Poultricide in Africa

Fowl wise, May was a good month for me. Jenny Abduli and Blandina's parents each gave me a chicken. It's a big deal, and I'm grateful. On the other hand, have you ever watched someone saw the head off a chicken?

For most of us meat comes  cleaned, wrapped, gutted and featherless. We remove ourselves from the actual homicide, no guilt, no lingering mental images of cows and goats pleading for their lives, just tasty legs and thighs. Not here. It's hand to hand combat in Africa, if you want meat, you either kill it yourself or go to Monday Market and have the nyama guy hack off a hunk he's got hanging from a tree, flies buzzing around above and skinny dogs hanging around below. Neither of which I find overly appetizing.

I've mentioned the African Nine Step Program, how it applies to all aspects of life here in the village.

Here's how we do Colonel Sanders in Berega.

1. Chase down the chicken.




2. Lay it down and stand on its wings and feet



3. Pluck some neck feathers right where you plan to make your incision.






4. Dig a small hole in the ground to catch the blood that will all too soon be gushing from its stump.




5. Hold the chicken by the head with one hand and commence sawing with the other.






6. Hold the neck over the hole as its life blood oozes into the dirt.



7. Remain standing on the wings for a bit while your dinner twitches and seizes
8. Tuck the headless neck under the wing for transport to the pot.




9. Immerse in hot water






10. Remove and pluck.






11. Cut off feet and gut chicken, saving all the choice bits for your friends. (Mbuli likes the liver)






That's two extra steps, but I just opened an account at Barclay's Bank and it only took four trips to town, so it evens out over time.




That's how Chenai and Mbuli, Ruth's sons, killed my bird. The only problem was after they finished the gory little episode I couldn't eat it, and I gave it to Teacher Martha.

That's what happened to Blandina's chicken. Jenny Abduli's chicken is still happily pecking around in Ruth's yard. When I get a chicken I board it at Ruth's, as she has chickens and I have no idea how to care for one. Also I have no other chickens, and I think they're happier in a group. But fortunately for Jenny's chicken, the last killing was traumatic enough that it may live a good while, it may even die of old age.

In the meantime, I eat eggs, although a village egg can be just as traumatic. Sometimes it doesn't look or smell like an egg when you crack it, and sometimes there's pieces of the baby chick inside. In Ghana, the chickens were fed fish meal and they smelled and tasted like fish. 
And the yolks were white. I think I ate 3 eggs the entire seven months I lived at that orphanage.
I eat lots of fruit and vegetables. I can still get parasites, but I don't have to stand on a mango as it flaps around in its death throes.

This may be the most ridiculous blog I've written. But then, in Africa you can go from sublime to ridiculous at light speed.

Strange but true, I have begun eating small lumps of ugali. I know I said I never would, but by lunch time at school sometimes I'm just too hungry. What I do like is the greens, Mama Dani makes good greens. So I put some greens on a   small bit of ugali and it's ok. It has no real taste of it's own, so it's just a means to get the greens into my mouth. It's very filling though, a little goes a long way. But then it reconstitutes in my descending colon and there it stays. Something to remember the next time I'm planning a long bus trip.


The kids are great. You should hear them reading English and Kiswahili. Spelling is still an issue, but slowly they improve. English is a ridiculous language. The rules make no sense, and things don't sound like they look. Ough has six sounds, and I dread the day I introduce it to the kids. Then there's silent letters, if it's going to be silent, why use it in the first place? I never really thought about all this crap until I started teaching,

Martha teaches the preschool in the morning, while I teach English and Math to the Standard 1 kids. We switch after lunch. She does a great job, the little guys are chattering away in English, and narcing off all the kids who slip into Kiswahili or Kaguru.

The school year ends in December, so by January we will have preschool, St.1 and St.2. We're going to need a Standard 2 teacher, o yeah, and a classroom. I'm less worried about the classroom, it's a small class and we will find a place, we can use my house if we have to. The teacher is going to be another matter. Anyone interested? I'm beginning the search now, things take time here. But it's a sweet deal.

