Some of the Dangers

I gave my word that I would respect the request: Tell people about the good things, not the bad.
I will keep my word, but not everything was good and to be balanced, I have to mention some of the bad, although there are some things I will leave out.

Some of the negatives that touched me could happen anywhere in the world, so do not necessarily reflect on Tanzania, although they did happen there.

I had broken a tooth and 'was sent' to Nairobi, Kenya to have it repaired, which involved an overnight stay - oh Mama Mbembe wanted me to go there and return the same day, but that was beyond reasonable.
As I crossed a busy road, a young lad ran past me and swiped the cat from my head - the one with Tasmanian Devil on it. He ran off down the road and I sprinted after him [without thinking and leaving Mags on her own]! There was a line of cars, stopped for some reason and one of those saw that I was chasing the guy, opened the door, hitting him, almost knocking him off his feet! I was catching up on him and he ran across the road close to where four or five men were standing. 'Catch the thief!' I called, and they caught him and were about to beat him up - I clenched my fist to give him a swipe, but reason took hold and the guy handed me the cap. I think they let the guy go, but I had not realised that I was a spectacle for the many onlookers who clapped as I headed back to Mags. With all that attention, I had to control my breathing so I did not look puffed! But the danger was, where was that guy leading to? And leaving Mags on her own! This was Nairobi!

It is common for people to cover valuable items such as radios or television sets with pretty doilies and I first thought it was to keep dust off the. Rather it is to keep prying eyes off them!
Joshia built a modest little house and he had a small, cassette radio sitting on a table. In the middle of the night there was a loud bang, his door was bashed in with a large rock/boulder [called a 'fatuma'] and the radio was taken before Joshia could get out of his bed! Quite obviously someone knew exactly where the radio was, meaning that the robber was someone who had been to the house.
Closing the door after the horse had bolted, we gave him the money to buy a iron-grill door.
But if you show off valuable things, you have to be very cautious.
The fruit ladies will poke their head in your car and look into your wallet if you open it. To them, seeing a few notes all at once is a lot of money and they will talk about it , making you a target!
It is unwise to flash money around or gold watches or cellphones.

I took advantage of doing some work in Arusha while the Landrover was being repaired by Marangu [they just called him that because he came from there] out on the Dodoma road - not quite as far as the African Heritage complex. Someone phoned [cellphone] while I was in Arusha. I had plenty of time, so I decided to walk - saving a few shillings - though usually I hired a taxi or caught a Daladala. From about Shopright the road passes through petty industry and market areas that serve poorer urban areas. Some way along the path I followed I felt a severe slap on both my shoulders simultaneously and at the same time someone made a grab at my cellphone! He missed his grip, the phone in its pouch falling to the ground and I elbowed them both away and they ran off behind me so I did not see them. I replace my phone at the front of my trousers, rather that the side where it had been - but I always checked, it was not visible, so they had followed me from town! I decided to catch a Daladala, even though it too far to pick up the car. Just walking along keeping my eye out for a passing Daladala. This time I was held in a bear hug from behind, while the other searched for the phone. The old trick is to raise your arms and drop to your knees, and I did, slipping from his grasp, but with my arms up there I could not defend the phone! The young men ran past me and up a dingy alley. A couple of women at a vege stall saw what had happened, and it was over too fast for them to react, but they shook their heads in warning for me not to follow them - and I agreed with them. Of course if you want to claim on your insurance, you need a police report! At the police station there was a big African man who also had his phone stolen. He had in his shirt pocket and the same thing happened to him - slapped on the shoulders from behind and the other from the front pushed in the chest and and simply lifted the phone from his pocket. These guys were mobile!

An event occurred that caused me to call on the Agency field rep, Mama Mbembe, on a Sunday afternoon. She had moved to a secure house just opposite the Ilboru Safari Lodge and the large, two metre high metal gate was closed but not locked, so in I went.
There was a scurry inside when I knocked on the door and when Mama Mbembe opened the door, her body language said to me that she was none too happy to see me! Sitting in her lounge room was an African man, drinking beer. I knew this guy, Remin, it was he who Mama Mbembe used to have the vehicles repaired, She had taken the business from Muktah who had been doing a very good job. We vols complained about Remin because the work he had dome on the vehicles was unsatisfactory and we and all witnessed conversations like this:
Mama Mbembe: How much for the repairs on the car?
Remin: 80 000 shillings will be enough.
Mama Mbembe: Oh that's too cheap, here's 120 000!
You just don't do this sort of thing - especially not field reps!
It was obvious to me that the pair though they had been compromised! On the following Monday, I had to take the Toyota to Remin for a grease, oil change and new filters.
That afternoon, I drove straight back to Makumira and did not use the vehicle again.

The next morning I set off to head out into the villages but there was a ditch to bounce over beside the big Cathode tree at the gate of Makumira Secondary School. The bounce popped the tie-rod from the wheel, thus causing me to lose all steering on the vehicle. If that had happened when I was going along the Moshi - Arusha road, I would probably be dead! There is a hole on the threaded end of the tie-rod to fit a split pin to make sure the nut does not come off! This was too much of a coincidence for me!
The outcome was that the gate into Mama Mbembe's house was to locked at all times and nobody was allowed to enter unless summoned! We all recieved notice in writing.

