Mama Liz's Journal

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10.1.03 - 12.31.03
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9.1.05 - 10.31.05
11.1.05 - 12.31.05

They tell me that mzungu means white person, but I suspect that it means idiot. And as I am the only one here in the village that makes me the village idiot. The other day I was across the street at the market.((DSCO0925; Daily market. The two men are Damas Sinyangwe, the center manager, and Barry Childs from Africa Bridge.)). By market I mean a collection of battered tables where the ladies sell onions, tomatoes, avocadoes and a local dried fish that makes my usual sense of adventure fly away fast.

I'm buying my veggies at the usual inflated mzungu price and they're pointing to my favorite pink teeshirt and telling me something and smiling. Always smiling. So I'm responding with stupid stuff like Yes, American teeshirt, and Thank you, I like it too. But they're still laughing and pointing and after about 5 minutes I realize they're trying to tell me I've got my shirt on inside out. Stupid mzungu.

Then I'm walking along and spot a village elder, so I walk up with this big idiot grin and put out my hand (the only one in the village that doesn't reside in a nostril) to shake hands and say Habari asubuhi. And they laugh. So who cares if I said good morning and its 6pm? Obviously they do.

So I get flustered and start again, but I can tell by their blank stares I'm still not getting my point across. Then I figure out I've switched to Spanish. But their English is so bad they don't even know I've started on a whole new language. I'm better than TV here, you've gotta come, it's a kick.

English classes going well. Always said I'd hate to teach teenagers but here I am and I'm loving it. These kids are unbelieveable. Who would think that a bunch of 12-15 year olds would stay after class for 2 hours to hear me gas on. It's enormously gratifying, but I'm no dummy. If there was one GameBoy in town I'd be sitting here by myself.((africa pictures 128; My Standard 6 class.)) Asante Mungu there's no electric here and no one can afford batteries.

Have found a place that sells what appear to be hotdogs. Will buy some and let you know. Fresh meat is iffy here. Two days ago Elia came home all excited; he'd found a fresh fish stand in the village. So off we go, but what made me think there would be a clean, covered display case full of fish? I must've entered a time warp or something.

We get there and it's a small wooden table out in the street, loaded with fish, and a man is standing there arranging them according to size with his BARE HANDS. Not to mention the flies; they take their share up front. I was sad when we walked away, fishless, but typhoidless. I never mentioned this before but I had typhoid in Ghana. This probably accounts for my aversion to open air meat.

Personals. Max, give Auntie Georgeann whatever she wants, she's known you since you were a baby. Louie, write to me. Barry, will email you later, but there's a group in Tukuyu who are working on water project.I see them kesho. Can we all do this together? It's the same problem, maybe we can combine resources.Gotta go. Thank you all for the money you send. Still buying shoes and shirts and panties. I love you all.
Mama Liz

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05.15.05
Date: Wed, 11 May 2005 06:33:00 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: Hotel hookers
To: Everyone

Hi everyone, I'm fine, hope you are well. First, who put the huge donation into my account. I mean huge. Who are you, I want to kneel at your feet. Thank you so much. I will buy loads of stuff.

I just bought 2 cows, yep I now have my own herd. Not sure if 2 is a herd,but I'm looking around for branding irons. We are a protein poor society here, and I like my protein renewable. So they're as we speak building the cow barn. Cows haven't arrived yet, but one will be pregnant, so even better. Now we'll have milk. Am working on chickens, more renewable protein. Ideally the center will be self sustaining, or as close to it as we can get.

Kids are fine. Today Maria was able to give me a complete sentence."The dog is sleeping." Pretty cool when you understand she had zero English 7 weeks ago. She looked pretty proud of herself.

All other kids improving as well. Unfortunately I'm starting to sound like them. My speech patterns are changing; mostly in an effort to be understood. So when I come back to the US I'll need a class in English as a second language.

Second, sorry that I cannot answer personal emails. I try, but it's slow here, hence the generic letters. It can take up to 10 minutes just to open my first email. So I haven't been forwarding all the things that need forwarding. I feel bad, but it can't be helped. As well, sometimes the whole system here fails, and I have to write the letters again.

So are you wondering about the hookers? Mbeya is a big town, but I had yet to lay eyes on all these supposed disease flinging working women.((DSCO0812; Mbeya at night)) Until last week.

I went into this hotel that was recommended for their outstanding chicken and chips.(the national food)So I go in and take a seat on one of the green velvet benches lining this large room. Looks like a dance floor. I order my food and sit and look around. It's dimly lit and there's women in filmy clothes lying on the benches conversing with various men.

