Encore in Moyo Hill

I have made my home in Kilimanjaro Bush Camp, Kimana, Kenya.  I ask, however, that you wait patiently for my first impressions until tomorrow, for I aim today to dedicate this final post to my previous home in Moyo Hill, Rhotia, Tanzania.

*note: I am aware I promised a part II of Serengeti, and you'll get it! But allow me my time of nostalgia.

Our final moments in Tanzania were full of laughter and bittersweet remembrance.  We cooked a final "appreciation" chakula cha jioni (dinner) for the staff, but no delicious Italian dishes, handmade cards, or words are enough for my family in Moyo Hill.  We were given the chance to sing with my dear friend and "dubbed font-of-knowledge" Kioko, and dance with the center director Vedasto.  I sat for one final evening with Yohana in his duka (shop) and swapped stories.  They were all so kind, and knew well that we were torn between leaving their loving presence and journeying to adventures in Kenya.  But they were understanding, gave us as many hugs as they could offer, and promptly reminded us that they would be missing us as well.

On the other hand, move-out activities were collectively rushed.  Packing was hectic, followed by cleaning our bandas.  My roommates and I bumped up the music and sang together while we packed.  We would no longer be roommates once in Kenya, and it was our final moments to goof-off together.  We had snacks, walked to Rhotia, and shared a drink at our pub in Karatu.  It was a merry time.

I'll miss the lush green forests of the Tanzanian highlands.  I'll miss our birds, our breezes, the rains, and the farmlands.  I'll think fondly of our neighbors, and the friends we made in Rhotia, Karatu, and Mtu Wa Mbu.  But we're now in Kenya, and a new adventure begins, as well as my journey to East Africa is finding its end.  However, I plan to make the most of every moment, just as in Tanzania, to live, love, and share with you all.

Stuck Fast in the Bathroom: Expedition in Serengeti Part I

I will begin this return to the Serengeti by noting that it will take place in two parts.  I’m actually quite intimidated by the task of placing a 5 day research excursion into just two short posts, because the trip turned out to be bigger, more extensive, and just more than I ever could have imagined.  But I will try, and I’ll take the time to equip my tales with photos, just small windows into a life-changing experience. 

   Our journey into the heart of Serengeti took several hours, and along the way I learned a bit about this place that has been named a Natural Wonder of the World.  Named in part for its wilderness, as well as being a large part of the Great Migration of thousands of wildebeest.  Our entry into the park was through the heart of this migration, and there were thousands of wildebeest, as far as the eye could see, for several kilometers.  Old, young, and newborn wildebeest practically littered the savannahs, accompanied by a few Grant’s or Thomson’s gazelles dispersed through the great beasts’ vast numbers. 

Oldupai Gorge: "Cradle of Mankind"

   Serengeti National Park is very unique, and I never found myself bored with it.  Other than the animals (of which there were many fantastic sightings) the landscape is vast and untouched by human hands.  Weather is unpredictable, and often we found ourselves driving across the grasslands with the sunshine marking our skin, only to savor the pelting drive of a flash of rain that had been making its way across the plains.  There was always time to appreciate the blue skies and white fluffy clouds, which only served to enhance the grand visage that the Serengeti proudly displays. 

   In the mornings we always were to be awake and in our vehicles by 6:15am.  For myself, this meant rolling out of my sleeping bag, hauling on my hiking boots, and staggering bleary-eyed into the open-topped Land Cruiser.  The nights were cool, and the mornings even cooler as the sun prepared to make its entrance.  Bundled in my Maasai shuka, we took off into the morning to either make note of elephant/giraffe behaviors, or complete a bird watching exercise.  But before any of this would occur, we were given the gift of watching the sunrise.  Seeing the blues and grays of early morning Serengeti being chased away by the red-gold brilliance of the African sun is unlike anything I have ever witnessed, and I envy the animals that get to bask in its splendor every day.  The birds are lively in the morning, and their chirping accompanied the sun’s ascension into the sky.  I meant what I said previously about the songs of the Serengeti, and the singing of sparrows, violet-breasted rollers, butcher-birds, love-birds, and several others of our flying friends lit up the morning sky. 

   On our first day in we saw zebra, gazelle, wildebeest, warthogs, and lions.  If you know anything about me, it is my affiliation and adoration for Panthera leo.  On this trip to Serengeti I saw several, and snapped hundreds of photos, and spent hours watching them through my binoculars.  Before we can come to this, however, we had to set up camp. 

Newborn twin elephants with mother (tembo)

   Our camp is comprised of cliché safari tents, and I loved it.  Packed in with 4 other girls, our tent was an explosion of camping gear, shoes, and dirt.  We ate three meals each day, often lunch was while driving in the vehicles, and at night we washed the dishes and collected around the campfire to reflect.  At night the stars were so bright, and we could always see the misty-lights of the milky way, or shooting stars with their burning red tails clearly visible.  There was one rule for after-dark activities: if you needed to use the restroom, you had to signal from your tent with your flashlight and be escorted by the hired Tanapa guard.  

She walked right next to our vehicle!

   Why the extra protection? Often our campsite often had visitors, such as curious and hungry hyenas.  One night, one of my roommates and myself needed to visit the restroom.  After signaling the guard we were escorted several meters away from our tent to the necessaries.  In the course of using the restroom, I heard a loud rumble from outside.  The next thing I knew the door flew open, and my roommate was hastily shoved inside with me, and the voice of the Tanapa guard harshly whispered that we were to stay inside.  Righting myself and my clothing, I was informed by an excited and slightly fearful tent-mate that a few lions had stationed themselves outside the bathrooms, and were quite curious as to our arrival into their territory.  The grunting I had heard, it seemed, was the alerting sounds of a male lion.  Needless to say I was thrilled beyond belief, and quite electrified by the adrenaline pumping through my veins.  A lion was right outside, and this fierce animal wanted to know why we were so close to their domain.  So we were trapped in the bathroom for a time until it was safe to shuffle us back into our tents, and the lions were away from our campsite. 

Sunset in Serengeti

   Several times I was awoken at night to the sounds of hyenas laughing, whooping, or lions roaring in the distance.  Our professors deigned to tell us the morning after the lion incident that we were the first group to have a lion so close to the site.  The animals must’ve been just as excited to see us as we were to see them!