From time to time gangs set themselves up and maraud totally indiscriminately and often quite violently. During these times it is not safe to travel at night as your vehicle can be taken from you. Some are armed with firearms while others have pangas - machetes. They have even been known to dress up as traffic police, and when you stop for them, you are robbed. Because the police had no transport, they would flag you down and ask for a ride to town, Tengeru, or Usa River . If I recognised them, I would give a lift, but if I didn't, I would just say it was Agency policy not to give lifts to uniformed people. A gang even attacked a well respected Lodge just out of Usa River and robbed all the guests! The guards cannot win because usually they are unarmed, or maybe with a punga or even a bow and arrow. Then the first person arrested if there is a robbery is the guard! During an attack, most people will keep their heads down, trying to be inconspicuous but during a spate of attacks in our area the village authorities made it mandatory to call out a distress call - ooo wee ooo wee - to alert village men to come and help. I bought three of those battery operated bike horns that have many alarm sounds and kept one for us and gave the others to our near neighbors.

There was a gang going around the Meru villages during the night - they were 'concerned' because too many 'outsiders' were 'fouling' Meru women. They knocked on the door and asked to inspect the man's penis. If he had not been circumcised, they would do the job there and then!

A German friend who was a Pastor lived with his wife and young daughter at Nkoaranga, further up the mountain from us. This guy had done a lot in the community, with DME and elsewhere but that did not protect him!
Volunteers with the Agency brought little from New Zealand because the unaccompanied luggage allowance was only 25kg but other we able to bring in container loads. My friend from Germany even brought a grand piano with him.
He had two Labrador dogs and at least two night guards, but the dogs were drugged and the guards dealt with and a gang of thugs entered my friend's compound!
They made several threats and said they would be pleased to see the blood of the white woman.
A traumatic experience for them all and the thugs left after taken what they wanted plus one thousand US dollars that was in the house. It is always best if that sort of cash is not in the home - it puts pressure on the rest of the expat community.
My friend discussed with me about the possibility of keeping some sort of a firearm in the house.
I advised against it because even an expert might get two shots away but sooner or later they would wrestle the firearm away and then what happens? They would use it against you!

Then a similar thing for Mama Kuku, she has done a lot of good within the community raising funds for different projects including schools.
While she lives close to the main road, on the rim of Lake Duluti is remote and since the death of her husband she lives alone save for guards and household staff. However she has been a successful business woman, so has a measure of wealth.
Thugs have been to her house twice, robbing what they could and the second time, beating her up quite severely.

There is some spooky stuff that also goes on, most usually targeted at local people, but not necessarily so.
There are potions available, even from market like Tengeru, that can be mind altering, or perhaps kill. These potions mainly rely on the belief of the people who use them but some are herbal.
It is generally believed that dried crocodile bile or brain is a deadly poison, causing excruciating death over a long period for which there is no antidote. I did not experience any of this but it was widely talked about and I was told that anyone killing a crocodile made a public spectacle/display of burying the bile and brain to avoid accusations of using for 'bad things'.
Some of the 'herbal remedies' probably contain Datura, which grows in many parts of the tropics, and Datura causes hallucinations and all sorts of other conditions that may last for some time. I suspect there are other plants available that are semi poison.
Mbise told me: Many men in the Meru area will avoid marrying a woman from Akeri because women from that village like to dominate their husbands and will use potions if they are unsuccessful in that dominance. A man owned a small village shop, it was humble and sold mainly grocery items and it was good small business. He married a woman from Akeri and soon she wanted to make changes to the shop and to handle the money, but the man did not want those changes. The woman went to Tengeru and bought a potion 'to make her husband mpole - slower.' She was told to put half a teaspoon of the stuff in his tea, but she decided to us a full teaspoon. The effect was that the man lost all enthusiasm and desire and became very slow. The woman gained the control that she wanted, but it turned out that she was no good at business and the shop failed leaving them both as paupers.

We had a man who used to come to us to find work so that he could fund his cannabis addiction. Even though he was an addict, I found that he could actually be trusted and he always did a good job. But because of his addiction he was poor and lived in poor conditions and I helped him with clothes and shoes from time to time.
This guy had done well at school and had a good job with General Tyre - he showed me the papers to prove it. His brother - according to many local people - had become jealous of him, so bought a potion to make him the way he is today.
I have no way of verifying this, but it is the way things are.

This jealousy thing is quite rife: We met the niece of Big E who was a very good student, and a vibrant, vivacious young woman who was popular with her teachers. She was sent to Karatu to a secondary school where again she was very popular in the school. But somebody, probably out of jealously, gave her a potion and reduced to to a mpole - slow person, who just sat staring into space. Some say that this was the work of a jini.

The jini are evil spirits, goblins and many misfortunes are put down to them. And there are mchawi - these are witches or sorcerers and these people create misfortunes.
At Mbise's home village, he took me to a school where the door was smashed in and some 60 desks were damaged.
A young man loaned an older man (who turned out to be an mchawi) some money and after some time, the younger man asked for the money to be returned. The older man did not like the younger fellow's tone and told him bad things would befall his family.
The young man's sister was cutting fodder for the family cow and cut her finger - she died a short time after. A brother died in a rockfall at the Tanzanite mines. The family house cow died suddenly.
Then the mchawi was seen naked up a tree (which for some reason these people do) and the village people captured him and he confessed to being involved in the death of the girl, the brother and the cow as well as twenty four deaths! They locked him in the school classroom while the elders sent for the police at Usa River.
The village youth were not prepared to wait for the police and smashed the door down. The mchawi tried to hide in the rafters but he was stoned and died there in the classroom.

