Mama Liz's Journal
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11.06.05
Date: Nov 6, 2005 4:25 AM
Subject: Toys for Tots
To: Everyone
First, I want to thank all of you who have sent the kids money, clothes and toys. But I don't want you thinking we're totally bereft of playthings. So today's topic is Third World Toys.
But first, a most interesting aside. Some volunteer from, I don't know, somewhere, came to visit. Apparently she read somewhere, I don't know where, that England has downgraded Africa (or upgraded you figure it out) from a Third World to a Fourth World Country (???). It seems all the other Third World Countries don't want to be associated with us here. So now we have our own number. And I think were all alone.
According to the volunteer, I forgot her name, all the other Third World Countries are progressing foreward (however slowly) while we are moving backward (apparently at a rapid clip). I remember when I was in Ghana being so surprised at the number of missionaries from Mexico. I guess the main criteria for a Fourth World Country is that Third World Countries send volunteers. Maybe I should watch my PO Box for donations of used toys from Romania or India. I digress, pole sana.
Back to toys. The kids here are so inventive. I guess they have to be. Sometimes it's a while between boxes from the Ukraine. But in the meantime you can make a great wheel from an old plastic bucket top, a used corncob and a stick.((DSCOo882;My neighbor Tupaki and his wheel)) You find (or steal) a bucket top. It's about 18-inches in diameter, and you cut a hole in the middle. Then you insert the corncob which becomes the axle. Obviously the stick is your steering mechanism. There you have it.
Sticks and corncobs are literally everywhere, but bucket tops are at a premium so this toy is mostly for kids with parents who own lots of buckets.
Lots of the boys have lorries. A handmade wooden car of any make or model that is attached to a stick about 4-5 feet long. You push it along the road.
The stick is usually considerably longer than the kid that is attached to it.((DSCO1715; note the wheels are made from old flip flops; nothing wasted here)) We are virtually toyless without sticks. Asante Mungu we've got millions of them.
I saw a kid the other day playing a flute he'd made from used metal battery casings (AA), and of course a stick. It had a good sound too. I'll get one before I leave. There's also a small top, really small. Maybe Ive mentioned it, but oh well, scroll foreward if you like. It's about the size of a 5-year olds fingertip and it comes from a eucalyptus tree. It's kind of like a flat top with a stem, which is spun from the bottom then dropped to the ground. Loads of fun. I'll bring some home. Soon I guess you'll be getting toys from the Fourth World, thus completing the cycle. Natosha.
The two preschool buildings are going up faster than anticipated, which is a happy surprise. At first the wall fundi (local guy with a tool or two) was missing work a lot (daily). When I asked him about it, he said his mother was sick. I commiserated briefly then asked if he could recommend someone with a parent who was healthy or at least already deceased. So now he's here everyday.
I mean really! We have more sick people and funerals here than we do sticks and corncobs. It makes it hard to get anything done when we have sometimes 5-8 funerals weekly. And you don't have to be related, or even close to the deceased to leave work for three days to mourn. Sometimes it seems it's just someone you sat next to on the daladala. It's often very difficult to be the only mzungu in the village, we are so different.
Do you remember Martha, the girl we sent to St Mary's? Well, she's home for a 3-day weekend, which as it happens coincides with the funeral/mourning period of her uncle (our former cook). Anyway, she's done very well. She passed her preform one and now will enter form one in December. She worked very hard and the whole village is so proud of her. Now all the other kids are pumped up to go, which is exactly what we were hoping.
The local secondary school is short on teachers, books, most everything. So I'd like to send as many kids as possible to St Mary's or other schools. Ridiculously cheap by our standards.
Back to the toys... you may have noticed that most of the toys were boy-oriented. That wasn't an oversight. There are few toys for girls. Girls work from the day they can balance a bucket on their heads, and they work till they die. They've got the most amazingly strong hands. They laugh at mine.
But we have swings now, in the forest behind the center, courtesy of a volunteer with some rope.((DSCO1591 view from the back of my clinic/preschool room)) The wood was just lying around, so now we've got kids swinging in the trees. On Friday night there were boys in the girls dorm, and the security guard showed up for work drunk. Maybe it was Saturday. Oh well, it could have been any night. We have problems with some of the staff here. Some leave work and stay gone for the day. One shows up drunk, and our cook goes to church too often.
I felt like Satan incarnate when I told her she'd have to stop going to
church every day. I did suggest she can pray while she cooks, if that
helps. I never thought I'd say this but here goes. ITS HARD TO GET GOOD HELP
NOWADAYS. I'm tired, you probably are too.