There's a free place to live, a stipend, plane fare, lots of perks. Electricity and running water (cold, but running). And freedom. Africa will let you do almost anything you want. All you have to do is say you will. The folks here are just great, very welcoming. They'll even kill your chickens for you, and you can't ask for much more than that. The food isn't all that tasty, and it's the same thing all the time, but you don't have to worry about your weight. Hard to get fat when there's nothing tempting and the cookies taste like pesticide.

I'm trying to give an honest assessment of life here, I wouldn't want anyone to think they've been conned. It's good and bad, like everywhere, but definitely more good. The monkeys have been raiding the shambas and stealing the maize, but that won't be a problem for you. Living in Africa is definitely a positive experience.

So if anyone is interested, let me know. I can talk you through how to get here,what you need, what you don't. Oreos, dental floss, maybe a knife sharpener.

Christina got sent home the other day for telling Freddy "kuma kwako" which is Kiswahili for the C word. We had her go home and bring back her mom, who asked to speak to some witnesses (the entire class). Than she asked Dani to go out and select a likely looking stick so she could beat the daylights out of Chris. She was hoping to do it in front of the class, as an example, but I insisted she beat her outside the school, so she said she'd wait till after work. I can't believe some of the conversations I have here.

L

Ze Lain in Spain

Don't know the name of this bird, but it's a beaut.

In case you didn't know, and even if you don't care, R and L are not interchangeable. In Tz, and other parts of the world, people have difficulty saying and apparently hearing the two sounds. To them, either one is ok. I've seen people spell their OWN name using either one on different days. It's been me against them in this vicious consonant war, but I will prevail, despite being the only person in Berega who can differentiate between rock and lock. 





This is a true story.

A few years ago Carlee and I were at our favorite, actually only, bar in Kyela, a little border town between Tz and Malawi. We were having a cold Safari, which comes in a larger than usual bottle as well as having a larger than usual alcohol content. So we were happy girls and more than ready for a guffaw or two. Our friend Gody, Zambian by birth but living in Tz, was busy ignoring us and engrossed in the newspaper, so we weaved over and asked him what was so interesting.

Gody: I'm reading an article in my home newspaper.

Me: What's it about??

Gody: Zambias big erection.


Me: Oh really, that IS interesting, and what about it?

Gody: Well, its going to be a very big erection, and everybody will come from all over Zambia.

Me: Well I imagine they will. I might even go.

Gody: Everyone is talking about it, it's very exciting. It's a very important erection.

Me. I guess so.

Well this went on for a bit, he dug himself in deeper and deeper, egged on by us two giggling half drunk wazungu. After a while I dried the tears from my eyes, and attempted to explain that he was actually talking about an election, but as he doesn't hear the difference between r and l, he never caught on, and village folks dont like to talk about sex, so I gave up. l also never found out any more about Zambias giant erection, although I hope all went well.

We have a spelling test everyday, and I begin by saying a word, after which the kids ask me to repeat it about five times, until Teacher Baraka says it. He has the same accent they do, so if I say hop, he says hope, and they spell. But if these kids hope (or hop) to go on to university, they're going to have to get this straightened out. People with good jobs making good money have had to do it, and so they will as well. I expect a lot, but being here would be pointless if I didn't.

As well as the r and l issue, Tanzanians are totally incapable of ending a word on a consonant. I am Teacha Lizzi, look is pronounced and spelled ruku, hip is heepu, rat is lati. We've been studying letter combinations and have started with sh, which they get, but can't spell ship or sheep unless I translate first into Kiswahiki. " Teacha Lizzie, sheep meli or sheep kondoo?" (boat or lamb).

