Risky

 Risky

Whichever way you go, getting to Tanzania from New Zealand, takes about thirty six hours of flying time. Our first time was from Auckland via Los Angeles to Amsterdam and then down to Kilimanjaro Airport. In those days, Kilimanjaro Airport was a bit worse for wear and KLM was the only international airline that was prepared to pay the insurance cost to land there. Not only is it a long trip, it still is also expensive. Nevertheless, a few of our friends took the opportunity to visit us while we were there, a chance for them to see some of the continent and to taste a little of what we were experiencing in rural areas.

The son and daughter of our good friends arrived, each with a friend, all nice kids and all in their early twenties. We met them at the airport, the flight from Amsterdam as usual arrived at 9:00 pm. The arrival process could be a bit daunting for first time visitors because the lighting in the airport was dim, not helped by the varnished wood panelling and the African officials seemed to blend in with the gloom. The immigration process wasn’t as strict as it is now, so I was able to help them through with a few words of polite Swahili. Once through and on the road home, the kids noticed there was no street lighting, the only lights they saw were other vehicles leaving the airport and the odd household storm-lantern or candle along the way. The main road was sealed but the four kilometre stretch of clay track to our house was bumpy dusty and pitch black beyond the headlights.

Mbise heard us coming up the track and had opened the gate for us. His appearance was also dim. He wore an old, warm, brown coat that reached almost to the ground and in the murk it was only his welcome smile that showed up. The kids soon came to know him and enjoyed his company. It’s easy to become a little blasé about our daily sights and experiences, so it was refreshing to hear the excitement in the young voices as they reminded each other of what they had seen.

We gave the kids a couple of days to recover from jetlag and to walk around the village. First they met our nursery workers who tried to make them comfortable and tried to teach them a few Swahili words as well as showing off some of their English. Local kids also came, most of them curious, because the young attract the young, especially the local girls because of their fascination of the straight hair mzungu females have.

We didn’t allow people staying with us to break our routine too much because they wanted to see and experience what we were doing. There’s a subtle difference in attitude among Tanzanians. Back home when someone knocks at the door, its often a case of, ‘Who’s this?’ With initial expectation its a likely nuisance. But Tanzanians mean what they say, ‘Wagine ni baraka!’ Guests are a blessing. So taking visitors anywhere, afforded them a welcome they wouldn’t see at home. At schools, the kids would invariably sing for them, or perhaps put on an impromptu role play – often poking fun at me out of me and my dislike for goats. Depending on the school’s finances, a cup of tea or a soda would be produced and if I happened to be delivering trees, the guests planted one each as kumbukumbu, remembrance.

It isn’t a proper trip to Africa unless you see the wild animals, so we took the kids on safari, overnighting in the Tarangire National Park. To reach half of our work area, we passed through the Arusha National Park and they saw plenty of giraffe, buffalo, zebra (at a distance) and the cute little Dik Dik up close, but there are no big cats through there and while there are elephants, we seldom saw them. On safari there was good viewing from the Landrover, Mags and I in the front, two kids in the back seat and the other two had plenty of room in the rear compartment with seats and the big side windows as well as the big rear window in the door. There were a few Thompson’s gazelle and some zebra by the gate and close to the road. The kids were amazed how smooth the coats of the animals were and how definite their markings were. We knew the first photos are seldom the best, but its natural to think you might not see any more, so we allowed clicking-time. While the best photos were taken out of the side windows with the glass down, it pays to keep them up as much as possible because tsetse flies bite right through clothing and the buggers really hurt! Of course, first priority, I had to show off my favourite baobab tree, the one with the hole through its trunk. Baobabs store water – upwards of one hundred thousand litres - in their soft fibres so during times of drought, elephants dig into them with their tusks in the search of water, but I’ve not seen another with a hole right through it.

It’s common to see groups of elephants near the gate and below the safari lodge and the kids happily clicked away at them with their cameras. We stopped beside a sandy creekbed to watch a speckled woodpecker with its bright red beak when I spotted a large monitor lizard basking on a rock. He was about a metre and half long, the biggest lizard the kids had seen!  He looked like a piece of weathered log, grey in colour but a second look revealed a green tinge from its small spots. We heard the squeal of a young elephant, so I drove to where there was a ford in the creekbed to find the matriarch drinking from a hole she had dug in the sand. By the depth her trunk went down, the water must had been almost half a metre below the surface, but she looked at peace standing there. The young elephant we heard was playing, running up the bank and sliding back down.

