Sleeping with Goats in Nepal

I am in Kathmandu, Nepal.  The name always sounded exotic to me.  To get here I went Albany, Atlanta, Tokyo, Bangkok, Kathmandu.  You could make a song out of my itinerary. Or you can be a conductor calling out the stops on a train.  Either way, it is a long, long way from home.

I am in Nepal to work with two groups, Keenan’s Kids and Filters for Families. I am staying at the Filters for Families house which is comfortable.  I am working with Dr. Linda Smith who lives and is currently in Colorado.  I was met at the airport by her secretary, Sharmila.  Sharmila speaks some English, but she is hesitant to use it.  She has brought her son with her as he is more confident in the language.  At the house I meet the housekeeper/cook who is eager to please, but speaks no English.  I feel like a little kid because they both follow my every move.  They really want me to be comfortable.  When their day is done, I have to literally push them out the door as they are worried about me being alone.

The Nepalis greet everyone with a gesture called namaste.  They join their palms together and bring them just below the chin with the fingers up.  It is used as a sign of respect.  I like this form of greeting as it lets you greet one another is a soft way.

It is my first night, and I need to eat.  The landlord walks me to get pizza.  Our walk takes us through a labyrinth of lanes which surround where I live.  This part reminds me of England, but the comparison ends there.  It is easy to get lost during the day, so you can imagine what it is like at night.  I am trying to memorize our path, but I am tired, and it is hard to get my bearings.  At first I thought the lanes were perfect as we could avoid the main roads.  The lanes are not wide enough for a car, but they are perfect for motorcycles.  Thus the walkers have to share the lane.  There is constant honking of horns from cars and cycles in Kathmandu.  They honk so often that one tends to ignore the sound.  I have to be very aware of where I am as they drive on the “other” side of the road.  In the lane coming home, a motorcycle got so close to me that I moved quickly to avoid him and lost my balance.  I caught myself on an iron gate that was to my right.  My first night in Kathmandu, and I am almost hurt.  The traffic makes me nervous.  I doubt I will get used to these motor bikes demanding their right of way with no consideration for the people walking.  I must always be aware.

I am locked in the house for the night with confidence.  I have asked all of the necessary questions as I will be alone.  I know how to lock and unlock the main door.  I am ready for the loss of electricity (which happens daily for hours) by having my head lamp with me, and the landlord is close by in the same complex.  The electricity does go off for a few hours, but that is not a problem.  All is well until the next morning.  The house keeper knocks on the door, and I cannot unlock it.  I try and I try but have no luck.  Apparently the lock has decided to stick for the first time when I am here.  The landlord comes to give me directions to open it, but nothing works.  There is another door that they seldom use, so they tell me to open it.  Right.  It has four locks.  It takes me time to figure out what I have to do, but I am finally freed from the house.  Now the landlord tries the first lock.  He cannot get it to work either.  After thirty minutes he forces it open.  I suggest oil to loosen the lock.  He agrees, and the lock now works easily.  I was Home Alone, but no one could get in.  That is good, I think.

The third night I went out to dinner.  I came home, and my key would not open the door.  I tried and tried.  I had opened it before so I knew I was doing it correctly.  I had to get help again.  First the landlord’s daughter-in–law, and she could not open it.  Then the landlord’s son came.  It took him several tries to get it open.  What is it with the locks on the door?

I wake up with the sun coming in through the curtains.  There is no heat in the house so it is chilly getting out of bed.  There is no electricity until later in the day, and that means the coffee pot does not work.  I have to boil the grounds over the gas burner and filter it so I can have my coffee.   I take my coffee to the terrace which is facing the east with the sun warming me.  I am in a large city, but I hear the roosters crowing as they compete with the dogs barking.  In front of our small compound there is a lane.  I see children on their way to school, men on their way to work, and older folks taking their daily stroll.  I hear men hawking their wares in a loud sing-song voice.  One man is calling for the garbage.  He has a bike attached to a cart with garbage in it.  As the families bring their garbage, the man stands on top of the cart stomping down the bags of garbage he already has.  Next I hear the man selling vegetables calling for buyers.  I look in his cart and see vegetables I am familiar with.  Cauliflower is in season now so he has several heads, plus broccoli, carrots, and lots of greens.  This is where my vegetables for lunch are bought.  There is also a peanut man, and he is selling cashews.  And last, but not least is the man selling pots and pans.  We may be in a big city, but not everyone goes to the store.  It is so much easier to have the store come to you.

My housekeeper/cook, Sudesna, arrives and cooks me breakfast.  She makes me eggs and toast.  I could get accustomed to this.  She then joins me on the terrace with her cup of tea.  The sun is warm, and I am happy.  We are on the second floor, and I can see all around me.  I see a woman brushing her teeth on her third floor terrace across from us.  This makes me wonder if she has water in her home.  I see a grandfather working in his garden, and that makes me happy.

My landlord has said many Napali’s are house poor as they have put all of their money in buying a home.  He owns his own home, but he says he does not have a lot of money otherwise.  His is a large home with three floors.  Many families in Nepal have the oldest son with his family living with them.  I have been to three homes of local families, and in each the extended family lives together.  I like this because the grandparents are cared for.  I have also been told that many Nepalis go to the U.S. for an education and end up living there.  I have met parents whose children live in Illinois, Kansas, Texas, and California.  This surprises me.

            

Keenan’s Kids came into being because of a tragedy.  Keenan was a young American girl who was volunteering at the Orchid Day Care Center in Kathmandu.  She lost her life trying to help someone else.  Her parents decided to help this Center by giving them a piece of fruit each Friday in Keenan’s name.

My Women’s Global Giving Circle (WGGC) supported this “Fruit on Fridays” program after a member gave a presentation on Keenan’s Kids.  My photographer friend, Emma, decided she wanted to go with me on a trip to document in pictures what I was doing.  We decided that Kathmandu would be the trip to visit the Orchid Day Care Center.  I wanted to continue this practice of giving these children one piece of fruit each week.  It was a treat for them.

I visited this Center today.  What a joy!!  I traveled twenty minutes through dusty, narrow streets, with buildings in various shades of gray.  The taxi lets me off, I walk past piles of old bricks for two blocks.  I turn the corner, and there is more of the same; gravel under my feet and no color to be found.  And then to my right I see this Day Care Center.  It is an oasis in a very dry desert.  There I see my first bright colors of the day.  I feel good before I even enter the grounds.

The person who started this Program in 2006 and continues to run it is Bina.  She is a small bundle of energy.  She knows what is happening everywhere in the complex.  Bina started this Day Care for fifteen children from the families of the lowest caste.  The women had been taking their children with them to work.  They mixed cement, and their children would spend the entire day on their mothers’ backs.  The Center has grown, and Bina now also takes in children who are abused at home or are malnourished.  In addition, this Day Care Center provides extra help to 73 children; 20 of whom attend the local school and live at the school hostel.

