Leaving Africa (my final blog entry)

From my journal on the flight from Kenya to London:


On airplanes, I always think about time. Travel gives you time to think, and a sense of the time that has passed since you last came through. Returning to the airport in Nairobi, it felt like I was entering a time warp. I remembered getting there for the first time, and finding Babu (our coordinator- the name means "grandfather") waiting... feeling so excited and hopeful and expectant and also oblivious to what I was about to experience. I love those moments. I guess that's the essence of life-- moving along, expecting something but unsure of what it is, and trying to peek into the complete unknown of the future. It's so exciting! I'm trying now to look more to the future, and to remember the past but to focus on what it was and not the fact that I'm not experiencing it now.  Part of the greatness of life is that you can make things happen. There's a world of possibilities waiting at every moment. Maybe I'll go back to Africa. Maybe I'll work for National Geographic. Maybe I'll work at a homeless shelter or an orphanage. Maybe I'll run away with the circus, or be a waitress in Brazil. Who knows?

That said, I'm going to take a moment to remember what this trip has been.

I will always remember the incredible feeling of a game drive in the sun and the wind, riding through herds of zebra and elephants. I will always remember watching lion cubs play. I will always remember braving colossal insects and learning to like them. I will always remember to step carefully through the grass at night to avoid black mambas (whether or not this is an appropriate concern or not in the future). I will always remember staying in the Maasai boma with Margaret. I will always remember the poverty I witnessed. I will always remember children dancing in church, people calling me Simba, and staying up late with the askaris on night watch. I will always remember chilly mornings and upbeat music and dancing during cook crew. I will always remember Chris and Theo: making the kite, taking in views from an open hill and seeing Lake Manyara far below, sharing meals, and learning about their culture, their language, and their lives. I will remember my baptized names, Nashipai ("happy person" in Maasai) and Manaqi, ("new corn" in Iraqw) which I can't actually pronounce or spell. I will remember long hikes and classes on the hills and in the fields. I will remember camping surrounded by miles of African wilderness. I will remember bush babies and beautiful colored birds. I will remember the slow, loping run of a giraffe. I will remember wild Africa as I have seen it. I will remember feeling like my work and my studies had a purpose. I will remember long talks and interviews. I will remember the Maasai leader who took us into his home. I will remember cattle herded across dirt roads. I will remember playing guitar with hundreds of school children singing. I will remember chasing hyenas at night. I will remember campfires. I will remember Mto wa Mbu and our painter and carver friends. I will remember being a minority. I will remember being welcomed in. I will remember soccer. I will remember the torrential rainstorms and the scorching sun. I will remember the stars. I will remember waking up looking forward to each day as something special. And so much more.

And now... onward! 

I just finished the first week of my internship with National Geographic Television in DC. A new adventure begins! So far, it has been extremely exciting. Keep on the lookout for our show, "Untamed Americas!"

*FYI, I have updated and fixed all of the blog entries that previously had blank photo icons on them. If you want to see pics from Serengeti and that time period, go back to those posts and they will be viewable now!

This will be my last blog post. I hope you have all enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing. If anyone would like to send me questions or comments, feel free to write in the "comment" box below this post. I would love to hear from you!

(...bye!)

Obama

Obama is a HUGE deal in both Kenya and Tanzania. People see him as a very important tie between East Africa and the United States, and this is reflected by representations of him everywhere, from gum brands to handbags! I meant to post this much earlier, it's too funny.

Obama gum...

Obama trucks... (these are everywhere)

Obama handbag...

Obama street stand/gift shop...

Another angle of the Obama gift shop with owners...

Obama skirt wrap...

Obama and family... shopping bag? Next to the used bicycle tire and sandals. 

Comedy of flight errors

After so much traveling, one trip had to be a little crazy...

Broken seat, off to a good start.

Just a little zoom in on the screen above. Hi, I'm BERT. 

A few minutes later... this happens.

Oops- wardrobe malfunction! But aren't they sweet socks?

...then Liz's glasses broke...

Trying to stay as close as possible before separating :P

Saying goodbyes

From a week ago...

Well, I’m no longer in Tanzania. It is completely and totally shocking and I still don’t really know how I feel about it, but I’m here in London and working on looking back and appreciating the whole experience instead of missing it.

Last time I wrote, I was still writing my research report. It was a long, slow process, made longer by the fact that it was so difficult to concentrate on the work when there was a whole new world opened up to us by Chris and Theo. We visited their houses, we played with their puppies, we saw beautiful views and explored the farmland. We taught at the school Theo teaches at. I wished that we had weeks more to see the area and explore like this. However, my research project really interested me and I felt it was important to the community, so I spent long nights and half of my days just working on the paper and analyzing data. It was great talking with my advisor, Mwamhanga, and discussing different aspects of the research and how it could be applied. Interviewing the Lake Manyara park officials was really interesting, and made me realize how important our work with SFS is and how much we truly can contribute, which helped me to forge ahead and continue to work hard on the research.