There are pluses and minuses of taking your own vehicle through a park, the advantage the safari companies have is they are linked by radio so if one spots a rare animal, they can let other safari drivers know the location. But on your own you are with people you know and you can stop and do what you like, mind you, you have to follow the rules which are all sensible; like not driving off the existing tracks and not getting out of your vehicle.

Leopards and cheetahs are rare in Tarangire so we didn’t see any on this trip, but we saw plenty of lions and the kids were fascinated in their size and grace. On the last stretch before heading back to base, I saw a tail flick near the edge of the road. I stopped beside it and the kids were quick to spot three lions feeding on a wildebeest carcass. The kill was very fresh. We watched for a while but a scrubby bush spoiled a perfect view and photo, so gingerly, I climbed out my window and onto the roof, intending to take a quick snap. Irresponsible? No doubt! As I turned to climb down, I found I had company! The two kids in the back had calmly opened the back door and climbed up to join me! I ordered them back immediately but told them to move slowly but surely! They quickly saw that I was quite tense, and they suddenly realised the danger! I kept and on the lions and the periphery until the kids were safe, and then slowly retreated the way I had come!

Had one or other of those kids been injured, I would have had an awful lot of explaining to do! It’s easy to forget that even though the animals are used to vehicles, they are still wild animals! Thank goodness wildebeest tastes so good! 

Ngarash Primary School

Ngarash Primary School

Back in ninety five, schooling had it’s challenges in a third world country like Tanzania, especially in rural areas. The issues were many and varied, not at all to be blamed on the kids, although it was their numbers that had a big impact on school infrastructure. While the country’s population was growing rapidly, the economy was lagging far behind, with the country’s whole infrastructure simply unable to keep pace.

I’m no educationist but did work with schools back home in the capacity of lecturing about matters environmental and forestry. I also tried to encourage secondary students to take forestry on as a career during vocational seminars at local schools, which I found to be a bit of a challenge. And living small rural townships, most parents were involved in running the local school, so I too was roped into doing my bit. Boiling it all down, I had a fair idea how schools were run and funded.

German East Africa included what is now Tanzania and remained under German control until the end of WWI when Britain, through conquest took over. Like all colonists, both countries thought they owned place, which was typical of any colonial power of the day. During those times, churches played a dominant role, and it was common that alongside churches, there was a school and a hospital, or at least a clinic. Come 1964, independence was won, Uhuru! The word’s literal meaning is freedom, and that’s how the people saw it. Stewardship of the country became the responsibility of Julius Nyerere, ‘The Father of the Nation’. In the early days, he was influenced by Russian communist principles, so he nationalised everything, including the schools and hospitals which quickly fell into disrepair along with the whole economy. That’s no criticism, it’s just how life was when I turned up there, but it still seemed odd to me that the German influence remains, while there’s hardly any sign of the British.

Hifadhi, the outfit I worked for, had applied to The Agency for a volunteer, they’d written up a project proposal for which they gained funding, but they didn’t really expect anyone would actually knock on their door. Consequently there was no structure laid down or no real job for me when I arrived there. Luckily my local co-worker, Joshia, was a keen forester and we gelled from the start. Joshia agreed with me that if we wanted to be successful in the villages, the best way was to have the children on our side and the logical way to do that was working with primary schools.

I was still struggling with Swahili but had begun, with limited resources, to set up a tree nursery at the back of the Hifadhi property. Joshia was keen to introduce me to some of the village primary schools and start working. I never quite worked out how Joshia knew so many people, all the schools we worked with, happened to be through contacts he had made. Maybe it was tribal, where everyone was distantly related, ndugu is the word, which also means comrade a hark-back to the Russian leanings. Perhaps it was because he was choir master at a large Lutheran church and through the competitions with other choirs he had established contacts – however it occurred, it was helpful to our evolving project.  

Ngarash was one of the earlier schools we worked with, a school that didn’t seem quite as worn as some of the others. Still they had very limited resources: too many kids to a desk and text books that were child-worn and no longer suiting the curriculum. However, the head teacher had her students in the palm of her hand and she was supportive of a planting programme at the school. The planting programme went well and the kids worked diligently, to create a guava orchard on the west side of the school.

