Christmas & Birthday - In Zanzibar

Well....today I'm in Mwanza, on Lake Victoria (Africa's largest lake) and its my last day of fast internet for who knows how long, so I'm going to use today to share some photos with you.  (Just so you all know, whenever I post blog posts from Murgwanza aka WomenCraft, it takes me about 2-3 days.  I have to re-load the page, edit, or the internet just simply goes out and I lose everything. So...when you're thinking a blog post takes about 5 minutes to write and 30 seconds to post...know it doesn't :)

I just had a week plus of vacation, and went to one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen: Zanzibar.  To get there, Hilary & I took a 10 hour bus from Ngara to Mwanza, a 2 hour flight from Mwanza to Dar es Salaam, and then a 2 hour ferry to Zanzibar.  Total with hotel stays, cab rides, etc, it took us 2 full days of transit to get there.

Besides visiting the beaches and shopping, we did a couple of tours...one on Christmas, one the day after, and one on my birthday.  Christmas day we visited Prison Island, a 20 minute boat ride from Zanzibar, and mingled with giant tortoises and saw the prison where slaves were kept.  On the 26th, we went on a spice tour where we tasted herbs and fruits that the island produces, including cloves, black pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, breadfruit, jackfruit, vanilla and lemongrass, and then visited the Magapwani caves and beach. On my birthday, we swam with dolphins and snorkeled in Kizimkazi, and then went on a jungle trek and saw monkeys in Jozani-Chwaka Bay National Park.  A birthday to remember, without a doubt.  We lived it up, and with our limited budget did as much as we could.

Although Zanzibar was undeniably beautiful and a nice change of pace from Ngara town, it was also draining.  We were heckled non-stop by people trying to sell us anything they could on the streets, and the "just wait" (meaning don't be in a hurry...things will happen when they happen) attitude seemed to be exaggerated here in island time. So...if you plan a trip to Zanzibar in your future, be sure to bring your patience with you!  hahahaha.

Tonight we celebrate New Years here in Mwanza with my two other co-workers, Shannon & Geoffrey.  We have reservations at a Japanese restaurant that is situated on top of Lake Victoria.  Should be a pretty cool way to ring in the New Year!  I'll be limiting my champagne intake however...as our bus for Ngara LEAVES at 5am tomorrow.  Don't want to miss it!

Ok, well enjoy a couple of picks from my trip!  Oh, and I am very close to buying my return ticket home.  So...I will be sending you all an email soon to let you know when I'm returning!  Miss you all so much and wishing you a very Happy New Year!  Thanks for all the love and support - it means so much.

Obama supporters in a local cafe in Dar es Salaam

Dar es Salaam...from the ferry heading to Zanzibar

Stonetown, Zanzibar

Christmas Eve - Zanzibar/Stonetown

View from Prison Island (Zanzibar in background)

Ahoy matey!

Sunset from Stonetown - Christmas Day

Masaai Warriors on Christmas Day

Magapwani Beach

The market in Zanzibar

Market in Zanzibar

Spread 'Em! Christmas Cheer, That Is :)

Happy Holidays Everyone!

I'm going to make this short & sweet, since I'm on vacation...but I do FINALLY have semi high-speed internet, so I'm going to take this opportunity to upload some pics!

A few days before we left on vacation, I visited the Nazereti Street Boys Orphanage with a couple of my co-workers, and we donated toys to them as a Christmas gift.  I also brought them a very special toy that I had been given in India...given with the promise that I would give it to a child in Africa.  You launch it, and it flies through the air and lights up!  Very cool indeed.  It took me FOREVER to figure the thing out (as you can tell by the look on my face), but once I did, it was a hit.

I head back to the orphanage on Jan. 5th to teach them dance.  25 street boys...wish me luck!

Enjoy!  Love and miss you all, and wishing everyone nothing but wonderful happiness in the New Year!

In Sickness & In Health

Illnesses run rampant in developing countries, and Tanzania is no exception to the rule. The business to be in for profit here locally without a doubt is funerals, and we hear of someone who's passed away or has been killed weekly. Ok, Ok...so people die weekly in the US too, I know, but it's different here. With limited or no access to medical resources (or money to meet that need), people simply deal with the cards they've been dealt until they can do no more. Malaria is the number one killer in Tanzania, but locally here in the past year or so there has been a new scary outbreak of Rabies which has caused several deaths...so I steer clear of the dogs in the streets. The HIV and AIDS epidemic also does not help, as a weakened immune system for many here locally means that there's an even slimmer chance that they'll recover from anything they may catch.

