So, I haven't written in a long time, so I will try to give a whole bunch of information today.
We are just waiting around for school to start and our roommates to arrive and nothing is very clear. Apparently classes will begin tomorrow, but we don't know which classes, or exactly how to register. Its crazy how, as the biggest, most prestigious University in the country, they are this unorganized. It also just shows how crazy organized Stanford is. Also, I got clearance to volunteer at a local hospital, so we will see if I can get there sometime this week.
Transportation in Tanzania
I've gotten so used to the transportation here that I almost forgot to write about it. In Dar, and the rest of Tanzania, most people travel via Dala-Dalas. They are small, 16-seater Toyota vans in which all of the original seats have been removed and replaced with more seats (the ultimate goal is to get as many people inside as possible). The ceiling is usually covered in some kind of wildly tacky cloth, and the back is painted with an often religious phrase, sometimes in English and terribly misspelled (example: "Grory to God" since Swahili speakers tend to mix up their Ls and Rs.) If you want to get anywhere in town, you wait at a "bus stop" (a cut out in the road) and a Dala will swing by to pick you up. There is a driver and a conductor ("conda") who shouts at people to get in and collects money. They drive specific routes and when you want to get off, you call "shusha," which means "get off" and the conda will get the driver to stop at the next bus stop. The whole system is really efficient, and besides being periodically sat on by mamas or forced to stand with your butt in someone's face, it's quite easy to use. Plus, each ride is 300 shillings, equivalent to 27 cents. Recently, Tony got a chance to be a conda for a day, and he is now seriously famous. Everywhere we go, people shout, "conda!" at him. Also, there are taxis and mini 3-wheel taxis. When mom and dad come (in less than 2 weeks!) I think we may stick to taxis.
Food
Food is definitely what I miss most about home (after the people of course). Tanzanian food is almost always fried carbs and ridiculously chewy meat. For breakfast, Tanzanians usually eat mandazi (fried pastry), chapati, samosas, or supu, this disgusting meat broth with pieces of literal cow foot. The rest of the food (aka lunch and dinner) is rice, ugali (corn maize mush), cooked bananas with beans, peas, okra, or meat. Also, chipsi (aka french fries) is often served as a main course with meat, or cooked with eggs as an egg-french-fried-omelette. The saving grace is the availability of fresh fruits and veggies, which I can buy at the cafeteria and the guy will cut up for us. Plus, there are some more American and Asian places around that we can get to for special occasion. Oh, what I would do for a turkey sandwich!
Greetings
Greetings here is a huge part of daily life. Every time I enter the dorm I have to greet the guard (who, incidentally is a little old women who frequently loses her voice and sits on a chair all day listening to the radio - good to know we have a fierce attentive guard!) Greetings go something like this:
Me: Shikamoo (repsectfully greeting her)
Guard: Marahaba (I accept your respect). Hujambo? (how are you?)
Me: Sijambo (I am fine), Habari za kazi? (how is your work?)
Guard: nzuri (good) za kwako? (your home?)
Me: Nzuri (good)
Guard: za shule? (school?)
Me: nzuri (good)
Guard: za siku? (the day?)
Me: Nzuri (good)
Guard: nzima? (are you whole?)
Me: nzima. (I am whole.)
...all before I can get into the dorm! Other variations ask about your night, your morning, even the last 5 minutes if I have been up to my room only briefly and heading back down. Oy.
Alright...off to have some amazing Tanzania food....
RQ
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
All is well
Just writing to say all is well. I moved into my new room today to make room for my Tanzanian roommate who will move in next week. It seems like the internet is better here!
I will write more soon.
RQ
I will write more soon.
RQ
Monday, September 15, 2008
Blogs and Emails
Hey all,
Just some info on keeping in touch for the rest of the time...
The best way to keep in touch is to send me emails. I promise I will respond to any emails I get as soon as I can. That is best because my email is the first thing I check and is much easier to log into than facebook.
Also, my friends here have blogs too if you are interested.
Tony: welcomebanana.blogspot.com
Megan: allabroad.blogspot.com
love,
RQ
Just some info on keeping in touch for the rest of the time...
The best way to keep in touch is to send me emails. I promise I will respond to any emails I get as soon as I can. That is best because my email is the first thing I check and is much easier to log into than facebook.
Also, my friends here have blogs too if you are interested.
Tony: welcomebanana.blogspot.com
Megan: allabroad.blogspot.com
love,
RQ
Friday, September 12, 2008
More Details
I stole this from a friend's email to her friends and family, but it gives lots of good details and I changed it a little...