This and these are turning into a real migraine, from either end. Both come out like zeez. I feel like such a hardass sometimes, but they asked for a native speaker so this is what happens.
The kids with English speaking parents do better, but everyone is catching on slowly, even Samweli is improving. He doesn't spit on me anymore when he says TH, for which I am grateful. It helps that his front teeth have grown in.

Vicent getting his picture taken with the WV soccer ball. 

Normally no kid has a ball, they make them from plastic bags

and twine. I like them, they don't pop.

Last week the kids were all squirmy and excited about old division. I'd never heard of it, and frankly we're having enough trouble with two digit addition and subtraction. Shouldn't we add first, then maybe subtract, then divide? Is there new division? So I asked Teacher Baraka, our volunteer third teacher, but then his accent is thicker than the kids (he's had it longer). After much discussion, I found out that old division is World Vision.They have a chapter here, down the road a mile or two, and occasionally give the kids stuff. 

Signing up for their zawadi (gift).

Over half our kids are helped by Old Division, not financially but with needed items. Sometimes school supplies, or food. After it became obvious I wasn't going to get anywhere teaching, I asked Abdallah to drive us down to Mgugu School so we could collect our stuff and move on with our day. They were so cute, so excited, visions of exercise books and pencils dancing in their little heads.





A big crowd had gathered, the kids  showed their Old Division ID cards, and had their pictures taken with a soccer ball. Then they gave each kid a container of body oil and we went home. The kids looked like Ralphie on A Christmas Story when got a pink bunny suit from his aunt. I asked if this is what usually happens, and they said WV was good while they were actually here, but they are gone, and now the local people in charge sell off most of the stuff or give it to their friends and family then give the kids just a small portion of their intended loot.

Sick kid at giveaway, we took him to the hospital when we 

returned to school.

They weren't blaming WV, they just said that everything is corrupt here, and so they don't complain. Besides, who would they complain to, and if they did, maybe they wouldn't even get the oil.This just strengthens my belief that large organizations, while trying to do a good thing, just get too big to manage. When all the people who work for an NGO start driving around in fat white Land Rovers, you know the money is finding other destinations.

Note girl with orange hair. Not a fashion statement, this is a 

sign of malnutrition.

Small organizations, while they do smaller projects, and have less money and don't go on TV trying to guilt you out of money by showing pictures of emaciated kids with flies in their eyes, are more conscientious with your money. It's all well and good to put thousands of kids in school, but if the school is so bad that less than 10% of the kids pass, what's the point? Better to work on the school itself. All my evening students finished Standard 7 but didn't go on because they didn't pass. This is the reality here, so why not focus on improving the system rather than adding more kids to a class that already has over 100 kids crowded into one room? That's been sticking in my throat for a while, it's a relief to get it out.

Went to Mikumi with my adult class. Philipo,Amon,Abdallah 

and Frank.

We've been having a problem with parents not paying school fees. Christina and Susy are in St 1, nice kids, but very poor and definitely hungry. Susy's shoes are about worn through, and the heels are gone.They eat their uji every morning, then sit patiently waiting for the kids who can't finish theirs to pass it over. Then for lunch they eat theirs, the littler kids leftovers, and whatever is left in the food bucker Mama Dani brings.

Happy, Esther, Aissa,Teacher Martha and Jeska

Suzy's mom owes 385,000 ths and Chris's mom owes 270,000 tsh. Isaac and I sat down with the moms to try to figure something out. Mama Susy (s and z also interchangeable), makes 30,000 tsh monthly and Mama Chris makes about 65,000 tsh. She has 5 kids and Mama Susy has 4. I asked them how they figured they could make those payments, they said they hoped to try. But the math just doesn't work (it can't), so they owe big. They also don't always eat in the evening, which is why C and S hoover up all they can at school. But they're good kids so we're keeping them.

Zebras aren't small, so imagine the size of this giraffe. 

