This is the first of a four part series on Team Tanzania Development Support’s 2016 trek to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro and its delivery of charitable donations to the Village of Nyegina in Tanzania’s Mara region. For other parts of this series, please use the term “Kilimanjaro” in this site’s search function.
I have joined a group of Americans and Tanzanians who will hike to the
19,341 foot summit of Tanzania's Mount Kilimanjaro. It will be a challenge like
no other I've attempted. Our trek will follow the Lemosho Route and take
a grueling 5 1/2 days to get to the top, then a speedy 1 1/2 days to get to the
bottom.
The trip is designed to raise awareness of the difficulties Tanzanian
children have in obtaining a proper, 21st century education. In raising such
awareness, we have also accumulated funds from many different generous donors
(over $55,000 to date) through our not-for-profit NGO (Tanzania Development
Support). These dollars will be used to build a computer lab wing in a library
and community resource center in the small village of Nyegina. I had to
pleasure of being a part of this library's construction when on a service trip
several years ago. It will be more than fulfilling to now be able to add to its
functionality to address these educational needs.
Preparation and physical conditioning, of which I've done a lot in the
past several months, will be the key to any hope for success in getting to
the top. But, success still remains to be seen.
For now though, I take advantage of the opportunity to relax on my long
flight from the U.S., starting out from O'Hare, connecting through Detroit, the
overseas flight to Amsterdam, and then the long haul south to Tanzania.
After the short hop from Chicago to Detroit, I connect to my flight to
Amsterdam. I listen to conversations around me. Three ladies behind me are
talking amongst themselves, asking when they should take their next malarial
pill.
Wait, malarial pill? That's what I have to do!
I quickly find out they are part of our U.S. contingent. I introduce
myself to Madonna, Kathy, and Caroline, all from Wyoming. Their itinerary also
had them connecting through Detroit. We talk briefly. But, since we know
we have many days ahead to acquaint ourselves with each other, we retreat to
our individual cocoons that are our cramped plane seats.
I scroll through the in-flight movie selections as I listen to Van
Morrison's "Astral Weeks" album on the plane's audio system. I'm
interested in watching the movie "Everest" which I see is among the
complimentary video selections. It's about the disaster that occurred in 1996
killing half a dozen climbers as they attempted to summit that mountain.
On second thought, maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea to watch that
one right now.
Arusha
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| The Leopard Hotel |
We leave our hotel mid morning for a drive to Arusha. It is there that we will tour various facilities and institutions whose missions correlate with our focus on education.
I see a man, squatting on his haunches, sifting through a road-side burn pile, looking for scraps of food, or maybe aluminum to resell later, doing what he can to basically survive. A mother dressed in a brightly colored kanga leaves a dusty storefront, a child's hand in hers, both carrying two live chickens by their feet, destined for tonight's cook pot. Other women, many of them, carry supplies on their heads. The most common cargo is large bundles of green, unripe bananas or plantains. Nearby, an un-tethered donkey roams the road's shoulder, lumbering out onto the road, slowing all traffic as it takes it time to cross.
As we approach Arusha, traffic builds. It is bumper to bumper.
Only those on the ubiquitous motorcycles can make decent progress since they
ride the road's shoulders, ignoring all traffic laws, if even such laws exist. A
store advertises itself as "Downtown Hardware." I note that it is
nowhere near the city center. It is next to one of many bed frame stores.
Not mattresses mind you, just bed frames made of either wood or iron. Maybe
they should link up with the mattress stores in the U.S. which are also
everywhere you look.
In town, the plush, green oasis of a golf course lines a city street. It
stands out incongruously amongst the drab and dusty exteriors of adjacent
storefronts and shops. We see more examples of wealth as we get closer to town.
We learn the beginning of the town's newfound largesse was from the
international dollars that flowed into the area in the 1990s when Arusha served
as the hub of the criminal tribunals that followed the genocide in nearby Rwanda.
More recent contributors however, are the European tourists and the monies they
spend while visiting the area.
At a dusty roadside storefront, we meet Kim and his wife Stella. They
own and operate the East Africa ceramic company. Their main business is to
manufacture ceramic water filters. Bad, disease ridden water is a big problem
in rural Tanzania. If your kid gets sick from bad water, he or she cannot go to
school. If mom or dad gets sick, the kids have to stay home to tend to family
matters, all at the expense of a proper education. We learn they have
recently won a U.N. international award for their cheap, environmentally
sensitive water filter system. They show us their awards, trophies, and
certificates. They beam with pride, and rightfully so.
