The End

It’s mid-morning. The house is empty but for me, “Trust” by Elvis Costello & The Attractions shuffles along belligerently in the background and tea rings surround my keyboard like Mysterons. Like David Haye rising out of his stool for the 12th and final round, this blog is almost done.

All that remains is the summary; an attempt to put a satisfactory full-stop on what I’ve written over the last six months about Tanzania by assessing whether my project fulfilled my aims or not. To do that, I need to spell out what my aims were in the first place.

Here goes. After 10 years of office life in the name of Scottish journalism, I fancied a break to explore my fascination with the continent of Africa. But not a holiday – I wanted to get my feet wet in international development.

A bit of Googling, a phonecall or two, 10 innoculations and before I knew it, I was in Tanzania as MondoChallenge’s newest volunteer recruit (and at the time, the only Scot to boot).

I can now count myself among a sizable cluster of my countrymen and women who, over many years as missionaries, doctors, teachers and other aid workers, have followed in the footsteps of David Livingstone. Like them, I came to Africa with the best of intentions; to explore and experience, but not exploit (sadly unlike the Colonial powers of a few hundred years ago).

My interest in Africa has been developed over many years. It started as a laddie at Stenhousemuir Primary School in the late 80s, sitting in front of the TV watching Billy Connolly surrounded by little black faces on Comic Relief. Fast forward a few years and in 2005, I sat in the Scottish Parliament main chamber listening to the visiting Sir Bob Geldof deliver another furious diatribe about the west’s broken promises to our African brothers and sisters.

That year, there was a lot of Africa about; the G8 was taking place here in Scotland, the Scottish Government had befriended Malawi, people were marching across the country to Make Poverty History and we had the Live 8 concerts.

I didn’t march, or go to the concerts, or buy a wristband, for various reasons. But thinking back, that was the year when something inside me began plotting a course for Africa. And my aim then, I guess, was to do something to help Africa come to terms with its lingering large-scale problems.


# # #

That desire to get involved led me to MondoChallenge and through them, to the north of Tanzania, where I linked up with some small businesses to help them improve their practices and link them up with donors from charitable organisations. The bulk of my work was done with three different non-governmental organisations. The first was TAN-EDAPS, the second was RISE Africa and the last was DINKWA.

Auxiliary roles included taking lots of photographs for marketing purposes, a wee bit of teaching and offering advice to help these NGOs identify their long-term priorities. I viewed Tanzanian life through the prism of adults and children like this delightful young laddie, Johnson:



Cutting to the chase, I prepared several proposals, which are now being submitted online to organisations such as my local Rotary Club and international organisations. This is very much an ongoing process, as the process of asking for money from charitable organisations is a lengthy one which spans months or even years in some cases.

I’ve chatted to staff at MondoChallenge’s head office in Newbury since I got back, sharing the positives I experienced during my six months. There were also a few negatives, such as Mondo offering no internet access to market my proposals while in Arusha, leaving me to foot the bill for an expense which I’ve argued should have been included in my (fairly hefty) enrolment fee. There are wider issues too, that are too vast to talk about here, but overall, MondoChallenge offered a very good entry into development.


# # #

So was going to Tanzania a good idea? Along with buying my first Fastball album at Sarasota Square Mall in 1998 and signing up to run the Alloa Half Marathon in 2001, it was a great idea, a monumentally great idea. The best idea I’ve ever had.

My aims? Fulfilled. I haven’t made a microbe of difference to the problems facing Africa but I understand them a lot better now and am better placed to do my bit in future. They are large-scale problems that can only be tackled by large-scale mobilisation.


# # #

We’re onto “What Is Love For” by Justin Currie now.

I got home three weeks ago and mercifully, I’m not facing an extended tenure on skid row as I feared. Tomorrow I start a new job in Edinburgh; not much of a departure from what I was doing before. A new start, but by no means the end of my affinity for Africa.


# # #

Now that I have written pretty much everything I set out to write, this blog, like the Monty Python parrot, is an ex-blog.