   In any case, my trip was 5 days long and way too short.  Camping in the Serengeti is an inimitable experience that I’m proud to have tucked under my cap, and it was well worth sleeping on tiny rocks and no showers.  I highly recommend it for any and every person. 

Giraffe (Twiga)

   In the next post, I’m excited to talk more about the thrills and chills of seeing so many animals up close and in their natural habitats.  Until next time, kwa heri!

Only Two Things Standing Between Me and the Serengeti

Exams.  A most ill-fated word.  Whether they be medical or, in my case, scholarly, the term "exam" almost always insights some unpleasant feelings.  One never recalls a good exam, like finding out that you're all-nighter won you an A on the final.  No, we're more inclined to reestablish a memorial relationship with a past exam failure, or particularly difficult test.  Or, if you are more like me, you tend to forget any and all exams as soon as you are returned your grade.
   My first exam was this morning at 8:15am (my time).  Wildlife Ecology turned out to be pleasantly simple enough to answer.  Or, there's the awful possibility that having an answer for every question just means that I have an active imagination.  Surely I didn't create all of the information and minute details about the reproductive process of female olive baboons in Lake Manyara... I mean, where on earth would I come up with ischial callesites?
   In any case, I have only Wildlife Management and Environmental Policy left to defeat.  I shall strike pen to paper, and conquer these classes that have little or no relevance to my field of study!  And I shall be rewarded by a Friday visiting a self-sustainable coffee farm, Karatu, and jovial story telling at Happy Days... and, of course, we set out for Serengeti on Sunday.
   Have I mentioned we'll be visiting the Olduvai Gorge Archeological site?  For any anthropology/history/fun-fact enthusiasts, you'll understand how exciting it is to be visiting "The Cradle of Mankind."
   I'm missing my loved ones (friends and family) tonight.  I hope you all are doing well, and I miss you terribly!
*note: Dear Family, please inform my lovely puppy, Sami, (who sadly cannot read my posts) that I will be home to spoil her soon!

Maasai Shuka!

We’re finishing up here in Tanzania.  The next few days will be dedicated to exams and studying, so Moyo Hill students will be buckled down and trying their best to ignore the amazing scenery to focus on lecture notes.  Today, however, was a day for fabrics!

   After a super successful shopping excursion in Mtu wa Mbu last Saturday (if you’ll kindly recall, my last experience there was unsavory) I was able to finish my gift shopping, and even pick up a few more things for myself.  I managed to purchase some Maasai shuka, a cloth they wear for clothing and coverage.  It’s a brilliant red and blue, and I love walking around wrapped up in its thick, comforting embrace. 

   The rains come every day now, and it seems that my dreams at night are always accompanied by a symphony of raindrops falling onto the metal roofing. 

   Our front lawn has been dotted by tents for the past few days.  This marks the beginnings of preparations for our camping excursion in Serengeti, and I am beyond consolable when it comes to my excitement.  I’m fairly itching at the chance to lay out my sleeping bag and sleep in the wild.  I’ve already been caught lying in the tents myself, imagining our trip out into the Tanzanian wilderness.  My professors informed me that some students sit up with with night-watch guards, and that's exactly what I plan to do.  To see hyenas wander through the campsite, elephants wandering up to our tents, or even hear a lion prowling nearby, is too much for my heart to handle.  I'm terrified, excited, and I am still in awe at the very aspect of being in such a wondrous place!

   All I have to do, it seems, is finish these exams, and I’ll be free to celebrate our coming safari.  

Happy 30th!

Well, it's my thirtieth post, and I'm quite excited about it.  Why? Because I've never found the energy, time, or want to continue a blog past it's 2nd or 3rd post.  So I'm going to make this one as special as possible, by sharing with you some photos that bring a smile to my face.  Please, enjoy!

 

Find the Time to Compose Three Essays and a Medley

Here in Tanzania, we’re down to the wire when it comes to final papers and exams.  But, as the old Kiswahili proverb tells us, “haraka haraka haina baraka.”  Or, for the rest of you guys, “haste does not make for blessings.”  It’s exactly what my parents and wise older-folk have always been fastidious about pounding into my brain: that getting the job done quickly doesn’t mean that it’s done correctly, or in the best fashion.  You get back what you put into your work, and I’m not about to let my A+ grade average falter because they were the last assignments.  Yes, that’s right friends and family, I’m actually maintaining an A+ (and even one perfect score) grade average here.  I’m not sure what powers of the universe are acting in my favor that I should receive these fantastic scores in a field that is quite far from my own, but I fervently pray that I remain in their best esteem. 

   (Note: this post shall be accompanied by some lovely, treasured photographs from Tarangire).

   Three papers: Two written in Kiswahili, and one written about my observations at my homestay, and what environmental or conservational impacts their actions may warrant in every-day living.  Faced with these final essays, I pulled a classic Kristin P. 

   I turned on my music, checked every email outlet I had (to my dismay, no emails to distract me), organized my room, swept the floors, uploaded some pictures, made a snack, cleaned my water bottles, showed off my new skirt, and read a bit of Moonwalking with Einstein.  Everything else, but sit down and write what I knew to be simple papers.  One was about my stay here so far in Tanzania, and the other about shopping in Rhotia with 500 Tz shillings.  And yet another short essay about a great day at my homestay.  Compared to my papers at UNC, which are never shorter than 5 pages, these papers are always a short 1, or 2-3 page written opinions and observations.  Honestly, they’re systematically documented fact sheets divided into sections, and they’re so easy to compose.  And any paper written in Kiswahili is bound to be fun, because I get to practice what I’ve utilized in conversation so far. 

   So why was I avoiding them? Two reasons, actually.  One is – and I’m often falling victim to this decisive thinking – that the subjects are so simple.  Why worry about them when I know I have ample amount of time to do it later?  The second reason is because I’m in Africa, living with some fun individuals, and preparing for what is bound to be a frantic few weeks.  So I want to have fun.  It’s easy to get wrapped up in the wonders of the area, and the culture, and forget that you’re actually in school.  In attempts to reconcile with my procrastination, I took the time to finish my papers.  My rewards are plentiful, because now I can enjoy tomorrow (a non-program day we’ll spend shopping and going to a pizza place) without having to worry about my papers.  Also, I can focus on my upcoming exams (this I’m less enthusiastic about).  But the best news?