The first thing I noticed was the cleanliness.  There are 180 children, and I see nothing eschew.  They have a garden with vegetables, clothes are hanging on the line to dry, and I see a swept courtyard.  There are potty chairs clean and lined up.  The toilet area is clean, and there is no smell.  I applaud Bina’s effort.

 Bina shows me the youngest child who is in a bassinet.  She is only a few months old.  Next I visit those younger than two.  They are sooo cute.  They are well supervised and quiet.  I watch as they are given rice and milk.  It is a large portion for a little body.  I could not eat it all in one sitting, but these children are apparently very hungry.  They have not been in this Center for the past ten days because it has been a national holiday.  I am guessing they got little to eat at home during that time.  Some of the children can eat by themselves, but some need to be fed.  The workers/volunteers are patient and loving.

I visit the kitchen and the storage area for the vegetables and rice.  The storage area has bags of rice from floor to ceiling.  Bina has to buy in bulk as it keeps the price down.  In the kitchen large pots are on the burners cooking rice, lentils, and milk.  The children receive two meals each day.  They eat mostly rice and beans.  They would not get any fruit were it not for Keenan’s Kids.  It is just too expensive.  It will be fun to see them receive the fruit.

I am fortunate because the house I am staying at is in a non-tourist area.  I get to see the Napali people up close and personal.  They are all friendly and eager to help. They are healthy looking with tan skin and a bit of color in their cheeks.  It may be due to the elevation of 4600 feet.  Their hair and eyes are dark, almost black.  Most of the people are Hindu.  The women wear their saris with style.  I asked Sharmila how many she had, and the answer surprised me.  She told me she had at least thirty.  She is obviously not the average person that I am here to help.  I am sure those in the lower castes have only one or two at the very most.

Everyone tells me they no longer have a caste system.  However, everyone knows which caste they and others are in.  They are born to a caste, and it affects their dress, occupation and family life.  The highest is the Brahman which is comprised of priests and scholars.  At the lowest end are the Sudra who are the laborers and untouchables.  The untouchables do the jobs that no one else wants to do; clean the streets as they sidestep the traffic around them, clean toilets, get the wood from the river where the bodies are cremated.  The caste system was abolished when their government became democratic.  This system has been passed from generation to generation, and it will take generations to eliminate it for good.

Friday is a special day.  First I will visit the Orchid Day Care Center for the Fruit on Fridays program.  I arrive in the morning as the teachers bring the older children out of the classrooms.  They stand in a straight line waiting for their bananas.  The very little children sit patiently on their boards on the ground.  I watch as they receive their fruit.  I am excited watching them eat their one banana.  It is definitely a treat for them.  I am so happy I am a part of this Program.

Today also happens to be National Sport Day in Nepal.  How appropriate that I am a coach.  I watch each class run relay races.  Every child in the Center takes part in these relays.  In the relays they must find a red ribbon, a balloon, hold a bead in a spoon, or run with a partner with a balloon between them.  With the little ones, the teachers have to actually put them in their lanes.  They are so funny.  The children are precious, and they are all trying their best.  I am watching these races with people from Germany who are also donating for this Day Care.  We all laugh and laugh.

Friday is also special because Emma arrives.  She is a photographer with special skills.  Her work astounds me.  Plus she smiles and laughs easily.  I wait for her to arrive across from the exit at the airport.  There has to be over 100 Nepalis waiting, and I am the only woman.  I have no fear even though it is late at night as the men all want to talk to me.  She arrives, and you would never know she had spent hours in the air. I am so happy to have a person to share Nepal with.

The first day Emma is here we go to meet Tsering Sherpa.  Keenan from Keenan’s Kids lived with Tsering and her family when she was in Nepal volunteering at the Orchid Day Care Center.  Tsering is beautiful with an intriguing face.  She was born in Nepal and studied in India.  She is a gentle, caring person.  If my daughter were visiting Nepal, I would want her to board with Tsering, her painter husband, daughter and son.  She took us to visit the Great stupa of Boudhanath.   It was so peaceful.  This stupa is one of the largest and most significant Buddhist monuments in the world.  We entered the monastery.   This is where Tsering lit many candles and prayed for Keenan.  If I lived here, I would want to be friends with Tsering.  She is a good soul.

I take Emma to the Day Care Center on Sunday.  We see two very young siblings who are here for the first time.  They are scared to death and sit so close together that nothing can pass between them.  Little do they know that this is the best thing that has happened to them in their short lives.  The youngest is crying and almost sits on his sister’s lap.  Bina will make them comfortable in a short period of time.

We visit the classrooms to see what the children are learning.  We see their hand writing which is meticulous.  Even the small children print neatly and legibly.  We ask about a flower on a picture, and they start spelling the names of flower after flower.  It is rote learning, and it is working in this Center.  It is often criticized because it does not encourage thinking, just memorization.  No matter, these children are learning.  I am amazed what Bina is doing with education in this Center.  These children get an extra boost for life by being here.

I have sent Keenan’s Kids extra money.  I wanted to visit the Day Care Center before I decided what I wanted the money to go toward.  After my second visit, I knew I wanted to pay for the education, room and board for a girl from Orchid Day Care Center.  Now to find the girl.  It was actually quite easy.  I asked to meet a girl who was doing well in classes and had a zest for learning.  I met a nine year old girl whose background was terrible.  Her name was Devaki.  When she was six years old her mother would lock her in their ten foot square room with her younger sister.  She would look after her sibling until her mother would come home to unlock the door about six at night.  Her mother, father and younger sister moved ten hours away by bus to live with the father’s family.  They left Devaki and two other sisters in Kathmandu.  The eldest girl lives on her own in the city, and Devaki and her younger sister are two of nine who live at the Orchid Day Care Center all the time.  For those that have no home, Bina supplies a place to live.

   

I met Devaki who is number one in her class.  The girl is a gem.  When she grows up, she wants to run a day care center.  That would certainly be giving back. We will pay her schooling and board for three years.  Bina will send regular reports of her progress to Keenan’s Kids.  This scholarship will be in Keenan’s name.  I feel good about this decision.

We are off to Parasi, far to the south of Nepal; Emma, Sharmila and me.  This is the first time Sharmila has flown.  She is a bit nervous, but she really hides it well.  Sharmila will be my translator while we are in the south as they speak no English.  We land, take a taxi and arrive in Parasi.  It is very hot and dry in this area of Nepal, just north of India.  The house is rented by Filters for Families and is about two miles from town.  It is basic, but it does have running water and electricity most of the time.  I am grateful for this.

The bathroom is rustic.  It is old and appears dirty.  There is a small sink with one faucet that may come apart at any touch.  Linoleum on the floor makes it very slippery when the tank overflows, which happens often.  The toilet and shower facilities leave a lot to be desired.  In fact, I do not take a real shower because of the conditions; a sponge bath will have to do.  I wash my hair in the back of the house where there is a hose.  The thing to remember is that the bathroom serves the purpose.  I am fortunate to have an indoor bathroom, and this home is a palace compared to the other homes I see here in Parasi.  We sleep under mosquito netting as these insects are trying to find us.  I am more successful than they are; at least the first night.