Two of my Mondo volunteer colleagues are still hard at it, however. The round-the-world ramblings of my pal Eleanor, who worked as a teacher in Longido for three months prior to heading to Oz, can be found at http://eleanor-round-the-world.blogspot.com, while Jimmy “The Tripod” Dallas, teaching guru and MondoChallenge film-maker, is blogging at http://jimmydallas.wordpress.com. Both well worth reading, especially Ele’s, which features not only some crafty writing but many fine pictures of her wearing a snazzy greengrocer’s trilby thing.

The best Africa book I read while I was away was “Blood River” by Tim Butcher (while the best non-Africa book I read while I was away was “A Tale Etched in Blood and Hard Black Pencil” by Christopher Brookmyre). I would also ask anyone seeking further reading about Tanzania to look up Julius Nyerere, the first President of the newly-independent Tanzania from 1961 to 1984, who unlike most African leaders seemed to be a very decent chap.



And if anyone is interested, MondoChallenge are at www.mondochallenge.co.uk. Over and out. Ross County for the Scottish Cup.


Ross

Over and almost out

After a solid 24 hours travel, via the Impala Shuttle bus from Arusha to Nairobi; a flight to Dubai; another to Glasgow, and a ride home to Larbert (with LOTS of waiting in between some of the stages), I write this instalment a few hours after returning to my comfortingly-frosted homeland. Waking up to lovely weather every day's for wimps.

I marched out the Arrivals gate at Glasgow Airport this morning to a phalanx of camera crews and media men. Amazingly, they were not there to interview me about my Tanzania experiences, but were there to greet the just-arrived Czech Republic international football team, ahead of the friendly match at Hampden tomorrow night. And take a bow Emirates, for being a super-cool airline. Most of the seven hours between Dubai and Glasgow was spent on the on-board ICE entertainment system, listening to everything from "Jungle Drum" by Emiliana Torrini to "The Stonk" by Hale & Pace. I saw "Jungle Drum" performed live last year by ET at Oran Mor, whereas "The Stonk", on the other hand, I have not heard in almost decades.



Anyway, the day before yesterday, I did something I've been looking forward to for more than a year - the Kilimanjaro Half Marathon. As the name suggests, it took place very close to the mountain of the same name, and was as tough as you might expect.

Despite training pretty hard for the last 12 weeks, I found the pace very hard going, and was so hot I think I sweated from places I've never sweated from before. The course was a simple 10.5km out, turnaround, and come back kinda affair, which was 'a bit' undulating, in the same way that John Terry's been 'a bit' of a naughty boy lately.

Anyway, I got across the finish line in 1 hour 32 minutes 16 seconds (154th out of 1,110, apparently - www.kilimanjaromarathon.com/resultsfrm.htm). It's way slower than I am hoping to achieve this year, and more than 13 minutes outside my PB from last year. But in the circumstances - it was 30 degrees at 6am, and hotter when my race started at 7am - I'm happy enough.

When I crossed the finish line, I made a beeline for brekkie, and after stuffing my face, followed it up with a final sup of Kilimanjaro beer (which tasted great):



The race marked the last big activity of my Tanzania experience, and pretty much the end of me having anything worth blogging about. To anyone who's been reading this blog since last September, two things: my apologies, and enjoy the next entry, because it will be the last one - a summing-up of sorts, focussed on the specifics of my business development program.

Unpacking though, is more of a priority right now...


Ross

You Don’t Mess With The Maasais

Back to Nice Orphanage, near Maji Ya Chai – where I spent my first month in Tanzania back in September – at the weekend to say farewell before going home in two weeks.

The orphanage, like most in Tanzania, is well-meaning but running on empty in terms of cash. Hence, there’s not always money for food for the children. But the two ladies in charge, Mama Florida and Mama Sara, are doing a great job with the little they have, and are ambitious for future expansion.

