Week 2 of BIA program! We arrived ready in Longido yesterday to work in Kimokouwa, which I don't really know much about except its in the freakin middle of nowhere. And I don't get very many answers when I ask questions about whats going on. So as we zipped about 80 kilometers an hour down a road into empty savannah, I kind of just kept my mouth closed and went with the flow. We were told we'd give a basic training to a new group, women in a group of bomas in Kimokouwa. However, today we learned these women had already been visited and had received basic training in BIA and we were now going to simply follow up with them on the progress they'd made.
This village is terribly drier than Longido, where we were last week. The again overwhelming complaint with the women was the lack of available water. Of course, only women because they bear the burden of family packmule. It is about a mile walk to the fresh water pond from where the boma is and not all of the women have donkeys. As we sat in the lecture, held outside of the steps of the dominant political party's district office, for about 15 Maasai women we were amazed at how eager and interested they were in agriculture and in improving their health. They quickly even chose a group representative with whom we will be in correspondence about organizing future lessons in the area.
The following day, we were to reteach a lesson on composting, Again, most of the women showed and even brought along their children. Perhaps the most visceral of my experiences in what its like to live here have always included children. These Maasai children were very dirty, dusty and almost none were wearing shoes. Sadly, as they came closer their faces were covering in flies, worse than I'd ever even seen on any Feed the Children commercial. I noticed the flies flocked to the childrens' eyes, noses which were covered in snot, and their mouths. I've fallen in love with every child I've encountered so far in TZ, they're so welcoming and kind. These children were no different. However, I felt awful for neglecting their attempts to hold my hand or have me carry them. It was difficult to accept them when their clothes were covered in mud, and there were dozens of flies on their faces and hair. I was so ashamed that I could not give them any attention.
During the lesson I was disappointed that while I was giving instructions in English to be translated, the lesson was taken over by the Maasai translator, not affiliated with GSC. I was confused as to why this man was now giving the lecture, and I did not know where he was in the lesson. As I expressed this later on, I learned he was trained in agriculture and was able to properly give the lesson himself. I was upset that no one had relayed this to me, and I had a mild freak out moment that these women had not effectively learned anything about the steps in composting. Later Tuesday, we visited the local water source and took some photos of how the Maasai women carry water jugs (on a sling wrapped around their head!!!) and then saw a sample garden of a local Maasai MAN who actually grows some vegetables!! (to sell....sigh) It was too good to be true, this guy did not eat vegetables.
While we waited, one of the Massai women whom we'd sort of befriended the past two days (she is stunning, if she were in America or Europe she'd really be a model) brought out her children (but she herself cannot be older than me!!), one girl about 3 and a newborn boy about 2 months. The little girl as I had seen before, seemed to suffer from some kind of mental retardation and above all of the children in the boma had the most flies on her face. She was the saddest case I'd seen, since the day before during the lesson she had fallen and slipped in the sand and was crying. It took a lot to hold back my tears from seeing her crying and no one had come to help her. The newborn was also covered in flies, and was always hanging from the mother's side on a sling as she would occasionally nurse him while talking to everyone. As I sat waiting for the women to arrive, she thrust onto me the newborn baby, who was drooling and covered in flies. I remember feeling that it was not that I found him disgusting, it was that I was so upset this child had been living in this condition. I tried to hold him close, but his romper was dirty with soil and crusty with something. He smelled like cow manure, as a lot of things do in the boma. I asked a project coordinator and fellow with GSC why the baby had such a runny nose, and she answered that he had malaria, common for small children in that environment. I did not want to continue carrying him, and offered the mother to take him back. She smiled, said something in Maasai and walked away to the other women. Great. I'm stuck holding this kid. As I cradled him and rocked him back and forth in my arms, keeping him away from my blouse, his mother returned and graciously offered me to visit her home. Crazy intuitive senses...GO! And without thinking I said 'sure'. What the hell am I thinking here? As we walked into the boma, I was still holding the baby who now did not want to let go of me and was nuzzling my neck covered in drool. With so much trepidation, I ducked my head entering the mud house covered in a straw grass roof and entered into complete darkness. How do these people live? The woman lit a small kerosene lamp and offered me to sit down on the bed, designated by a large mud wall and a wooden table covered in cotton fabric. How do you sleep here? There was a tiny hole in the exterior mud wall with a small piece of glass for viewing. How neat, a window. Upendo, a GSC employee fluent in Maasai had followed behind me. She spoke with the woman who was seated at a small table in the corner of the small house. As I sat on the bed with the child, he fussed and I was relieved that Upendo told me to lay him flat on the bed. At least the flies were gone.
I took a good look around the small dark quarters. They must keep chickens inside of the house too, as there were feathers and chicken droppings all over the floor. A pot of white porridge was in the middle of the floor with the embers of the last fire still glowing. The baby fussed one more time, and some inkling of a maternal instinct inside of me made me pick him up. The flies must have gone somewhere else while we were inside, so I held him a little closer. Five minutes later after hearing some more Maasai talk between Upendo and the woman, I felt something wrong with my skirt. Uh oh. The baby peed on me. ALL OVER ME. The woman stood up and apologized in Maasai, but I could not get angry. I'm sure it happened to her all the time as it does with any mother. I was more curious about how this child was going to be cleaned. He wasn't. That afternoon I learned that same baby had pooped on another volunteer coordinator's skirt and then peed on her that afternoon right after me. Note to self, NEVER carry babies that don't wear diapers in this country. I just wanted to get the hell out of there after that whole ordeal.
Friday, I was blessed that my group didnt have to wake up at 5 to vaccinate chickens because the remaining area to cover was in the other group's turf. YES! Easier imagined than what actually happened, that goats and cows near the guesthouse in Longido are extremely loud and I woke up at 630 not being able to go back to sleep. After breakfast, we were instructed there may possibly be a final gathering of the women in Kimokouwa at the boma to be instructed on companion planting and crop rotation. And we would also be following up on the compost pile that may or may not be completed. When we arrived, we were amazed the compost pile had actually been completed, minus the mulching over top. And all the women were gathered ready to hear our presentation. I ended up giving the bulk of the information which was a lot of fun for me. I answered a lot of the womens' questions and they were so appreciative at the end. One of the elder women (bibi or grandmother) stood up and thanked all of us 'wageni' or visitors for spending all this money on gas and lodging to come teach these 'lowly women' about something that could change their lives for the better. I asked to translate to her that they are suffering and that we want to help them learn about sustainable agriculture to save them money and make their families healthy. We were able to work out that next week we would try to come back to work with them to check on their compost pile and answer any additional questions. Upendo, who is quickly becoming my best friend here in Tanzania is a Maasai and started singing a song in Maasai which the women began changing along to. It was beautiful, only something many of us have seen on television. Their voices in unison were one of the most amazing sounds I've ever heard live! They began jumping up and down, traditional way of Maasai dance and they all clapped while we walked away. I have at times felt useless as a volunteer talking about agriculture, something I have absolutely no idea anything about. However, this has to be the most satisfying moment I've had here. That afternoon, we headed back to Arusha with all of our things in tow. Next week we will be in Namanga, a town right on the Kenyan/Tanzanian line.
The volunteers in the other group saw antelope, wild giraffes and dik dik while out early morning chicken vaccinating. If Kimokouwa was that wild, I can't wait to see Namanga! Tomorrow (Saturday) some other volunteers and myself will make a trek out to Moshi to see Kili and do some craft market shopping and get some good eats till its ugali and beans again!!
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