We didn't require the services of anyone to help us in the house and while many of the vols employed house girls, we never really thought about it.
Well Mama John was the house girl of the fish farming vols. When they left, they were replaced by the nurse and her husband, but they only wanted Mama John for one day per week. We happened to be there and conveyed the news to her because of her lack of English. Well she was downcast and sad about losing her livelihood. So we took her on for 3 days per week. That extended to four as the nurse lasted just a few months and wanted to be repatriated. Mama John did our washing, but mainly cooked morning smoko (NZ term for tea break) and lunch for our nursery workers.
Something else - you don't get your house girl to wash your 'smalls' - underpants/nickers. They are private and are not hung out on the line for all and sundry to look at - just a little local culture.

Remember Paulina (and her wild but delightful kids)? She was a farm employee (as was her husband, Sylvester, who milked the cows - even when he was drunk; again though he was known to fall from his stool) and it was she who cleaned our house before we moved in. The fish farming vols had been out of it for some time and there bats (and their droppings) to get rid of and the dust. Paulina did a good job with just a bucket and a cloth - no soap.

The General Secretary told me that the fish farming vol had caused another problem: he had overpaid all the people he had employed including his co-worker Enoch. In fact Enoch was paid more than the Secretary General himself! I was instructed to be very careful how much I paid people.
Just by the way: I had applied for funding to NZHC and it was granted. The amount was appropriate but we were in a good comfort zone. The money was put into a joint bank account - me and the DME treasurer on a monthly basis by Mo & Jo.
As he drove us through the old main road through (busy) Usa River, the General Secretary gave me another piece of advice: The people [on foot] will never move out of the way if you drive slowly, go fast and they will clear the way! He demonstrated, but I didn't take that piece of advice.

Where does it end?

You really have to get your head around the difficulties people face in rural Tanzania. Look at previous blogs about Neema or Lily, Paulina and food aid.

We lived and worked among the subsistence farmers and the rural poor, helping out where we could and in the most appropriate way we were able. Of course one thing leads to another and as we progressed at Makumira for DME we became more involved and we experienced every conceivable emotion.

Sure we were taken for a ride: like the woman who had a child suffering from, I think, spina bifida. She brought the child one and a chit from the doctor saying what drugs the child needed. We would give her money, but she would buy booze and share it with her boyfriend. However were were not hard enough to actually refuse her - just didn't give as much.
However by far the majority were genuine and appreciated the help given. Paulina would send one of her girls with a note that they had no food (remember them from earlier?) Sometimes I would give some money, or just a loaf of bread - any food I had in the house. It worried me that old Sylvester would take money for booze.

The rains are always a blessing in the Meru area - rain means food. The rains can also bring problems. Heavy rains cause damage.
I have received two texts: One from Lily saying that her mother's house had collapsed in the rain. Lily is now in her last year at university and the only way she could help her mother was to use her meal allowance to make makeshift repairs. Lily is able to eat two times per day. She has requested money to tide her over.
The other text was from Upendo - she hasn't figured in any blogs yet, but she will. Her friend's mother, Mama Joyce, had the same misfortune - her house fell down in the rain! Somewhere back in the blogs is a little about Joyce's child, Neema suffering from Herpes.
I have great regard for Mama Joyce and she has asked for a bag of cement to help restore her house. There is some detail here that I don't know and I need to find out if Joyce and Jerome are contributing to help their mother. Sadly Baba Joyce died two years ago.

I will send money; not as much as Lily requested, but a contribution and for Mama Joyce, I will send more than a bag of cement, but again not as much as she hopes for.
I suppose there remains some of Tanzania in my blood.