Out of Africa Always Something New

On our way back we spend a night in Stone Town and soak in a bit more of the atmosphere. A chilling visit to the museum with the last remaining slave prison puts this part of the world in historical perspective.

Nick and I make it back to Dodoma in the knick of time to greet our boss and trustees who are visiting our office this week. We spend the next few days giving presentations, attending meetings and discussing the sustainability of our programmes in more depth. It is an eye opening experience and I am glad to have crossed over with the trustees again before wrapping up my time in Dodoma. I can’t believe I’ll be back in the UK in just a few weeks time. These past 8 months have been a unique experience and I feel I have learnt so much. The hardest part is saying goodbye to the team but in a way it feels right and more appropriate than continuing to command my seniors. I can’t help feeling slightly relieved that my departure will make way for local talent to grow and hopefully assert itself. There has been no better time for management reform at Sunseed.

To my surprise and luck I get an article on the clean stoves initiative published the day before flying back home: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/dec/07/letter-from-tanzania-stoves-ostler

Before leaving Tanzania I make a short visit to Mikumi National Park with friends. It has been an old dream of mine to go on safari in East Africa and here I am waving goodbye to the mango chewing baboons, the peeing giraffes, the fighting gazelles and the slumbering pack of lions. On my return to snowy Somerset, dad greets me with a warm embrace and an old Roman saying, EX AFRICA SEMPER ALIQVID NOVI.

One day I hope to return to Tanzania and continue marvelling at this land of joy and hamna shida. And if I ever find myself short of happiness, I will be sure to find it thriving here, still pumping away in the beautiful, serene hearts that beat in Tanzania.

I am flattered if you’re still reading…thanks :)

Zanzibar

Zanzibar. The Black Coast. Land of fresh vanilla pods and roasted coffee beans. Of dates and nuts and jellies. Of swanky Swahili, of both natural and man-made beauty.
As I walk off the ferry accompanied by Thomas, I feel the first lukewarm drops of rain land on my forehead. The rainy season has finally begun. After a day in Dar es Salaam where the heat is inescapable and there is little to do besides spending long hours waiting in shabby cabs to reach the hidden pockets of coolness and entertainment, I feel excited to be on holiday. I hope that it does not rain for Bram and Bjorn who have just arrived in Tanzania for a much needed break from the cold! I only crossed over with them for one night and one morning in Dar. The YWCA, where Thomas and I stayed, was overridden by the grandeur of the Kempinsky where we met up with them the day before. What exuberance! Is this really the same country where the average monthly household income is £28.60? (And that’s excluding rural agriculture which employs 80% of the workforce). Nonetheless we embrace the comfort and elegance and have a jolly time catching up with my friends. It feels surreal to see them out here. It feels just as surreal when two weeks later we find ourselves staying for two nights at the very same Kilimanjaro Hotel, courtesy of dear Bjorn!
We regain our balance on firm ground and perch on our heavy backpacks in Zanzibar we suddenly find ourselves swarmed by ‘official’ tour guides and agents ready to pack us into a minivan and transport us to the other side of the island. With a slight effort to keep our holiday moods untarnished we make it through the buzz and begin to make our own way through the maze of dilapidated stone architecture with Persian, Arabic and Indian elements. They are mostly terraced houses, strangely reminiscent of old European and Latin American colonial city centres.

Neglected yet highly populated alleys of picturesque buildings reveal fabric shops and fruit stalls. Hotels and private homes, and the odd coffee shop here and there. On the steps there are children and women selling grilled octopus tentacles and men cluster around the scattered bao boards or solar powered TVs concentrating on the games. My eye is caught by the ancient heavy wooden doors studded to perfection that glitter from corner to corner.

We reach the source of the strange mixed aroma of cardamom, fresh fish and spice that fills the streets. The market at Stone Town is unconsciously dirty and beautiful at the same time. There are old-fashioned dala-dalas stopping and starting all around it. We opt to cross the island the cheapest way possible and climb onto the right one. Soon we discover this is also going to be the most fun way to reach Uroa beach where we are going to meet up with the rest of our friends. Space does not get in the way of peoples’ hospitable nature. Our luggage is squeezed in and carried jointly by everyone’s laps. Once we get going the clever design of the taxi vans allows for plenty of air to flow through as we speed through lush jungle views. I can’t get enough of this adrenalin rush and as if I were 8, I turn my head to make sure all my hair gets messy and big. We are stopped by the traffic police on a couple of occasions during the hour’s drive and we learn that the guys who jump off just before these stops are cunningly doing so to keep the ticket master out of trouble for over packing the dala dala. They climb back on a few hundred metres after the top and business continues as normal.

Nick, Wendy and Spencer are waiting for us at a nice resort recently opened by a Swiss mother and daughter. Most of their masai employees are also (tipsy) guests and make for lively conversations while we sip our drinks that evening. We spend two days sun-freckling, digging our feet in the fluffy sand, feasting on fresh seafood platters and learning to play ‘celebrity’. The sand looks and feels like processed flour and the sunshine is unconditional. It is the first time I dip into this spectacular Indian Ocean. The water is calm and shallow for a few metres in, creating a band of turquoise glean. It is every bit as beautiful as in the glossy photos printed on honey mooners’ catalogues.

What I like about this place is that it is still a working beach. Fishermen and seaweed farmers abound, as do their sweet and cheeky kids who spend their free time teasing foreign passers by. I selfishly cross my fingers so tourists retain their novel aura for a long time to come.

Dodoma Yosso Sports Centre

In the summer, someone reading this blog, just like you are doing now, picked up on Issa’s story. Dominik was inspired by him and decided he’d like to help. He contacted me out of the blue and we met in London in September. At first he said he’d like to donate a sum of his own money to buy some footballs and sports equipment for the boys to enrol in this year’s local championship. I was pleasantly surprised especially as this came recently after Pepsi did not offer any sponsorship. So on my return to Dodoma I got together with Issa and drew up a serious budget which included not only the sports equipment he needs but his plan to build a canteen for the teenagers to gather safely and eat together. It was a good exercise for both of us to map out a more concrete summary of Issa’s goals for Dodoma Youth Sports Centre. I sent Dominik the document with more photos and information. Two days later we received BRILLIANT news. Dominik did not only honour his pledge to donate but he’d proceeded to fundraise among his work colleagues and friends even placing a collection box at his flat party! He raised over ten times the sum he had originally offered which means that the canteen and brick built centre can replace the open shed where they currently meet. There are enough funds to cover most of the equipment and the building materials. I will endeavour to continue fundraising for the extras next year when I run the Great North Run with my brother.

It was moving to see Dominik’s peers’ comments and words of encouragement in the emails he forwarded. Delighted and still not believing our luck, Issa and I immediately began the process of registering as an official charity. This type of paperwork is a serious hurdle in Tanzania. To this day we continue to work our way over it. Suddenly the date I am due home seems premature. But there is little I can do about that now. So I get Levina and Thomas on board, who together will support Issa in kick starting Dodoma Yosso and overseeing the construction of the premises, the purchase of the equipment and the registration of the team in the local football championship next year. It’s a challenge to feel held up by bureaucratic barriers so soon in the process but the key is to be patient and gracefully take one step at a time. In a way, Dominik made sure the hardest step became the easiest i.e. that of securing enough funds to get going.