None of this should be confused with people who practice traditional medicine. From these people, generally there is no malice and many of their cures do work and to comment on these people is outside my experience.

Life in Africa IV

I had tried and tried to take a photo of the sunrise on the East Coast of Zanzibar, but always failed because of cloud. Most usually we stayed at Page Ndame and on the beach there was an income generating project for the local people. Sticks are driven into the sand and a special seaweed is attached [it will grow from the 'cuttings'. The dried seaweed is sent to Denmark.
It is not hugely profitable though.

The sticks are interlaced with string to attach the seaweed and at low tide women later harvest the weed. Because of the Islam culture, most of the women wore dresses, some down to the ankle. Very difficult for wading through the water.
The glare from the sand is intent and it was only during our last visit did I see dark glasses being used. Makes you wonder about the eye damage caused and resulting from a project that is supposed to benefit local people.

This woman was not harvesting seaweed, but fishing, still in a long dress. She was happy because the day before she was fishing near me when I stood on a skate! I managed to drive it towards her and she speared it plumb, dead center! It was about 40 cm across, so a good size. She told me she sold it to buy food and soap for her family. The area is pretty much fished out and usually octopus is the quarry. Mostly they are sold local restaurants because with the cash they can buy whatever is needed in their households.

We usually stayed upstairs at Paje Ndame [which is the name of the owner] and a local guy. Many of the prime beach sites are being bought up by foreigners, from what I saw, Italians and they are stopping the local people from using the beach in their traditional way. Probably land acquisition through some form of payment to officials.
Some of these people disrespect the local culture - one woman we saw was well over-weight and wearing a yellow bikini - pot belly sticking out and the bottom part of the bikini stuck in her rear crack! Just a bit gross to my mind! And I bet to the local people!

These outrigger canoes lay on the sand at low tide. The tide comes in very quickly when it decides to. The beach is long and flat and there is a reef out there which is just visible if you look hard.

The reef looking back at the island. We liked to walk out at low tide - the reef is under water at high tide. It is quite far and it is necessary to wear footwear because of the sea urchins and their spines.

The reef is quite degraded because of over exploitation and the use of explosives to catch fish or shellfish. None the less there is life out there and it is good to go out there.



A big jelly fish washed up on the beech. I had never seen a bigger one. Just those washed up on the beaches of Christchurch where those stinging bluebottles or man o' war cause problens from time to time.

The streets of Stonetown where it is easy to get lost, but not really lost you always find your way out. They are narrow and really worth exploring. I guess it depends what interests you but there are those doors and interesting shops.
You have watch though that you keep out of the way of motorbikes!

It is always interesting to visit local markets and it is amazing to see the quality of the produce in most places. Zanzibar is one of the spice islands, so there are those smells.






I never got over the romance of those dhows. These days you are able to tour on them.

A sunset from Stonetown. The beach front at Stonetown is most interesting in the evening. There are all of those food stall and very good food it is.
One evening we witnessed a big thunderstorm over the mainland. It went on for maybe twenty minutes and was one of those spectacles you rarely see.

The road leaving Dar es Salaam before it was improved. The improvement meant that many houses had to be demolished and most were actually long time squatters with few rights. They had nowhere to go - the march of progress eh.

This old road was potholed and slow going which make one appreciate good infrastructure.

Losetiti Primary School

'To get to Losetiti, you go to Samaria then go down!' We were asked to go there when I was carrying out a survey of hunger in the region and actually Losetiti [or Lostiti] is quite remote.

For once there was just one track which passes through dry savannah/grassland and where there is not much population, but this is Maasai country.
There are two large Baobab trees that almost acts as a gateway into the school and from first impression, it was difficult to see where the catchment area was for the school.

The school is made from mud bricks and not built to a high standard. There is a shortfall of teaching staff which is a reflection of the remoteness of the area. But even if there were no teachers around, the kids were well behaved.

The thing that sticks in my mind about this school is when I interviewed a certain small boy, he cried saying his father had sold their last goat, and he wondered what was to become of them [his family].

Our assistance with food came at a time when the other villages had not yet crops to harvest, but they were coming on, but here in Losetiti, it was much worse for a prolonged time but I was not able to continue the assistance any longer for them. However they were grateful for what they recieved.

With a 'foot in the door' at the school, I could not leave without carrying out an environmental seminar and tree planting programme. The kids enjoyed themselves when we went there because seldom did they have anything to do outside school work or sitting around - because that is what they did often because of the lack of teaching staff.

The outcomes were not spectacular because water was a problem throughout the area, but some kids excelled and there were some well grown trees by the time we left there.
Sometimes the poorest and most unprivileged kids seem to be the happiest - it is difficult to fathom.

I wasn't quite hard enough to judge the trees abjectly because of the hardship in the area and because like the Melia we were sitting around, some species perform better than others in these extreme conditions. I ended up asking the teaches to choose the twenty kids that showed the most interest in environmental matters and gave them each a tennis ball.

I was happy with the outcome from this school and pleased we took the trouble to go there.

Road Accidents - me too!

It is common knowledge that you are more likely to die from a road accident in Tanzania than a lion attack!
I was also told that the most dangerous section of road in the world is the Moshi to Arusha road! That's a pretty bold statement, and I would be surprised if it's true, but I drove on it most days and it sure is a dangerous place!