I have no more papers to do for the rest of the semester, and the only tests I’ll have are occurring next week.  The only thing I’ll have to focus on is my directed research in Kenya… which, I recently discovered, will be a lengthy 15-25 page research document… but at least I’ll be living with the lions!

  

A quick message to some loved ones:

Miranda, Roomie, and D: I apologize for missing your birthdays, and I hope you all had a great time!

Mom: I've taken every malaria pill on time!

Dad & John: Don't have too much fun kayaking without me!  You guys can't hoard all the fun to yourselves.

Red: Travel agents are always a pain.

And to my followers: You guys are awesome, thanks for following my adventures here in East Africa! I love hearing from you all.

Machi (March) Already?

In January I found myself among friends, working at HD, and exchanging farewells.  February brought me to Tanzania, where I have been studying mazingira (environment), visiting national parks to study animals, playing with children, bargaining in the market place, and visiting one of the Natural Wonders of the World to see lions and rhinos and so many other animals.  I have found myself laughing every day, and forging friendships to last a lifetime.  I have washed my clothes in a bucket, chased cats and dogs from the kitchens, cleaned the red mud from my shoes, and climbed mountains in the Tanzanian highlands.  I’ve made ughali over a fire, herded livestock, and struggled with my share of town drunkards.  I have established relationships with locals and staff members here, and eaten ice-cream in the midst of rural Tanzania.

   And now I find myself already standing in the commencement of March.  Classes are finishing in Tanzania, and professors are handing us evaluations along with final grades, as well as final words of encouragement and gratification.  Tanzania will be my home for only a couple weeks more, and already I’m missing my banda and the people here.  I am missing Yohanna, the Maasai gentleman who runs the duka, drives our cars, and is a friend to talk to at any time.  I am thinking of my professors and their funny stories of living here, and their families.  For example, today our environmental policy professor Mwamhanga compared the proposition of a land-use management plan to that of explicating the benefits of your future fiancé: you make a list of the reasons that this plan of management/marriage is favorable. 

   The rains are falling more consistently now, and at night our dreams are accompanied by the pitter-pattering of raindrops outside our open windows.  We spent yesterday evening around a bonfire, roasting marshmallows (yes, we found them), and swapping stories.  And then I ate toast.  We adjourned to our rooms, tucked ourselves into our blankets, and slept away the night of the leap day, and last day, of February.

   On March 19^th we depart to Kenya, to begin our directed research.  To my friends, time is slow, but to me it is moving so quickly.  Only a week and a half of classes, a week then in Serengeti beneath the stars, and then we move into the last 6 weeks of the semester.  The last 6 weeks of my life in East Africa.  I’m a bit sad to see it go.

   Lakini (but), on the other hand, I’m very excited about seeing my family and friends.  I can now imagine my return home, and sharing my stories, as well as hearing the stories of my home while I was away.  I’m excited about seeing my mother in NY; sharing cheesecake with Red; playing with my nephew while joking with Miranda; gossiping with D; Chipotle/Noodles dates with Chloe; kayaking with my father; playing games with my brother; reconnect with The Gentrys in our living room, while watching silly television; work alongside my friends at BRHD.  I’m excited to stay and excited to leave.  To share and receive.  These four months of 2012 are full of living, and it’s a wonderful way to start the year.

Shouting from the Mountain Top, Echoes in the Valley

If you have never had the chance to descend through the clouds, I highly suggest you find yourself a plane to catch.  If you have never had the chance to descend through the clouds via a car, then I would advise you to make your way to the highlands of Tanzania.  Today, as we made our way to the base of the highlands and into the lowlands, we found ourselves faced with a towering wall of cloud-mass.  Before you feel inclined to correct me, no, this was not fog.  What we saw can only be described as a cloud, because the matter was thick, fluffy, and awe-inspiring.  It was also what we would be driving through to reach the top of the descending road. 

   Unfortunately, I was unable to capture this temporary natural fortification with a camera, but the memory of anticipating the entry into the white interim is unforgettable.  To me, it was like moving through a negative-space, where only our vehicle, the passengers, and a small portion of the road was available to us.  I opened my window to the chilly morning air to feel the clouds: they felt saturated, cold, and so unbelievably vast.  Empty.  As if the trees, the mountains, the countryside, and Tanzania were lost to us.

   Upon reaching the bottom of the mountains we found Tanzania once more.  Our journey down the mountain and through the clouds was behind us.  Beneath the wall there were patches of clouds lower still, clinging to trees, but spiraling upward, as if grasping desperately to take hold of the greater cloud above them. 

   When writing this post, it occurred to me something I find very peculiar.  Before entering into the cloud partition, we were laughing and considering the activities of coming day.  But once inside we were quiet, our breathing softened, as if to leave the air as undisturbed as possible.  No one person said a single word for the 15 minute drive down the mountain.  Once on the other side, we began to converse once more, like nothing had happened.  It was if we had begun our journey shouting from the mountain top, only to hear the echoes once in the valley.

And, as per request:

The Big Bowl They’ve Named the 8th Natural Wonder

The Ngorongoro Crater, as it’s known, is a naturally formed crater from a collapsed volcano some *cough* years ago.  The land is fertile and lush, filled with greens and blues and blooming flowers… and wildlife.

Ngorongoro Crater from crest

   We departed for Ngorongoro Crater at 7:30am.  We were told that before descending into the crater, we would spend a small time conversing with the management team about the crater’s environment, economical impact, and…

   Well, you’re bored, aren’t you, reading about this.  To tell the truth, so were we.  We were sitting literally on the crest of the crater, in an office (air-conditioned, the first I’ve seen since arriving in TZ), impatiently waiting to venture into the bowl and see the animals.  We were being forced to waylay our safari for a lecture on infrastructure.  After what seemed like a long half-hour we were released to our vehicles once more.  Our driver, and wildlife ecology professor John Kioko, laughed at our uncontained excitement.  Kioko drives like he’s running from the law every time he drives, and riding in his car is a guaranteed thrill, especially careening down a narrow mountain path into the crater.