Our next stop brings us to the Mwangaza Educational Center. The program
coordinators describe for us their main mission: teach the teachers. There is
no continuing education culture here in Tanzania. Many teachers attend a year
or so of teaching school, and that's it. They may teach for ten, twenty
years thereafter without ever learning more about the advances in the topics
they are teaching. The Center hopes to correct that over time.
The day's activities have been instructive and illuminating. They provided
the right context to help us better appreciate the fundraising effort we have
undertaken. The path toward a good education has many facets whether it is
through safe, healthy water, proper training for teachers, or the creation of a
computer lab to give a modern, 21st century education to Tanzania's youth.
Moshi
I awake the next morning to yet another impressive view of the mountain.
It stands tall and proud. "Come big boy," it seemingly says.
"Are you just all talk? Are you going to climb up here or not?"
Tomorrow my friend. I'll see you tomorrow.
I head off on my own after breakfast to tour the city. Being white,
with a camera in one hand and a tour guide book in the other, I am swamped
with touts. Like bees to honey, they are all over me. "Papa," they
say, "do you want to buy a t-shirt?" "Do you have a guide for
Kilimanjaro?" "Do you want to see more of Moshi?" "I have
paintings, do you want to buy?" "Where are you from?" "Ah!
Obama land!" is the common reply when I tell them.
Finally, I choose from amongst the scrum of people a young man who
appears to be the most honest. Dancan Mussa guides me through the areas of town
off of the tourist trail. His English is very good. So too, I soon find out, is
his Spanish, French, and Japanese. He makes his living as an ad hoc tour guide
and seller of paintings made by the children in the orphanage where he
volunteers.
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| Dancan Mussa |
We walk by stalls lining the streets. There is no spot in which there
isn't some type of product being sold. I don't know how the storefronts behind
the stalls can even make a sale, for you are quickly intercepted by the
itinerant merchant out front.
Along one stretch, there are many Maasai people selling a variety
of products, but mostly herbs and powdered medicines from plants and animal
parts. Many have open, extended ear lobes through which pins, trinkets, and
small plates have been inserted. I ask to take a picture. Dancan suggests I
should pay them no more than 1000 TSH, about $0.50. When offered, the Maasai
tell me that that is not enough. Dancan leads me away. "Too much," he
says. I never get my picture.
In the market area, there are merchants selling all kinds of produce.
Vegetable, cloth, live chickens, and sides of beef (goat?) hanging from hooks.
Flies are everywhere. Dancan introduces me to several of them. We exchange hi's
and hello's in English and Swahili. He tries to explain for me the subtle
differences in the Swahili spoken by those from one tribal area versus another.
I don't retain any of what he tells me.
We continue to meander through the stalls. Little kids have been
following us. They have plastic bags in hand, taken from some refuse pile they
have scavenged. They hope that I will buy something from the merchants, knowing
that I will have to then buy from them one of their bags in which to hold my
purchases.
We see where they make beer. I'm told the beer made here is not high in
alcohol content. "People consume it to make them feel more full, since
they otherwise have little to eat," Dancan describes for me. Still, I
see many sprawled along the benches as if they've passed out from too much
of the drink.
Guiltily, and perhaps because I'm a little thirsty as well, I offer to
buy Dancan a beer. It's only 11:00a.m., but what the hell. We stop at a street-side,
non-descript cafe. We talk of politics and his future while we drink our
Kilimanjaro's. Then we drink some more. And then maybe one thereafter,
"for the road." Dancan's command of our language and our idioms are
impressive.
I pay him for his services. He gives me some hand-made paintings in
return. He leads me a circuitous path back to the hotel. The main course is
back through the narrow pathways in markets we traversed earlier. Given my
state, it's all I can do not to walk on the piles of tomatoes or fall on the
stacks of dried fish.
I make it back in time to join our group to get briefed by our guides
for the upcoming trek. Much of what they share I've already read in the
literature given to us pre-departure. Hearing it first hand, however, is still
valuable.
Some souvenir shopping with the others fills the afternoon. We get back
to the hotel for an early dinner before retiring for the evening. I am
breathless walking up the hotel's three flights to my room.
That is not a good sign.
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