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