Have I gotten sick? You bet. It all started when I was in India. Jarrod & I both expected that I would get sick (not many people escape India without getting something apparently), but he helped me to do everything that I could to avoid it. I brushed my teeth using bottled water, washed my hands or used hand sanitizer before every meal, and tried to eat only at restaurants recommended by someone we knew or that were listed in a travel guide. It wasn't until my third week of travel that I caught anything at all.

We took many modes of transport while in India, but lucky for us this day we had randomly decided to take a car. Our taxi was going to drive us just a few short hours from Kovalum to Varkala (or “Barfkala as I aptly renamed it), a very popular tourist trap on the Western shore of India. We left shortly after lunch, and I started feeling nauseous immediately. Usually when I start feeling sick, I can calm my mind, concentrate and force myself to hold it together, but nothing was stopping this beast this time. I had already mentioned to Jarrod that I was feeling kind of off, but this time I turned to him in the backseat and calmly said “I think we might need to pull over”. He paused for a moment, and then interpreted my sentence into its correct meaning: “pull the f&!@ over now!” He asked our driver to do so, and we made it JUST in time for me lose my load out the side of the car, a sight for all to see. This continued every hour, on the hour, during the rest of our taxi drive and for the remainder of the day once we arrived. Every time I threw up, I prayed to God it was the last time. I'm fairly certain I've never been more violently ill in my life.

Having been so sick in India, I was confident that I would be in the clear in Africa...that it would be all out of my system. But, to no avail. My first week in Tanzania, all of us co-workers went out to a bar for some drinks and food, and to be a good sport (against my intuition), I tried the goat. Just one very small piece, but that was enough. I threw up all night long and since then, have been almost strictly vegetarian during my time here in Tanzania...and have yet to get sick again.

Everyone takes their turn, whether its vomiting, diarrhea or injuries. For example, my co-worker Linda sprained her ankle running in the hills here and was on crutches when I first arrived, and a few weeks ago Helena had a spark shoot out of her arm when lightening hit our office. Exciting stuff. And then, there's Shannon. A couple of weeks after I arrived here, my co-worker Shannon started noticing a bump on her foot. She thought that it was just a wart, but it kept growing and getting darker and darker by the day. She asked us what we thought it was, but no one knew. When conditions didn't improve, she finally went to see the doctor, and found out that a chigger had buried itself in her foot. She most likely got it out during one of our Route Week visits, and was criticized for wearing flip flops -not closed-toed shoes- in the mud. She had to have it dug out of her foot with a knife, and as bad as that sounds, it was even worse when they opened her up to find that it had started laying eggs in her skin...which also had to be dug out. Needless to say, for weeks we were all thoroughly examining our feet nightly, paranoid and nervous that we would share the same fate.

I, so far, have been very, very lucky. I get flea bites on a regular basis, but they are VERY minimal compared to those of several of my co-workers (some have huge rashes and scars covering their bodies from the severity of the bites). And only this week have I managed to injure myself. On Monday, I was carrying a huge duffle bag up the hill from our house to the office and I tweaked my hip. Not sure what I did, but it hurt like hell. Lucky for me, it repaired itself within a few days, and I was good as new...just in time for me to get tripped up in my mosquito net Thursday as I was exiting my bed, so that I could gracefully fall and face plant myself on the concrete floor of my bedroom. Good Morning Africa!

So...what am I doing to stay healthy? Well no matter how busy or lazy I feel, I make time to exercise. We go for hikes in the hills behind our house, or walk into town and back...which takes 40 minutes each way. Shannon leads yoga class once a week, and I do the same with hip hop. On top of that, Hilary has some pretty incredible work-out DVDs, so we get yoked with Jillian Michaels in the bedroom, using rocks from the hillside as weights. If solitary confinement in prison is anything like the isolation is out here in Murgwanza, I am confident that if I went to jail I would be like those inmates that do body building all the time, and would come out looking more ripped than I had been in 10 years!

In addition, I've been taking my malaria medication (which I hate). About half of my co-workers are not taking it, but I don't think its worth the risk...so I continue on. Also, I finally got my care package from my Dad this week, which contained lots of things to keep me healthy and sane. I don't think I've ever been so excited to see Flintstone Gummie Vitamins in my life!

And...then there's mental health. All of us “imports” out here do the best that we can with all of the tools in our belt to keep ourselves healthy and balanced, no matter what the day presents to us. We plan game nights together, special events (such as a Secret Santa exchange we had the other night – my idea, thank you very much), and most of all are just there to keep each other company. With the phones and internet working erratically and irregularly, it is very hard for all of us to communicate with our friends and family back home, so when someone reaches to the bottom of their barrel, we help to pick them back up. We remind each other why we're here, and what we're trying to accomplish, both personally and professionally, in the name of helping others.