The Daladalas, smaller shuttle buses that are supposed to carry about 13 passengers, are one of the problems as they race each other to pick up passengers and dart amongst the other traffic to do so. They do not mind where they stop and how much disruption it causes to other road users.

The Coasters are one step up from the Daladalas and they ply the route from Moshi to Arusha carrying 30 passengers. The travel at very high speeds, even through small villages such as Kikatiti where they regularly hit pedestrians! Sometimes they do not even stop! Other times the driver will run away as he would likely be attacked or caught under the influence of Khat.

Then there are the bigger buses that ply the route from Dar es Salaam to Arusha. 'In God We Trust' is usually blazoned on the bus and it seems the the drivers are fatalistic - we will survive if God wishes!
Buses will overtake when there is oncoming traffic, flashing their lights to say 'we are coming, do what you will to get of the way!' And you simply must get out of the way, even off the road - which is often not as simple as it sounds!
They will pass you regardless of safety as well and as they pass the conductor will be hanging out the door hurling abuse at you. They sometimes they try to drive you off the road or sharply cut in front of you.

Some of the drivers use Khat, leaves and twigs of the plant [small tree] Catha edulis. It is a stimulant that causes euphoria and excitement. With dilated pupils these guys can drive unsafely for hours! Many drivers will work for stints of twelve hours.


I was traveling back from Usa River in the Landrover and saw the Coaster catching up on me fast - I had good mirrors, left, right and central [between the sun visors] so was tracking his movements, as you learn to do.
I signaled that I was going to turn right into the Makumira road and moved to the center of the road to allow the Coaster to pass on my left and I could see he was going to do so. I shifted my gaze to where I was to make my turn and began to turn. The Makumira road is rough so I was not going fast.
Wham! The Coaster tried to go around me on my right - I think he had seen the people waiting on the side of the road [green dots on the plan] and thought he might hit them! The front of the bus hit the door post at my shoulder. It was nearly lights out for me! The bus grazed along the door, smashing the mirror, along the mudguard and caught the bumper bar causing the car to spin to the left, propelling it towards the people who were waiting on the side of the road for a Daladala!
I was heading straight for them and and though I braked hard, the car seemed not to slow down and I could barely steer it! One woman was transfixed and just stood there, wide eyed - the rest ran out of the way! I just managed to miss her as the car took me down the five metre bank where it came to rest! The woman recieved a scratch on her arm, that did not break the skin, caused by the the shattered arm of the rear vision mirror! I sat there for a moment, shocked, and went out to the woman and gave her a hug - we both had been lucky!
The Coaster took 400 metres to stop up the road!

Soon a crowd gathered and the driver and his conductor came back to see the damage. The driver actually apologized. Our friend, Somi was there with his bike, so I sent him up to Mags to tell her that I had had an accident but I was ok. Someone had gone off to the police post at Tengeru and a Pastor came along on his motorbike, so I sent him to DME and soon the General Secretary arrived.
Obedi (that purple dot on the plan) had been sitting watching his cattle graze and he had seen the whole thing, and that I had signaled in plenty of time. He was watching me expecting the usual wave as I passed him.

The General Secretary introduced a traffic cop to me, all dressed in his white uniform.
'This is a good man, he is part of my parish.' he said.
Ha! A few weeks previously this cop had stopped me at the police post at the edge of Arusha and claimed that my reflectors were finished, worn out! And the left was on the right and vice versa! He wanted me to pay him an instant fine of Tsh20 000/-! He took my drivers license to see that it was in order and when I told him I was carrying no money, he said he would hold on to it until I returned with the Tsh20 000/-. I snatched the license off him suggesting that I would be in further trouble if another cop stopped me and I had no license. I gave him a lecture about me helping his countrymen, and tiring of my tirade, he let me go. And there was nothing wrong with my reflectors!

After the measurements were all made we were off to the police station in Usa River. Me, the bus driver and a witness. Oh yeah, the witness the cop chose was the bus conductor! Was that going to be a stitch-up or not? So I called Obedi to come as my witness, to even things up for the sergeant at the desk!
You wait around a lot at police stations in Tanzania and I had been around a few for various reasons. The Inspector [well I guess he was Inspector as he had pips on his shoulders] happened to come in from somewhere and asked if 'we were receiving service'. I had actually met this guy elsewhere, delivering trees, and I had no idea that he was a policeman, so I took the opportunity to to tell him what had happened. The officiousness of the cop that was supposed to be a help me evaporated. The Inspector wrote a note to say that the bus driver was certainly at fault.

We were then required to go into Arusha to the main police station to formalize the events and to see what was the next move. My 'helpful' cop rode with me in the Landrover, which was drivable at low speed because the front wheel was buckled, and he was none too happy when I headed up the Makumira road because I wanted to show Mags that I was ok.
I ignored the cop's call for me to hurry while explained what had happened and what was going on and I downed half a bottle of coke - the only nourishment I was to have until after 6:00pm!

We were met by the Agency Field Rep, Mama Tabasamu, at the police station in Arusha and the bus owner was to be there too. I can't be sure he was the owner, probably a spokesman but I don't really know.
This fellow admitted that it was his responsibility to fix the Landrover and I had been thinking and worrying about the loss of production without a vehicle. So he took us [well I drove the Landrover] to various workshops around Arusha that purported to repair vehicles. The guy was asking for quotes from them. None of these places looked anywhere near satisfactory, I wouldn't take a wheel barrow to any of them for repair! But it seemed from what I heard that the repairs were going to be in the range of one million shillings.