To motivate the kids I suggested that we make a show of carefully inspecting and measuring the trees. Each tree needed a shelter to keep browsing animals at bay and to create shade, so we also assessed each shelter the kids had made. The idea was to award a prizes for the best tree or shelter. Well, it turned out that they were all excellent making it impossible to decide on the best! So although still unfair, we selected the best ten. We had no project money so I bought some pencils and avocados to give out. Joshia spoke to the kids and told them of the difficulty to select the best, so as an additional prize, anyone who wanted to, could come up and shake the hand of the mzungu. The white guy. They all wanted to! At the time I thought they were pretty miserable prizes, but on reflection I realised that all the kids came from subsistence farming families and so their expectations weren’t very high. We made it obvious that neither of us had wealth and weren’t much different to them. This was a significant lesson for me. There was even a song that went: It’s a gift for a child… and even if its small, its still a gift. It’s a bit more lyrical in Swahili.

At the same time, The Agency’s Assistance to Primary Schools project started, and through it, we were able to deliver school desks, teachers’ tables with chairs, storage cupboards, new text books together with teachers’ copies, science kits, world and Tanzania maps, writing slates, chalk, and blackboard paint. The handover of the items was a school celebration, and although the assistance package wasn’t part of our environmental project, kudos from the schools fell on me, which encouraged the school to please me in the only way available to them, viz. making a best effort with the environmental programme.

Our visits to the school were regular but sporadic over the two years I worked with Hadithi, and after the two years were up I moved to another project. Some five years later, after dropping off a friend’s daughter at her secondary school, which happened to be in the approximate area of Ngarash Primary School, I decided to call on the old school. At the approach of my vehicle, the same head teacher stood outside to greet whoever might be calling. I was in a different vehicle to the one the head teacher was familiar with, but when she saw me alight, she stood there slightly stooped with an expansive smile and began a slow, quiet, rhythmic hand clap. She then began calling quietly, ‘Babu, Babu, Babu….’ (Grandfather, Grandfather Grandfather) I stood there, a tad emotional! It was like one of those flash-crowds! Slowly, one by one or in groups, the rest of the school came out to stand behind her until the clapping and chanting rose to a crescendo! I had seen nothing like it, expected anything like it.

The school had changed, the guava orchard had gone and in its place, two new classrooms had been built! The other trees we planted were doing well, two guava trees remained and they were bearing fruit… and so was the school.  

Blue and Red

Red and Blue

After having owned the property for nearly fifty two years, it was time for Henry to give up swinging his chainsaw and move into town. The decision wasn’t an easy one, but for once the head ruled the heart and of course as in any partnership Mags’ wishes needed to be considered as well. He was none too fussed about having a real estate sign at the gate, nor about people mooching around the property assessing what a lifetime’s commitment might be worth in cash terms to them. But it’s a process that anyone who’s owned property must go through at some time – like it or not.

One of the reasons Henry drives a1984 model utility truck is that he can’t be bothered trooping around car-sale yards, listening to the blabber of salesmen and choosing from a bunch of clones! So the prospect of looking for a replacement home was like some monstrous storm on the horizon and he knew consensus would be as likely as striking it lucky on Lotto! But somehow it happened and quicker than expected. But Henry still had concerns that the buyer of his property might renege.

Anyway, the transactions went smoothly and packing commenced! During fifty two years, there’s an accumulation, collections, memorabilia and handy stuff, much of which he stored in a forty foot shipping container. As a matter of fact, when he bought the container, his sister-in-law told him that he was downright foolish because upon his death, someone would have to deal with all the so-called treasures. Happily Henry ain’t dead yet and it turned out he was the one dealing with the treasures, but it goes to show, sometimes sister-in-laws have a measure of wisdom! A lot went to charity shops, he sold few things on a trading site, like the anvil he could no longer lift, some things he sold to a second hand shop and a few items were donated to the local museum.

