Happy Birthday Eleanor

Today, Eleanor celebrated her first birthday. Although we could not spend this day in the company of family or long-time friends, it was celebrated with people who have come to know and love her. We are, and will continue to be, eternally grateful for the warmth and grace they have shown all three of us. Happy 1st Birthday, Eleanor.

With Jo (left) and Jackie.

Gift from the staff, a singing birdcage.

From left: Mze. Godwin (askari and gardener), Mze. Julius (night askari...and Eleanor's biggest fan), Mze. Yuda (chef).

Eleanor, Jackie, and Godwin.

A birthday kiss.

Goodnight birthday girl.

It's a great place to raise kids

Over and over again, people tell us that Tanzania, and Arusha in particular, is a great place to raise children. But this is what they are supposed to say, right? I mean, they're raising their children here. Does anyone ever say "Yeah, I wouldn't send your kid to my kid's daycare if I were you. The teachers are below average"?

But I have had some time to reflect on their statement and I am starting to see things from their perspective. As an expatriate, Arusha is more of a small town than a big city and there is certainly a (relatively) small, international community of people that we, already, recognize around town. Most of the restaurants have some outdoor seating, and many have extended lawns (and even playgrounds) where kids are free to explore and play. The international schools (from what I hear) are fantastic, and  most expats work for organizations that help defray the (otherwise prohibitive?) cost of tuition. Furthermore, most expats are paid in US dollars/Euros which means a high standard of living and the luxury of having some combination of a full time maid, nanny, cook, guards, and/or driver. And with all of these benefits, many can still afford to be one-income families. Clearly there are upsides to living here.

On the other hand, a car is a necessity here and I miss the days when I could put Eleanor in the Ergo and walk to the grocery store, to rent a movie, to meet a friend for coffee, or get an ice cream after dinner. I want to teach Eleanor to ride a bike, and I'm not sure that is possible (and it's certainly not safe) here. I miss parks (that don't have big game roaming freely) and green space and museums and cultural festivals. I miss quinoa and almond butter. And I miss my family and friends. While I might get used to having just two free parks, having to drive to 5 different places to do all my shopping, only being able to see movies that are months (and months) old, and not taking Eleanor to childrens' museums, or art museums, or natural history or science museums, I cannot imagine that I could ever get used to my friends and family being thousands and thousands of miles away.

So while I do love having a housemaid, when this adventure has reached it's planned end date I still want to bring my family home. Where it's a great place to raise kids.

Mediabeest

Two aesthetic representations of the wildebeest migration are ubiquitous in the western media: (1) the overhead shot, probably taken from a light plane or balloon, of the long lines of animals leading out across the savanna from densely packed groups; and (2) densely packed groups waiting at the edge of a river brimming with crocs… and the subsequent burst of movement as the wildebeest charge ahead to the other side.  In each case the images are the end product of incredible photographers with extraordinary equipment and endless time, months usually.  All this time and money and effort will generally yield a few shots or seconds of video worthy of publication.  On T.V. and in magazines the intent is to grab our attention for the few seconds that we may have to spare and are willing to surrender to the image or video.  Not surprisingly, to succeed in this pursuit, editors and producers have decided to go with sensational images of densely packed animals – generally engaged in some dramatic collection action.  These dramatics are then typically enhanced through tricks of perspective that endow us, the viewers, with superhuman abilities of observation… we soar above the animals, zoom in on their muscle zone and panicked eyes, and slow down time to fractions of a second.  Of course, as viewers we now expect this as these strategies, these perspectives, are used continually to grab our attention – in movies, commercials, etc… why should it be any different for wildlife content? 

My intent here is not to justify our failure to get any of these classic images on our recent trip to see the migration, but rather to describe that the migration is so much more than these few images… and ultimately inspires a different, perhaps, more mature part of the brain.  Our migration experience was drawn out, both in space and time.  It takes immeasurable time to see all the animals that are aggregated in a particular area.  On our way to Ndutu, in the Ngorongoro Conservation Area, we drove for more than an hour through a great expanse of wildebeest.  These animals were not densely packed, shoulder to shoulder, but dispersed and placid.  With a telephoto lens you can get a few in the foreground and a few in the background.  No more.  With a 50mm lens you can see perhaps several hundred animals… but most of them will appear as simple dots in the distance.  Again, to see the migration, you need time… the heft of this spectacle is conferred over days.  And the amazement is not at seeing animals packed in like feedlot livestock, but at seeing them spread out across an ocean of grass, grazing and snorting– their young foals at their sides… for miles and miles and miles beyond where you can see.  It truly defies photography. 