One daladala and one bumpy pick-up truck later, we arrived at Isaya’s boma, which consisted of three small huts – one for each wife and their children, and one for his father, surrounded by a thick wall of thorns. The huts themselves, which were made of dung and ash, consisted of one large room with a small fire for cooking in the middle surrounded by a few stools. Each hut had two “beds, ” which, in reality, were a pile of sticks covered by a hard cow skin. Each bed, which was about the size of a full, was expected to hold anywhere between three and five people. In the middle of the boma was a smaller enclosure made of thorns for the cattle. Although the area was no more than thirty feet across, at night, it was home to more than one hundred cows. Just to the left of the cattle, fifty goats slept in a separate pen. Although the cattle were taken far beyond the walls of the boma everyday to forage for food, the goats were free to wander around the compound, leaving the dusty ground covered in feces. And yet, Isaya’s one-year-old sister crawled freely across the compound.
Almost immediately after we arrived, Isaya along with five or six of his friends began to dance. Maasai dancing is actually more like jumping. They begin by shuffling around in a line tapping their fimbos while making the most bizarre sounds – a combination of high-pitched cries and low guttural sounds. Suddenly, they stopped shuffling and began to jump one at a time,
low to the ground at first but eventually they started to get higher and higher, feeding off each other’s energy. You would never believe how high they are able to jump, and with such ease. You would think they had nike shocks instead of pieces of tire tied to their feet. After thirty minutes or so, they invited us to join. Women, however, are not supposed to jump. They shake, but somehow they do it without moving their shoulders at all. Try it. It is a lot harder than it sounds.
Then we were to eat a goat...apparently, in Maasai tradition, it is good luck to name the goat just before it is slaughtered. As we were the guests of honor, we were asked to give the goat an American name. Only one named seemed appropriate – Barack Obama. Minutes after his christening, we watched in horror as Barack Obama was suffocated. [Actually, I, Rachel, stood away so I did not have to see the apparently brutal death. I explained in Swahili that I didn't mind the goat alive, or dead, but I didn't want to see it in-between] As blood is one of the Maasai’s staple foods, it would be a shame to waste any of it by cutting its throat. Immediately three or four Maasai descended on the carcass, skillfully carving the animal apart.
No part of the goat is wasted – even the feet are smoked and eaten. Before I knew it, I had not only tasted smoked goat, I had eaten raw kidney and drank blood, and not from a cup – straight from the stomach. It must be fresh of course. I suppose it is all part of the cultural experience. I am practically Maasai now. In fact, I almost became Maasai when one of Isaya’s friends began to bargain with Tony over my bride price.
After the entire goat had been devoured (not by us I can assure you) and another few hours of dancing around the bonfire, we retired to the hut, which was now completely filled with smoke. With only one small lantern in the corner, we felt the way towards the bed, around the baby goats who were spread across the room to sleep for the evening. In order to experience the true Maasai lifestyle, all four girls squeezed onto one rock-hard bed. I think it is safe to say not one of us slept for more than a few hours that night and I may have woken up with a few bruises on my hips. In the end, it was not necessarily a comfortable experience, but I can certainly say I have gained a whole new understanding of village life and the Maasai lifestyle, in particular. Definitely an adventure.
One daladala and one bumpy pick-up truck later, we arrived at Isaya’s boma, which consisted of three small huts – one for each wife and their children, and one for his father, surrounded by a thick wall of thorns. The huts themselves, which were made of dung and ash, consisted of one large room with a small fire for cooking in the middle surrounded by a few stools. Each hut had two “beds, ” which, in reality, were a pile of sticks covered by a hard cow skin. Each bed, which was about the size of a full, was expected to hold anywhere between three and five people. In the middle of the boma was a smaller enclosure made of thorns for the cattle. Although the area was no more than thirty feet across, at night, it was home to more than one hundred cows. Just to the left of the cattle, fifty goats slept in a separate pen. Although the cattle were taken far beyond the walls of the boma everyday to forage for food, the goats were free to wander around the compound, leaving the dusty ground covered in feces. And yet, Isaya’s one-year-old sister crawled freely across the compound.
Almost immediately after we arrived, Isaya along with five or six of his friends began to dance. Maasai dancing is actually more like jumping. They begin by shuffling around in a line tapping their fimbos while making the most bizarre sounds – a combination of high-pitched cries and low guttural sounds. Suddenly, they stopped shuffling and began to jump one at a time,
low to the ground at first but eventually they started to get higher and higher, feeding off each other’s energy. You would never believe how high they are able to jump, and with such ease. You would think they had nike shocks instead of pieces of tire tied to their feet. After thirty minutes or so, they invited us to join. Women, however, are not supposed to jump. They shake, but somehow they do it without moving their shoulders at all. Try it. It is a lot harder than it sounds.
