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.

The Birds Were Laughing at Us

Today was a day for the birds. Ndege.  We walked transects about Rhotia (our local village) to identify and count any and all winged creatures flittering about the trees.  We ended our transects at Moyo Hill, which happens to be one of my favorite look outs.  It's a perfect place to look about the countryside, covered in farmland and forests.

Bird watching can be tricky.  One needs to keep binoculars and guidebook handy, and being keen on description is important.  I never realized how many parts of a bird held different names.  Their tale feathers alone are three or four separate parts.  One bird we found particularly interesting, and elusive, was one we named the "laughing bird."  We never could spot it, but we heard it's trill several times.  It sounded more and more like the bird was laughing at our mundane attempts to spot it, hence the name... and, well, a bird already held the name "mocking," so we couldn't very well copy it.

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.

Tarangire Lodge

Anna and I relaxing in the lodge.

The view from our veranda, and I can't seem to smile.