   The view of the crater was breathtaking from the top, but the view on the ground inside the crater is heart-stopping. 

   It should be noted, here and now, that on every drive through a national park, we are required to record the number of mammal species within 50 meters of our vehicle, and how many of each species’ individuals there are.  Why is this important? Because within the first 2 minutes of reaching the base of the crater we spotted zebra, buffalo, eland, cheetahs, hyenas, wildebeest, and elephants.  My hand-to-God, these creatures were all meandering about the entry into the crater and around a small lake, as if presenting themselves on their best behavior for the tourists. 

Within the day we estimated a count (just our vehicle of 7 students and one teacher) of over 1000 zebra, 1000 buffalo, 2000 wildebeest, and 40 elephant.  These are the big number animals, and were liberally littered about the plains.  What I want to discuss are the rare, not-so-easy to spot animals.

   Take, for instance, the cheetah.  We saw three.  Two were hunting, and one was lounging beneath the shade with some guinea fowl (no, surprisingly the bird wasn’t dead.  I guess the big cat was already full).  We also saw a cerval cat slinking through the tall grasses.  A treat for the day were three black rhinos, extremely hard to find in the park, and we were gifted with two parents and a baby.  Of course, they were visible only by binocular vision, but the awe was still there.

   Hyenas, while I’m told are closer in species to cats, act quite like dogs.  They trot, and lay in the sun, and lounge in small puddles of water.  Often we drove only a few feet from hyenas as they lay in the puddles in the roads, trying to find some respite from the brilliant sun.  The weather on this day was a perfect mix of sun, clouds, and a bit of a breeze to keep cool.

   While I was enthused by the abundance of wildlife I’d only seen on television (and, let’s face it, the Lion King), my eyes were frantically scanning the tall grasses for my own favorite mammal.  We were told initially that we weren’t likely to see these majestic creatures.  There must have been some deity poking around our area that heard my pleas, because on this day I was awarded not one, but 7 of my favorite mammal: Panthera leo, or simply known as the lion.  

   Aslan, simba, lav, leeuw, leone, or leijona, the lion is distinguishable around the world as a large, fierce, and proud animal.  In stories they’ve been named royalty in the wilds of Africa, and in history are often used as symbolism for families of the nobility (so, too, are the color purple, the mace, the flail & crook, and many others, but for now I’m gushing on my favorite large cat).  We saw a group of females, a lone male sleeping soundly in the sunshine, and a family of two cubs, female, and male.  The cubs were curious and often tried to make their way closer to our vehicle.  It was quite a feat for me to resist reaching out my hand to grab one of the little fluff-balls, but I figured that while this was illegal, I was also at the mercy of the parent lions.  So I withheld from my kidnapping endeavors, and instead settled on taking photos. 

   My smiles from the awesome sights of the day still hasn’t left my face.  Lion cubs, and other animals of Africa, can certainly inspire a lot of smiling.

Dalili ya mvua mawingu

Clouds are the sign of rain.  A Swahili proverb, or metahli ya Kiswahili.  It is meant to warn of trouble when trouble seems to be brewing. 

   In my case, however, I’m using it as a literal translative statement.  Clouds are a sign of rain, and the rainy season here in Arusha, Tanzania, has officially begun!  This is a time of celebration, for now the farmers (kulima) may begin to plant their seeds and grow their crops.  The rainy season here is from January until May, and up until now there has been no rain.  The only source of water for the local farmers is rainfall, and they cannot plant their seeds until the rainfall is somewhat predictable.

   The predictability, or official start of continuous rainfall, began today.  It has been raining for two days (on and off), and it is enough that the seeds for corn, beans, and pigeon peas may be set in the freshly turned earth. 

   Families rejoiced as the rains fell upon their lands, bringing with it moisture for the starving earth.  Smiles were plentiful, and whistles musically sounded from amidst the turned farmlands as fingers pressed pips deep into the ground.  Whole families set out to set up their gardens, whispering prayers to themselves that these seeds would sprout, grow, and produce enough harvest for next year. 

   The animals, I believe, also rejoiced.  The rivers will fill, lakes will return, and with these waters brings vegetation.  Food.  Shelter.  These lands are essential to all living creatures, and the rain is a blessing upon the lands. 

   Celebration of these rains for our group came in the form of hiking.  A traveling lecture, we struck out into the highlands in which we reside.  We scaled mountain sides, our hiking boots eating up the loose ground beneath our feet.  Hitch-hiker pods clung to our socks, thorny acacia trees grabbed hold of our clothing, and footholds were few and far between.  The sun beat upon our skin, the clouds were moving swiftly, and the temperature was high. 

   The view at the top, however, was worth every bit of the rigorous climb; our blisters and scrapes a testament to our winning journey’s end.  Kilimatembo was the name of our mountain, meaning “Elephant Mountain.”  A place where the great giants once roamed freely, and we had made the climb just as they would have a mere decade ago.  

A New Family (Homestay Day, and Adam talks to the cat)

Today, we woke up, ate breakfast, dressed in our skirts and blouses (or long pants and shirts for men), grabbed our cameras, gifts, sunscreen, toilet paper, and headed for our designated vehicles. 

    The time was 8am.  We were headed to spend the day with our homestay families.

   We were going to live for a day with a family who would graciously welcome us into their homes, and direct us as they saw fit.  Our center director told us to expect anything from working and cleaning in the house to herding cattle to cooking and playing charades to break the language barrier.

   Two students per household, and my partner was my good friend Adam.  I was excited to be partnered with a man, because men and women play very different roles during the day around a Tanzanian household.  We were to be staying at the house of Bwana Leo Erinest and his family. 

   It was even better than I could have ever expected.

   We were spoiled rotten.  And I met a woman named Kristin, who delighted in showing me off to her friends.

This is one of my sisters, Emiliana.  There is also Lucia.

