Just an update for now:
Crossed the border yesterday with a little bit of stress -- and fifty USD -- and made it into Kampala at 8 or 9 oclock last night. Headed up to the Backpackers Hostel where we met a guy from Vancouver and a dude from the UK and chatted a bit over delicious grilled cheese sandwiches (I tell you -- Africans really don't do anything with cheese, it's a shame; thus, we've all been desiring a melty grilled cheese...)
Went into downtown today to search for books, explore, possibly see a movie, eat good food, and see what Kampala has to offer. Really nice city so far, with all the craziness that is being a city in the middle of a developing country (millions of knock off shoes -- I don't exaggerate with the numbers either -- and so many clothes) and lots of expats too, especially at this little enclave of a mall that we are currently siting in. How strange would it be to be a kid growing up and going to the international school here because their parent is a diplomat? Can't even imagine.
In other news.
Rafting on Monday, and possible mountain biking tomorrow. Other than that, prety wide open to ideas. The thing is ... everything is so expensive to do here if you're a student. Oh well, more of an excuse to come back.
Ready to be home. Counting the days.
Love,
Zach
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Off to Uganda
Anton and I are headed off to Uganda today for our rafting adventure with Nile River Explorers, tackling some of the largest class five rapids in the world! Also on the docket: possible gorilla or chimp chasing (unlikely though, given our budgets...), hiking in and around Kampala (the city is situated in a bunch of hills), night clubbing, lounging, and general holiday-ing.
Excellent night of dancing with the crew last night in Kisumu at the Upside Down Octopus Club (pictures are forthcoming once I get back home, and oh how they are hilarious).
Splitting with Betto and Claire, unfortunately, as they aren't too keen on coming into Uganda. Looks like it'll be Anton and I for the next 12 days.
I'll have internet in Kampala, and you'll hear from me there I'm sure.
Hope everyone on the East Coast is living up the snow! Been so long since I have seen anything resmbling snow. Looking forward to skiing upon return, and warm evening inside with friends, family, cats, and good food.
Love,
Zach
Excellent night of dancing with the crew last night in Kisumu at the Upside Down Octopus Club (pictures are forthcoming once I get back home, and oh how they are hilarious).
Splitting with Betto and Claire, unfortunately, as they aren't too keen on coming into Uganda. Looks like it'll be Anton and I for the next 12 days.
I'll have internet in Kampala, and you'll hear from me there I'm sure.
Hope everyone on the East Coast is living up the snow! Been so long since I have seen anything resmbling snow. Looking forward to skiing upon return, and warm evening inside with friends, family, cats, and good food.
Love,
Zach
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Tea Estates and Laziness
Sitting right now in Kisumu on the shores of Lake Victoria, sweating buckets, and wondering if it really indeed is December right now. I see Christmas advertisements in some of the local stores as well, which makes this feeling all the stranger.
Whirlwind move through Nairobi after bidding goodbye to Tanzania (for perhaps a very long time) on the 6th, a brief jaunt back into the incredibly western Nairobi, staying at the dinky and run down, but accommodating, "New Kenyan Lodge", listening to beats from a Pub down the road from our hostel (with old 90s classics like "Smooth" that, even though you never listen to them in the states, still trigger off nostalgia) and eating good food, staying up most of the night even though you had no desire to because: a) aforementioned Pub turned volume up even more and had clients until late in the night, b) matatu drivers shouted at each other below our windows to try and take pub's drunken clients home, and c) hostel guests watched movies until late in night as well, and TV happened to be right next to our wall. Add to the fact that we had a resident kitty that liked to sneak into our rooms until we found it and chased it off with a stick, and the circumstances we nothing but laughable.
Booked a matatu ticket from Nairobi to Kisumu (a matatu is essentially a decked out van, lined with 10-14 seats inside of it), and headed out from Nairobbery at 10 AM for an adrenaline filled 5 hours of 120kph driving on Kenya's paved roads through some of the most beautiful country I have been through. Greenness, tea fields, pine trees(!), huge mountains in every direction, and sweet modernity in the cities (something that was conspicuously lacking in most of Tanzania).
Met up with Lila, Peggy, Lisa and Lydia for some drinks and dinner last night, and are planning on doing the same tonight. Peggy is heading back for Nairobi tomorrow, and the others will be short to follow. Soaking in the last ten days of travel in this country.
Also, as a funny side note, we're staying in the "Sooper" Guest House here in Kisumu. The names generated for places here never cease to amaze.
Hopefully headed up to Kampala tomorrow or the day after, and looking forward to some high quality Class Five rapids, some high quality dancing, and some high quality time with dearest Anton, Claire, and Betto. (We had a nice sit down family meal today of guacamole, chips, and mangoes with yogurt. Great success)
I'll keep you posted!
And stop telling me that it snowed in Maryland! It hurts my soul to not be there....
Soon soon soon soon soon soon soon soon soon.