Nakupenda. M Liz
11.12.05
Date: Nov 12, 2005 4:21 AM
Subject: Orphan clothes
To:Everyone
It's hard to describe the clothes the kids wear here. Imagine the
old shirts and shorts you cut up and use to wash the car. Now imagine
you save them and put them on your kids ( after you wash the car) and
let them wear them for five years. Thats the closest I can come to Idweli
orphan chic.
Over the last 8 months we've confiscated the total rags (as opposed to the regular rags) and replaced them with much better stuff with no holes. The kids look very cute. I remember just after I got to Ghana in 2004, I was outside with a bunch of kids and John Sackey walked by in a custom made T shirt from I think the US (where else) that said "I partied at Aris Bar Mitzvah Aug 8, 1994." Ive got a picture somewhere and it cracks me up everytime I see it.
Larry was one of the first kids I met here. His real name is Ndambo, but he's Larry to me. Met him at school and right away took him to the doc. He had a fever, S aureus all over his head, swollen lymph nodes and an unbelieveably dirty shirt with no buttons that he'd fastened with grass. He and his brother Fred live with us now.
Larry's still kind of messy but he looks better and he's happy as a pig in slop to be here. It doesn't seem so bad now, the way the kids look, maybe Ive just gotten used to it. And maybe my standards have gotten so low that they're not standards anymore, they're something else.
Re shoes.
You really have to have a bad pair (and I mean both) to get new
shoes.((DSCO1382 I brought these back to the US with me for a visual aid when
I give a speech. Some kid was wearng these before I traded him for a newer pair.))
We can't afford it any other way. One day we were all sitting
around and Asajile walked by with a particularly pitiful pair, so I
asked to see them. They had no soles, none. The kid had been walking
around with only the tops of his shoes. Can't go to school here barefoot.
We all laughed like hyenas, but it probably wasn't funny.
Anyway ,he didn't care, he got a new pair of used shoes.
Another day one of the smaller village kids was up to the center to get water. Our pump is closer. Anyway Damas, our manager, pointed him out to me and his pants had no front. Just a waistband and pieces of leg. His shirt was no better, a neck and some hanging stuff. I took him into my office/clinic/preschool and put him in some jeans and a t-shirt. Some underwear too, as I had recently become aware he had none.
He walked out like a new man, chest and genitals covered. Asante Mungu. That night, the whole family comes by to thank me. It's hard to explain why I hate that, butI guess you have to be here. Something about basic kid's rights, I guess.
The girls wear what I call oppression dresses.((DSCO1534; Leah, Mwachi and Defroza at the blackboard. Obviously a broken zipper doesn't render a dress useless.)) Theyre made of some weird polyester and they come festooned with every doodad you have ever seen on a dress. Hideous things, not designed for play. But that's the story of girls here, not designed for play.
When they wash those dresses, pieces fall off. Actually, that's a good thing. One of my favorite things to do when one of them comes into my office is to whip out my scissors and hack away at all the ripped and broken stuff. First to go is the remaining half of the sash which by now is dragging in the dirt. Then comes the torn lace and the cheap buckles that you find almost anywhere and for no apparent reason. If I'm lucky, it's beyond repair and I put her in jeans and a teeshirt, and there you go.
They all think they're too cute in their new clothes, and they are.
As soon as I return, I'm doing some chupi fundraising. Chupi are panties, aka oppression panties. No cotton, no flowers, no mermaids. But there IS a small condom sized zippered pouch on the front of some of them. They're sheer, offensive, and I won't buy them. None of the other volunteers will either.
Sometimes the criteria for what a kid gets is solely determined by fit. This explains why Joseph is running around in a red Sigma Omega Pi shirt with "Its all about sisterhood" on the back.((DSCO 1618. Joseph striking a blow for sexual equality)). His english is poor so he doesn't know what it says. This holds true as well for the old guy in the village wearing the purple sweatshirt with "Always a Lady" emblazoned across his chest in pink glitterpaint. I'm not kidding. Now, my Paolo has lots of clothes so there's no reason for him to play soccer in a girl's school uniform. Oh well, to each his own.
My last item on the village fashion hit parade is dalas, chaliwattis in Ghana ,and zoris for you folks. Probably won't come as any surprise that we wear mismatched sets, both in color and size. Left and right is also irrelevant. What you don't know is they can be repaired (and for the more affluent, polished). All you do is push the toe piece through and sew it with twine and a very strong needle. It takes practice. I personally haven't repaired mine, but I do donate my broken ones to the more skilled.
You can also push the toepiece through and pierce it through the bottom with a 2-inch length of wire. Clever, huh? What I like best about the clothes here is it's enough just to have some; which suits my personal style perfectly. I guess part of me is just a fourth world girl.