This holiday season, my request is that you dig deep – into your heart, into your mind, or into your pockets if you prefer, to give something to someone else in need who truly needs it. Without the love, generosity and compassion of others, this life would be a lot more difficult for all of us. Try it - give just a little this Christmas season, and I think you'll be surprised to find how much/what you'll get back in return.

“I Hate This Bus”

“I hate this bus” Hilary turns to me and says, 30 minutes into our bus ride from Kahama to Arusha. It's 6:30am and we've been up since 5. We still have 9-12 hours of transit to go...as long as the bus doesn't break down. I look over at Hilary as we both catch air and are launched off our seats for the hundredth time. Her coca-cola almost explodes all over her. The expression on her face is priceless. She is less than amused. I erupt in laughter.

These days, I'm finding it easier to laugh instead of get frustrated. A three hour excursion often turns into ten, and anything that you can imagine can – and will – go wrong. I've learned to accept that every day there will be major stressors thrown in my face and that things will not go as planned. And I've found ways to cope with things being so.

In Tanzania, there are no bathrooms on the buses. No surprise really there, but there also are no planned bathroom stops. Or bathroom announcements for that matter. So on a 9-12 hour bus ride, things can get really interesting. On our bus to Arusha, we were lucky enough to stop at a gas station/convenience store a few hours into our ride. We saw masses of people exiting the bus, so we figured it was safe to do the same. We successfully found some bathroom stalls (although here I really prefer to go outside in the open air. The bathrooms are often beyond mention here) and then made our way back to the bus.

“Anything else you want to do before we get on?” I said to Hilary.

“Yeah...I think I'll check out the convenience store. See what they have,” she said. (After being in Murgwanza for months, stores with things such as face wash and deodorant are exhilarating).

I decide to wait outside, stretch my legs, and get some fresh air. All of a sudden, our bus starts pulling away, and people start running to jump on. 4.5 million shillings worth of WomenCraft products are on that bus – not to mention all of our personal items – and I am responsible for it all.

I run towards the bus and turn around and yell “Hilary!” Lucky for me, she's right behind me – also on guard since we both didn't know when the bus would officially take off. As it pulls away I jump on, and pull Hilary up behind me. She's the last one to make it.

Relieved and at peace with having made it on board, we let out a deep sigh.

...and then the bus parks. About 20 feet away from where we made our daring leap.

Embarassed, confused and dumbfounded (why was everyone ELSE running? Does anyone know what's going on here??!!) we decide to stay on the bus and wait it out until its really time to leave. We watch our fellow passengers re-board with their truck stop purchases, and our bus now holds about 10 chickens more than it previously did...including one rooster seated directly behind me, beak at the ready to peck at my head.

Our business trip to Arusha was a roaring success. When we left WomenCraft with all our products, Shannon informed me that she was giving us four times the amount of products than they usually sell during a fair.

“We're going to sell it all” I told her. She chuckled, but appreciated my optimism.

But...we did. We sold all of the products we brought with us. Elated, we returned home empty handed with heads high.

But wait. Before I returned home, there was a Belgian dilemma in the mix... named Maxime Seleck.

When Maxime and Alix (his girlfriend) came to visit me in Eugene this Summer, he told me that he'd be working in the DRC again this Fall, and that if I was in Tanzania he'd love to come visit. It sounded like a great plan to me, but I didn't have any details about my trip, where I was living, or what my work situation/days off would be at that point. Maxime wrote me again while I was in India, saying that he had to purchase tickets and make a decision quick.

“Maxime, I'm sorry,” I said. “I am in India and have no idea what the rules are or what things are going to be like when I arrive in Ngara. I wish I could help more”.

At this point, I figured that Maxime had given up. But...when I arrived in Ngara and checked my email for the first time, I had a message in my inbox from him:

“Hey! So I booked my tickets. I arrive December 3^rd. See you then!”

Now as I mentioned above, nothing goes as planned here. But if you know Maxime, you know that's right up his alley. “I've never planned before and it's seemed to work out quite well for me” he tells me confidently on the phone the day before he's expected to arrive in Murgwanza. And if you know me....I plan like nobody's business. Can you see where this is going?

Long story short, Maxime arrives in Murgwanza and I'm not there. Our transportation situation from Arusha to home gets complicated, and at the last minute it seems that Maxime and I are going to miss seeing each other by a matter of hours. After two days of waiting for me at WomenCraft, he has to leave and head North so that he can catch his flight out of Arusha on Monday. He came all the way to Tanzania to visit and I wasn't going to see him at all.