I'm enjoying myself, a voyeur at heart, but notice this odor, so I switch seats. It's still there, then I recognize the smell as years of accumulated body fluids so I go outside and eat at the outdoor tables.The chicken and chips arrive, nothing special, and when I got home I had diarrhea.

Also speaking of hookers, I went to Tukuyu to spend the weekend with my friend Martha and her sister Lucy.I mentioned the hotel and they said that's nothing, in Dar es Salaam the hookers parade around at night in nothing but their shoes.Truth in packaging.

Apparently the men want to choose their women, as Felis said, "based on morphology" All the wonderbras and control top pantyhose in the world won't help you here. So I'll be in Dar I think in June. I'm gonna go look for myself. I'll get my friend Vic to come with me. You'll come, won't you buddy?

I may try to take a picture or two, but it could be dangerous. You know, I may well end my days in Africa, I spend enough time here. But still, I'd rather my untimely demise not be at the hands of 6 angry Tanzanian whores in stilettos and little else. Even Hallmark doesn't make a card for that one.(Africa pictures 072)

Went to the Catholic church in Tukuyu this past Sunday. Martha and Lucy are members. Very nice. There was a bunch of nuns outside the church to greet everyone, and I think my Kiswahili is improving. I wasn't sure of the words but I was sure she was asking "Hey where'd you get the mzungu". And I was right.

Lots of singing and very little talking. That's my kind of church. There were these six girls in magenta skirts, white blouses and striped ties who did these great dances in time to the music. Kind of like the Temptations without the shiny suits.

Then halfway through the service they disappear up the aisle and reappear with the next song dancing down the aisle. Reminded me of The Stroll. If you're not old enough to remember the stroll find someone my age.

This woman let me hold her really cute baby during the service so I had a good time. Gave him my wallet to play with. Took him about 20 minutes to get into it and find my credit cards which he flung on the floor. But thats ok, they're useless here. Cash and carry, like Ghana. So you can leave home without it.

Found a great open market afterwards and bought a pile of very cheap kids clothes. Have about 10 minutes left. Want to hit the bus station before it's too dark. The bus to Idweli is located in this area called Mwanjelwa,and it's a thieves paradise, according to my friend Tupo.

Last week I got stuck there waiting for the bus and it was a little unsettling, but I was ok. Got home fine, but was attacked by a neighborhood cow. I was trying to walk down the path to my house. I like to stay on the path because of the cow pies.

I guess he felt the same, cause when I tried to pass he lowered his head and butted me a few feet. Posession is 9/10 of the law here too I guess. Out of time, I love you all.
Mama Liz

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05.25.05
Date: Wed, 25 May 2005 05:13:48 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: Hard jobs
To: Everyone

Jambo, and shikamoo, if appropriate. All is nzuri here, we move into the center on Saturday. I'm excited, the kids are excited. It's a fun time.

I've decided that it's not sickness that will get me here, it's the traffic. You know they drive on the other side of the street here, and it disorients me so much. I stop look and listen before I cross the street, but as I'm looking in the wrong direction I'm liable to get decapitated any day now. I should dye my hair soon so when they pack my head in a box there's no roots.

I try hard to avoid the cars as pedestrians have no rights here. But we're fast, as we must be. The cars won't drive around you or stop, but they will honk. I guess I should be thankful for that.

The other day I was hurrying across the street and trying to avoid a car; but because they drive on the other side of the street I ended up directly in it's path. I believe I heard the phrase stupid mzungu as he sped past. I should get hazard pay.

The next hardest job (after just being a pedestrian) belongs to the guy who rides the door on the daladala. I have enormous respect for these guys. Rain or shine they stand there at the door while the drivers race around jerking and swerving (other daladalas get more respect than pedestrians, we won't dent anything).

When it's time to stop, he bangs his hand on the roof and as the van slows (a little) he jumps out and grabs bags and parcels and chickens and throws them in. Then he bangs on the side of the van (three times) and makes a running jump into the car.These guys are all muscle. And in the rain it's especially difficult because the daladala is wet and slippery and he hangs onto the door frame.

One night Elia and I saw 5, count 'em 5 guys hanging onto the back of the daladala IN THE RAIN, going uphill in the dark. It was the last bus so there you go.(Africa pictures 004)

But the most absolutely most dangerous job is the cart. It's a handmade wooden cart about 5 by 6 feet. It's got two big tires, and another nailed to the bottom rear of the cart. (more about that later). It's filled with produce or dirt or anything, mostly heavy. There's a guy who sits in the cart and a guy who pulls it.