Our MondoChallenge In-Country Manager John and I were invited to visit on Saturday to see the children’s new school uniforms and school bags, which were purchased following a very generous donation from another Mondo volunteer, Tom, who was here last year. Needless to say, the kids looked great.

In addition to buying uniforms for its kids to attend the two local schools, the orphanage also purchased some matching polo shirts for the kids to wear as an orphanage uniform. Bizarrely, this comprised a batch of Wild Bean Café uniforms, as worn by the staff of hot food counters in BP service stations in the UK:



How and why they got to Tanzania I will never know; I would like to think it is due to some kind of CSR programme. Whatever the reason, the kids looked smart, and were pleased as punch to have them.

John and I took a sponge cake, bread and some classroom materials as presents, which seemed to go down well. Upon the cutting of the cake, I was asked by the two Mamas to participate in a traditional Tanzanian custom of being fed a piece off the end of a stick:



It is a peculiar yet pleasant custom, the etymology of which nobody has been able to explain to me yet. Regardless, it was also a fun way to say goodbye to Nice Orphanage, which I will remember long after I leave Tanzania, and will hopefully get the chance to visit again in a couple of years or so.

* * *

I also went to Moshono this weekend for a final lunch with the host family where I spent three and a bit-months from October to January.

I grew very fond of Moshono, and heard some cracking stories while I was there, the best of which I heard one day while having a beer at a local pub with Baba, the father of our house. At our table, we were joined by a couple of older Maasai gents, one who was maybe 70, the other 10 years or so years younger.

The two of them and Baba chatted away in Swahili for a good while, before the two older gents starting chatting and laughing between themselves.

After a while, Baba explained to me that they were reminiscing about the younger one being circumcised at seven years old, in accordance with Maasai tradition. Using a bush knife and with no sedation, the child must undergo the circumcision without crying or displaying emotion. If the child cries - I'm told - they are killed (which seems a bit harsh to me, but combined with other Maasai rites of passage such as killing a lion to achieve manhood at 18, explains why the Maasais are hard-as-nails).

Thankfully, the younger of the two guys sitting opposite the table from me was able to withstand his mini-operation, as the older of the two gents could verify: he had held him down while the deed was done.

* * *

With my flight home leaving on 1 March, I’m now at the ‘tying up loose ends’ stage with all of my various projects. It’s sad to think that in less than two weeks, I will no longer be able to enjoy the things I have become accustomed to; among them, fresh mango for breakfast (not like the tasteless rubbish you get at home), the daily sight of women with a preposterous amount of things balanced on their heads, 65p for a 500ml bottle of beer, and quiet, non-icy streets for my morning runs.

No matter. There is plenty to look forward to at home in March; the Scotland-Czech Republic game at Hampden, the Alloa Half Marathon, my mate’s baby boy’s first birthday, boxing on TV, good quality radio and – most importantly – stovies.

Yum.


Ross

Giraffes, birds and Pharaohs

Pop ‘Arusha Times’ into Google and you will find the web version of the newspaper where I am lending a part-time hand for the rest of my Tanzanian stay.

Here I am sub-editing stories submitted to the newspaper by its network of correspondents, which involves checking them for consistency and trying to make them more interesting to read.

It is a job I am enjoying immensely – in 10 years of journalism, never before have I worked for a newspaper which leads its front pages with stories such as giraffes in a local wildlife park having no tails (it’s because of hyenas having nothing else to feed on, apparently). It sells 3,000 copies a week and, unlike papers at home, has plenty of advertising and job adverts.

The editor, William Lobulu, is a lovely guy, who shares my view that too much Tanzanian journalism is too unquestioning. Many of the journalists I have met in Tanzania, at Arusha Journalists’ Training College and elsewhere, cite intimidation as the reason why.

It’s a problem not just in Tanzania, but all over Africa, where press freedom is a bit of an oxymoron. Thankfully there are indigenous newspapers here in Tanzania, such as The Guardian, who are pushing for more transparency and attempting to expose corruption.

The Arusha Times still has some way to go to reach that level – it is a two-man team, working for a pittance, after all – but for now, it does its job as a light weekly local rag very nicely.