At the last minute, we decide that we can't let that happen. So...we make a plan. Maxime and I ask our drivers to cross paths in Lushunga - a small village between Murgwanza and Kahama- so that we can meet up. I'd planned on just saying hello and returning back to Murgwanza, exhausted after two straight weeks and weekends of work, but seeing him and feeling guilty for not being able to meet up, I decide to go with him. Work had given me permission to take a few days leave since I've been working so hard. And after all, Maxime assured me that he had a taxi already reserved to go to Mwanza, and that the same taxi could take me back to Ngara the following day.

10+ hours later...after traveling via taxi, bus, dhala dhala, and ferry...getting pelted by rain and heavy winds...we arrive in Mwanza long after dark. My dad happens to call me while we're on the bus – at night – in the middle of a lightening storm. “Hey...are you at a party or something?” my dad says, hearing the roar of the bus crowd. He's thrilled to learn of the situation (not), but isn't too surprised knowing the company I'm keeping.

Maxime and I passed a few great days in Mwanza (google it), taking loads of pictures of Lake Victoria (Africa's largest lake), catching up and enjoying yet another small break from African life. Two days later, I caught a bus back to Ngara and Maxime went on his way to Arusha. After getting my phone stolen (but luckily nailing the thief down and getting it back) and several marriage proposals, I was finally home. Familiar faces and places were very comforting.

I'll be working for the next two weeks and then we close WomenCraft for the holidays and I'm going on vacation. Where to? Well...you'll just have to stay tuned...

Home Schaweet Home

I've had several requests from friends and family to see photos of where I live.  This includes my dad, who just looked at my blog for the first time a few days ago.

So Dad...you're welcome.  This one's for you.  My living situation is so much more posh than the average living arrangement in Ngara.  I feel very spoiled.  Enjoy a small glimpse into my day to day...

Our back porch

My backyard - looking out at Rwanda

Dining Room - Opposite of the Living Room

Living Room

Hiking in my Backyard

This our our internet router.  I get a small chuckle every time I press the  power  button and get this message...

The water for our house is heated by fire...when they remember to light it!

My bedroom

View from the bed

Our company jeep...that I got to drive one time so far...on the wrong side of the road, with the stick shift on the left hand side!  Safi!

The exterior of the WomenCraft Retreat House aka my home

Guard Station - just opposite our house

I'm going, going..back, back...to Kigali, Kigali...

The day after my one month marker in Tanzania...I left the country. My co-worker/friend Hilary had suggested earlier on in the week the idea of going back to Rwanda to spend some time in Kigali. She had a friend from grad school that worked there that she really wanted to visit...and although the transit took more than half a day each way and we couldn't leave til Saturday...we decided it might do us some good to get out and see a bit more of East Africa. I'd flown into the Kigali, but all I had really seen so far was the airport.

Saturday morning started with an early morning pick-up from Edson (our co-worker) at our house, a ferry transit to the border, and then boarding a bus for Kigali. The bus was rather posh (compared to others I've ridden on in developing countries), but crowded. It cost us 3,000 Rwandan Francs...which is approx. $5 USD. The highlight of the journey without a doubt was our ticket taker, who rode the bus with us the whole way to Kigali. His t-shirt was the best I've seen so far. The second hand clothing market is really huge here, and so people sport a lot of shirts from Europe and the United States...without having a clue as to what they say in English. This man's shirt was neon pink, and read on the front “Q: Which girl does Jesus love?”...and on the back... “A: This girl”. I had to use all my restraint to not reach for my camera and snap a shot to share with you all. I also had to contain my laughter each time he passed through the bus.

After 5 hours of transit we arrived safely, and our amazing weekend in Kigali brought us to realize that it is a very complex city. On the outside, Kigali is a Westerner's dream: nice restaurants, clean streets, and hip clubs. But there is a lot more going on beneath the surface. For example, the French are banned in Rwanda, due to their funding of arms during the genocide for the Hutus, and the lack of support shown by the French government after the event had subsided. In connection, English is now the primary/first language taught in school, and although French is widely used in Rwanda still today, I've heard they only like to speak it with those who aren't native French speakers (which, luckily for me, worked in my favor).