Our kitchen has a gas burner, and the sink is small with a tube draining the water straight down.  This tube only goes two feet, and then there is a space from the tube to the actual drain.  Our cook sits on the counter in the lotus position to rinse the dishes, as his helper sits on a low stool on the floor soaping them well.  It is a picture waiting to be taken; where is Emma?  They have obviously done this many times.  The food they prepare is delicious, especially the spinach.  My favorite is the yogurt which is made in the village.

This is harvest season in the south of Nepal.  The land is flat with the Himalayas far in the distance.  From the air, as well as on the ground, I see rectangles and rectangles of land separated by foot paths.  We are definitely in a farming community.  They have harvested the rice about a month ago.  Now they are harvesting the wheat.  They are using water buffalo, steers and some tractors to pull the heavy loads.  There is something peaceful about the movement of the water buffalo doing their daily work; they are strong, yet move slowly.  The dust from the crop is everywhere. Combine that with the dust from the unpaved roads, and the pollution from the large trucks, and one can have a breathing problem.  Face masks are commonplace.

Transportation is by foot, bicycle and motor cycle. There are very few cars in this remote area thirteen kilometers from the border with India.  On the thirty-five minute ride to the airport, we see only two cars.  What we do see are many large cargo trucks transporting burlap bags of wheat.  It makes me wonder where this newly harvested wheat is bound.  I would guess mainly south to India.

I have to hire a jeep to get to the remote villages to buy animals and visit the schools we are helping.  This proves to be difficult.  We finally find a jeep for hire, but he wants too much money.  Thus the bargaining begins.  We settle on a price that I think is too high, but I really have no choice.  I hire him daily and am constantly bargaining to make the trips less expensive.

I am funding six wells and donating thirty four water filters in Parasi.  The six wells will be in schools so many children will have access to clean water.  Two wells have been drilled when I arrive.  They are located at the Manari primary and secondary schools.  The primary school has no arsenic in their water supply so we have given them a Sawyer filter.  The secondary school does have arsenic so we they will get a Sono filter.  Four more schools will be selected after carefully examining their applications for a new well.

The Sawyer filter is used for shallow wells (less than 40 feet) when there is no arsenic in the water supply.  However there is bacteria and heavy silt in these shallow wells which necessitate a filter.  The filter will remove 99.9% of the bacteria and silt.  The Sawyer filter will last decades if cared for properly.  We are putting four of these filters in schools which have shallow wells.

When the wells have arsenic we use the Soto filter.  This filter has a Composite Iron Matrix (CIM) in it that is manufactured in Bangladesh.  The CIM will remove twenty three metals, pathogens and some viruses.  This filter will last eleven to twelve years.  There is a definite need for these Soto filters so we have donated thirty to this area surrounding Parasi.

First on my list is visiting four of the schools where I am drilling a well and/or giving them filters. We visit the two secondary schools each with over 500 students.  Each school must sign a contract stating they will use their filters as stated.  I give the schools basic math supplies and pencils.  I donate soccer balls to students who are jubilant.  At one school twenty-five boys take off kicking and laughing, all wanting to be part of the action.

On this trip I am dedicating two filters to Matt Preece.  Matt went to the school where I taught.  He was a wonderful young man.  He worked for World Wildlife Fund (WWF), and I thought I would meet him someday on one of my trips.  This is the trip, but I am meeting him in a different way.  Matt was working in Nepal six years ago.  He and his fellow workers lost their lives in a helicopter crash in a remote area of Nepal.  The filters for Matt will be in two primary schools.  His name is on the stands for the filters, and his picture in a beautiful frame is hung near the two filters.

   

The two elementary schools I visited have no arsenic in their water and need only Sawyer filters.  My favorite school was the Manari Primary School.  They invited us to a ceremony for the well and water filter.  We arrived to two classes lined up holding leis of flowers.  They had picked marigolds and wildflowers and presented them to me one by one.  It was heartfelt and beautiful.  We did a special ceremony to explain who Matt was and present them with his picture.  I wish Matt’s friends and family were here with me.  They would be so happy as the day was a fitting tribute to a special young man.

The next part of this trip is buying and giving animals.  Before I came to Nepal, I decided I wanted to buy goats, ducks and chickens to give to families in need.  Each family had to agree to abide by the contract we wrote.  It stated that they must give away the first female offspring of the goat and two of the first brood of the ducks or chickens.  They must give them to a family who does not have any animals.  I have done this in many other countries, and it really helps an entire village.  The husband and wife must both sign the contract.  It they are illiterate, they put their thumbprint in ink on the contract.

The families have been picked with respect to age, number of children, income, and the number of animals they already own.  It is hard work finding those who want to sell, bargaining, and finally transporting these animals to their new homes.  Day after day we spend over six hours driving over dusty roads going to small villages looking for people to sell their goats, ducks or chickens.  I never found any chickens to buy, much to my dismay.  I was more successful with goats and ducks.  Two of the goats I bought were pregnant. That makes me the happiest because I know two families will have a baby goat within three months.

One of the families I gave animals to stands out in my mind.  The woman was almost 60 years old and a widow.  She had seven family members living with her.  Their home was alone on the road, away from the village.  They were very happy when we delivered the ducks, but I knew I had to do more for this woman who had the burden of the family on her back.  On the last day I was able to find another goat to give to her.  On our last stop we returned to her home.  The entire family was puzzled as to why we had come back.  When they saw the goat, they were in disbelief.  Emma and I were laughing with happiness as we pulled away.  This is what Christmas is all about; it came early this year in Parasi.

The second night in Parasi I decided I wanted to take a walk in our local village.  Emma and I turned the corner to find women working hard binding the straw from the fields into bundles.  We were to find out these women and their families had come two hours by bus for this job.   They were migrant workers going from farm to farm to eek out a living.  It is a hard life working from dusk to dawn and breathing in the dust from the grain crops.  Emma wanted to give them a goat, but they were traveling out of the area the following day.  Trust me, she would find another family to help.

The next morning a young man arrives at the house to be paid for helping to drill the well at one of the Primary schools.  I see him sitting in the porch area of our field office.  The man is visibly shaking.  I ask our interpreter the reason for his nervousness.  She said he heard we were giving animals to families, and he asked if he could receive one.  He was brave to ask, and I am sure that is why he is shaking.  Here was Emma’s chance.  That day we each bargained and bought a goat.  We had to wait until the following day to deliver them.  We put the goats outside our field office, and they were happy to eat until their bellies were full.  Toward dusk they would not stop crying.  Apparently they were very spoiled kids (pun intended).  After this I observed what people did with their animals as we traveled from village to village.  They took their goats with them to the fields each day, and then at night they put them in their “homes”.  Many homes were divided into two parts.  In one was a sleeping area, and in the other part they stored their grain, cooked and kept their goats at night.  These goats were spoiled.  I am sure it was done out of necessity.  The goats are really their only possession of value.