It's got a wooden handle attatched to the sides that has a bar across the front. So they go up the hill with this, sometimes with as many as 3-4 guys pushing.((DSCO0819;How'd you like to do this all day for low pay and no benefits? And this was a cabbage day; Ive seen them haul rocks.)) It's backbreaking work, especially in the heat.

I was watching them the first time and feeling sorry for them when I realized that going uphill was hard but downhill was suicide. On the way down the guy in the front kind of hops up and down so it doesn't go too fast. The guy in the cart uses his weight to pull the back down. So the front guy is bobbing up and down. When it gets too fast the guy in the cart leans all the way back and the tire under the cart drags the road and they stop. Theres a lot of tire fumes and gnashing of teeth, but it beats going head on into the front of a tourist bus.

I've got 2 minutes left. Please write to me. I love emails. Take care. Tell your kids to study hard or youll send them to Africa to work the cart.
I love you all. Mama Liz

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05.30.05
Date: 30 May 2005 05:57:21 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: Bits and pieces To: Everyone

Jambo. I'm fine, asante Mungu. Kids are great. I have lots to tell you, lots has happened. But kwanzaa, I want to tell you about 2 Kiswahili words. The first is pole, pronounced polay, accent on o. This is a good, all purpose word, appropriate for anything from It's too bad you stubbed your toe, to I'm sorry to hear that your entire family and all your cows have been wiped out.

The second word is fundi, which means a craftsman or an expert in any given field. So when they said the fundi would be around to build bathrooms etc I was mistakenly secure in the knowledge that all would be fine.

While the dictionary does define fundi as a craftsman, in actuality what he IS is a guy with a hammer. I went into the shower room with my bucket of almost hot water and went to pull the door shut to lock it only to discover that the lock is on the outside of the door.

So I've got a system now where I throw my towel over the top of the door and wind it up over the partition between the two showers. So far so good. But today I buy my own hammer and I will fix it myself. I guess that makes me a fundi. Enough of that.

Remember when I said that all were welcome on the daladala? I lied. Yesterday Martha, Tupo and I went to Ushirika to buy clothes for the kids and on the way home I sat in the front seat and saw them tying a dead fish to the windshield wipers. Yes rafiki, live chickens are fine, but dead fish ride outside.

Saw a small pig tied to the back of a bicycle the other day, screaming and screaching on the way to I guess the butcher.You should see the butcher. He's actually just a guy with an axe, which I guess makes him a fundi as well. With all these craftsmen in town you'd think things would run more smoothly.O well.

We're in the center now, have been for over a week.((kidsunderthelaundry; Mwachi and Melania just hanging out)) Most of the kids are happy to be here, and are having a good time. I'm impressed with the size of the meals, and the fact that there are three of them daily.

Some of them are having some sad moments here and there; their parents are dead and now their grandparents have given them to us. So we're dealing with some abandonment issues. Life is rough for these kids. Most of them have never had an actual bed, which made for some interesting combinations when we gave them all 2 sheets and 2 blankets.

Remember when I was in Ghana and I wrote about bra night when I gave the girls their first support garments. Well I did it here the other night and it was a hoot. You know you're far away from the rest of the world when you give a girl a bra and she puts it on backwards.

One girl just fell in love with this one lacy front opening bra (all donations from America). It was a 34C and she's about a 32A. I kept telling her Kubwa, kubwa, but she kept telling me No Mama, natosha, natosha. So I gave up and now she's walking around the Center in a bra 2 sizes too big. But she's so proud of her little breastlets and she's sticking them out for all the world to see. Violet came to the bra party too, but she pulled up her shirt to reveal absolutely nothing on her chest.No bra. Pole.

Went and bought a bunch of meds the other day; now my clinic is all set up, and they troop in for meds or whatever. Wormed them all on Sunday, we do this every 3 months. Some kids will obviously need an extra dose next week.

We have one new girl. Her bibi(grandmother) sent her to us, and she wasn't even on the list. Elia sent her back, and bibi sent her back to us again. Elia brought her to me and she's cute and sweet and she sleeps with one of the other girls so we're keeping her.And Damas made it official; so there you go.

What amazes me is most of the kids arrived without ANY of their belongings. I admit they don't have much, but the guardians didn't even send them with their school uniforms and books. Had to send 90% of them back for their stuff.