People in Rwanda don't like to talk about the genocide, and the country is doing everything it can to clean up its image and attract Westerners (with money) to the area. For example, after the genocide subsided, a mandatory “clean up” was established by the government. One Saturday a month, from 8am-11am, every citizen was required to go outside and clean something: their yard, their house, the street. At that time, there were bodies littering the street and debris scattered everywhere. Kigali still adheres to its once-a-month cleaning strategy, and guards/policemen with rifles are posted on every street corner...making sure you follow regulations.

In another effort to create a “clean” look, Rwanda has recently (apparently approx. 2 months ago) decided to stop funding orphanages. They plan on closing all the orphanages in the country in the next few months. Their plan? Find families for the children. With all of the thousands upon thousands of orphaned children, this of course will not happen, and most if not all will become street kids. This policy is an example, in my opinion, that does not stray far from many other policies and decision I have seen made so far in Africa. Rash, quick decisions, with good intentions, backed by little or no education or plan.

Out of respect, we paid a visit to the genocide memorial in Kigali first thing upon our arrival. Although of course difficult to stomach, it is very well done and as the museum mentions, is an important reminder of what happened and why we should never let something like this happen again. There were many quotes that lined the walls of the museum, but one struck me more than others: “After the holocost, they said never again...did that not apply to us?” The museum had tools on display that were used by the Hutus to kill and torture the Tutsis, an entire room of human bones and remains, and a separate “childrens” room with photos of kids killed during the genocide, detailing how they lived their last moments. At this museum/memorial site alone, 250,000 people are buried.

I couldn't help but to look up from the displays every once in a while and notice the people around me, visiting the museum and taking in all the sites and horrors. Who were they? Was the woman next to me the wife of a husband who had been beaten down to his demise with a club? Was the man next to her a perpetrator from the Hutu clan who was visiting the museum to educate himself and console his conscious? There are a lot of tensions, unanswered questions and guilty parties still wandering around Rwanda and the surrounding areas, and you could certainly feel it at this time.

Apart from the history and culture learned about during our visit, I also learned a lot about myself. I had a perma smile on my face as I sipped on my white chocolate mocha at the Burbon Cafe, as I attended a fully catered holiday staff party (for Hilary's friend) in a 5-star hotel and as I zipped around the city at night on the back of a motorcycle. I had missed my Western pleasures and ways, and simply being in a bustling, happening city was rejuvenating. Our 24 hour stop-over in Kigali revived my spirit and connected me with some familiarity from the states....and Hilary & I are now determined to move out and away from Murgwanza a bit more often. See more, do more.

On that note, I have been asked to represent WomenCraft at a holiday craft fair (the Christmas Bazaar) in Arusha, Tanzania. Arusha is in the Northern part of Tanzania, and is right near Kilamanjaro. I didn't feel ready to make the trek by myself (it will be two days of travel each way and a hefty bus ride with products), so I asked my boss (Heidi) if Hilary could go with me. She obliged. We head that way in about 5 days from now. If all goes as planned, we should have internet that is reliable enough to Skype at our hostel...so I hope to connect with some of you at that time! We'll be there starting Nov. 29^th and will return to Murgwanza on Dec. 3^rd....when Maxime, my good friend and our old exchange student from Newport, will come to visit me (he is currently working in the DRC/Congo). I can't wait!

This weekend we have a professional in exports and design coming to visit us here at WomenCraft – Mark with CBI – and I will be giving a presentation on product design & development on behalf of our organization. Wish me luck! I am hoping some great ideas and new product lines come out of this meeting. I also hope Mark isn't messy or smelly...because he will be staying with us at the retreat house.

Oh! And one last thing. Thanksgiving. Shannon, Hilary & I, being the three Americans here, decided it only right and proper that we have a big Thanksgiving celebration and introduce the tradition to all of our new local Ngara and other Westerner friends. Thursday night we had approx. 30 people over at Heidi's house, and feasted like I haven't eaten in months (I made sweet potato casserole, in case you were wondering). We also made everyone – elders included – make hand turkeys (you know, where you trace your hand on a piece of paper and then decorate it/turn it into a turkey?) We lined the wall with them, and it was pretty awesome how into it people got. The most memorable and emotional part of the night however was without a doubt after the meal when we each went around a said what we were thankful for, and it was translated either from Swahili to English or vice versa. As always during this time of the year, a great reminder that we all, no matter where we come from, really do have so much to be thankful for.

Thanks for being in my life. Love you all. And will write more soon!

Happy Holidays :) (and somebody send me a Christmas CD...stat!)

One Month in the Tanz - Dance Baby Dance aka "Bomba Fresh"

So....last Friday was my one month marker in the Tanz....and I celebrated the way I know best...dancing!