It was a hot afternoon and I hadn't eaten since 6:00pm and had only that half bottle of coke so I had a headache and was craving sustenance, but knew I had to keep my wits about me with this lot!
Back at the police station another shoulder-pipped guy had a clipboard and wanted me to sign a deal. What?
Mama Tabasamu being a local woman was not wanting to 'rock the boat' and I was feeling that I was on my own to ensure that I had a vehicle over the next few months and to maximize the outcome for the Agency.
The bus owner told us that he was able to front up with cash Tsh300 000/- there and then to complete the deal.
Mama Tabasamu and the Inspector wanted me to accept and sign the deal off!
'Well, we pay good money for the insurance - they should pay out to us and take the bus owner to court.!' was my opinion.
'No, the insurance company will not pay out - such claims take years!' Mama Tabasamu told me. And the Inspector nodded agreement.
'Well we will just take this bus owner to court.' I said. I was considering paying to fix it myself if I had too just to keep the project going - but was not going to mention that!
'A court case will take a long time and cost you a lot of money - and you may end up with nothing.' the Inspector said.

I took Mama Tabasamu aside. 'I'm not letting this go cheaply, has the Agency funds to fix the car?' I asked her.
'Yes there is an emergency fund. We should close this deal with this man, he is difficult.' she replied. It was getting late and she obviously wanted the situation resolved.
I then spoke to the Inspector in English. 'Does this guy get off so easily to simply to pay out Tsh300 000/-and that is all?'
'It is your best option, otherwise it will cost you time and money.' he replied.
'Your Tsh300 000/- is not enough.' I told the bus owner, 'I will not sign the document off. We can sit here all night for all I care!'
The bus owner was silent. Mama Tabasamu and the Inspector did a collective eye roll!
'I will sign it if you pay Tsh500 000/-.' I added.
The bus owner was silent and I got out of the car to stretch my legs - leaving the three to talk if they wanted to. I felt six eyes on my neck!
When I climbed back in the car, the bus owner said,'Tsh400 000/-.' Well we were negotiating.
I looked him in the eye and replied in the negative. There was a stalemate and the three were obviously irritated by my uncooperative attitude.
We sat in silence for around twenty minutes.
'Ok,' I said, 'I will accept Tsh450 000/-.' Adding the word 'mwisho' meaning my final offer.
Mama Tabasamu and the Inspector's eyes focused on the bus owner's mouth.
'Sawa, ok.' he said and hopped out of the vehicle and counted out money in a way we couldn't see, then handed me the money - the bugger had plenty, rolls of it!
I signed the form, Mama Tabasamu and the Inspector were happy, and I handed her the money.
I drove the Landrover to the Agency yard and left it there, caught a packed Daladala then walked up the 4.5km road to enjoy a coke and some food! The driver had gotten off scot-free.

Owing to a convoluted story, there was a spare vehicle for me to use and Mama Tabasamu asked me to check out a repair place that was near her home. It turned out later that they knew each other but that was not volunteered at the time.
They replaced the damaged parts with secondhand/recovered parts and they were slower than they had promised. But they were cheap, only Tsh500 000/-. Some aspects of their work were good others not so, but two weeks later I picked up the vehicle - without a spare wheel because the one hit by the bus was buckled and they 'could not locate one. I found another one around Kilala. So that was a profit for the fundi - repairer.

Of course the bus driver was never charged and no claim was made to the insurance company - oh yes it is compulsory to insure vehicles, that is why there a police blocks to check that they are.

Crashed buses cause a high death toll such as the one we saw on the way back from Tanga, that smashed into a train killing 70 people! The one that passed all the cars and other vehicles waiting for flood-waters to subside at a river between Dar es Salaam and Tanga. The bridge had been washed away and the bus hydroplaned into the water and all on board were lost.

Trucks are often overloaded and I have seen one like that pictured - just too much weight on the back [it too was carrying timber] and the front wheels off the ground.
There was one where the brakes failed and it fell into a river bed - the bridge must be 40 - 50 metres above the river bed. I'm not sure on the casualties, but they stripped that truck down piece by piece and man-handled the whole thing out!

Motor bikes are risky as well. One Pastor came to see me asking for trees and we put them in a box ready for him as he was to call back in the evening after his day's work. He never arrived - puttering out a side road with a pillion passenger, they were hit by a speeding vehicle and he died on the spot and his passenger was badly hurt.
Another guy who was in charge of a secretarial school was coming to see me because I had a complaint. On the short stretch of that road between the school and our turn-off, he was hit and killed instantly.
All I could was pay my respects at their funerals - poleni.

Samaria Primary School

To reach Samaria we passed through the Kikatiti flat area where there is now building development, then crossed the railway line [the same as going to Maroroni] but then followed beneath a high tension power line and across some stoney country. Loti knew the way because his wife came from there and her parents still live there. It tends to be fairly dry country.

There is a tar road [in bad repair] travelling from Kilimanjaro airport to the electronic guidance system that is near Maroroni - the Samaria church and Primary school are on that road.