* * *

The rest of my time is taken up by working in the village of Ilboru, on the edge of Arusha, with Mama Lucy, the founder of DINKWA. The organisation is an enterprise group for vulnerable women who are victims of problems such as HIV, poverty or abusive relationships.

Mama Lucy has been at the helm of several community groups over many years, and is doing a fantastic job with DINKWA, where I have met many of her clients (“my ladies”, as she calls them) and learned more about what they are doing.

Last week, for instance, I met Basilisa (below left, with Mama Lucy).



She was diagnosed with HIV last year when she was pregnant with her third child. Turning to DINKWA for help in how to generate income for herself, she set up her own business with a small grant, and is now selling second-hand clothes, cooking oil and bananas to other villagers. Her daily profit is approximately 5,000 Tanzanian Shillings (about £2.50), which might not seem like a lot, but crucially is enough to feed her and her three children.

Other ladies have set up restaurants, shops and tailoring businesses. Mama Lucy needs organizational support and fundraising assistance to develop DINKWA, which she will get from me for the rest of my Tanzania time and beyond.

* * *

I’ve always got loads to do, but find time for plenty of after-hours R&R.

As a longtime fan of African football, I was particularly pleased to be shoulder-to-shoulder with local fans in an African bar in Kijenge Kati last night to watch the African Cup of Nations Final between Egypt and Ghana.

Less pleasing was the fact that the match was on at exactly the same time as an English Premiership match between Manchester United and Arsenal, a fixture I don’t care too much about.

There were around 100 people in the bar, and two televisions, one showing each game. I was one of around 10 people gathered round the TV showing the Egypt match, the rest of the bar whooping and clapping their way through the Manchester United match (including most of the people round my TV, who kept scampering off to try and watch both games simultaneously).

I suspect that was a realistic straw poll for what most African football fans were watching across the continent, given the choice of the two big games. I found it disappointing, yet completely unsurprising, to see so many Africans so blasé about the final of their continent’s premier international tournament, in the face of football from overseas.

To be fair, going head-to-head, the AfCoN Final never stood a chance. Not only are Manchester United followed fanatically by the majority of football fans here in Tanzania, but I could also hear that their game last night was way more exciting (a swashbuckling 3-1 Man Utd win) than the tense AfCoN Final (a cagey 1-0 win for the Pharaohs). The absence of African superstar Michael Essien for Ghana, through injury, probably also didn’t help.

A later kick-off would have solved everything, but African football officialdom is not noted for such aptitude. Anyway, I still thoroughly enjoyed the Tanzanian Broadcasting Corporation’s enthusiastic coverage of the Egypt-Ghana match, especially the witterings of Pendael Omari, the Tanzanian Dougie Donnelly. And even if it wasn’t a great game, it was a great way to watch the game. I just hope the next AfCoN Final isn’t the victim of such another unfortunate fixture pile-up.


Ross

In The Company Of Cheerful Ladies

Of course it seems like no time at all since I was at Hampden Park in September, screaming my lungs out at Robin Van Persie and the rest of the Dutch team as they stylishly hammered a giant Oranje nail into George Burley’s managerial coffin.

Since then, four months have come and gone and I’m closer to the end of my Tanzanian experience in March than the beginning. But thankfully, I still have a lot to look forward to in these last months; not least my new projects which begin next week.

One of them is with an enterprising women’s HIV group called DINKWA, where I am to offer some marketing and PR advice. The other project is on more familiar ground – a placement inside the newsroom of the local weekly newspaper, the Arusha Times. Both projects look thoroughly interesting and will doubtless prove a worthwhile way to see out my last days in Africa before I’m back in my baltic homeland.

= = =

Until Tuesday, the aforementioned Scotland vs Holland match was the last football match I attended.