Dance being my passion, I knew that I couldn't leave it behind when I left the states..that I would want to teach dance when I came to Ngara. I have been teaching hip hop weekly at our work/compound to my co-workers, but I wanted to go out and teach in the community.  I was quick to put the word out as much as possible that I was interested in teaching a dance class.  During my visit to Ngara Secondary School, they eagerly arranged for me to teach a hip hop (known as "Bomba Fresh" here) dance class on November 16th, after final exams.  With how many students?

....250.

Yep, 250 14-18 year old students, boys and girls, showed up last Friday for my dance class, and my co-worker Hilary was kind enough to come and assist me with "crowd control" as she called it.  We introduced ourselves outside, and then said "Karibu"...welcoming the kids to come into the auditorium. They rushed the building like their pants were on fire.  We ran inside.

Hilary and I put on the music (using my laptop, ipod and some borrowed speakers from a World Teach teacher at the school), and started with a simple slide clap.  Of the 250 students...only 10 kids actually moved their bodies.  We had a translator, and tried to get everyone dancing, but they didn't get the concept.  There are no extra-curriculars for these kids, so they aren't used to organized fitness classes. And never seeing white people,we were quite the spectacle in our spandex pants and hip hop shirts.  I jumped off the stage, and slide clapped through the crowd to try to get them energized...to no avail.  They just screamed and laughed at seeing my backside in such tight pants.

We then gave it a go at stretching (with our 10 participants, 240 onlookers), and then moved into hip hop skills (taught them the dougie, running man, etc).  I got a great ego boost every time I demonstrated something and the entire place erupted in cheers. With each new exercise, a few more students joined in.  Next we tried choreography, which was an epic fail.  After trying to teach and do the dance one time through, we asked them if they'd like to do it again and got a resounding "no".

OK- time for a new strategy.

Hilary & I jumped off the stage and corralled the students into a circle.  THIS they got.  Battle?  Heck yes.  I started off by jumping into the middle of the circle, doing a quick spin, into a baby freeze and then a head stall.  They loved it.  Then the dance idea caught on like wild fire.  There were boys doing round-off back-handsprings and various other acrobatics, sweet robot pop-and-lockers, and even one boy who went into the middle of the circle, whipped out his bandanna & safety goggles, and started rapping in Swahili. It was a free for all!  But the kids were having fun and moving, so I was stoked.  I ran around the circle and tried to encourage more and more kids to get involved.

Then, our "class" turned into a dance party/pure chaos. Every time I turned around, I had 30 kids in my face saying "Michael Jackson!  Justin Bieber?" while they grabbed at our hair and clothing...so exotic.  One boy even was brave enough to kiss my face.  Something needed to change.  So...knowing they wanted to hear the music, and needing something to distract from us two,  I started to bribe the kids to dance:

"Yes, I'll play Chris Brown for you...BUT if I turn on the music...you have to DANCE!  Deal?"
"Ok...yes ma'am.  But...you have to dance with us too".

So I showed them some moves, and they showed me theirs.  I was so impressed with how some of these kids could move!  We were invited back again, and I'm not quite sure if it was to dance with us some more or if they just wanted to touch our hair and skin some more out of fascination...but either way, we felt very appreciated!  We got several hugs and many, many thank yous that afternoon.  And..during the dance party at the end, Hilary said she even had several kids come up to her to show her some of the moves we'd taught them...such as the running man and the heel-toe. It made me feel good to know that they got something out of it, and we're taking something with them.  And I'm sure that if we go back, we will be better prepared for how to keep these kids entertained.  And...we'll probably also have a sign up sheet and reduce the class to...oh...about 20.

My First Route Week - Photos

 Tears flow from this little boy's eyes as he is soothed by his older sister.  Here, children are often seen carrying other children around on their backs, as mom and dad are busy doing other household chores.  Their mom is one of our artisans, part of the Gichacha group, located in Baraka.

 The Gichacha group leader, happy to be working.  And gorgeous to boot.  This artisan group actually has a building to work under (notice the UNHCR lining in this makeshift shelter).

 The son of one of our artisans of our Kanazi group, on the border of Burundi.  This is the most common toy we see here in Tanzania - old tire and stick.

 This is the home of one of our Kanazi artisan families, if not the home for multiple families of this group.

The secretary of the artisan group Umoja tallies the baskets made over the past month, ready to sell to WomenCraft.  Ernestina and I quality check every product, and when products are rejected, we sit with the artisan women and explain to them what needs to be changed and improved so they do not lose income the next time around.