The main reason we went there was to 'take an interest in the building work that was to be done there.' NZHC had provided funds for two new classrooms and some other minor repairs. DME had contracted Tom Mpilipili to carry out the work but we had already found that there was work left undone/partly done at Akeri and Olkung'wado and at Kwatulele there was old secondhand material used that we had removed and a certain amount of cheating going on.
Well it happened again over the making/purchasing of burnt bricks. The trouble [for Tom Mpilipili] was that I was fairly involved with building in various projects and I could 'smell a rat' a mile off! This guy was pocketing a lot of money - even ripping off the teachers at the school! I knew that he had inflated the cost of burnt bricks, and strongly suspected that he was to use second hand roofing iron from another project. Some of the fault I lay at the Agency's door because under the new Field Rep, Mama Mbembe, money was handed over without previous monies being accounted for. Anyway she did not like the project nor did she like DME, so she couldn't care less. I was built of different materials!
The only thing I could do was make a report, itemizing everthing and hand to the General Secretary, DME. They were none too happy that I did so, but in the end they did handle matters [for them] appropriately and the projects were completed. It has been pointed out to me that there is some danger in what I did.

We carried out our environmental seminar there and all went well except for the section where I performed the role play of the wind blowing the soil from the farm. I was careful to ask for a male student to come up to represent the farm [the head being the soil]. This was because the role play involved me pushing him around a little. Unfortunately this time I picked a girl [obviously I wasn't concentrating as I should] but when I noticed, decided to go ahead thinking I would be easier on her.
Well, the part when the wind becomes strong, is the same word as 'angry' - kali. As I was the wind, I said 'I am getting angry' meaning 'the wind is getting stronger'! Well the poor child ran off in a fright! The teacher told me later that she had some mental issues and was sorry he did not alert me. I did not mean to upset the child and I suspect/know she will never read this, but I apologize to her anyway.

The soil at Samaria is stoney, tending red and dry. Water is a problem which is why we limited the number of trees provided to the school - simply because they would be unable to look after them. However, they managed to achieve good outcomes and the finished classrooms turned out to be very good.

To illustrate some of the problems that arise for people, Loti left a number of goats for grazing with his extended family at Samaria, but when we arrived to load them in the truck to return to his farm, there were only three left! We were told they had died. Well that was not a lie at all, goats have to die before they can be cooked and eaten!


Prizewinners display their prizes. We were given some T-shirts and printed a small emblem on them. The guy that won this one was happy but I fear it was way too big for him! These kids participated well though.





The partly finished classrooms at Samaria. Sometimes you have to compromise - burnt clay bricks are not the best environmental option. To make them, the soil has to be dug out of the ground leaving a crater of no use at all. Then to burn them take wood - trees the very core of what we were trying to achieve. On the other hand, they are much cheaper and require no cartage costs because they are made on site. Tom Mpilipili was organizing this job and local people often cannot afford the principles that perhaps I would have imposed. Most often it is all down to a matter of cost.
In case I forget to write elsewhere, I was hunting for burnt bricks for building water tanks and visited several location around Usa River. I was shocked at the craters created by these guys far worse than any erosion in the area!
The other youth activity to make money is mining rock for foundations. This is as bad leaving huge craters and altering the landscape - but what is the alternative.
There is an area where Makumira Secondary have been taking rock for their building and it is destroying the farm next door - undermining it. There is nobody to act as advocate for them so the farm owner loses out to an outfit that should be able to do better but has no conscience.

Life in Africa III

As I have no broadband, it takes a long time to upload pictures, which is the reason I don't do a lot at a time. But most are of things outside my projects and I hope it might stimulate people go go and look for themselves.

I was lucky enough to given a fee pass to Tarangire National Park and for the people travelling with but our first visit there was with Big E who negotiated his way in there. We were looking for a water source for a water project to Mswakini Primary School.
This photo taken from the Tarangire Safari Lodge shows typical savannah. I remember my old geography teacher telling me that savannah is grassland with trees scattered so you can ride a horse.

I do not possess a telephoto lens, and my camera could be classed a a 'cheapie' but I did take some photos I was happy with. When you first visit a national park, you take your first photos, but later there are always better opportunities.

The Twiga is the national animal of Tanzania and well chosen. Graceful animals. I once watch some drinking, very cautious of lions and splaying their front legs so they could reach down more easily.

There are ostrich farms in Tanzania and it is possible to buy ostrich stakes, which very tasty. In the wild they seem to be very cautious so it is difficult to get close to them - and they can run! Never saw one with it's head in the sand though!

Mama Baraka did not like the concept of Big E using project money for his bar, so to 'keep her quiet' he allowed, and funded a chicken project for her. He built the coop for her and arranged the chickens from Mama Kuku who had the big farm at Moshi.
The first crop of chicken is reasonably easy, but by the time we were there, disease had started to creep in. Big E had pretty much run out of money, so we helped Mama Baraka with the vet fees and dawa - drugs. We ended up helping fund feed and then marketing. It was only a profit for her because she wasn't paying the costs.
Note the tie-up between KFC and KF Ostrich?
You will see elsewhere that we highly regarded Mama Baraka!

Stonetown, Zanzibar should be on everyone's bucket list! It must be remembered that the island is 90% Muslim and by going there you accept their culture. I have seen tourist men and women wearing skimpy clothing that is an affront to the locals. Otherwise tourists are very well accepted. I have written about Zanzibar previously - it is one of my favorite places.

We always stayed at The Haven guest house and could not have chosen a better place to stay. We have recommended to many people and have not heard a bad word. The rooms are comfortable and clean. The breakfast was a treat for us as well.

The romantic in me means that I expect to see Sindbad at every turn, and I am very much attracted to the dhows and the fish market. The port was a bustling place and full of interest.