Our two goats are spending the night with us.  We put them at one end of the enclosed porch area.  They are fine if they can see us.  When we go into another room, they start bleating.  It will be a long night.  Emma’s bedroom is on the other side of the wall from the goats.  She will play the mother hen, oops, mother goat until we deliver these goats in the morning.  The family Emma has chosen to receive this present is totally surprised to see her leading this goat to their house.  I am the fortunate one because I see the joy an animal brings to these families that have so little.  It also brings them hope for a better future.  God bless them.

It has been wonderful to have Emma on this trip seeing what I see, but through a different lens.  She is easy to get along with, and I love her positive attitude.  I am fortunate she wanted to document what I am doing.  She has been and will continue to work to help others less fortunate in this world.

This has been a busy, yet fruitful trip.  Every day has been a new adventure, whether it is figuring out how to tell the taxi driver where I live, making sure the water will be piped to the new filters, groping in the dark for my head lamp or finding animals to buy.  The people who helped me were patient, and the people I helped were grateful.  May I never lose sight of how much I have and how little others have.  That will always be my motivating force.

I am leaving Nepal on the first day of Festival of Lights or the Tihar festival.  Tihar is celebrated for five days by Buddhists and Hindus.  Sudnesna, my housekeeper/cook, starts the preparations by placing three marigolds in two jars on the stoop of our house.  Then she makes a paste of bright red powder, rice and yogurt.  She carefully draws a flower on my forehead using the paste.  I then have to eat the remainder of the yogurt.  Sharmila puts a garland of marigolds around my neck to finalize the ceremony.  My special goodbye is to ensure long life.  May their wishes for me come true.

Nepal

With your donations I was able to accomplish the following:

FILTERS AND WELLS

I funded six wells at schools in Parasi, located in the south of Nepal.  This will affect over 2000 children.  In addition I donated 34 water filters.  The filters are of two kinds; the Sono filter to take out arsenic and 99.9% of other impurities, and the Sawyer filter to remove bacteria and silt in wells less than 40 feet deep.  I did this in partnership with Filters for Families.

FRUIT

Working with Keenan’s Kids I supported their fruit on Fridays program.  Keenan was an American girl volunteering with the Orchid Day Care Center in Kathmandu.  She lost her life trying to save another person.  Her parents set up this fund to help the children in the Center.  Each of the 180 children will receive one piece of fruit each week for at least a year and a half with our donation.  Vitamins were donated, and I also brought pain and fever medicine.

SCHOLARSHIP

We are sponsoring a girl of 8 in this Day Care Center.  Her background is awful, her parents have left her and moved 10 hours away by bus, and she is now living at the Center.  She is the smartest girl in her class, and she has a wonderful attitude.  We are financing her education, room and board for three years.  This scholarship will be in Keenan’s name, and we will receive periodic reports.

GOATS AND DUCKS

Through hours of hard work and negotiation I was able to buy 6 goats and 14 ducks.  I delivered them to families who had no animals.  Each family signed a contract stating they would give the first female offspring or the first two baby ducks to other families without animals.  Two of the goats were pregnant, and we will be grandparents by the end of December.  This is a wonderful project to put protein in their diets, help others in these villages with no animals, and give something of substance to those in need.  Entire villages will be changed by this donation.

SOCCER BALLS

There is nothing that brings more joy than a soccer ball.  I gave soccer balls in Kathmandu, Parasi, and another poor village near a tributary of the Ganges River.  The kids scream and immediately want to play.  Happiness is a soccer ball!!

SCHOOL SUPPLIES

I gave basic math materials and pencils for primary school students.

Tanzania 2012

Photos from my recent trip to Tanzania are now up.
Click Here!

Slow, but Steady Progress in Tanzania

This trip has been a year in the planning.  One year ago I was in Tanzania helping others less fortunate than myself.  I knew then I had to come back as there was so much more to do.   This is an argument for every Country in sub-Sahara Africa, and many other Countries throughout the World.  The difference between Tanzania and the other Countries is that I have a fantastic facilitator in Dar es Salaam who makes things happen in a timely fashion.  I trust Maria as I see her put her own money into the Projects I donate to.  I see us as Business Partners trying to help others with the basic necessity of water.  Once a village has potable water nearby, other advances can be made.

Water wells are the entrée, but the side dishes are exciting too.  Probably the most fun is giving soccer balls and uniforms because the children cannot contain their excitement.  Adults are just as happy with water and goats and chickens, but they are more subdued in showing it.  It is a grown up trait. This year for the first time I have an added initiative.  It is the funding of Fistula operations for women who have had long child birth delivery problems with no medical care.  I am sure this will be an experience I shall never forget.

   

The trip to Dubai and then on to Dar es Salaam is long.  I leave home at 8:30 in the morning to take the shuttle from Albany airport to JFK. My flight does not leave until 11 pm, and I cannot check my luggage until 7pm. That means I have to schlep (is this really a word?) around for seven hours.  I look at my watch often, but time does not fly.  I know once I am on the plane that it should be better.  And it is.  I watch four movies that were nominated for an Academy Award.  And I also get some sleep.

I arrive in Dubai about 8pm after flying for 14 hours.  Last year when I entered the airport, I was in awe.  This year is no different.   I feel like an ant walking into this huge cavern made of glass, chrome and marble.  The feeling I get is light, airy and cool.  I am guessing the architects were quite aware of the need for this because of the heat in this desert city.

There are no flights from Dubai to Dar es Salaam until the morning so Emirates Airlines puts me up in a local Hotel.  The next morning I meet Kevin and his wife, Tiffany, at the airport gate.  Kevin owns a solar system business in the Troy area called “The Sky is not limited”.  He has donated two solar powered systems for the wells I am funding, and he has come to install them.  That makes us partners in business.  Kevin loves his work.  He said nothing makes him happier than turning the switch and seeing water flowing because of solar power.

We arrive in Dar in the late afternoon.  Arrival is easy when I know those picking me up.  I do not have the trepidation as I have had at other times when I only know my contact through email.  Maria’s second in command, Farida, meets us at the airport, with our driver Juma and photographer, Samuel in tow.  I hug them all and feel I have come home.  Kevin has brought a solar pump as well as other necessities so his luggage is large and bulky.  I travel light even though I have some school supplies that have been donated. 

 We leave immediately for our home for the next ten days which is south of Dar es Salaam and closer to where we are drilling the wells.  I have hit pay dirt.  Sun Rise Hotel is the nicest place I have stayed in the remote area in my four years here.   It is on the beach, but last year I was also on the beach, and it left a lot to be desired.  Last year I was told it was not safe to walk on the beach, and I listened to the warnings.  Sun Rise appears safer.  This year I even have a step-in shower, and there is running water, sometimes even hot water.  This must be a mistake.  Do not tell anyone, but I have air conditioning, although it is sporadic.  I must be living right.  I knew it was too good to be true.  It is a National Holiday and Easter rolled into one so Tanzania is celebrating.   My room has a side angle view of the ocean, and a full view of the bandstand.  The DJ has speakers the size of a Volkswagen; they directly face my room.  The music plays until three in the morning.  I do not dance in my room, nor do I sleep.  At the top of every hour I pray the music will end.   I do not want to use earplugs because being alone I need to hear everything.  I am hoping this will only last for the three nights of holiday.  It will be three long nights for me.  On top of all of this, I have jet lag.  It is not fun to be in my body in the morning after my wild partying night.