 An artisan mother of the Murutabo group (in the village of Kumunazi) nurses her baby.  Notice the work uniforms, funding provided by a gracious donor.  These uniforms give the women a feeling of unity, and the money earned through WomenCraft ensures a bright future for their babies.

 A woman from the Murutabo group, in her work uniform, finishing up a product before collection.

 Children of the Murutabo women look on as they patiently (or impatiently) wait for us to finish our meeting.

A small Burundian boy watches the Mubayenge artisan group meeting, where 50+ women were present.  What a great thing for him to see...these strong, productive women in action.  I wonder what he's thinking...

My First Route Week - Summary

Well...I don't really know where to start. I am very torn in writing this next blog post.  When I started this blog, I wanted my blog to be only positive, uplifting, and inspiring to those who read it.  However, I also want it to be real, honest and raw. We all know that reality isn't always sunshine and roses.  And so I'm having a hard time striking a balance in between those two extremes after this past week. I'll do my best...

This past week was by far the most trying week I've had so far in Tanzania.  Not just for me, but for everyone here- from abroad -working for WomenCraft.  I saw almost every person here have a break down at some point, and I wasn't excluded from the norm.

Maybe it was the isolation.  Here in Murgwanza, life is simple and beautiful...but very remote.  The most traffic we see during the day is herds of goats passing through the mountains and the most excitement usually is one of us chasing some sort of animal out of the house (mouse, frog, tarantula...you name it).  And lets just say that none of us came here for the Ngara nightlife draw! We all came here to work...so weekends now offer new challenges.

Maybe it was the weather.  We've had torrential downpours on and off for a week and a half, with thunder, lightening, and even hail.  Sun breaks yes, but they have been scattered and rare.

Maybe it was the communication breakdown.  With the weather being so bad, access to the Internet and phones has been very rocky.  We've had periods of 24 hours + where nothing worked...which means not only can people not communicate with their loved ones, but it is hard to be productive at work as well. This creates a lot of road blocks in moving forward.

And maybe it was Route Week.  While visiting the artisans in the villages was extremely rewarding (people were warm, welcoming and overjoyed that it was pay day), there were also a lot of hard situations we encountered.  For some reason, I don't feel like laying all the details out in this blog of the struggles people here face day to day, and explaining to you the difficult decisions WomenCraft is faced with at this current time.  I can however tell you that for the first time in my employment history, some of the decision I have to make could - to some extent - mean life or death to someone.  And that is a very heavy weight on any one's heart.  And with that, comes a great deal of responsibility.

So we are working as a team, trying to be creative and do our best to help improve the lives for people here to our best ability...while simultaneously understanding that we can't change life here in Tanzania overnight, or help everyone.  I am going to try to post some pictures in my next post from Route Week (if the internet is fast enough). When women artisan groups become a part of WomenCraft, they sign a waiver saying that we can take unlimited photos - so my camera was out and in full swing. Unlike the people in town, these Tanzanians understand our shutter happy ways.  They have been taught through WomenCraft that our photography will help spread their story and help them to (hopefully) gain more sales and improve their livelihoods.

One thing's for sure: it's amazing how happy people can be with so many struggles and so little at their disposal.  A reality check for me, for sure. A reminder of how thankful I am for all of you and for the life/day to day reality I've been given.

Obama for the WIN!

First off, I'd like to apologize for the formatting on this blog.  For example, different sized font in the same paragraph in some of my text, and a really massively huge goat picture.  I can't fix it!  hahaha.  It's Africa...that's all I can say.  You'll just have to be patient with me...and this continent...like I have been trained to be.

Second, Obama for the WIN!  Sweet.  We all sat around the computer this morning and refreshed the internet every 5 minutes to see the states change colors, and everyone in our office was ecstatic when they found out Obama won.  I even received a text today from Joseph, our local internet guy/friend, congratulating me and America for "a job well done".  Here it is - verbatim:

"Congratulation to you & your Country for nice voting and Barack Hussein Obama to be a Candidate Presient Winner.  Goodlucky to you & Goodlucky to U.S.A."

Since Obama's ancestry lies in Tanzania's next door neighbor, Kenya, people here love him.  There are Obama t-shirts all over town, and we're planning a celebration party, which may involve slaughtering a sheep or something? Like usual, I'm not really sure what's going on, but I'm along for the ride and experience!  O-BAM-A!  I also congratulate my fellow Americans.  And in case you're wondering...heck yes I voted!  I sent in my ballot from Tanzania several weeks ago.

Thirdly, it's route week! That means all this week (the first week of every month) we go into all of the villages and visit our artisan women, give them updates, pay them, collect new products, etc.  I have taken a GRIP of pictures and have had some really interesting experiences.  I can't wait to share.