As you would expect in a Muslim area, there are Mosques to server the local populations [and no doubt, visitors] and it certainly adds to the colour of the place when the call to prayer is sounded. In modern Zanzibar, the call to prayer is by loudspeaker, but I did spot this minaret but I have no idea if anyone calls out from there.

The Maruhubi Sultan's Palace [ruins]shows what life was like in the past - I'm not going to tell you about that, but encourage you to go and have a look yourself.

Suleman took us for a spice tour in a rickety old car - you could see the road through the floorboards! He was good though and now his tours are more up-market. He makes it an adventure. A very nice man, but a lookalike for a Sindbad baddie!

Times have changed so suspect you are not allowed to get so close to the rare Colobus Monkey. We were lucky to sit within a group and I was able to touch the tail of one. Actually in the hope there was a loose hair that I could take with me. It didn't happen.

Maroroni Primary School

Sometimes we were able to see Mt. Kilimanjaro and this photo was taken near Maroroni, but it is the only photo I have with any reference to Maroroni and I do not know why. I rarely took photos myself because I was doing my work and did not want the extra responsibility to take photos because it spoils the moment.

Maroroni is closer to Kikatiti which is a large market town and it is where condition are more conducive to growing crops. There is a large common grazing area cum football ground and the school is set just elevated slightly. Tending to be drier just around the school it had that look of glaring yellow soils and it was stony.

There was a line of teachers' accommodation set a little apart, these were one room affairs.
The doors of the classrooms faced to the north so they were in shade most of the time.

Our seminars there were successful as were the planting, but they were hampered a little because of the difficulty of digging the holes. Water was also an issue though there was a large concrete tank reservoir closeby. Mostly water came on a timed basis.
We did not supply food aid to this school because it was a lower priority than the other schools, although there certainly was hunger there at the time.
Generally everything went well with Maroroni Primary School and the kids were great as were the teachers although I guess, unremarkable.

However one issue cropped up: A friend of ours was posted to Maroroni from Makumira. This was a posting that looked underhand to me and I well knew the situation.
I have said elsewhere that the local Mratibu, education coordinator, has power to make recommendations to to the district office making the system corrupt. Space was needed at Makumira for an incoming teacher, and our friend became a victim envy, so she was posted the school that would cause the most disruption.
I decided to take our friend to Maroroni the meet with the head teacher and after explaining to him that our friend had three children, he agreed that the posting was not appropriate and wrote a letter. She was posted to a closer school.
I have written about this more fully in book form and may yet post it.

This demonstrates the difficulties that can occur.

Kwa Ugoro to Kitatiti - the long way

From anywhere in New Zealand, it is a relatively short drive to the sea and you just know it is just beyond the horizon. It takes a mind adjustment to realize just the enormity of that is the continent of Africa. From Arusha we were heading West and the sea would be over 2000 km as the crow flies. We only went a token distance to the West.

The track is narrow from Kwa Ugoro towards Valeska and about half way along the journey there is a farm complex Loti told me was owned by Ethiopians. There were derelict workers quarters because the farm had grown cotton in the past and now they grew maize, beans and farmed dairy cows. At one point the farm was managed by an Australian guy who was married to a Kikuyu woman. They caused trouble by blocking off the irrigation channel to Valeska and as usual the Valeska people took retribution and it was the farm workers who were in the firing line.

Beyond the Ethiopian farm the savannah dries out and the road becomes very dusty and the natural vegetation becomes Acacias. At a certain point, there are two houses - and I tried hard not to cause too much dust to drift - a track takes off to the left toward the village of Valeska. Where the the road we had been following goes on to, I have no idea - perhaps 2000 km to the sea!

I have already posted about the building of the school and the successful environmental programme - the tree plantings at the school stand out, but I find small gains satisfying.
In the yard of one of the farms I noticed few trees planted with margarine pottles [actually Kibo vege oil] placed beside the tree as we had to the school kids to do. I stopped a called out 'Hodi' to announce I was there and this Bibi came out. I asked her how she knew to use the Kibo pots to irrigate her trees.
She told me that her granddaughter had shown her, and she had been taught by a white man. Now if you listen to popular culture, children have their place and adults do not take much notice of them - I don't believe that for a minute and this just proves it.

There was a mosque in the village, and we supplied trees for planting around the building and I thought that was important as well.

I have said elsewhere that the first Head Teacher can take the credit for us carrying out the building work, and I felt it unfair that he was demoted and moved away - maybe he requested it, I have no idea. His replacement from Kwa Ugoro was absolutely fine to work with as well.
Most times we called there it was dry, dusty and sun's glare was strong. If I had a load of cement I would pick up some boys from the school and they would unload it at the Head Teacher's house where storage was safer. The boys were covered in cement dust but did not seem to worry, I could imagine the difficult of soap powder lathering up to clean the cement. It is likely that the boys did their own washing.

Loti's sister lived just on the Maroroni side of Valeska, and we often called in there so Loti could chat to her. The dry was difficult for them and to help out Loti took his niece back to his home place to care for her. Well, I took her and the girl was a Std. VII leaver but with no other immediate prospects. I have no doubt that having the girl living was difficult for Loti and his wife, just as it was for the young woman. The area from Valeska towards Maroroni is Maasai country and we interacted with a number of families through there with some making good progress with their plantings.