My favorite view

Claire, Abby, and me

The meeting place tree

Don't pet the dogs!!! Well, except this one...

Cornfields!

Chris jammin out to Abby's ipod... in a cornfield.

Happy happy happy

Sunrise on our last morning

As the end drew closer, it was hard to believe that it was really coming. I pretended that it wasn’t so that I could finish my paper and prepare my presentation without that pit in my stomach that comes with knowing how short the time is becoming. Our presentation was on May 5^th, and we left on May 7^th. It was too short a time in between to even realize it was happening. Our presentations went very well; many of the community members came, and even our painter and carver friends from Mto wa Mbu showed up.  Most importantly in terms of impact, the park officials representing TANAPA (the environmental authority in Tanzania) came to see the presentations. I presented a short piece of my research on the environmental information channels currently used for environmental education, and those with which local stakeholders would prefer to be informed in the future. I also talked about how to increase locals’ attendance at village meetings where TANAPA and NGOs presented environmental conservation information.  I was pretty nervous speaking, but one head park warden came up to me afterwards and congratulated me on my confidence. “You know how to say what you know like you know it,” he told me. I was glad that he thought so! He also told me that it was part of the African tradition to present a song, and asked whether we’d prepared one. I was taken aback since it hadn’t occurred to me that a musical performance would be expected after a formal presentation, but told him I’d look into it. A few minutes later we were all singing “In the Jungle” for the crowd, which in the US would have seemed absolutely ridiculous but was greatly appreciated by our Tanzanian audience.

Research presentation

Moving out was crazy. So many thoughts to sort through, so many feelings about the place, but all I had time to do was gather my things and try to stuff them into my dilapidated bags. One large Maasai spear, two smaller ones. One bow and set of arrows, a bag of Maasai jewelry, a bag of volcanic rock. Wooden elephants, little gifts I’d received, and a bundle of little papers with email addresses scribbled by all the people I would miss. The bags packed, I sent them off in the big truck taking them to Kenya, and headed to Rhotia to spend one more afternoon with Chris and Theo.

The walk to Chris’ house was strange. As Abby, Claire, and I walked downtown, children came to greet us and grab our arms as usual, people stared as we arrived  in town as usual, and the usual smells and dust filled our senses but we knew it was our last walk and it made it different. I tried to soak in all the smells and noises and scenery, hoping to capture it in my mind forever. We hung out at the house for a while and played with two of Chris' puppies, and looked through his old photo album, now partly filled with some pictures we’d given him from our time there. He and Theo each gave us a picture of theirs with a note on the back like we’d done for them.

Photo album

One of Chris' photos from the album

Of course I had to post a couple more cute baby animal pictures before this blog ends... I know you guys were really missing out on those! :P

Little dance party on the hill :D

Later, we wandered up to the big hill overlooking Lake Manyara near Theo’s house, where we had flown the kite and had picnics before. Chris and Theo gave us each little golden heart necklaces. I wanted to cry. It was so sweet. It's hard to explain, but this short friendship has been so pure and good for all of us. We all learned something about each other, and about another place and another culture so foreign to us but made real through our friendship. I think all of us felt this strange loss at the end, like we were losing a part of that special connection to each other’s worlds. I can’t imagine this semester without them being a part of it.

Self-timed picture on our favorite hill... there were cows about to trample the camera.
That's Lake Manyara in the background!

Saying goodbye to our SFS group and all the staff was really difficult the next day. It felt so fake, like we would be seeing each other a few hours later. Sometimes that makes it easier to part ways after having been together for so long. We all hugged goodbye at the airport in Arusha, and tried not to get too teary. Difficult for me, as you can imagine. Luckily, I was distracted by trying to manage the pillow case full of things, the huge backpack filled with all of my books and other heavy gear, the wooden bow, and my guitar, all supposedly going with me as carry-on. Somehow it all worked out and fit on the plane (and was allowed on the plane—that’s how you know you’re in Africa) and we got to Kenya in a short time.

Driving through Arusha

The other students on the group flight and I were greeted by staff at the Kenya airport, where it felt quite strange walking and remembering our arrival there at the beginning of the semester. When we arrived at the Nairobi SFS camp, we were all amazed. It was so beautiful! A pang of regret hit me as we moved into our bandas for the one night we would be staying, and I got the feeling that this would be our next field station and our trip wasn’t done. When I walked into the kitchen that night, bongo flava music was playing loud on the radio, Arthur the head cook was dancing along and cooking as usual, and the kitchen was filled with the warmth, steam, and good smells of a delicious dinner. We all joined in and helped him finish up the cooking, wishing it weren’t the last time. It was one of the many times I have felt in Africa that little chores, simple things that could be boring or tedious, are done with a sense of community that makes them into something really nice. I hope I can take that with me in the future.