Not any more. Accompanied by MondoChallenge’s stellar Country Manager John, I took advantage of having a free day (that day was 12 January – Zanzibar Revolution Day, a public holiday here) to watch an Arusha Fourth Division match at Arusha Stadium (or the Sheikh Amri Abeid Stadium to give it its full name), next door to the Mondo office.

Having watched lower league games of all descriptions up and down Scotland, I felt quite at home watching a fairly risible kickabout between Flamingo (dark blue) and Soweto (fake England replica kits).

Lively backing from the 200-or-so locals and the knockdown admittance fee (500 Tanzanian shillings – about 25p) made for a fun afternoon out. I probably won’t get the opportunity to watch Tanzania playing at the National Stadium in Dar es Salaam as I had hoped, but the charm of this small-scale endeavor was nicely in keeping with my years spent following Stenhousemuir FC.

And if for any reason the Arusha Fourth Division results were not broadcast on Sky Sports News, Flamingo won 4-0.


Ross

Eldoret etc.

A belated Happy Christmas to everyone. Again, the blog’s been on the back burner most of December while I have been taking a bit of time off. Let me explain what I have been doing.

In early December, I set foot in Kenya for the first time to visit an international athlete friend of mine, who was training in Eldoret.

Anyone with Google close to hand can key in ‘Eldoret’ and see that it is the training location of choice for Kenya and east Africa’s best athletes, churning out Olympic and World Champions such as 2007 800m World Champion Janeth "The Eldoret Express" Jepkosgei. So when my athlete neighbour here in Moshono, John Benedict Muhojo, explained he was heading there to train for a month and asked if I wanted to visit, it didn’t require much thought.

For 10 days, I ate, slept and trained with John and his pals at a camp in Kapkitony, which was, as you might expect, my kinda thing. I found myself running with guys who were incredibly, unnecessarily fast; one guy who is already running for Kenya, Vincent Kipruto, won the Paris Marathon earlier this year in 2 hours 5 minutes (a feat which won him a 4x4 truck for breaking the course record). He wasn’t alone. There are hundreds of guys like him in the hills above Eldoret and around the Rift Valley, quietly and doggedly training every day, with personal best times that are frankly terrifying. Here I am overlooking the Rift Valley with John and another super-fast guy, Isaac Maiyo from Kenya:



I came back to Tanzania with my head spinning at just how deep the talent pool is in Kenya. Most of these guys, despite being way faster than the best athletes from most other countries, will never get the chance to run for their country, such is the competition internally.

But they inspired me, and the experience served as a nice preparation for the Kilimanjaro 5km Anderson Open Run, which took place in Moshi (about 90 mins in the bus from Arusha) on 27 December.

The race’s venue, The King George Memorial Stadium, brought to mind one of these huge stadiums built by people like Colonel Gaddafi for his propaganda rallies. Of course, the reality proved a little different when I arrived, with a single pavilion comprising the ‘stadium’ on one length of the track, and market stalls on the other:



Not that I’m complaining. The track was nice and flat, the afternoon weather was fairly calm and the prospect of running my first race on African soil got the adrenaline going.

This year, I’ve run as one of 25,000 participants in the Paris Half Marathon, and was among 8,500 finishers in the Edinburgh Marathon; at the other end of the scale is this race.

When the runners were called to the start line, there were seven of us, with the bulk of the field comprising lithe cadets from a local police training college (Christmas commitments had drained most of the usual participants away, according to the organiser Isaac).

The gun went, setting us off on 12 and a bit laps of the track, which I noticed was infested at one end by centipedes. Following on from this being my first race on African soil, another first was that this was the first track race I have ever participated in (Another was that it was the first time I have pulled my running top out of my bag at a race and found it covered in bird sh*t, but anyway).

Under the shadow of nearby Mount Kilimanjaro, it was hard going, and I cantered round increasingly slowly. But I made it, in 19 minutes 26 seconds, 21 seconds behind the solitary girl who was participating. I was fifth; two people had dropped out, so I was last – another first for me, in nine years of racing. But perversely, for being the fourth male finisher, I won prize money – a whole 1,000 Tanzanian Shillings (about 50p).