Then we were to eat a goat...apparently, in Maasai tradition, it is good luck to name the goat just before it is slaughtered. As we were the guests of honor, we were asked to give the goat an American name. Only one named seemed appropriate – Barack Obama. Minutes after his christening, we watched in horror as Barack Obama was suffocated. [Actually, I, Rachel, stood away so I did not have to see the apparently brutal death. I explained in Swahili that I didn't mind the goat alive, or dead, but I didn't want to see it in-between] As blood is one of the Maasai’s staple foods, it would be a shame to waste any of it by cutting its throat. Immediately three or four Maasai descended on the carcass, skillfully carving the animal apart.
No part of the goat is wasted – even the feet are smoked and eaten. Before I knew it, I had not only tasted smoked goat, I had eaten raw kidney and drank blood, and not from a cup – straight from the stomach. It must be fresh of course. I suppose it is all part of the cultural experience. I am practically Maasai now. In fact, I almost became Maasai when one of Isaya’s friends began to bargain with Tony over my bride price.
After the entire goat had been devoured (not by us I can assure you) and another few hours of dancing around the bonfire, we retired to the hut, which was now completely filled with smoke. With only one small lantern in the corner, we felt the way towards the bed, around the baby goats who were spread across the room to sleep for the evening. In order to experience the true Maasai lifestyle, all four girls squeezed onto one rock-hard bed. I think it is safe to say not one of us slept for more than a few hours that night and I may have woken up with a few bruises on my hips. In the end, it was not necessarily a comfortable experience, but I can certainly say I have gained a whole new understanding of village life and the Maasai lifestyle, in particular. Definitely an adventure.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Goats are better alive
Well, I am back in Dar from the vacation up north. I don't think I have the energy right now to write about everything, so I will give some highlights.
Friday we spent the day in Moshi, the town/city right near Mt. Kilimanjaro. For those of you who don't know, Kili is the tallest mountain in Africa. Anyway, we got a guide and the 5 of us usual travellers, plus the new girl, Miriam who just arrived, and the 2 Lithuanian and 2 Swedish exchange students hiked around the villages near Kili and went to some waterfalls there. It was beautiful! (Photos to come...)
Saturday we got up early and met a friend of Conner's (named Isaya) in Arusha to go visit his Masaai village. As it turns out, he is the chief of the entire region. (He dresses in traditional wear all the time). You can actually read about him since he was one of the guys who ran the London marathon (actually, they skipped the London marathon); just google it. Anyway, we took a 1 hour bus ride and then a 1 hour pick up truck ride to his village. Well, the pictures will tell more, but they live in the most remote place in the entire world. We stayed in a literal mud hut, on these extremely hard "beds" made of cow hide. The Masaai are fascinating -- their diet consists of meat, milk and drinking the blood from their cows and goats. Thus, they killed a goat for us, and I tried raw goat kidney, goat blood and meat, all which was DISGUSTING...but a great adventure. They also danced for us, and taught us about their culture etc.
I will spend some time and try to get photos to work...
Love,
RQ
Friday we spent the day in Moshi, the town/city right near Mt. Kilimanjaro. For those of you who don't know, Kili is the tallest mountain in Africa. Anyway, we got a guide and the 5 of us usual travellers, plus the new girl, Miriam who just arrived, and the 2 Lithuanian and 2 Swedish exchange students hiked around the villages near Kili and went to some waterfalls there. It was beautiful! (Photos to come...)
Saturday we got up early and met a friend of Conner's (named Isaya) in Arusha to go visit his Masaai village. As it turns out, he is the chief of the entire region. (He dresses in traditional wear all the time). You can actually read about him since he was one of the guys who ran the London marathon (actually, they skipped the London marathon); just google it. Anyway, we took a 1 hour bus ride and then a 1 hour pick up truck ride to his village. Well, the pictures will tell more, but they live in the most remote place in the entire world. We stayed in a literal mud hut, on these extremely hard "beds" made of cow hide. The Masaai are fascinating -- their diet consists of meat, milk and drinking the blood from their cows and goats. Thus, they killed a goat for us, and I tried raw goat kidney, goat blood and meat, all which was DISGUSTING...but a great adventure. They also danced for us, and taught us about their culture etc.
I will spend some time and try to get photos to work...
Love,
RQ
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
More Traveling?
Hello All,
I am just letting you all know that I am heading out for another vacation tomorrow up to the North. We will be starting in Moshi, to Arusha and then possibly to Mwanza and Rwanda! I have my cell if you need me.
RQ
I am just letting you all know that I am heading out for another vacation tomorrow up to the North. We will be starting in Moshi, to Arusha and then possibly to Mwanza and Rwanda! I have my cell if you need me.
RQ
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