HIV testing continues, so far over 30 kids tested with only one positive. He's 7 or 8 and relatively healthy. He gets sick more often than the rest and stays sick longer, but he's holding his own. We go to Mbeya on Monday to do labs and open a file at the ARV clinic. Don't think he'll qualify yet, and thats good.
I go to Dar on Wednesday to try to resolve immigration issues. Wish me luck. If I'm on anyone's Christmas list, homemede cookies would be nzuri sana. Particularly interested in Debra's little white teacookies and Lori's Rice Krispie things. Just mail them to me at my P O Box in Mbeya, unless something goes dreadfully wrong in Dar. In that case, I think there's only one women's jail there so it shouldn't be hard to get the address.
Max please do the bank transfer, or just email me with an update. I love you all. M. Liz
11.22.05
Date:Nov 22, 2005 7:19 AM
Subject: Waiting for a breeze in Dar
To: Everyone
Which I am here to say will never happen. I'm here, actually still
here, and if immigration has their way I'll always be here. Came to Dar
es Salaam last week sometime to do a couple of things, but it's so hot
here Ive forgotten what they are. O yeah, my visa. But happy to report
we're zeroing in on it, should be tomorrow. I know I say that everyday,
but sooner or later they have to give it to me; or kick me out of the
country which at this point is an attractive alternative.
Dar is so hot, you sweat as you dry off from your shower. At first I was enormously sympathetic towards the Muslim ladies who garb in black from head to toe, and wear a non black outfit underneath as well. But I watched them and they don't seem to mind the heat; in fact most of them don't break a sweat; so there you go.((DSCO1645 Students in Dar after school not sweating in the heat))
Some of the more modern stores have these huge air conditioners about 6 feet high. I've never seen anything like them in the US. They had them in Ghana. And if I'm in a store that has one I plaster myself to the front of it and moan my thanks. I think one store manager asked me to leave but my swahili is limited so I ignored him. I did, however, moan more softly.
I've been comparing the daladalas here and at home. There's no chickens or huge bags of beans and bananas stuffed under the seats or on the roof or dropped in my lap here in Dar. And also they don't pack them quite so full here. I was actually able to move my arm today and wipe the sweat from my brow ( much to the relief of the poor slob sitting in the seat below me). But with all this they've lost the intimacy of the country daladalas.
The other day I accidentally ran my arm and backpack up the leg and derriere of the woman in front of me and she gave me such a look. Nobody would have cared in Idweli, in fact in Idweli it's not uncommon for the conductor to put his hands on your butt and push you inside when it's crowded. Sometimes I feel like one of the Beverly Hillbillies.
But it's the same fight to the death to get on; wherever I am. Today I was waiting at my stop and I'd missed the first bus because I wasn't fast enough. There were 3 of us left waiting; a young businessman, a very small, slim woman and myself. Our daladala comes and stops right in front of me and it's almost empty. I sigh and prepare to board when out of nowhere 30 people magically appear.
The small slim lady elbows by me with the force of a linebacker and takes one of the front seats. Then these 2 women elbow me from the other side and board. It's an absolute frenzy; reminded me of the pictures of the last helicopter out of Hanoi.You'd be proud of me; I threw my backpack in ahead of me and dove for the front. Got a seat too.
I'm staying at some friends of a friend of mine; my friends now also. They're missionaries and very nice, it's a great house and there's a fan in every room, as well as internet in Tim's office.I'm about as comfortable as a person can be here in Dar es Salaam, which is Arabic I think for Very Hot City with A 90% Chance Of Heatstroke.
Also trying to arrange a trip to a hospital in India for a kid from Idweli with a heart defect. It's very cheap there, and you get to eat curry too.I'm not going, just the mom and kid. Lions Club arranges it. I just have to get the mom and kid down here for an ECHO. The glitch is she's scared to get on the bus. Were working on that. I'll update you.
So hopefully I'll be done with all this in the next few days. But then again
it may take a week. The only thing you can absolutely count on is it will
take much longer than intended.
Nakupenda. M Liz
11.29.05
Date: Nov 29, 2005 11:45 PM
Subject: Leaving in disgrace again
T0: Everyone
So, it appears that the only way for me to leave Africa is to get
thrown out. First Ghana, now Tanz. To make a very long and hugely
boring story shorter and much more interesting, Ive been trying for 8
months to get a permit. No dice. Everyone wants a bribe, which after
some soul searching I decided I would not pay no matter what.
So I spent 10 days in Dar; 10 long, hot days with no outcome. I left Dar in disgust (not to be confused with disgrace) and got halfway home on the bus when there was the usual stop for immigration. Bear in mind there's other wazungu on the bus. The immigration lady walked right by the 2 wazungu in the front, said a polite hello to the 2 wazungu a few seats to my left; then leaned over the lady in front of me and said "Hello, I'm from immigration. May I see your passport?" You bet...
