january honestly

What to say about Africa?  Besides that, what is there to say about my family and myself and our adjustment to this place?  And also, what can be said about the progress towards my own work here – my research?  These questions present themselves each day to me and serve to confuse, rather than clarify my sense of order about our time here. These uncertainties, among other things, have delayed this first dispatch from Tanzania.  I had wanted to write earlier – and more often, but in the absence of those, I will strive for honesty.

The sum of my experience thus far is that it has been trying.

At moments I am filled with pride and manliness and a sense that my own character is one of confidence and courage.  Drawing from previous experiences overseas, I am mostly at ease with many of the obvious differences that Africa and Tanzania present and I have moved quickly to new endeavors.   As an example, I am now reasonably capable of handling a large safari vehicle.  A Land Cruiser with wheels that stand above the knee and spares that are chained to the back.  I drive comfortably now in the city and the bush – each of which caused me considerable anxiety only weeks ago.   The diesel engine makes a thunderous noise in the low gears, and I relish the power in my hands – especially in the bush where dried-out, bouldered river beds and steep, gullied slopes would prove insurmountable to lesser vehicles. With dark glasses on and a machete under the back seat, I am satisfied by the image of myself behind the wheel.

At other moments I feel lost and helpless – in need of direction.  I have already met with several NGO people here and their knowledge of the local scene far outstrips my own.  For years now, I have slowly built up a store of knowledge about the human/environment issues that characterize northern Tanzania – and foolishly I have begun to think of myself as an expert.  Instead, now I feel like a cartoon of myself.  “Fear not, Tanzanians, for I am a PhD Student!  And I am here, just arrived in your land, to answer some important questions that I can see you need answering.  The darkness shall reign no longer!”  Each time I sit down with someone I feel like they’re spoon feeding me information – wiping the corners of my mouth.

This has weighed on me especially as I consider the relevance of this year – of this opportunity.  This is it!  I have a fist full of cash and one shot at this.  But I feel short on strategy, and as I read through a recent dissertation from my field site coming out of Oxford, my sense of inadequacy grows as does my pensive accounting of time and other resources.

I am an industry here.  I mean I’ve never had an employee and now I have like six - with two families that are entirely dependent on me for their incomes.   I also employ a cook, guard, and milk maids when we are in the field.  But this is fairly typical here.  In Arusha, our landlords provide a cleaning lady that details our apartment for several hours a day, 6 days a week.  She is paid about $75.00/month and our place is less than half of her duties in the building. Everywhere labor is cheaply available.  All expats have servants, often several:   guards, cooks, drivers, and housegirls - as they’re called.   And the quickness with which this cheap labor is taken for granted by those who can afford it is astounding and tremendously unnerving.  But we love it, and we tell ourselves that we’re providing jobs.  Tragically, this is only one of countless dynamics here that brings people together by separating them.  These thoughts challenge me daily.

And Kiyah and Eleanor are at once very close and somewhat distant to me.  My days have been appropriated by reading, and reimbursement memos, purchasing supplies, scanning and computer glitches, more reading and emails and lunches, and endless trips to the ATM as the cash pours out of my account.  Kiyah has had to make striking changes in her daily life to accommodate my schedule and she has done so admirably – and I am very grateful to her.  She looks after Eleanor all day long, nearly each day – as I have been busy even on the weekends.  This is an exhaustive job, especially with no vehicle of her own, or friends really to visit.  To address these and related issues, we’ve begun looking into renting or buying another car – and Eleanor will be gaining a nanny in only two weeks time… Mama Lucy – so that Kiyah can get back to her own research.  The trials of parenting under these new conditions have made the full scope of our lives here more obscure – more difficult to bring into focus.   Eleanor… my goodness, Eleanor.  What a beam of sunshine she is though.  When I take the time to really be with her, she is so comforting.  I could write pages about her.  I pray this will always be the case.

It is a peculiar and perhaps selfish thing that we should be so consumed with the wildness of the world around us even as our own daughter is changing so fast – late already, it would seem, for tomorrow.  To see her and know her could require all of our attention.

And yet for all the anxieties about fieldwork, and parenting, and the servant class, and rats in the kitchen (yes – 2 so far – and we are currently enjoying the smell of a dead one in the walls) – real concerns which the mind is not foolish to consider, there is so much that we have been inspired by as well.  Each day we enjoy the comfort and solitude of Mt. Meru – our volcano – which looks down on us in our living room and back yard encouraging us to stop and observe and be contented.  Our home is spacious with wide windows in each room for watching the passing weather and birds and is equipped with a comfortable bed that I am reluctant to leave each morning.  We have met people here, wonderful people with young children and compelling stories of their lives in Tanzania.  And the fruit has been extraordinary – especially the plums and the mangoes.

Most recently, we made a trip out to my field site in Simanjiro district – the area that my work examines.  This is about 3.5 hours from  home - 3 hours from tarmac.  There we stay in an abandoned cattle enclosure which we rent from a local leader who is battered with age but rich with wives and cattle.  There is no electricity or running water and only a meter wide barrier of thorny branches and vines separates us from the lions and zebra that call through the night.  In the evenings we build a fire and generally rake out coals to heat part of our dinner.  We sleep in tents and are awakened each morning to scores of birds and brilliant orange sunrises.  Maasai women or irls bring milk daily for our chai – an especially popular form of tea with masala spice and sugar which serves as the centerpiece of our morning and evening rituals.  It is peaceful out there – and the air is brilliant.

This time of the year, after the short rains, the plains are green and spotted with animals.  We saw heaps of zebra and giraffe each day, often right from our camp.  It was special to see Kiyah’s eyes shine in these moments.  Herds of impala, gazelle, and eland were also about – vervet monkeys, ostrich, hartebeest, mongoose and dozens and dozens of species of birds – hundreds I’m sure.  One day, on our way to a weekly market in a neighboring village we happened across hundreds, perhaps thousands, of migrating white storks.  They spiraled on the thermals in giant columns that rose high into the sky, the peaks of Kilimanjaro and Meru prominent in the distance.

And so I conclude with the greatest stereo-type of Africa (one that my own work will challenge) which is that that fullness and peace and communion in Africa are found in its wildlife – and this is why we come.  Truly, I have seen it in other places, human places, places where natural rhythms resound.

This trip was our first as a family and my first in over 3 years.  The expectations were high as we were trying to get a sense of how comfortable Kiyah and Eleanor would be in this setting. In each village we visited, Eleanor was a celebrity.  Men and women alike would simply take her out of our hands and shuttle her around.  She was cool with this… curious and relaxed – but not particularly disposed to grand smiling and hand waving.  But they loved her – as did my assistants who regularly entertained her when mom or I needed a break - or a moment to look around - to take it in.

tdb