A cracking wee race, with another one due to take place next month. Then on 28 February, it’s the one I’ve been looking forward to since before I left Scotland; the Kilimanjaro Half Marathon.

~ ~ ~

It hasn’t all been leisure time in December. I’ve spent a long period of time doing some online research and in January, I start a new, still to be confirmed, project. For the last two months, I have thoroughly enjoyed being a part of RISE Africa’s activities, not to mention living with Mama Anna and her lovely family in Moshono. It was with them (and many, many members of the extended family) I spent Christmas Day, on the shores of Lake Basotu, sipping Safari beer in short sleeves until 7pm.

Happy New Year all… keep warm those of you in Europe.

Ross

Aye, Teacher's

Happy St Andrew’s Day! What I’d give for a plate of stovies and a copy of “Sunshine On Leith” right now…

Anyway, since coming down off Meru, there has been a lull in my blogging activities, for various reasons, which I am finally getting the opportunity to address. My second month with RISE Africa has been a busy one; I have been writing extensively for a range of local organisations, including two schools, Ngarenanyuki and Nkoaranga, and a home-based care project, Msamaria.

To recap, the purpose of my work is to ultimately help these organisations improve their business activities, and try to connect them with donors who may be able to help them. I feel like I am partly achieving this objective – the proposals I have written are well-received by the organisations I am working with, yet I am quickly discovering that trying to entice donors is a lengthy, frustrating process. Welcome to the world of international development…

It doesn’t help that my laptop is ridden with viruses, plus I have very limited, slow internet access, which makes hunting for the relevant people even more difficult. It’s something I will perhaps be able to do better when I return to Scotland next year. But explaining that to people like the head of the home-based care project, who is absolutely desperate (a word I hate, but appropriate here) for cash now for the HIV-affected families she supports, isn’t easy.

~ ~ ~

Anyway, my stint with RISE officially ends on Friday, but I am ready to assist them in anyway I can while I am in Tanzania and beyond. Moshono has been a brilliant place to live and work, not least because of my host family who have made me more than welcome.

There have been a few highlights of my time under Mama Anna’s roof, but my favourite came a couple of weeks ago. One afternoon, the father of the house, Kazzy, asked me a question:

“Ross, what is a Facebook?”

I explained, gave him the whole social networking spiel, and found out why he was asking. It turned out he has a daughter in Canada, who he has not seen since she was a baby 24 years ago. During one of their calls, the daughter explained she used Facebook, and urged him to check it out so he could see some up-to-date pics of her, as the latest ones he has are from 1997. Natch, I suggested to Kazzy that I escort him down to the local internet café where we could hunt for his daughter together through my Facebook account.

This was a piece of piss; we quickly found the girl we were looking for, and sent her an email to introduce ourselves. The next day when we returned to the internet café, both Kazzy and I were delighted to find a cheery email from her, which gave us access to dozens of pictures – not just of the daughter but of her own gorgeous baby daughter, who Kazzy had never seen a picture of.

Prints were made, which Kazzy has since taken great pride in regularly examining. We celebrated afterwards with a few bottles of Kilimanjaro, which we will do again when I join him and other members of the family for Christmas.

Finally, something Facebook is good for, other than skiving!

~ ~ ~

After three months (and Bixler, you will be delighted to hear this), my attitude to the local music is softening. I am finally embracing Bongo Flava, Congolese and other variants of African music popular in Tanzania. My favourite song, which is never off the radio, is called “Piip Piip” by a guy called Marlow.

It’s all in Swahili, but according to my mate, it’s all about a fella who is in the car, and late en route to meeting his missus (the “Piip Piip” is the toot of his car horn).

Anyway, that’s not to say “Sunshine On Leith” wouldn’t sound REALLY terrific today…

Home later for a nip of Teacher’s. Off to Eldoret in Kenya on Friday to do something super-exciting that I can’t wait to tell you all about later…

Bye for now,
Ross

PS Princes Street now open to traffic??