   Upon arrival, our babu (grandfather) greeted us with a large smile and a loud karibu!  (welcome!)  We were taken to a pair of stools and sat down.  We were treated to chai (tea) for breakfast, and told (quite adamantly) that we were guests, and would not need to do work while visiting.  Unlike some other groups, Adam and I were treated like favored guests, and were allowed much of whatever we asked for.  Picture-taking was encouraged, and if we wished to help cook or herd cattle, then we were allowed to “lend a hand.” 

   To sum up our day succinctly: Arrive, chai, talk, walk with cows/goats, tour of surrounding lands, play with children, cook lunch, play with children, spoke with the women at the water spigot, talk, play with children, talk.

Our brothers and Adam, cattle, and goats.

   Adam and I were allowed to tag along when the cattle and goats were taken to pasture to graze.  We watched the animals, and at the same time were given a tour of the area by our kaka (brother).  When we told him we were studying the environment, he abruptly began to tell us of farming in the area, land erosion, and walked us all over to identify trees and grasses.  He even asked about American farming, and was amazed to know that any farmer could own more than 20 cows at a time.  We attempted to explain the concept of a cowboy, and in saying “n’gombe mvulana,” or “cow boy,” he looked startled, contemplative, and then burst into laughter.  I believe he thought we literally had mixed hybrid boy-cows in America.  Needless to say, we provided a lot of funny statements to laugh at during the day.

   Back at our home we were given the chance to help cook lunch.  With two pots, one spoon, three rocks and some firewood we were able to provide lunch for 15 people.  With the three rocks positioned so as to support the pot above the fire, we first cooked beef in cabbage with onions, salt, and tomatoes.  In the second pot we mixed water and corn flour continuously to make ughali.  Positioned inside the small jiko (kitchen) the excess of smoke burned our eyes (often I was stirring with my eyes closed), and their cat was anxiously waiting for some scraps.  We were teary-eyed and smelled like a campfire, but the results were well worth the small troubles, because it was delicious!  I don’t know if it simply tastes different here, or we were just proud to know that we’d contributed, but we were delighted to share our meal with the rest of the family.

   My favorite parts of the day? There were three that stick in my mind prominently: conversing in Kiswahili with my babu na bibi (grandfather and grandmother), comparing American animals with African animals with our brother, and playing with the children.  Mind if I elaborate for a short bit?

School kids watching us.

   Babu na bibi only spoke Kiswahili, but were very happy to allow me to stumble through conversations with them.  They were proud, congratulating me often, and were quick to point out pronunciations.  My bibi often shuffled Adam and I into the shade to sit, so our very-white skin would not burn.  Poor Adam was pink by the end of the day.

(L-R) Pascali, Innocent, Erika, and Hendrix

   My brother and his friend spent many hours comparing their animals to ours.  It had never occurred to me how difficult it would be to explain a bear or a wolf to those who had never heard of such animals, much less seen them.  We took turns drawing pictures in the dirt, with hilarity ensuing at my picture of a bear.  They were convinced that a bear was something of a large rat, and we let it end with that.  They couldn’t wrap their heads around a mountain lion, or lion-without-mane.  If I’d thought of it later, it must’ve sounded as if we had lions without hair slinking around our mountains.

   The kids… my new brothers and sisters.  If you know me, or you’ve probably figured it out, I adore kids.  They’re sweet and funny and always fun to play with.  Here in Tanzania, where light-skinned folks are few and far between back in farmlands, the children are very excited to interact with any mzungu.  A group of children walking to school caught sight of us and beat-feet over to us, giggling and chattering as fast as they could.  My brothers and sisters, however, were a bit shy at first.  With a series of funny faces, smiles, and chasing games, they were quick to warm up to the strangers in their home.  But the best part of their time with us?  When Adam spoke to the cat.

Some local children watching us cook.

   Yes, Adam took the time to talk to the cat.  Upon seeing the creature slinking through the house, Adam said “jambo, paka,” prompting giggles from our new siblings.  No one talks to cats, so why was he?  Even better, knowing the kids would get a kick out of it, he would meow at the cat; the cat would respond.  What stories the children must’ve told their friends, that the visitors in their home danced, made silly faces at whim, and spoke to the cat.

   A wonderful day from start to finish, and we were fervently welcomed back again, having been named honorary children/cousins/siblings.  How lucky I am to have another family this far from my home in America!

I've Been Featured!

The School for Field Studies (SFS) program, of which I am currently researching under, has its own blog page where students and faculty sometimes post messages of their experiences and the curriculum of their particular program.  This blog was extremely helpful to me, and a huge reason for choosing to apply to the SFS program.  I was always thrilled to read about personal experiences of other students, because this type of program is extremely unique, and many exciting things were posted in this blog.

I'm very excited and happy to report that I have been featured on their page! My first impressions of Tanzania, and the program, have been chosen to take their place on their blog site among the others.  I'm super proud, and while I used a part of my original blog posts here to dictate my time, there are alterations to the ending (to make it more accessible for students).  Take a peak here!

If you're interested, take a look! Also, for any who may be interested in a fantastic adventure in studying abroad with SFS, please take the chance to look over their website.  SFS works all over the world, and their website is one of the easiest and prettiest to navigate.

Also, some caretaker notes:
I've added a new feature to the page, as you may have noticed.  To the upper-right side of the post page is a weather widget designed to show you the weather, time, and temperature of the area I am in.  Currently, I'm in the region of Arusha in Tanzania.