Primed with sound-bites and slick editing we come with unnatural expectations looking for cheap, digestible drama and excitement that can be captured and transmitted.  Instead what we find is something that demands prolonged attention and reflection - something much more massive and wild and compelling.

In the dark

"What could she mean?" you might be asking, as the title of this post has so many possibilities tied to it.

Maybe she means that she's in the dark about knowing who has right-of-way while driving in a country where the only rules of the road seem to be that there are no rules. This is made more challenging by the fact that the official two lane road actually has four lanes: one for pedestrians (and this runs both parallel and perpendicular to your direction of travel), one for the two-wheeled carts which are used to transport everything from grass clippings, to potatoes, to lumber all over the city, one official lane, and one that the guy behind you has made because he's unhappy with how slowly you're driving.

Maybe it's that she's in the dark about behavior of certain segments of the expatriate community, which, as judgmental as it sounds, appears to be here simply because they can get something from the people of Tanzania and that they, more than the Tanzanians, are foreigners to her. Maybe she means that she's in the dark about the sleep habits of a one year old (need I say more?) or how she will get through a whole year without ice cream.

I'm afraid it's much more simple than that. Everyday, each and everyday, we loose power. Sometimes the black-outs last a few hours; lately they've been lasting as long as 12-20 hours at a time. Even now I have just 12 minutes until the generator is turned off and I will be left sitting here, literally, in the dark.
-kjd

In a heartbeat

Every February (give or take a couple of weeks) "the migration" brings an estimated 1.5 million wildebeest (and another 500,000 grazing herbivores) to the plains of northwestern Tanzania (http://www.wildwatch.com/great_migration).

The game viewing, to be sure, was spectacular (seeing the rolling plains teeming with wildebeest moms and newborns, zebra, gazelle, and giraffe causes one to go very still, breathing in the beauty of natural life), but that's what I expected from the experience; to be in awe of the sheer numbers of animals. Actually, I expected (as Tim put it) "to see the plains covered in blood from all the hunting and feasting" (as baby wildebeest make for good eating...for lions, that is).

What I did not expect was to be so moved by the weather- to watch the cold and rain moving across the plain and to feel dwarfed by the darkening clouds is humbling; to be so appreciative of the lodge staff who always greeted Eleanor with smiles, and brought her special breakfast pancakes and soups at lunch that were just the right temperature; to feel so proud of my daughter who, sitting on top of the land cruiser, made the mama lion open her eyes and look up providing the perfect photo opportunity for the other tourists) when she squealed in delight at the sight of the big cat; to be so frightened by a giraffe, which woke me at midnight with the sounds of it's chewing just outside our bedroom window; or to feel so guilty at the sight of the tire tracks dug into the soft ground, which would be the only remaining trace of our presence once we had gone.

Tim and I are nearly broke and I have had incredible difficulty letting go of my time with Eleanor and hiring a nanny so that I can get some real work done, which means I'm not making any money- just spending it. Paying for this safari didn't help our financial situation, but if given the opportunity I would do it all over again. In a heartbeat.
- kjd

 

Eleanor and dad- walking in Ngorongoro Conservation Area.

  

From atop a waterfall.

  

Practicing. 

  

Elephants carve minerals out of the hillside.

  

Maasi and their cattle- Ngorongoro Conservation Area.

  

Ngorongoro Crater- at the rim.

  

I am a cat person.

  

Getting the lion's attention.

  

Starting on her life-list with dad.

Pride of lions, females and babies.

Marabou storks.

 

Wildebeest and weather.

  

  

We were here.

Zebra and giraffe on the crater rim.

Bird watching.

Wildebeest on the plains.

Afternoon nap.

Papa simba.

Hyaena.

Bravery at the snake park.

Maasai men meet Eleanor.

Cheetahs in search of shade.

More bravery at the snake park: Nile croc, meet Eleanor. Eleanor, Nile croc.

The reason for the season.

Ready for rain

Although she's still practicing her walking, the long rains are coming and Eleanor is ready.

The soup of the day is bread

There are many days where I find myself unable to pull together a real meal for Tim and I before 8 pm, so getting one together by the time Eleanor needs dinner is usually out of the question. Occasionally I've been able to pull leftovers from the fridge (i.e. Kelley's rice and lentil soup), but more often than not her meal consists of something newly mashed (parsnips), or newly cooked (butternut squash), or newly peeled (bananas and apples).

Most recently, however, she's discovered bread. While it's no Weaver St. or Gugelupf, Chocolate Temptations makes a decent "whole meal" bread, to which Eleanor has taken quite a liking. I don't even mind the cleanup.
-kjd