It is time for bed.  After I turn the lights out, I see light from the moon on my bed.  I cannot figure it out, but I am so tired that I immediately fall asleep.  When I wake, I look in the mirror.  I have two huge mosquito bites on my face, and over fifty more bites on my body. I have been brutally attacked during the night.  The past three years I have taken anti-malaria medicine, and I had only been bitten once. This year I did bring the medicine, but I was not going to take it unless it was necessary because I do not like how it affects my body.  IT IS NECESSARY NOW.  Each night I now sleep under a mosquito net and spray the room, but the mosquitoes seem to survive.  The second night I find the source of the moon light.  I have a four inch in diameter hole in my ceiling.  It is the mosquitoes’ entry to my abode.  It is Africa.

The sun sets at 6:30, and I expect to see the teens dancing on the bandstand.  Wrong.  No one is on the bandstand except for the DJ.  The kids are standing ankle deep in the ocean in the dark and moving to the beat of the music in small groups.  Some are in pairs doing the same.  They remind me of crowned cranes doing a mating dance. The cranes do one of the most beautiful courting maneuvers I have ever seen.  It is almost impossible to take your eyes off of them.  It is the same with these teenagers.  The music accompanies them in their ritual.  We are the same the World over.

The first day we visit the three well sites.  We drive forty five minutes to reach the Village of Kwa-Chale.  Kwa means going to, and Chale is the name of the family. So we are going to the family of Chale.  It has certainly grown over the years as there are now 657 inhabitants.  I meet the village leader who will be in charge of the well.  The well has been drilled and the holding tank is in place with the spigots attached.  Kevin needs to put in the conduit, bolt the solar panels to a rack and connect the solar pump.  He is taking stock of what he needs to buy in Dar for all of the wells.  I ask about safety for the solar system.  The leader tells me he already has a night watchman working to protect the well.  This satisfies me at the moment.

We move on to the next Village of Golani, and then on to Mkokozi.  Golani is much like Kwa-Chale, a village in need of water.  Mkokozi is different because it is in a village with a school.  The school has close to 700 students with sixteen teachers and seven classrooms.  They are on double session.  There is a separate classroom for nineteen special education students and their two teachers.  These special education students can neither read nor write, but they are learning life skills.  I am sure the teachers have their hands full.  I do not want to be a teacher here.  The classrooms are in terrible condition.  The floors are sand.  Can you imagine our classrooms in the U.S. with floors of sand?  The concrete on the walls is coming down in chunks. Some of the desks are fine, but the majority are in need of repair. What type of learning environment is this?  Certainly not a very good one.   Keep in mind that many of the students also have to walk miles to attend school.  I always marvel at the determination that is needed to learn under these conditions.   It is easy to give up and drop out of school.   It is Africa.

Maria decides that we should fix up one classroom to make it an example for what can be done.  First she has her carpenter, Salamani , pour concrete for the floor.  It comes out perfect.  Then she buys the paint and needed accessories.  Maria, her three assistants and I get to work.  We have the primary students brush the dust from the window sills and use their brooms to sweep the dirt from the bottom of the walls.  Their “brooms” are dried coconut tree leaves held together at one end with rubber from a tire.  The children are supposed to bring their broom to school every day to clean their classroom floors.  How do you sweep sand?  It is hard, but now they have a concrete floor that they can sweep.

We start painting.  I teach two boys how to use the roller. They are more than eager to do their share.  As we use the rollers, some of the white paint drips onto the floor.  I show them how to use water and sweep it away before it sets.  Over and over, they use their brooms and a rag to sweep/wipe the paint off of the newly poured concrete floor.  We work on this Project for four hours.  When it is done, I marvel at the change.  It is not like a classroom at home, but it is the nicest I have seen in Africa.  We have worn old t-shirts to do the painting.   We give these to the boys who have helped us.  They are ecstatic.  The shirts are old, and now stained with paint, but the children are happy.

My philosophy is to teach others.  If we teach them, they can continue to use the skills they have learned from us.  In this case it is very basic, as in painting.  However, these people are so poor that they have never had paint or have ever used it.  We have left them paint to do the other classrooms.  It will be interesting to see how long it will take them to do this.  I will return this year and next to see the condition of these classrooms.  We leave feeling tired, but pleased with the results.

I had a wonderful Easter in Tanzania.  I had my driver,Juma, take me to a local church not knowing what to expect.  The plan was to leave me, take Kevin to a well site, and I would take public transport home.  I arrived at 10 am for a 10:30 service.  This is not a problem because just sitting in a pew in an empty church is a perfect time for meditation.  I entered and sat on the right side as there was one woman sitting on that side.  I remember four years ago where I almost sat with the men, not knowing they separated themselves by sex.  After a short period of time, I decided to move closer to the back and an open area for more air.  Again, good move.  As the service began the men sat together far up on the right.  The youth choir sat behind them where I had been sitting.  I am not young, and I cannot carry a tune so it was good that I moved.

The church is basic.  The pews are fine, but worn, and there is electricity so there are fans.   It is hot, very hot!  The service starts with a woman singing, and everyone joins in.   We are moving and clapping to the upbeat music.  Then the choir enters dancing and singing up the aisle.  It is so much fun to watch because they are so happy.  For an entire hour there is singing and dancing.  The children’s choir and the adult choir are quite impressive.  Their voices are good, and their dance moves are better.  I am very hot just sitting, and I cannot imagine how hot they must be in their home- made choir robes moving energetically for almost the entire hour.

Almost everyone comes into the church with shoes on.  However, as soon as they sit down, off come the shoes.  They spend the entire service barefoot.  I try to figure this out.  On the road or street everyone is barefoot or in flip flops.  They buy their shoes from a 6’x10’ stall on the street.  The shoes do not fit properly, and their feet must hurt when they wear them.  So they only wear them for show. 

The sermon begins in Swahili.  As I do not understand what the minister is saying, I observe.  First I see the bird nests in the eaves.  The minister is LOUD, VERY LOUD.  The birds pay no attention to him.  They fly in and out feeding their young during the entire service.   They have adapted to this environment.    It is certainly safer than always being on the outlook for a predator.

The children are the most interesting. Two little boys were dancing up a storm in the aisle during the hour of singing.  It is fun to watch them.   No doubt they will be in the choir in a few years.  Mothers breast feed their babies whenever they need to. Children from two years of age to maybe six wander wherever they want.  Everyone is their family as they are picked up and looked after by all.  A member of the congregation goes to get the children of those in the choir so the parent can sing and dance.  Mothers with children of about two years of age sit at the end of each pew.  It is not by accident, but by choice.  The mothers lay down a piece of cloth in the aisle so their child can sleep during the service.  Looking up the aisle you see little bodies sound asleep during the loudest of sermons.  I left with a good feeling. 