After much discussion it was decided that the families would sweep both classrooms every day, and clean both choos. They will mop every Friday. I'm too happy about this, I still pay, but we're getting something done in return. The mamas are happy as well, and hopefully they can buy more food for the house. It also explains why the kids never complain about the monotonous menu, they're too hungry to care. They're lucky girls, though, lots of kids here live like this and don't get school lunch.

The park roads were rocky and twisty so we had no idea

how long we drove on this, but we found it when we 

left the park. 

A friend of mine just wrote and said sometimes he doesn't believe what I write. But then he's never been to the Third World. Long ago, I worked in an Alzheimer's Unit, and here are similarities. Some things are sad, some things are funny (because you might as well laugh), and some things just don't make sense. But it's all true. You can't make this stuff up, so, you just go along with it, because you have to. Like the time one of my patients walked up to me and said "Dear, this is such a lovely boat".

Guys all over the world. One fixes, all the others stand 

around and watch.

L

Prevailing

A pictorial history of Beregea kindergarten and first grade.

This was the preschool on the first week. Pre renovation.

We painted  over Jesus, but it was for a good cause.

Our original free meal program, peanuts and water outside. 

You can see enrollment increasing.

Part way through, usable but still pretty bare.

9 students and teacher Martha

That leopard took me three days.

Look at John's mural in the background, it's a beaut.

One room done.

Morning uji, enrollment still increasing.

Movie day every Friday.

Lunch. We're up to 20 kids now. 

We painted the room next door so we could separate the 

preschool and first grade.

The room next door.

 School library

Simon Says aka Simon Anasema

Some of Standard !, we've got 2 classes

 now, chekechea and first.

I enjoy my vacations, in spite of Africa's seemingly continuous efforts to sabotage any trip I take. Or any other activity for that matter, like eating, shopping, breathing...Sometimes you just have to decide to not let it get you down.

Likizo started on Good Friday, and at dawn's early crack I took a 2 hour daladala ride to Morogoro so I could catch my luxury bus for the 10 hour ride to Mbeya. I arrived at 07, the bus was to arrive at 09, but by 0815 I realized, after much inner debate, that I really needed to use the choo (bathroom) before I boarded the bus for said 10 hour ride.

In Africa I religiously eat light the night before a long bus trip, and during the trip I sip water and nibble salty stuff (sometimes it's good to retain water). The toilets in transit are too brutal to talk about, much less use.There's a public pay toilet at the bus stop, but it's unearthly, so I decided to catch a cab to Ricky's Cafe and use their clean First World toilet complete with TP.  The bus guy warned me not to be late, actually he nagged me for a good while, but it's a small town so I wasn't worried. I grabbed a cab and roared into Ricky's, which on a normal Friday is open for business, but not this Friday. There are very few other non lethal toilets in Morogoro. What to do..

Ricky's is conveniently located adjacent to a gas station so I asked to use theirs. While gas station toilets have improved over the years in America, I'm not in America. It was a squat choo, which I don't mind, and the floor was kind of a mess but I found a place for my backpack on a cleanish spot. I was planning to put it in the sink, until I looked into the sink. So there I was squatting and unlike Ricky's, there's no TP. There is, however, a grimy yellow water bucket situated under a faucet located beside my left tako. I squatted there for a bit mulling over my options, which were few. I considered doing what the locals do, you don't want to know, until I looked into the bucket and decided there must be something in my backpack I was willing to sacrifice.

I got back to the bus stand with plenty of time to spare (minus a sock), and waited till 9 o'clock. Then I waited till 10. I started nagging the bus guy who told me bado (not yet). While I was being repeatedly badoed I eavesdropped on a call he had made to the driver of our bus and discovered all the buses were backed up because there was a lorry stuck across the road somewhere along the route. So I asked how far down the road and he said only 130 km. That's about 2 more hours and the lorry was still across the road. 


I asked for a refund so I could get another bus. He gave me my money and he wasn't smiling, this after badoeing to me for the past 2 hours. I guess I can forget about ever getting a good seat on Mbeya Express again. But as ALL the buses were late and everyone with better Swahili than me (which is everyone) got seats on other buses,  I was left alone, dejected, and busless on the first day of my vacation.