Applying logistics, Henry hired a covered truck, which the guy promised would carry everything from a three bedroomed home. Theirs was a three bedroom alright but a smallish one, but Henry hoped it would be ok. The truck had a platform at the back that folded up like a half-door and could help lift heavy things from ground level to deck level. A most helpful push-button gadget! Possession date for both properties was on a Monday, so Henry hired the truck for the Sunday and the Monday – Sunday to load the truck and Monday to unload it. He wasn’t sure how difficult the task would end up being.

There was only going to be one chance at loading, if the order of loading was wrong, they weren’t going to be able to unload and have another go. Time and their helpers wouldn’t take too kindly to doing so. Henry had already taken three loads into town aboard his old ute, so that should lessen the big load and Steve turned up with his large trailer, which was their contingency plan, a plan that had to be utilized – twice over! Despite the truck being loaded with the precision of a banana packer, there was a two-trailer surplus.

Another complication had arisen a fortnight before loading day. The annual valley BBQ-cum-get-together was scheduled for the day of loading and their departure from the valley. Henry and Mags quickly decided that loading took priority, a plan that was undone by a deputation that insisted a bite to eat was appropriate to sustain a bunch of would-be truck-loaders. Of course Henry and Mags realised that the valley wanted to offer their farewells, so while Steve was off with the first trailer load, they shared a sausage and the odd kind word with the valley folk.

By the time the sausages and words had been digested, Steve had returned and loaded most of what remained of the accumulation. Steve helped Henry finally close the back door of the truck while Mags, with a tear in the eye, swept the last of the dust from the garage. Henry didn’t allow nostalgia to seep in and waved for her to travel ahead of him in the car, which was packed to the gunnels with clothes and oddments. Henry was careful to drive slowly and smoothly for the twenty five kilometres journey, hoping the load wouldn’t shift and potentially cause damage. Regularly he pulled over to avoid a buildup traffic behind him, impatient drivers don’t like to be held up by slower, older vehicles! He was aware that from the Kakanui bridge, there’s no safe place to overtake and before reaching the town, and he noticed a woman driving a SUV towing a double horse float was tucked in behind him.

Mags occupied the last of the pull-off spaces, she had stopped, worried that Henry seemed too far behind her. She waved as he passed her but started ringing him at once! Of course he wasn’t going to answer while he was driving. At the first set of traffic lights, he had to respond to a red light and his phone rang again, on green he parked safely on the side of the road outside a hardware store. In his rear-view he saw the woman in the SUV pull up behind him, meanwhile his clever phone told him that Mags had rung six times! In the rear-view mirror the woman from the SUV was walking towards him. He though he was in for an ear-blasting for going too slow!

The woman wasn’t angry at all, rather, she was concerned and told him that the truck’s back door was wide open and the accumulation was in danger of toppling out! Henry, while still fussing with is phone, acknowledged her concern, but quickly realised he wasn’t quite polite enough, so he climbed from the cab but by the time he reached her she was ready to drive off. He thanked her, and apologised for causing her concern. In return she apologised because having no alternative, she called *555, a direct line to the police for traffic offences. Henry swore under his breath, but told her that she had acted responsibly, and understood her predicament. Suddenly, around the corner came blue and red lights atop a police car! As the woman drove off, the police car pulled up into the space she had left vacant.

A tall, young woman stepped out of the car with a smile on her face and a friendly attitude. She told Henry she was responding to three *555 calls about him, but because nothing had actually fallen out, she wasn’t going to give him a ticket. She advised not to blame the woman in the SUV for calling the police because stopping suddenly with her load of horses would put them in danger and Henry fully agreed. The platform that folded up to act as a half-door had saved the load and the policewoman helped Henry adjust the load to allow the proper door to close and lock shut. Henry reckoned the policewoman was stronger than him and appreciated her help.

Mags had parked up the road and walked back expecting Henry to be in trouble, and was relieved when the policewoman chatted to her in a friendly way. As is police protocol, she asked Henry to produce his driver’s licence, which complied with the larger-type vehicle, and finally she required him to take a breath test. Right there on the side of the road and on the main street! He hoped he wouldn’t be seen! Anyway, he hadn’t been drinking, even though there was plenty on offer at the BBQ. The policewoman repeated that she wasn’t going to ticket him and in her report, she told him, she would say the door had a faulty catch.

Henry waits, somebody he knows was bound to have seen him breathing into the infernal machine, and that someone will be waiting for the right moment!