So she looks at it, and escorts me and my backpack off the bus. The officer in charge of Bribes and Intimidation takes over and asks lots of questions and informs me I might have to go into custody. Curiously, this is just what I've been waiting for. I figured after 8 months of inaction this might move the issue along. I just needed it to end. So I grab my backpack and tell him "Let's go, I'm ready;"-- probably not the response he was anticipating.
I got taken to Iringa to the Immigration office and talked to a man who clearly didn't know what to do with me. My papers were in Dar and it's so involved (this has gone on in 4 towns now so there are papers everywhere) A nd aside from not paying a bribe I have committed no real crime so it's not in his favor to jail me. He asked if I'd be willing to leave the country and I agreed and asked for 2 weeks.
So now it's resolved, I'll be home on the 13th of Dec. or thereabouts. I'm fine with it, can't do much about it now. And besides there's loads of other countries left for me to visit and be thrown out of. Also I'm almost broke. I just can't bring myself to pay someone off. So thats it in a nutshell.
The little sick girl will be ok. Her heart is fine, but she needs an operation to correct a deformity in her respiratiry tract. Easy to do in Dar. And cheaper than heart surgery in India. And I got baptized in Dar as well.
So all in all it was a fruitful trip. I've got some things to
finish here but I've got enough time. I want to thank everyone for all
the support you've given me this trip. We got a lot done. Martha will
stay in St Marys; and Paolo, Hamisi and Boni will start fundi school
this month. I'm going to arrange the payment plan and should be able to
get a boatload of kids through school.
Asante sana. See you soon. M Liz
((DSCO0810; my friend Gerald Mgaya and 2 local cops. Just a joke
picture but if you try something stupid you'll find them serious))
12.09.05
Date: Dec 9, 2005 4:38 AM
Subject: Kwa nini mimi asante Mungu (very bad Kiswahili for why I thank God)
To: Everyone
- I didn't get typhoid this trip.
- I only got malaria once.
- I didn't die in a daladala wreck. There was a crash recently and 32 people died. Only a baby survived; and now you know how many people can fit in a Toyota minivan.
- My digestive tract is, if not unscathed, at least not totally destroyed.
- I'm able to return to Tanzania should I desire; and I might.
- The kids did markedly better in this last testing period. We had an almost complete fail rate last term and an over 50% pass rate this time. Lucy was first in her class and Asteria was third in hers.
- ALL the kids have had an appreciable weight gain over this past 8 months since the Center opened. Some up to 7-8 kilos. And still none are fat; even chubby, so that tells you where they were before.
- Our preschool has gone from one teacher and 52 kids to five teachers and about 60 kids. They're doing great, actually better than the first grade. They are so smart. Melania, one of the kids here (about 6 years old), was the kid we all figured we'd keep here forever and she could wash clothes or dishes or something. But the other day in preschool, she actually raised her hand twice and got the answer right both times. Whodathunkit?((DSCO1558;note the mural on the wall courtesy of Carlee Katchman from Canada. Hope to work with her again))
- Kids are healthy and almost free from head sores. I hardly medicate for this anymore. In fact, I hardly medicate at all.((kids under sign.no caption needed))
- Our one HIV positive boy is doing well, looks very healthy.
- Twelve women from Idweli and Ndaga have had Norplant implants put in, and more are lining up for it.
- Martha is doing well at St. Marys. Paulo, Boni and Hamisi start vocational school in January. AND five older boys from the village approached us this week and want to go as well. They should start in January with the boys from the center.
- One of the village women told us she went to the primary school and confronted a teacher who was beating her daughter. Some women (from the village down the road) from the women's group are going to do the same as soon as school starts up again. The woman from Idweli has promised to go in support. This is a huge step. You just can't know.
- A man has approached us wanting to know why there is no men's group. Oops. Pole.
- The girls have been refusing the boys. I know this to be true because the boys have been complaining. But they haven't been harassing the girls like they did before. In appreciation for this big leap on their part I have purchased, and will continue to purchase, individual bottles of lotion for all the teenaged males. The brand they requested is called Girlfriend. I find this mortally offensive, so I bought something cheap and scented and they'll just have to get over it. Ahadi says he's finished his bottle already. I'm nothing if not practical.
- I was not decapitated while looking the wrong way crossing the street. However, I was clipped once. Clipped but not permanently damaged, which I guess sums up this trip to Africa. Each time it's easier. I learn more, and I'm more sure that there will be a next time. On Sunday I meet a man who works in the prison system here. Always wanted to work in a prison. But who knows.
Anyway, I'll see you all soon. Wish me safari njema. Nakupenda.
The nurse formerly known as Mama Liz