Anyway I decided I was too tired/old for this and went to the Morogoro Hotel where I spent the day watching movies, eating Indian food and drinking Safari Lager. An auspicious start, despite the public transport systems efforts to the contrary.

Vacation was fine, all is well in Mbeya, except I discovered my banker is being investigated for fraud. My balance looks about right, so if he's stealing money, it's not mine.

For the return trip I decided I wouldn't go by the same bus, and opted for Green Star, which is a very nice bus, or was. We broke down for the first time while we were still in Mbeya, the second time just outside of Ilula. It could have been worse, there's a whole lot of nothing between Mbeya and Ilula, but we were able to coast into town and were back on the road in about 2 hours. 


I got to Morogoro too late to catch the bus to Berega, so spent another night in Morogoro Hotel, more movies and beer, and a very nice pork steak. So despite all of Tanzania's attempts to mess up my vacation, I had a good time. Sometimes you need to make the effort.

School started again, the kids are doing well. There's lots of reading going on in Standard 1, in English and Kiswahili. The Kiswahili is going a little faster, it's not as complicated as English, but then, what is? Besides, once they sound out a word in their own language, they know what it means.

I've had tables and chairs made to accommodate the new kids, but now I think we need a reading table. We have kids who routinely finish more quickly than the others, so I think it would be good to have a table in the back so they can  read while I help the slower ones. 


I've always been a reader, and right now these kids are excited about this new thing they can do. It's a amazing thing to see the looks on their faces when they finish a book.

If you've never lived here, you can't begin to know how bad most of the schools are. Kids here are working without a net, so if they can get a few really good years in early, they can do ok. Most kids don't get that, that's why so few pass. That and the lack of teachers, books, parental concern...

The fundraiser was a success, but I will accept further donations if you're of a mind. You might like to know how the money was used. There was a total of 1330 USD, which comes to 2,100,000 tsh. Nashukurani sana Leslie, Sharon,Chris, Sheila, Doc, Kathy, Max and Joanne. I has been spent as follows:

2,100,000  total received
  540,000  2 full scholarships
1,560,000
  570,000  5 partial scholarships
  990,000
  230,000  books
  760,000
    30,000  videos
  730,000
    15,000  mats for nap time
 715,000
    10,000  repairs to the door of the school
  705,000
    20,000  paint
  685,000
    15,000  buckets for water to wash hands
  670,000
  374,000  two large cupboards to hold supplies and kids stuff
  296,000 remaining

We have a wonderful school here. A few weeks ago John painted a preschool at Mgugu Primary where there's 160 kids in the class. So I am aware of just how lucky we are. Our kids get help when they need it, 2 meals/day, movies on Friday. 


We've got books, a library, two full time teachers and a volunteer. I refuse to spend any time feeling guilty about the schools that don't have what we have. H4A is helping those schools as well, but what can you do with 160 kids in one classroom? We did what we could, it's not enough, but then, this is Africa, and it's never enough.

L

Defining Fine

Land clearing

That's one of my jobs here, to define fine. It's well known by the locals as well as every mzungu who lives here that an African will always answer nzuri (fine).  If you come across a man lying in a ditch with an axe embedded his cranium, ask him Habari? ( How's everything?), and he will, with his last dying breath, whisper nzuri. This is how it is here. Which makes it difficult to run an NGO from America, as my boss Brad Logan is so valiantly trying to do.




I explained all this to him when we met in Arizona, where we both worked for IHS. I told him he needed someone to define fine, and as it cannot be done by an African (see man with axe in his head), I volunteered for the job.

Digging out roots. Note the lack of covered footwear.

All this time I've been here I've never explained in detail what Hands4Africa does, mostly because I hadn't seen it, but now that the project has truly begun and is doing fine...