But for now, here's a pic from Route Week, Day 1.  My co-worker Hilary (or Hilaria as they say her name here) took this picture of me (Nichole-aye).  This little boy's mom should feel very lucky this week to have her son with her - because I almost took him home with me! Cute & cute!  He wouldn't let go of my necklace.  Update comin' atcha again soon...

Life in Ngara, Tanzania

I live (and WomenCraft is located) in Murgwanza...a few kilometers from Ngara (3-5 km?)  But...Ngara is the "big city" close to me, and is where I pass the time whenever I can catch a piki piki (motorcycle) or car ride into town.  Here's Wikipedia's summary on Ngara:

Ngara^[1] is a small town in Ngara District, Kagera Region, in Tanzania, East Africa.

Ngara town is small with an estimated population of 8,000 to 10,000 people. The international community is small with the Anglican Church of Tanzania, Diocese of Kagera, and four NGOs employing a handful of expatriate staff. Occasionally, there are also visiting staff, consultants and missionaries.

Market day in Ngara town is Saturday. Vendors come from surrounding villages to sell their seasonal produce. During the week, the market is open, but the availability of produce is more limited. Most basic items are available. In season, fruits and vegetables include tomatoes, carrots, eggplant, spinach, green peppers, pineapple, papaya, mango and oranges. Major staple food crops such as maize, bananas, rice, potatoes, beans and milled products such as wheat flour and sugar are readily obtainable in Ngara.

I know I've already mentioned it several times in this blog, but Wikipedia fails to mention that Ngara was also occupied by the United Nations during the Rwandan genocide.  Tents and buildings constructed all over town during the genocide are now re-purposed as government buildings, open air markets.  So...in a way, such a horrific affair in Rwanda actually left a little bit of good behind - some city structure and access to these materials that these people may not have otherwise.

One of the most disappointing things to discover when I arrived in Ngara was my restrictions with photography.  I love taking photographs.  I feel like photography is one of the best ways I can share everything I'm learning and seeing with others.  However, many local people here in Ngara do not like having photos taken of themselves.  In fact, they find it rude if you try to do so.  Taking pictures of buildings (except for government buildings - strictly prohibited) is ok, and kids like photos too.  And occasionally I've had someone ask me to take a photo of them.  But many adults, even if you ask them if you can take a photo, will tell you no.  Relationships must be established before taking photographs.  So...on that note, I have twitched a few times as I've restrained myself from taking a photo of something magnificent happening in front of me. For example, I'd love to show you the many, many young men wandering around town right now sporting "Obama" t-shirts.  In a town where a brand new t-shirt is hard to find, it's quite the sight to see.  

Many missed photo ops, and so so so many stories to share.  In fact, now I often leave my high-quality camera at home and just bring along my point in shoot, which means that the images I capture are crappy...but at least I can capture some of what I see if the opportunity arises.  Here are a few images I can show you so far (if they upload...as they would say in Tanzania "pole pole" hahaha).  As I develop relationships with local people here, I expect my camera to make an appearance more and more.  Enjoy a small glimpse of Ngara...

*Photo of boy with toy:  This is a boy I met at the Nazareti Boy's Orphanage in Ngara. This orphanage hosts 25 boys, and they all come here by choice,not by force.  This boy had been on the streets since he was 4 years old.  When he first came to this orphanage, he threw things at people and was afraid of other humans.  Now he is a changed boy.  He pushed this truck made out of trash (old milk jugs found on the street) around the courtyard the entire time I was there, running and smiling.  He now has started to read and has made some friends.  I volunteered to teach hip hop at the orphanage, and the lady running it seemed enthusiastic...so we'll see what happens!  I might get to see this smiling face again very soon.
*Photo of many boys: I took this photo my first day in Murgwanza.  Some boys hanging out on the side of the road saying "good morning!" to us as we walked by.
*Photo of banana bike: There is a banana market in the middle of town every day. People here load up their bikes to no end with everything here, but most commonly these bananas, used for baking.
*Photo of G-Unit Saloon: G-Unit!  I'm planning on growing my hair out the entire time I'm here, but if for some reason I decided to cut it, I am definitely coming to the G-Unit Saloon...no question there.  
*Group photo:  This was my first day in Ngara.  We went to the local market, and these boys decided to follow us for miles back to the center of town...holding our hands and staring in awe at our odd white skin.
*Photo of goat:  I'm pretty sure this is where the term "goatie" came from...this guy.  I've named him "Howie Mandel".