I needed to hire a tuk-tuk to get home.  I could have hired a motor cycle, but memories of my accident in Guinea flashed through my mind.  A tuk-tuk is a very small three wheeled vehicle with a canvas top.  Both sides are open to the elements.  There is a bar separating the passenger from the driver, but the space is very small.   The advantage of this vehicle is that it does not cost a lot to operate because it runs on a battery and gasoline.  It is not the safest vehicle because it goes slowly on a highway with large cars and trucks passing at high speeds.  The first tuk-tuk driver asked $20 to take me less than two miles.  He saw the color of my skin and saw dollar signs.  Bargaining with him did not work, but there was no way I was going to pay this amount.  I waited for the next driver who only wanted $1.50 which seemed fair to me.  So off we went, my hair flying while I held on for dear life over the bumps.  A tuk-tuk has no shock absorbers.  There was never a doubt in my mind, but I got home safely.

Later on Easter Day I wanted to visit some of the wells I had funded and also find soccer teams to give a ball to.  This meant driving south for over an hour.  The first stop we made was at a soccer game.  I asked to see their ball.  It was very old and falling apart.  The members of the team were about twelve years of age.  When I brought out the new ball, they all started screaming, and everyone wanted to shake my hand.  I will never get tired of seeing these reactions.  I will always get teary eyed no matter how many times I do it.  It is such a wonderful thing to bring such joy with such a small item.

First we drove to Mwandege which is one of the wells I funded in 2009.  They have two 5000 liter holding tanks which are used daily.  There is an abundant supply of water.  On to Uzizi, where I funded a well in 2010.  This is where I threatened to send the police one year ago because the leader of the village would not give me the generator.  The holding tank is gone, as is the generator.  That means the drilled well is sitting there waiting.  I hope not “waiting for Godot”.  This is a situation that needs to be solved.  I will discuss this with Maria.

The next stop is Kisele.  There is a holding tank, but the solar power has been stolen.  The solar panels are too expensive to keep buying with the fear they will be stolen.  Night watchmen have to be honest, and apparently the last one was not.  In lieu of a night watchman, the village needs to construct a fence of barbed wire to keep the thieves away.  Now Maria will put in a generator to solve the problem so they can have water. 

I want to see the goats I donated in 2010 in Kisele.  As they have multiplied, the Tribes have moved them to a farm a few miles away.  Off we go with the women’s leader, Hadija.  We go by car for two miles until we come to a foot path.  Juma, the driver, insists we can take the car “over the hill, and further into the Bush”.  I have trepidation, and if you saw this path, you would too.  We inch along over areas of soft sand and ruts following a people path which is about a foot wide.   Night is fast approaching, and I do not want to get stuck here.  Juma finally admits we cannot go any further in the car.  We get out and walk two miles, up hills and down hills.  It is an easy path to follow by foot.  Hadija and I move easily and quickly.  We arrive at the farm at the top of a hill.  The goats are immediately visible.  We are great grandparents.  This farm is a perfect location for the goats. There is an abundance of food and water, and they can roam freely.  The man who tends them looks very old, but I am guessing his life has been hard.  He is very thin with his ribs showing, but he looks strong.  He shows me the lean-to he has built for the goats to sleep in.  He is very proud of his construction. I compliment him.

Two years ago I gave three women’s tribes in Kisele two goats each plus one male to service all of the females.  We now have eleven goats with some of these pregnant.  I thought there should be more so I questioned them about this.  The Mpilu Tribe had four goats last year, and this year they have none.  No one wants to tell me what happened with their goats.  I speculate the Tribe ate them, and everyone giggles so I think I am correct. If my family was hungry, would I have done differently?  I doubt it.  Survival is the name of the game in the Bush.  I am sorry for the Mpilu, but I am very happy with the other two Tribes because their goat herd is growing.  They have already traded three goats with another Tribe further away to bring in new blood.  I think this Project is successful thus far.

In 2011 I bought five goats and 10 chickens for two women’s groups in Mkamba. This year they have fourteen goats; eight females and six males.  This is fantastic; we are grandparents again!  It is better to have females so they can reproduce.  Hopefully they will be able to sell the males.  The news is even better with the chickens.  From five chickens they have grown to 183.  The villagers are now eating eggs, selling eggs, and eating and selling the chickens.  How wonderful is this? 

We go into Dar to do business.  It is raining hard so I am happy we are not going to the well site. We need to do a press release for the opening of the well at the Mkokosi Primary School.  We invite all of the regional political people and the press.  In Tanzania you have to pay the press to attend your event and put it in the paper.  I wonder why.  Is it because they do not pay their reporters much in salary?  This is confirmed by Maria. If you have to pay them, they must only write complimentary articles about you and the event.  I doubt if they would write the truth if it were bad since you are paying them.  This is interesting to learn.  It is Africa.  Another reason I am grateful to be living in the U.S.

Someone in the office tells us there has been an earthquake in the ocean off of Indonesia.  Tsunami warnings are posted for Indonesia, The Seychelle Islands, Tanzania, and other places bordering the Indian Ocean.  Dar es Salaam is on the Indian Ocean.  We watch CNN on our office computers to keep abreast of the warning.  We decide to leave the office to go back to my Hotel, south of Dar.  It has been raining hard for hours, and many of the streets are flooded.  Apparently everyone has left work early because of the tsunami warning.  The traffic moves at a snail’s pace.  We drive along the sea on the way to the ferry.  The sea is calm, but the sky is dark with clouds.  For some reason I am not worried.  I do not feel that the tsunami will hit here.  We continue to the ferry, and board it as they announce they will suspend service after this crossing.  We are lucky.  We arrive at our Hotel to be told the Staff has been sent home.  The entire parking lot is flooded.  I walk to the office through knee high water to get my key.  They move me from my room facing the ocean to a room further away from the ocean.  Will fifty yards save me?  I doubt it.  At least in this room I do not see any mosquitoes.

Kevin and his wife, Tiffany, are visibly nervous.  They leave the Hotel for somewhat higher ground.  They are spending the night at a Hotel less than an hour away.  In the meantime, Maria, her staff of three and I sit on the beach. It is still sprinkling, but it is warm and comfortable.  By this time the warning of the tsunami has been cancelled.  We do not know this until morning because we have no radio or television.  It is a very peaceful evening as we listen to the waves lapping on the beach.  I am a survivor of the tsunami that never arrived in Tanzania.  Yahoo!

We have the official opening of the well in Mkokosi.  The children carry the heavy desks that seat two and put them in the shade near the well.   We arrive early, and yet the local villagers are sitting and waiting for the ceremony to begin.  There are about fifty women dressed in their colorful dresses and head scarves.  I look for their water buckets, but I only see two.  I do not speak Swahili so I use mime to tell them to get their buckets.  I want them to get the water as soon as we open the well.  Several leave and come back with their buckets. 

I bought soccer uniforms for the Mkokosi School team.  I hand them out to each team member.  They are very excited and run into the building to change into their new uniforms.  They are extremely visible when they return, and everyone follows them with their eyes.  I have my picture taken with them and the new soccer ball I gave them.   These boys are beaming.  They become the celebrities of the day.