Bin construction. In the end, 

there will be hundreds of these,

work for anyone who wants it.

Life is hard here, hard for people, dogs and cats (remember Socks), anything with a circulatory system. There's little money for food and clothes, much less for medicine and schools.  But rather than giving money, which will never accomplish anything in this swirling, sucking vortex of eternal need, H4A proposes to offer jobs, lots of jobs. Then folks can pay for what they need. 

Completed bin which will create and

hold the sterile compost made of

human waste.

Where do the jobs come from?

The project revolves around the growth and care of the jatropha tree, which produces a nut that can be pressed into oil. The trees are to be fertilized using compost made of human waste, called Humanure. This process turns buckets of what we all flush into usable, sterile compost. Jatropha farms are doing well in many places in Africa, and provide regular work. This work comes in the form of:

Samweli clearing land. 

This is the guy who pulled Socks

out of the choo.

1. clearing land for the trees
2. planting and watering trees.
3. fertilizing trees
4. collecting nuts, bagging nuts, generally preparing them to become oil
5. supervising the above
6. documenting the above




To expand on the fertilizer, jobs provided include:

1. building compost bins
2. breaking rocks for bin making
3. carrying water for cement making
4. collecting materials (human waste and other biodegradable objects) to make compost and depositing them in the bins
5. supervising above tasks
6. documenting above tasks

Collecting water for the bin construction.

Humanure provides the following jobs:

1. remodeling pit toilets so buckets can be placed to collect human waste
2. cleaning and supervising the kids using the toilets. We begin with the schools as kids are more adaptable to new concepts and can provide tons of what goes into the buckets
3. collecting and transporting the full buckets.
4. replacing the full buckets with empty ones.
5. cleaning buckets

Some rocks need to be dug out of the ground. This is hard 

work, you couldn't pay me to do it.

These are just some of the jobs available as this project unfolds. The village and the Anglican Diocese has given Hands4Africa lots of land, so people can be kept busy forever.The beauty of this system is that is, and I hate to use the S word, self sustaining.





The reason I dislike this word is that people come to Africa, set something up, and expect it to be self sustaining in a matter of months. This doesn't and can't happen. Africa just has too many problems. As I've said before, what takes three weeks in America will take six months here. 


That's because in Africa there's 9 steps to anything you want to do. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but on average, nine. Kwa mfano (for example), to make a meal you must:

Making gravel from rocks on the land that is being cleared.

1. find some food
2. find some firewood
3. get some water
4. boil the water unless you want to get sick
5. Start the fire and wait till the coals are ready
6. Pick the rocks and husks out of the rice, if you have rice. Ugali is generally rock free but requires more effort to cook. You can't leave it alone or it will burn right up.
7. Cut onions and tomatoes for beans
8. Pick the rocks out of the beans
9. Cook the beans.





So that's nine steps and you haven't even smelled the food yet. There's still the cleanup. That's another three or four steps. Go buy your microwave some flowers, better yet, national Microwave Day. A Hallmark card for every occasion.

Prototype of a choo using a collection bucket.

You can see that cooking is labor and time intensive, as well as everything else that happens here. Nothing is easy and you can't get from A to B without the nine steps.
I digress, but let me just say that self sustained living and subsistence living are at opposite ends of the spectrum.

Bayona volunteering to
demo the choo/bucket set up.

A project like the jatropha trees will bridge the gap between the two. The trees need constant care, as well as the toilets providing compost for the trees. In the end, folks will make much more money planting a tree farm than planting maize. So they can plant trees, harvest nuts, buy more maize than they could grow, and have money left for school fees, medicine, all kinds of stuff. If a person wants regular work, they can have it, if they just need money for school fees or hospital bills, they can work till they get it.

It's a good system, and I have only glossed over the highlights. The set up is the hard part, as most everything involves well more than the nine steps mentioned above. But in the end, it will be, dare I say, self sustaining. I do, I dare.

Usiku mwema na lala salama