Have about 5 minutes left. If anyone wants to send the girls warm nighties I'd love it. Don't have them here; the girls sleep in their street clothes. I'm buying up all the big teeshirts I can find.

Keep writing to me, I love mail. To my kids, I love you and miss you. Stay safe and write to each other. Marilyn, thank you, thank you. love you all. Mama Liz
((DSCO1564; Mama Nikki from the USA with some of the kids. There's lots of dancing here.)

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06.10.05
Sent: Friday, June 10, 2005 5:05 PM Subject: I want my own school To: Everyone

Jambo, how is everyone over there in the land of scented toilet paper? We got some American magazines brought over and the kids just love to look at them, but it's hard to explain some of the things we have in our country.There was one full page ad for dog bones, had no idea how to tell them that most American animals eat better than they do. Remember that ad on tv about whether or not your dog is getting enough cheese? Basi.

We had the opening. It went well. We are now official. The American Ambassador came, as well as press and other dignitaries. My standard 6 class sang three songs: Old McDonald, The Hokey Pokey, and Row Row Row Your Boat.((Africa pictures 144; The Hokey Pokey. A good way to learn right from left))((Africa pictures 163; the kids entertained with their songs, dances and poetry of their own. Amazing stuff, they are talented.))They were fabulous, I was so proud of them.

The kids here are different from kids I'm used to. Most american adolescents wouldn't dream of singing the songs we sang; but these kids love it. And let me tell you that here in Idweli Simon Says is a blood sport.The Center kids were great,so cute, and they all had matching shirts; courtesy of Marilyn. Thanks Marilyn.

And to top it all off, at the end of the day the Ambassador went to his car and upon his return presented me with a live chicken. I was grateful; stunned, but grateful. So now all we need is some girl chickens and we're in business.

Let me tell you about the school we need. Haven't spent much time telling you about the school system here, but it's falling a mite short. There are some great schools in Tanzania. Unfortunately, ours isn't one of them. This week the Standard 4 and 7 took the national exams and everyone, I mean EVERYONE, failed. So the head teacher started caning kids and promised more of the same today.

I said a little prayer and went down to talk to him, and thank God I managed to get through it without hitting him over the head with a chair (my first thought) Instead we're going to try to improve the system.

But even before this I'd decided that we need a better system. Only 12% of primary school kids go on to secondary. And believe me if you think education is important in America it's life and death here.This is a very poor and tired town, apparently thriving 30 years ago, but with AIDS and poverty and everything it's in deep trouble.

To teach primary school you only have to have a 7th grade education. That plus 2 years of teacher school. Even the English teacher has trouble with English. I'm thinking of a school from preschool through high school. Teachers can be volunteers from around the world, student teachers are great, and it's gold on a resume.

We'll need a boarding school, because that's how well support the school and the Center.There's lots of people in Africa with money, and they'll pay huge amounts to have their kids taught by wazungu. So the rich support the poor. A novel idea for Africa, actually for almost anywhere.

But I know it'll work, it's not a new concept, it's being done in India and Ghana and lots of places. So we need to do it here.

Remember all you guys who said I should save my emails and publish them? Well I haven't saved them, but some of you have. So Im gonna try it. Maybe someone out there will pay to read my ramblings and ravings.

A school actually won't cost that much. Money goes a long way here and I bet the Chief will give me some land cheap. I'll be sure to ask for it around election time.He's much the same as any politician. I'd like to see a woman chief; but I won't hold my breath.

I have to go soon, I need to hit the wazungu store before I return to the village. Have to stock up on edibles in case they serve ugali and dagaa again this week.

Dagaa is a small, thin, dried fish sold locally that they stew with tomatoes and onions and serve over ugali (the local large ball of starch) Elia says growing up they called it ugali and nails, and that's exactly what it looks like, but I think nails would taste better.

School is out for the month, a mini vacation, so we'll spend lots of time in the garden, and then extra classes at the center. We're growing beans, and will be growing pumpkins and tomatoes. I think watermelon would grow here, so Leah if you'd like to send seeds I'd love it. Zucchini would work here as well, and yellow corn. The maize here is chewy, actually pretty good, but some white corn would be wonderful.

Anyway I think I've wasted enough of your time for this week. Write to me. I'm sending a cd with Barry when he returns to the US, so he'll give it to Marilyn and you can all see the kids, the town, and my choo (toilet). And you can send me all the scented toilet paper in the world, it won't do any good.
I love you all. Mama Liz

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06.22.05
Sent: Wednesday, June 22, 2005 11:08 AM Subject: What I did on my vacation
To: Everyone

Jambo, Aloha and howdy. I'm in Dar es Salaam on the last night of my vacation. It was so much better than my vacation in Ghana,(when I got malaria).I am as yet uninfected, but there's an incubation period so I'll have to keep you posted.