The ceremony starts with the school children dancing and singing for us.  A group of girls sing a beautiful song of thanks for giving them water.  It is quite moving.  After everyone spoke, we officially open the well.  We turn the spigot and the water flows.  At home not one of us thinks about water coming out of the faucet unless it stops.  In this area of Tanzania this is very special.  They have never had water readily available to them.  These women get their water from a stream.  It is dirty water, and they carry it long distances.  To see the water coming from the tank is very special.  They fill their buckets, smiling all the time.

   

This well is very special to me.  I lost a colleague and a dear friend in November.  He was a music teacher who affected the lives of many children who are now adults.  They raised the money to fund this well in his name.  He would be so happy that they gave a well to this school in this remote village.  Prior to this, the children spent the entire day without water.  Now they can have water during the school day.  It is incredible to think that in this day and age, there are those who go an entire day without a drink of water.  This well will change the lives of many in this school and community.   It is appropriately named the “Harmony Well” in Ned’s name.

Buying goats and chickens is always an interesting experience.  You have the fact that my skin is white, and I do not speak Swahili.  Immediately they size me up as they think I will not bargain and will pay more.  So I send Maria’s right hand man, Saluum to bargain for me.  However word spreads quickly, and they know I am the one buying.   He gives me a price, and I say it is too expensive. We go back and forth.   This year I am willing to pay more because the man I am buying from, Rweyemamu, has used his money to do wonderful things at his school.  I feel my payment is helping twice over.  I bought six goats, two of whom are pregnant, with one male in the group.  We will give them to the women when we open the remaining two wells. 

I feel even better about buying chickens.  Since my initial investment of ten chickens has grown to 183, I will buy the chickens from the women I gave them to last year.  I have decided to donate the chickens to the village of Kisarawe 2, where I donated a well last year.  I will give them to Dr. Amani to disperse to the women in the village.  I trust him because he is giving out of his own pocket to improve the village.  Each year I see the benefits of the past donations.  This is a wonderful feeling.

      

My visit is usually difficult in terms of where I am staying.  The heat is always oppressive.  Usually I stay alone out of town closer to the well sites.  This year I did this for ten days so I could visit the well sites daily. This year I am very fortunate because Maria, her sister, Nafeesa and their Mom have asked me to stay with them in town.  Now we are spending more time in town organizing the openings and my new website.

Maria Pool is The Seychelles Consul and Tourism Ambassador in Tanzania. She scheduled a meeting with the VP of Zanzibar on the weekend.  Zanzibar joined Tanzania as a Nation in 1964.  As her guest, she asks me to accompany her to Zanzibar, the Spice Island.  We fly out on Friday to return Sunday night.  We stay at a lovely Hotel an hour out of Stone Town.  It is a perfect place to relax and recharge the batteries.  The meeting with the VP was delayed due to a funeral in Stone Town (the Capitol) that the he had to attend.  He arranged to meet us at the airport after the funeral.  I met him two years ago at a luncheon we attended at his home.  He has a calm demeanor and a wonderful laugh.  He is very supportive of what we are doing in the remote areas of Tanzania.  The lack of water is also a problem in Zanzibar, and he would like us to drill wells there.  The conversation continues, and the VP asks us to fly with him on his chartered plane back to Dar es Salaam.  We sit across the aisle from him and his wife on the plane.  Once we land we join his motorcade into town.  They stop all traffic so the VP can move quickly through the normally busy streets.  I am giggling the entire time.    Everyone at home thinks I am living in the Bush and roughing it.  Not this weekend!!

Today I visited two of the wells that I sponsored one year ago.  My first stop is at Mkamba School.  I remember it well from last year.  It is in a very remote area.  Last year the road was all sand, and we had a very hard time driving on it.  The hired driver was scared to drive fast through the sand, and we got stuck quite often.  I actually dreaded the drive each day. This year they have closed that road, and now we drive on another, rarely used road.  There is less sand, but there is overgrown brush on each side of us.  This road is better, but not by much.  We arrive at the school which is surrounded by sand, sand, and more sand.

The water from this well is plentiful.  As we walk to the front of the school I see large flowering bushes in front, in colors of orange, yellow, and red.  They make a beautiful entrance to this building.  Next I spy a boma, which is a secure area in a circle to keep animals out.  The school has planted small seedlings of indigenous trees in this protected area.  The Head Master has chosen ebony seedlings. Many of his student’s parents are carvers of ebony, and he wants to ensure their future livelihood.   When the seedlings are larger, they will transplant them around the school building.  Again they use water from the well.

 The most impressive addition at this school is a fish pond.  The pond is probably 25’ by 25’ and quite deep.  I asked who dug it.  I pictured a back hoe coming through the jungle to get to this area, but I have not seen a backhoe in this area.  The Head Master, Rweyemamu, told me the children had dug it.  I was doubtful until he showed me pictures on his tract phone.  I could hardly believe it.  How impressive!!  They added fish in January, and in June they will be able to eat the fish.  They plan to feed the children fish in the morning free of charge.  In Africa, as in other countries I have visited, families eat only one meal each day.  And that meal is eaten at night which means children go an entire day without food.  Eating fish in the morning should help the children be more productive in school.  With the extra fish, they will sell them to make money for the school.  I am very impressed with Rweyemamu as he has done so much in one year.  Again, they could not do this without the well.  This particular well was donated by women in Italy and the U.S. and was named “The Women’s Friendship Well”.  They would be proud of the way this well has changed many lives.

The second well I visited was outside a Clinic in Kisarawe 2. When we arrived, I noticed a second holding tank of 10,000 liters.  I immediately wondered who had donated this tank; perhaps the government?  Dr. Amani from the Clinic told me he had donated it.  Wow, is this really happening?  He explained how he saved money from his salary every month.  He told me how step by step he was trying to improve things. First the tank, and next he would connect the water from the tank to the Clinic so they would have running water.  Currently they have to go outside to haul the water for use in childbirth, small operations or just cleaning wounds.  Again this Doctor is doing this with his own money!  He has already planned a community garden near the well, but he has to wait for the rainy season to end so they can plant.

 

Last week I visited another well I funded last year.  I also feel good about this well.  Last year every time I went to Mwasonga to see the progress there was a young man of about twenty two working hard to make the well a reality.  I called him Rasta Man because I did not know, nor did I understand, his name.  After I left, Maria sent me pictures of the vegetable garden Rasta had planted with the well water.  Fantastic.  He was able to sell the vegetables to make money.  I went to see him this year, but I was told he had left the area and perhaps gone to another country.  I feel bad because I wanted to shake his hand.  He is an example for others.  This year I see a garden close to the well so others have learned from Rasta man. 