This Isn't Helping

I cannot, cannot, cannot stop thinking about food.  Everyone tires of the same food, and for the last three weeks we’ve had the same kind of meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  In the spirit of missing home I’ve decided to induce a miserable feeling in my tummy by listing all of the tasty dishes I miss from home (note: I directed these into my personal journal, so, in essence, this is extremely private…):

   Grilled cheese sandwiches with vegetable soup. Junior’s turkey reuben and cheesecake.  Chipotle bbq bowl with mild salsa and corn.  McDonald’s.  Chick-fi-la chicken with special sauce and fries.  Meatloaf. Grilled chicken sandwich with mayo and cold crisp lettuce.  Taco Bell.  Cold salad with thousand-island dressing.  Sour cream.  Pita-Pit Philly cheesesteak pita.  Noodles & Company pesto cavatappi with extra mushroom and tomatoes.  Spaghetti from home.  Grape jelly.  Pancakes made with Bisquick.  Pub chips and beer cheese.  To-of-the-Hill fried chicken and mashed potatoes.  Tortellini in sun-baked tomato and basil sauce.  Swiss steak.  Chicken pot-pie and sweet tea.  Hushpuppies.  Coleslaw mix with smoked pork bbq.  Breakfast sandwiches.  Fried bacon.  Loaded baked-potato salad.  Burger King Whopper and chicken dippers.  Broccoli and cheddar soup poured over a baked potato.  Pringles original flavor.  Applesauce.  Yogurt and granola with pears.  Flaky biscuits and honey with Jimmy Dean’s maple sausage.  Enchiladas verdes with chips and queso sauce.  Philly-chicken sandwich and cherry drink from Don’s.  A glass of ice.  Chocolate éclair.  Icecream.  Chili’s margarita tacos.  Five-Guys cheeseburger and seasoned fries.  Polish sausage dipped in mustard.  PF Chang’s honey chicken.  Asia Café Chinese food with white rice and steamed veggies and sesame-seed chicken with egg-drop soup.  Waffle House hasbrowns with cheese and mushrooms.  Nagano’s tapanyaki chicken and shrimp sauce.  Boss Hogs pulled pork sandwich.  Cracker Barrel’s roast beef and fried apples.  Green beans.  Scalloped potatoes.  Hot Pockets.  Bagel Bites.  Corned-beef hash.  String cheese.  Cheese!  Deviled eggs. Scrapple.  Bagel with cream cheese.  O’Charley’s loaded cheesy baked potato soup.  Subway double-bacon egg and cheese sandwich on flatbread.  Chili-cheese fries.  M&Ms. Frosted Flakes.  Chesapeake Bay blue-crab cakes. 

   I’m going to quite enjoy the ride home from NY to NC, because I know along the way I’ll get to hit all my favorite food joints.  My goodness. 

   In other news, we received our first set of grades back from our professors, and I've gotten all As! Considering these are my first field reports for baboons and wildebeest, I was quite happy falling asleep last night.  

   On the 17th we'll be heading to the village of Kilimamoja to discuss with the Environmental Committee their mission and strategic development of plans in the area.  Policy, I'm so pumped!

My Mother's Face in the Market

One characteristic of my family members that I’ve always admired is their no-tolerance for BS policy.  It is one thing to humor someone, but quite another to be taken advantage of or lied to.  My father is all about honesty upfront (though his April Fools pranks aren’t to be contended with).  My brother is quiet in sticky situations, but never lets someone play him for a fool.  

   And then there’s Jill P, a.k.a, Mom.  Growing up, I watched my mother turn her take-no-prisoners stubbornness on those unfortunate souls, including myself.  It is a face that many have seen, including some friends-considered-family, and it’s an all-or-nothing set of features; a look that says “you-are-an-idiot-if-you-think-I-will-fall-for-that,” or in other cases, directly stating in her commandeering tone that she won’t be taken advantage of, period. 

   I felt those exact features take up residence on my face today.  My mother, whom I’m told often I resemble extremely closely, was both my shield and my battering ram today as I took on the Mtu Wa Mbu Maasai marketplace. 

   In tourist towns and marketplaces, salesman and shopkeepers are quick to tell you that they’re the ones to give you a “good” price, or the “African” price, as opposed to the tourist price.  I will honestly, and quickly, be the first to tell you that this is almost always a lie.  Salesman are salesman are salesman, and they’re wanting the most money from your pockets.  As a foreigner in Mtu Wa Mbu, or any marketplace of the like, you have to be two things: an aggressive barterer, and a stubborn mule.  If you aren’t comfortable with a price, you walk away. 

   Today was more frustrating than ever before when shopping, and when I become frustrated I find my actions relatable to my mother’s.  My brow is set a little lower, my back is straight, and the tone of my voice drops.  In rare cases of extreme frustration I speak very quietly, with expert enunciation, and I can just feel my mother standing next to me, protecting me from rip-off deals. 

   And with time, and a bit of practice, you find that you hold a great deal of power.  That painting that originally was priced at 85,000 Tz shilling turns out to be sellable for a much lower, much more agreeable 25,000 Tz shilling.  The salesman dogging your heels are not so willing to follow you about and shove necklaces in your face, instead finding that you’re “hapana, sina pesa,” (no, I have no money) means – and I ask that you pardon my French – to “bugger off, I’m not buying.” 

   I am not, by any means, suggesting that you not show respect and be polite.  I encourage politeness, because giving a little brings much into your life.  But never let someone take advantage of you for your separate nationality, and never let someone allow you to feel uncomfortable if you do not wish to purchase their goods.  In the end, your happiness with a price is the key, and if they are unhappy with your price, then maybe they should find a different occupation.

   Metaphorically, you could take this bargaining analogy to a whole new level.

   It was nice “having” my mother with me today.  I never feel far from home, because the characteristics of my loved ones emerge when I need them most.  Today I needed my mother’s back-bone. 

   Who knows, tomorrow I may need my brother’s ability to occupy himself in the most mundane ways, as I’ll be camped out in a classroom for several hours.

I leave you with some more photos of my travels to Tanganire.  Kwa heri.

SMACK!

On the tsetse fly’s head!

    Oh, and Happy Valentine’s day for all of the couples together, and for those who take the time to love themselves this year.  I found my Valentine here in Tanzania today, on our journey through Tarangire National Park.  He’s tall, quite handsome, and very in love with my gorgeous brown hair.

   His name? I’m not sure I could pronounce it.  I would need some practice to get the language down.  Oh, and you’d have to be an elephant to understand.

   Yes, my Valentine for this year was a distinguished male elephant.  What I said about my hair was true, he was quite enamored, while I was somewhat terrified.

   You’d like the story?  Well, allow me to begin with a short story from the day previous:

   On February 13^th of 2012, this year, I took my day and dedicated it to two activities.  First, I went to study a Maasai boma, and met some very wonderful mamas, and their children.  They sang their welcomes, all adorned in their best head dress and handcrafted jewelry.  The children wanted to sing and play with us, which we were glad to oblige them.  They were well versed in the “Simama, Kaa” song, which translated means “Stand, Sit.” 