The road becomes stonier and less dusty and there are a few Baobab trees. One small boma we arrived at there seemed to be nobody around, and no response to our 'Hodi, hodi!'
As we were leaving, five young men, dressed in black and faces painted white, charged out of the Acacias at us - quite startling to us.
They wanted to catch us because they wanted us to supply them with trees! As well there was a brother further on who would like some trees - his name was 'Jehoshaphat'. We called on Jehoshaphat and his new fife was also very keen to plant trees on their shamba.

On the road we picked up a woman who requested for her small holding and she too was on our list of regular households to call on.
I spotted on woman walking along the road with an axe, and on asking she told me she was going to cut down a tree to use in the repair of a building. I gave her a speech about the need to plant five trees before you cut one! She smiles and said she would plant as many trees as I cared to supply. I took her five trees of assorted species and she planted them and cared for them.

There seemed to no village structure for these people and we called on them regularly to look at their trees and in the season supply others. Usually we did not have the time to work in a village household by household and I enjoyed the interaction with them.

There is a junction where the road sort of doubles back to Maroroni and the other heads straight as an arrow for Kilimanjaro airport. There are the pylons and wires of the navigation system for the airport and I could see why Kilimanjaro is an expensive airport to fly into - the insurance cover is so high! On this road is Samaria Primary School and some distance away is Lostiti Primary School - porini, wilderness.

Maroroni Primary School sit just a little elevated from the rest of the village. It is back among the Meru people and where there is more adequate rainfall, thus better cropping conditions.
The road on to Kikatiti is generally good save in the wet season when small lakes appear and driving becomes more tricky.

Just as the road approaches Kikatiti [and the main road] a wide flat area with a tenancy to be boggy has made the road to divide in a search for better traction. When we left Tanzania 2004, most of this area had bee built on.
Two things about this area.
There is often a stock auction here and one day a man driving perhaps fifty goats caused me to slow down and pick carefully where I was driving. One sickly, skinny goat fell down in front of the Landrover, and I went right over the top of it! The man came to me accusing me of running over the goat, but as he demanded money, the goat got up and walked away. I had not run over it, I had straddled it.

One woman who had built a new house was in a wheelchair. I have no idea of the circumstances involved but she asked me for trees to plant in her yard. Each time I visited [and sometimes with fruit] her trees were growing and she seemed cheerful. Never asking for financial assistance. She was quite happy with her lot.













Baobab tree with beehives hanging in the branches. One boma had a Baobab growing in their yard. How cool is that!










Maasai men put on a show for our visitors. They had just slaughtered a cattle beast and I was interested to see what they had done because I have butchered deer pigs and sheep. The men consume most of the meat and the women use the offal and entrails.










We gave Neema a lift home from school to inspect the trees she had planted for her father. He had requested a lot of trees assuring me that they would be well cared for by Neema. She was rightly proud of her achievement.













This Maasai woman was proud of her trees, she was the senior wife in her boma.










Kids from a Maasai family show off the trees they are going to plant around their father's farm. He wanted Grevillea, but I think it would be too dry there for them.

Life in Africa 2

We lived for two years under the same roof as Big E's family, and of course you become involved with their life, family and activities as well. Here is Big E's mother who had bad cataracts and went to the big performance of a touring evangelist. His name eludes me but they generally play on poor saying they will perform miracles. Sure enough this old Bibi returned saying that her eyesight was restored - within a week she could not see again.

Our close neighbor, Mama Veronica, had her mother living with her and she took care of the family cow. This old woman would cut a trunk of a banana 'tree' and carry it off for the cow. Chopped up it is nourishment, but not a total food for zero grazed cattle. It has a high water content and the trunk is very heavy.
Famously I used to dance with her and nobody recognized that I have two left feet and little rhythm. They were polite!

Nai spent a lot of time with us, helping with language, telling us stories and watching what we did. As parents she was allowed far more leeway than our own kids, but she was a joy.
Nai enjoyed dressing up and getting her picture taken.

Olotu and his mate Eddie made some mud bricks to make a kennel for a dog that Olotu wanted to acquire. I actually 'encouraged' them to relocate the kennel ways from out bedroom window because I knew that the dog would bark! The bricks were made from the spoil of the soak pit for our bathroom. They put a lot of effort into this work. The Dog had pup and I helped thin them out - there is a story elsewhere.










Glory was a cousin of Big E's and she invited us to her brother's confirmation. Glory's mother was the sister of of Big E's mother and they were alike. They lived way up the Sanawari road, higher up the mountain. Thaday, like most who have these celebrations did not look happy but the was led to the high table by women and girls led by Mama Baraka. We ended up in a room with Glory who had stashed some beer and wanted us to down a bottle of Konyagi - we passed on that.

Fish farming is a good source of protein, but it takes some effort to build the pond and manage it. The fish are the small telapa but those ponds that have catfish in them to thin the population, have more sizable fish. The fish are well liked and are deep fried and even the heads are crunched up! The small fingerlings introduced into the pond are called 'mbegu' the same word used for seed. Harvesting is usually a team effort.

Ritual and tradition is important to the Maasai. There is much preparation required for a circumcision ceremony in the Mkonoo village.

A young girl carries her sibling through the fields at Mkonoo village. Life is not easy in such areas and responsibility is expected from a young person to look after their juniors.
At Mkonoo I have been 'lost' because we could not see over the maize so there was no horizon to get our bearings.

Across the road at Engorora, we worked with a committed fellow called 'Francis', who was a friend of Joshia. He asked us to help with a water project which would have to pass across this dry creek bed. In the end we strung the line high, between the trees. It would have been too difficult to bury the line safely.