Last year I was with a young girl who got water from a hole in the ground with scum on it and bugs in it.  If this is the only water that is available, you obviously have to use it for drinking, etc.  You have no choice.  Now this little girl and the villagers have a well and clean drinking water.  I looked and looked for this child, but I never found her.  I am not absolutely sure that I would recognize her.  I did recognize another girl in another remote village.  I had seen her for two consecutive years, and I carried her picture with me.  She moved me because she was so serious, yet unafraid of me.  I will re-visit this village and this young girl again next year.

All of these wonderful things happened because we drilled a well which gave these locations clean, accessible water.  Not every location is as successful as these.  We need someone at each location to take the ball and run.  We have provided the spark, now they need to keep the fire going.

It is my last week in Tanzania, but we still have a lot to do.  We open the remaining two wells on Tuesday.  We invite the press and local politicians.  We have the goats delivered on the day of the opening, and we leave for the site early.   It takes over two hours to get to these remote villages from Dar es Salaam.  The ferry is always the problem.  They now have two ferries; one small and one large.  However, there appears to be no rhyme or reason for when both are running.  We see both ferrys in action when we cross on Tuesday morning, but by the time the press gets there, only one is running.  The bus with the press arrives over an hour late.  It is Africa.

At Kwa-Chale and Golani the villagers arrive at the site early and wait patiently for hours for the festivities to begin.  When we arrive, the women start dancing and singing.  With their colorful dresses it makes for a bright contrast to the mud houses and dirt roads.  These wells mean so much to these women and girls.  The moment we open the taps to fill the buckets, all is quiet.  When they see the running water, they do a clicking sound with their tongues.   I feel as much joy as they do because I know how it will change their lives.  These are people with little to their names. They walk barefoot or take a crowded van where they need to go.  Most of these women never leave their small villages their entire lives.  They do not know any other way of life.  Water in close proximity is a wonderful gift for them. 

I motion for the women to follow me so I can give them their goats.  They do not understand what I am asking until someone interprets.  They are totally surprised. One woman in Kwa-Chale becomes the impromptu spokesman.  In both villages all the women want to shake my hand to thank me for the goats.  I ponder their reactions to the well and to the goats.  They may have had to walk long distances for dirty, disgusting water, but they had water of some kind.  This was their way of life since they were young. On the other hand, they were too poor to own an animal.  At the moment the goats seem to be the bigger present.  In reality I know the value of easily accessible clean water.  They certainly appreciate the well, but perhaps the goats mean milk and food for their children.

I still have one set of soccer uniforms to give, and I have decided they should go to the Mkamba School team who helped dig the fish pond.  It is a rainy day when re-visit the school.  I ask for the soccer team, and they come to meet me.  I am told this team has won the local championship. How perfect.  This is their reward.  I hand each boy his new uniform and ask them to change.  They take off running like they were being chased.  They are so happy.  They return looking totally transformed.  They have gone from boys with buttons missing on their shirts, white shirts gone gray and dirty, and shorts with the zippers broken to young men with spic and span soccer uniforms.  What a transformation!  We take pictures, and every boy thanks me, as does the staff.  All the other students are beaming and happy for them.  This gift gives new clothes to children who have NEVER had new clothes in their short lives.  As donors you are doing wonderful things for these children.

I still have to buy the chickens.  The local women I gave the chickens to last year arrive with the chickens they want to sell me.  This is perfect.  They tell me how happy they are with this Project as they eat the eggs and the chickens, as well.  And now I am buying some of their stock.  Two of the women could not come with their chickens so Rweyemamu will give me some of his, and the women will reimburse him.  He brings out boys of about ten years old from the school.  Their job is to catch these chickens.  It is hilarious to watch as they run, and the chickens outrun them.  The chickens finally tire, and they are given to me.

We take the chickens to the village of Kisawere 2 and meet Dr. Amani.  He has already contacted the village women who will be in charge of the chickens.  They meet us, and we each hold a chicken or two.  It is hysterical as the chickens try to get free.  I scream and back away as one flies directly at me.  Finally, I am holding a chicken with wings close to the body and present it to the village women.  I expect to see many chickens in my next visit in one year.

           

One of my last tasks is to visit the hospital that does Fistula operations in Tanzania.  At home I belong to a Women’s Global Giving Circle which focuses on helping others.  A member did a presentation on Fistula problems in the World.  I was dimly aware of the problem, but I did not realize the full implications of the problem.  I donated to the cause and thought that was the end of it.  Months later I received the quarterly newsletter.  Reading it I saw that they were doing Fistula operations for free in Tanzania.  I thought I will be in Tanzania, so why not help them.  It meant I had to raise more money, and that is exactly what I did.

I was to visit a Dr. Browning in Arusha, in the northern part of Tanzania.  That meant an expensive plane ride, but I knew I needed to follow up on this.  As the time got closer, I was informed that Dr. Browning had gone to Sierra Leone to operate.  Now what?  My contact in California at the National Fistula Foundation told me that a hospital in Dar es Salaam was also doing Fistula operations for free.  This was perfect.  I would save time and money by visiting this hospital, which just happened to be around the corner from my host/business partner’s home.

Through an email introduction I meet the CEO of CCBRT (Comprehensive Community Based Rehabilitation in Tanzania) at the Hospital.   Erwin Telemans is a dedicated man working to improve the lives of those in need.  He is from Belgium and has been here for seven years and plans to stay another four.  I feel good about this because I feel there needs to be continuity for a program to succeed.  This hospital does not specialize in any one problem, so the operations vary greatly.

I am interested in the Fistula operations.  Each operation is totally free for these women.  CCBRT has started an extensive campaign to let all the women in Tanzania know about this service.  They cannot afford bus fare much less the cost of an operation so it is important to know there is no charge for them.  Most of the women have suffered for years with this problem.  It occurs after having a difficult delivery without medical aid.  Usually the women deliver at home, and many of these children die after a difficult birth.  The women suffer from vaginal and/or rectal tears that leave them with no control over their bodies.  Their bodies betray them with the smell, and the family shuns them.  How awful!!  Most have suffered in silence as they did not know help was available.   Slowly this is changing.

Women ages 13 to 80 are being operated on in this hospital in Dar es Salaam.  Prior to this, most were too embarrassed to talk about it.  The more the word spreads, the more the women will come forward.  I visited one of the Fistula wards, and I saw women who had just had the operation and were recovering in their beds.  I met older women who were in the final stages of healing and middle aged women who had just arrived for the operation.  I feel good that I am able to help these women.  This operation will give them a new lease on life.  God bless them.

I present a check for $5000 which is to go directly for operations for women with Fistula problems.  This will cover bus fare to the hospital, the operation, catheters, and post care.  Our donation should fund fifteen Fistula operations.   An added bonus is opening the eyes of others.  My host/business partner went to visit the hospital with me.  Maria has a hard time visiting hospitals, but she went because of me.  She was moved by what she saw and heard.  She has decided to donate to help these women.  How wonderful is that?

Wells, solar power, goats, chickens, soccer balls, soccer uniforms, school supplies and Fistula operations. This is an impressive list that you have accomplished.  And I mean each one of you.  I could do nothing without you.   You are changing lives with your donations.  I see the progress.  It is slow, but it is steady.  Thank you.