"Simama, kaa! Simama, kaa! Ruka, ruka, ruka!"

   The second dedication was to an orphanage in Mtu Wa Mbu, where there are 40 children of parents lost to AIDS.  Their ages ranged from 3-12, but their songs and smiles were timeless.  Several hours I spent with my friends painting pictures on the walls of the orphanage bedrooms, and the rest were dedicated to the children.  Asha, a lovely girl of 4, had a beautiful smile and a pretty pink dress.  Her younger sister of 3 years loved to be held, and thought that riding the “chaka-chaka” train was some fun! To be completely honest, every child wanted to be held, and twirled, and danced with, and “chaka-chaka-ed” up and down the yard.  “Tena” (meaning “again”) was the theme of the day, as each wanted to be played with again and again and again! 

   A friend of mine brought a polaroid picture so that each child could have a picture of themselves to carry.  They were quite enamored with their photos, and took the time to show everyone their captured smiles and sparkling eyes!  They sang us songs, both foreign and similar to our own, and were quite happy to have some guests to cart about the yard. 

   If I deign to continue about these delightful children, I’ll only revisit my initial heartbreak from their adamant “simamas”, asking that we stay a little bit longer.  We’ll return again, and I’m hoping to get to play once more.

   As for today, the entirety of the daylight hours were devoted to Tarangire National Park.  We left the camp at 6am and headed east, excited about our hours watching the animals.  There were ostrich, warthog, zebra, waterbuck, mongoose, several birds, impala, giraffe, and hundreds of elephants.

Our Esteemed Admirer

   Among one group of these elephants was my admirer.  He was tall, and commandeering, and you should be surprised to know that I had no idea he was going to like my hair.  I was adjusting the lense on my camera when I felt a whiff, and then a brush of a trunk on my hair.  The elephant, it seemed, wished to get a good go at my hair. 

   I want to remind you, these are wild animals.  I write these words with a humorous tone, but while excitement is aroused when an elephant takes notice in your vehicle, there is also a bit of fear.  This savannah elephant was huge, and his eyes were set on our land cruiser.  Luckily, he wanted nothing more than a cursory sniff and poke.  The hair was safe, and no harm done, but I do wish he’d had an interest in blondes.

   The sunrise was pretty, the daytime fun, and the sunset unforgettable (especially thanks to my camera). 

Okay, Dad, want me to bring this home?

   A few lasting notes for my friends and family:

   Dad: I found a truck you’d go crazy for.  And, yes, I took a photo.

   Miranda: I find I’m quite like a certain novel character, in that I’m always munching on apples when I can get my hands on them. 

   Danielle: I saw several tiny, little baby elephants today.  I thought of you every time, and they were adorable!

   Red: The monkeys here have no interest in our drinks, only our shoes.

   Grandma and Grandpa: Congratulations on your 56th wedding anniversary! Definitely something to look up too, and I hope you got your tasty dinner, Grandma, and not the Taco Bell (though I'd kill to have some Taco Bell right now!)

A baby elephant, barely over a year old.

Tomorrow is a non-program day, in which I’ll be spending my time in the Mtu Wa Mbu Maasai market.  Shuka fabric, yes indeed!  I’ve already been to the tailor, and I’ll soon have a new skirt to show you all.

My Ankles and Their Dirty Feet

For these past two days we’ve been without internet.  In fact, it’s a blessing we’ve been able to keep electricity.  There are three main grids for power in our area, and on the morning of the 10^th, we lost all three.  We recovered one, for basic electricity, but the other two (one including the internet) are down for now.  We’ve been regrouping, communicating, and running around frantically trying to find written studies on our scientific writing project topics.  I had decided that mine would be on the social behavior of wildebeest. 

     In this time of lost internet, and no way to find scholarly articles outside of our guidebooks, I reconnected with my ankles, and their dirty feet.  I name the feet as belonging to my ankles because they had, I had noted, lost their place as a part of my body’s entirety.  This is to say, they were simply no longer my feet!

     Allow me to explain.

     In East Africa, the shoes of choice are kandambilis, or sandals.  We wear sandals as often as possible, and exchange for boots or tennis shoes when we play soccer or head out on field excursions.  Socks and shoes dirty quickly, and hand washing one’s smelly socks after a day of hiking it across Tanzania is unappealing at best. 

     In the end, no matter what shoes or socks one wears, the red dirt from the earth finds its way onto the skin of your feet.  They, along with the sun’s rays, discolor and change your feet, seeping into the pores, creating new shades and lines on their surface.  Thus, you are presented with new feet other than the ones you woke up with.

     This dirt and sun dig so deeply into your skin that no matter how many times you wash your feet, the red coloring never quite fades.  My toenails have new faces, with their long skinny torsos browned and changed by the sun.  These are not the feet I’ve kept with me these past years, and they’ve become new entities attached by my ankles.  Thus, these feet belong to my ankles.

     I often laugh and joke, wondering if I’ll ever meet my feet again.  These feet that allow me to move about Karatu, Mtu Wa Mbu, and these other parts of Tanzania are becoming battle-hardened, and find it easy to navigate the dirty, sometimes rough terrain.  But I wonder, when they see a warm bath, a scrub brush, nail polish, and the paved roads of home, will they become recognizable to me once again? Or will they simply be these new feet, traveling across borders, taking me to new places, and collecting dirt from other places as well?

    People should take the time to know their feet, for they often tell many great stories, and are a map to all of the places we’ve traveled. 

Counting Grass and Walking on Water

Today was spent counting the grasses of Lake Manyara National Park.

   No, I’m not joking. Yes, it really happened.  And no, it wasn’t exactly the neatest field exercise that could happen. 

   But think of this: who gets to say they walked 400 meters with a square wooden frame, metal pole, clipboard, and bottle of water to count and note the population species densities of grasses in the grasslands near Lake Manyara, beneath the burning sun of East Africa?  This girl.

   Well, okay, I haven’t sold you yet? That’s alright.  Because, at the end of the day, the time was well spent.  My morning had been dedicated to finishing a report on baboon behavior.  The afternoon to grasses.