Arthur, Liz, Katrina, and Brittany in the kitchen on our last night in Kenya

Long exposure night shots from earlier days in Kenya 

Katrina, Moses and I sat outside and talked until it was late that night, and I could see all the stars through the trees as I lay on my back next to the fire. We woke up early and headed to the airport in the land rovers, and had our last game drive in the grey of the morning. The wind blowing in my face and the zebras and gazelle running against the background of the city was nice and reminded me of all of the other times I have felt that same freedom this semester. I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been.

One last post is coming to you that I will transcribe directly from a journal entry I wrote on the plane to England… 

Let's go fly a kite...

I am such a 5 year old. Thursday was a non-program day, and Abby, Chris, Theo and I got a bunch of materials together and made a kite. It brought me back to my childhood, when I would always make paper airplanes and rockets and do fun experiments like this with my Dad. A few days ago we discovered a huge hill near Theo’s house, so we decided that it would be a perfect place for a kite and since Theo and Chris had never flown one it seemed like a fun project to do. We got big black plastic bags, duct tape, embroidery floss, and my bandana for the tail, and carved sticks for the frame. It ended up looking really good, but we realized when we stepped back outside that the wind had died down and the kite wouldn’t fly. At least that’s what I blame it on. We ran back and forth down the dirt path near Theo’s house trying to get it to fly, to no avail. I only realized afterwards that his mother and sister were watching and laughing from his yard. Silly mzungus.

Well, at least it looked nice!

Try # 103.

 Although the result wasn't exactly a success, it was fun making the kite, and we made up for the failure by hanging out on the hill and having a picnic, and then going on a nice walk to see elephants in the agricultural fields on the edge of Ngorongoro Conservation Area. We didn’t end up seeing animals either, but it was a beautiful place to visit! Basically, all our plans kind of failed but we had a great day anyways. Now I’m off to write some more of my research paper! Graph time…

Some kids we met along the way showing off their incredible hand-walking skills!

The farmland where elephants sometimes come.

The last pics from last week: research outings and cool trees.

I loved this tree on the way to some of our interviews one day.  

My new African style. This is the outfit we are generally expected to wear in town for modesty. Of course, the shorts underneath are usually covered by the wrap but I thought you should see the whole effect. Hiking boots, high socks, shorts, and a cloth wrap? Sounds like fashion to me. Just imagine the muddy days when we have to wear rain boots! 

The fields right outside our camp gate. The wheat is just starting to grow and it's really bright green!

Guitar lessons. I teach them a few times a week and it's a lot of fun!

The Maasai market. If you want a cow or a goat, this is the place to be!
The ropes on the ground in front of the women are the kind we tried to learn to make yesterday. 

Our whole Environmental Policy research team!

A baobab on the drive back from Mto wa Mbu to camp. I think they're some of the coolest trees I've seen. They call them "devil's trees" here because their branches grow in the shape of roots and the roots look like branches. 

The Minority

I have been on camp for much of the day today again working on my research paper, but Claire, Abby, and I got out for a little while and had a little picnic with Chris on the lawn at the edge of an expansive green valley of agricultural land this afternoon. It was peaceful and relaxing and Chris taught us how to strip a certain plant to make it into string for the rope used to restrain cattle here. It was nice to have a change of scenery in the midst of a day full of staring at the computer. The research paper is coming along now that I have finished entering data, but it’s hard to concentrate on it for days so it’s nice to break it up a little.

I thought since I didn’t have too much exciting news for today that I would write about something I’ve been thinking about recently:

I am a minority here in a big way. Every time I go into town, every person on the street looks at me. No matter how much I try to dress like them or to fit in with the culture, this will never change. Even if I lived here forever, I would never be able to pass on the streets without feeling everyone’s attention turn to me. It is not a bad attention per say; there is no ill intention as far as I know, especially since SFS students are well recognized as a good presence in the community, but it is extremely noticeable and I have only recently realized that I am experiencing what minorities might experience in places like my very white NH home. I started out feeling fine about the situation here, but when I realized that even when people know I am not a tourist it does not change, I started to think about how frustrating it was. People walking past me and other SFS students as we walk with Chris and Theo ask them “why are you walking with these white people?” Or “where did you find them?” Some people ask them which of us they are going to marry, or which they themselves might be able to marry. (I never knew what they said in response to this until I asked yesterday and they told me they had just replied "What are you talking about? We're all men here!") Some people ask them whether they can ask us if we will give them money. Others just laugh to see us all hanging out together. When we pass people’s homes, children yell “Mzungu!” (white person!) and when we walk into bigger towns, we are always swarmed by street vendors who are convinced that we have an unlimited supply of money. Once I told a street vendor that I had no money that day for a necklace he kept trying to sell to me, and he said “What? But your skin is white! You all have money!” Chris told us that people see mzungus as a big dollar sign sometimes, since the tourism industry is such a big source of income here and the area we are in is on the tourist route on the way to Lake Manyara and Ngorongoro Conservation Area. It makes sense; people have been trained that white people are a source of income, and the truth is that even students from the US generally have more money than the average family here. And who am I to complain? Even I stare at white people when I see them here because it is such a rare sight! Still, it frustrates me when I just want to be here and instead I am labeled or stared at or my presence is announced by children who are only saying what their parents are thinking. Sometimes children try to rub the white off of my skin. Sometimes I wish they could.

I’m working on the tan but will have to do quite a bit more before I can ever expect to fit in here.

  

Easter Sunday

Easter was a very nice day. We woke up early to go to church in the morning, which was packed. It was a fun service and I have decided that if I ever live here for an extended period of time I will join the church choir because they get to stand in the front and wear matching outfits and dance and shake cool percussion instruments while they sing. On each side, there were also lots of young girls dancing in unison in yellow dresses and clapping their hands as a part of the music. The music itself reminded me of the service I went to in Kenya; a kind of peppy synthesizer with a deep beat and whistles thrown in. The little boy who sat next to me couldn’t keep his legs still, the music was so upbeat, and kept dancing in his seat. All the women in their special church outfits and head coverings made loud trilling sounds at the beginning and end of songs. It was the same sound that the women at Chris’ house had made during the dance.

After church we returned to camp for brunch, and had a feast before heading to Theo’s house. We weren’t sure what to expect, since it was Easter and promised to be more overwhelming than the family gathering at Chris’, but as it turned out it was very relaxed and quiet. We all hung out inside his house and his mom and sister brought us yet another feast and we all sat together and spoke in our three languages and somehow made it work.

Walking back from Theo’s house was nice. It felt like fall; all the corn now towers above my head, and somehow the smell and the feel of the wind remind me of fall at home. Even though the afternoons are still boiling, the evenings are cool and breezy. The sun slants through the trees and across the fields with a kind of golden light and fills you with a contentment and peace that is hard to describe.

As we walked back, Theo, Chris, and their two friends whose names we don’t know because they have been nicknamed “Local wine” and “Milk” decided that they should give us Iraqw names. Unfortunately, Abby and I are not able to pronounce either one. Both include guttural sounds that we just aren’t capable of making… mine is Manaqi, and hers is Aamatli. When we asked them to tell us if they meant anything, they told us that they were common girls’ names, and that Aamatli means “young girl.” They had a hard time explaining mine, and picked some corn off of one of the stalks as we walked. They shucked it and pointed to the corn, saying that this is what Manaqi meant. I still don’t really know what it means but I think it means something like “half-ripened.” Nice.

At night all of the students here decided to dress up and pretend to be different quirky family members at dinner. We were each assigned a different character—mine was the 30-year-old hippie aunt who took her guitar everywhere—and acted them out throughout the night, which was really hilarious. We had a goat roast outside and ate at a candlelit table on the lawn. It was very nice even though I still don’t really love eating goat no matter how hard I try to appreciate it.

Today, on the other hand, began as a disaster. I woke up with a start and remembered that I’d left my notebook on top of my research questionnaires in the covered gazebo outside. I went outside to find my papers scattered everywhere by the wind, including many of the research questionnaires. What a nightmare! Many of them had ink running everywhere and were soaked by the morning dew. I picked them all up and tried not to be too panicked. I was able to find them all in the end and to salvage all of the blurred answers. Whew! A bad way to wake up though. The rest of the day was spent on camp doing work, looking for DC apartments, sending National Geographic information, and typing my questionnaire responses into the stats program we’re using. Hopefully tomorrow I can get my work done early and venture off of camp again- we’re hoping to do a hike to a cool plateau overlooking Lake Manyara nearby!

  

Happy Easter! Pictures from this week!

Some more are on the way but I thought I'd start with these!

Setting out for a day of interviews

The walk back to town

Brick making

Running away with a giant wooden giraffe isn't as easy as it looks.

Interview

Role Reversal

We had to cross this.

The typical appearance of my arms... these are the words that I learned during interviews that day.
I attribute the majority of my knowledge of Swahili to this brilliant technique.

Chris, me, and Theo doing a crash course in Gmail.

Taken walking to our agricultural interviews

The roads sometimes need a little maintenance.