I've had a good time. Took the bus from Mbeya to Dar, a 12 hour ride. It was beautiful, baobab trees and acacias,I even saw a herd of zebra. And for about an hour along the road there were hordes of babboons. Not sure of the spelling of hordes or if they travel in hordes or herds or gaggles (I think that's geese) But anyway they're great. They lie around on the road and watch passersby and get up and cross the road at the absolute LAST second. Then they give the bus a surly look while they do it.

Spent two days in Dar doing business then took the ferry to Zanzibar, which is an small island off the coast of Tanzania. The main attraction is a place called Stonetown, which 30 years ago I would have thought would be my Mecca. It's really a town entirely of stone.

The only thing not formed from stone are the doors; magnificent, huge things with carvings all over them. Amazing. I took lots of pictures. It's got an ancient feel to it, mostly because it is ancient, but it's also a Muslim town, and that adds to the atmosphere. ((DSCO1252; Typical Zanzibar street)) It's 95% Muslim, the remaining 5% being a bunch of dope smoking rastas. And everyone seems to get along just fine.

I did lots of shopping then went to the east side of the island and stayed in a 15 dollar a night hut on the beach and that was fabulous. White sands, palm trees, balmy air. Just like Hawaii,and I was transported. It's also where most of the 5% live. I tell you I haven't smelled so much dope since the Diamond Head Crater Festivals I used to go to when I was kid.

Took the daladala in Zanzibar, and they're different from the ones on the mainland. They're smaller, and decorated in a part Arabic, part army truck motif. Instead of a minivan, it's a flatbed truck with intricate grillwork on the sides. This lets the air in, which is good; but it also lets in the carbon monoxide fumes and whatever else is being burned or slaughtered along the roadside.

It's all painted inside with Arabic curlicues and things, and instead of seats like a car it's got a bench running along the sides and back. It looks like a surrey with the fringe on top; minus the fringe and the cute little pony.

So I climb in the back and discover it's less than 4 feet high. I try to fold myself in half to get to my seat which is of course in the back and I've got packages and GOD FORBID ANYONE SHOULD MOVE THEIR PACKAGES. About halfway down the aisle the driver kicks it into gear and I'm grabbing legs and thighs and things that I only hope are legs and thighs and finally get my seat. But remember the roof is low, and the roads are rough and these guys hit the bumps without fear and a couple times I hit the roof, the painted, unpadded roof.((DSCO1343; Upscale Zanzibar daladala))

So anyway I spent lots of dough in Zanzibar and was forced to take a cheap seat on the return ferry to Dar; as opposed to riding on the top. It was very comfortable though; big seats, high ceiling, the usual bad video playing overhead.

As we left the harbor these nice looking men in uniforms came through the aisles with small plastic bags. So I, the ultimate stupid mzungu think O good, I guess were going to get some refreshments. (The buses give you a free soda and pack of crackers ). I'm waiting for my soda and cookies when I notice a woman on the other side of the aisle spitting into her plastic bag. And I'm still waiting for my refreshments. What an idiot.

So then I start noticing retching sounds coming from various corners of the boat and the light finally shines for me.I'm trapped on a 90 minute boat ride on rough seas with an absolute symphony of wretched retching wretches.About halfway across my seatmate and I started laughing and giggling and it's a good thing neither of us got seasick because there was just 1 bag between us.

I leave early in the am for Idweli, vacation was good but I'm ready to go back. The kids are on break and we need to make use of this time and try to get their uniforms into better shape. Some are no better than rags. I miss the kids. I miss my kids.

I've got lots of projects waiting when I get back to the center. Hopefully we're finally putting the water system in the school. It's just a long pipe and a water tank with some upside down faucets to drink from, but it'll be good for the kids to have water available during school. There's even something we can add to it to kill the protozoa. Life is good.

I'm going in to dinner. It's Tanzania night here at the hotel and they've got great veggies. For all of you with gardens, we eat the pumpkin leaves here and they're nzuri sana. I'll show you how when I get home. Take care. Thank you for all the donations. Next time I'll tell you all the things you buy. I love you all.
Mama Liz

((DSCO1277; view from my beachside hut.Sometimes life is too good))

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