   Oh, and did I mention the buffalo?  The wildebeest, the jackals, and the seeking waters of Manyara?

   Let me explain.

After counting grasses our professor pointed towards the lake, which was still about a thousand meters away, and said, “if you’d like, walk to the lake.  Do not approach the animals.  We’ll pick you up in the vehicles.”

   Putting our boots to the mud, we headed off in the direction of the lake.  We were running, prancing, leaping, and walking in parts in our headway to the lake.  Tourists were nowhere to be found on this side of the park.  We had the fields, the lake, the animals, and the entire shore to ourselves.  The grasses were tickling our legs as we ran, laughing as we desperately dodged small holes and even smaller rodents and birds.  The buffalo and Thompson gazelle nearby watched as we whooped and ran, and in the spirit (at least we think so) they ran with us to the shore’s edge.  Jackals and wildebeest trotted along around us, a wary perimeter, observing these two-legged mammals running happily towards the shoreline. 

   We ran to greet the waters when, in actuality, the waters were on their way to greet us!  Lake Manyara is never deeper than 3.9 meters at a time (about 12 feet) and the winds sweeping swiftly across the surface of the waters were pushing the waves closer and closer towards us.  Trickles of clear lake water were creeping across the dry, cracked earth.  We stood still as the waters flowed around our shoes and towards the grasses behind us. 

   If one looked at just the right angle, it looked as if a person were walking on water.  And that day, I believe, we were all floating a few inches of the ground, our cheerful spirits carrying us across these wild, untamed, and beautiful lands.

Walking on the waters of Lake Manyara

Reflecting and Relaxed Relativity.

Relaxation is, in my exuberant and often inflated opinion, relative.  Everyone has their different stand-stills, or those moments when their body and mind are at peace.  When the muscles are relaxed, your head is a bit empty, and all of the world falls away.  Tension melts into the ground.  Your eyes feel clear, and everything, for that time, falls into a graceful perspective.  A simplicity, if you will, that may or may not have alluded your mentality for a while.

   I am the definition of a stress-induced individual.  Stress-aholic, if you'll allow it, because I not only carried it around with me, but found myself opening the doors and welcoming it in, setting Stress down at my dinner table, and offering it a place to settle its ugly, heavy head for a time.  I'm well aware of my decisions when made, and try very hard to take into account what will come of them.  For a time, it seemed, I was finding stress where originally I would find comfort.  Unfairly I was judging the world, leaning heavily on friends, and expecting a lot where I had invested so little.  

   I needed to step out of my self-made, repressive bubble, and this was only going to happen by my own device.  If there was one thing I took from my uniquely supportive, yet glaringly blunt family, it was that things didn't just happen, and they certainly wouldn't be worth the time unless time was put into them.  In my house there was never a time we felt that straight-talk wouldn't help.  In fact, one thing I always expected from my parents and brother was their simple, sometimes harsh honesty (my brother has never shied away from a crazy conversation yet, and my parents are quick to tell me when I'm walking down a bumpy road).  I have a whole heck of a lot of support back home (always have) and I know I've got more than my fair share, so who was I to walk blindly about and expect glittering rainbows to be dropped into my lap?

   So I looked into traveling abroad, and I was sure to pick somewhere that would help to bring Humility back into my life, and send Stress packing.  I know this was the right choice, and I was given a lot more than I initially asked for.  In fact, Humility brought with it the extended, extensive family, including Clarity, the goofy cousin Awe who always inspires with the magic of simple actions, and Community, the uncle who always has candy in his pocket, and a story to tell.  Humility was in the people here, who were happy with the love of their families, the shining sun, and the unending faith in God.  Clarity from the children whose smiles shown with joy when we take their pictures, and play soccer with them.  Awe from being shown, again and again, that taking the time to appreciate small wonders keep this girl young.  

   And Community, that silly uncle, stems from the people I share this space with.  My friends here, both staff and fellow students, are very positive, dirty-hands-clean-minds-make-for-great-stories kind of folks, and here there seem to be no boundaries.  Living in such a rural/wild location, one learns to find strength in honest working and communicating, and smiles are abundant.  I think it takes a special kind of person to do this kind of work/study, and I'm very lucky to have met so many bright, uncommonly jolly peers my age.  But really, what could be so bad when you have the Tanzanian sun-rise to wake to every morning?  

   Peace had decided to gift me with a complete moment of silent, transient nothing today as I was hanging out my laundry.  It was before breakfast, and the sun had just risen.  My colleagues were abed, and as I pinned my last laundry pin into place, a morning dove cooed: and I felt at peace.  My mind was silent, my feet cool in the grass, my body free of aches and tension.  It was a terribly wonderful moment, one I felt I had been building to for a long time. 

   I think this is what my dad feels when we're camping, and he's hiking out with us, pointing out trees and birds and peering through his binoculars.  Or how my mother might feel when it's the evening after dinner, and we're settled in the living room; my father, brother, and myself are yelling over some ridiculous notion where none of us are correct, and she knows the answer but is happy to sit and let us bicker over false logic.  Even my brother must find this feeling at some point, but I can only imagine it might be when he's completely numbed out by his Xbox, or drifting to sleep with the television on.  I know for a fact that my dog feels this every time the family is together in the house, snoozing in the corner of the room, happy knowing that sooner or later dad will inevitably giver her another treat.  

   I only wish for everyone to feel this.  There's nothing quite like coming into yourself, and out of yourself, to a point that you know that in the world there's no problem too big, or too heavy, or too ugly, that life hasn't got anything prettier to offer you.  Your problems aren't really problems, but more color on your life-canvas.  Something my dad and I label the cracks and dents in the hardwood floor: character.  These moments are few and far between, but for the first time I knew that Stress was outside of my house, my yard, and even my country, off harassing some other person, because I was standing all on my own beneath the hanging laundry, listening to the doves call on the morning sun.

Non Program Day 1 Delights

They use natural/real sugar in Tanzania. It's delicious!

Iraqw Tribe Handmade Goods (Jewelry and Baskets)

The Trifecta of Tanzanian local brews