Whirlwind move through Nairobi after bidding goodbye to Tanzania (for perhaps a very long time) on the 6th, a brief jaunt back into the incredibly western Nairobi, staying at the dinky and run down, but accommodating, "New Kenyan Lodge", listening to beats from a Pub down the road from our hostel (with old 90s classics like "Smooth" that, even though you never listen to them in the states, still trigger off nostalgia) and eating good food, staying up most of the night even though you had no desire to because: a) aforementioned Pub turned volume up even more and had clients until late in the night, b) matatu drivers shouted at each other below our windows to try and take pub's drunken clients home, and c) hostel guests watched movies until late in night as well, and TV happened to be right next to our wall. Add to the fact that we had a resident kitty that liked to sneak into our rooms until we found it and chased it off with a stick, and the circumstances we nothing but laughable.
Booked a matatu ticket from Nairobi to Kisumu (a matatu is essentially a decked out van, lined with 10-14 seats inside of it), and headed out from Nairobbery at 10 AM for an adrenaline filled 5 hours of 120kph driving on Kenya's paved roads through some of the most beautiful country I have been through. Greenness, tea fields, pine trees(!), huge mountains in every direction, and sweet modernity in the cities (something that was conspicuously lacking in most of Tanzania).
Met up with Lila, Peggy, Lisa and Lydia for some drinks and dinner last night, and are planning on doing the same tonight. Peggy is heading back for Nairobi tomorrow, and the others will be short to follow. Soaking in the last ten days of travel in this country.
Also, as a funny side note, we're staying in the "Sooper" Guest House here in Kisumu. The names generated for places here never cease to amaze.
Hopefully headed up to Kampala tomorrow or the day after, and looking forward to some high quality Class Five rapids, some high quality dancing, and some high quality time with dearest Anton, Claire, and Betto. (We had a nice sit down family meal today of guacamole, chips, and mangoes with yogurt. Great success)
I'll keep you posted!
And stop telling me that it snowed in Maryland! It hurts my soul to not be there....
Soon soon soon soon soon soon soon soon soon.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
What? We have to pay for things on our own now?
Well, we're on our own now.
The group dwindled to half yesterday, and Anton and I sat around and moped for most of the morning, filled with the unmistakable feeling of a closure that came too quickly. Is everyone really gone already? Have those three months of our lives passed before us? As when anything ends, I am struck by the surreal feeling of wondering if everything that I remember even happened, if all the moving around were really miles in physicality, if all the connections made will stand the strains of thousands of miles.
Of course it all really happened, but it's staggering to know that it's actually over.
The last week and a half of the trip was spent -- for the bio side - back at the gorgeous coast, snorkeling around on the reefs and lounging in our beach front bandas and reading and eating. I got a horribly annoying infection on my toe while there -- I'm pretty sure that the flippers initiated it -- and I was land bound for about half of the time we spent there. I tell you -- there is nothing that makes you more homesick than being sick in a world where you are so far from home comfort; I spent a lot of the time that I was on land reading (finished Life of Pi -- so good! -- and Catcher in the Rye, which is also fabulous), sleeping, and trying not to stress over the foot situation. It got so bad that I could barely walk. Ugh.
But Thanksgiving turned out to be a moving experience, and one that turned my pysche back on the upswing.
We had three different types of locally caught fish, and the camaraderie of a group that we have all grown to love to sustain us through the missing of home traditions and American food. Later in the evening, after significant amounts of coaxing, Anton, Kai and I (and Sam too, after some pushing) got everyone to run into the tropical ocean -- sans clothing, of course -- and float on the small waves that rocked us along. Had so much fun, until Lydia got stung by a jellyfish as she was dong a handstand and her whole body became covered in bumps. She was fine, but it still spooked us a bit.
The next night we did a night snorkel out from the beach, and watching as bioluminescents flashed the water beneath us. I could only use one fin on account of the foot, so it was tough going for me, and I turned back to go in earlier than Anton and Kai did, who stayed out swimming to the far offshore reef until about 11:30 at night. Pretty amazing to be out on a beach where you can only see the light of the moon and stars -- nothing else -- and where you can fall asleep to the breeze and palm trees swaying. Slept outside on a cot with a foam matress nearly everynight, which included the nighttme activity of running inside as a monsoon came in over the ocean and slammed into you. There was also always the threat of vervet monkeys coming up to you and picking thnigs out of your nose while you sleep, but luckily our at the coast were not of that persuasion.
With the bio side of the group, the male-female ratio was the fairest its been the whole trip (in the large group, it's 7men to 17women), with five guys and seven girls, and the guys were all clustered down at the far end of the beach, tucked away by our lonesome selves, and we formed a "bachelor herd" which became the running joke for the rest of the trip. With animals like zebras and impala and many others, the non-dominant males form these so called "bachelor herds" which wader around and vie for dominance with the dominant male who protects his "harem" of females. We saw a lot of this interaction between the animals here, so the extension of the joke seemed natural. None of us have had too much luck wooing the ladies this trip....
Just kidding. Sort of.
After bidding goodbye to the coast, we headed up into the Amani Forest, an ancient range of substrate that is much much older than the mainland continent itself, and is home to a whole manner of endemic animals, plants, etc. Did a night hike to see some of the coolest chameleons ever.
Kai also bought ten entire litres of palm wine, which is locally made and extracted straight from the coconut tree, and is in an active progress of fermenting the whole time. Which asically means that it gets stronger and stronger the longer you wait. We all partook in a bit, but most of us couldn't stomach too much of it. He had to keep opening the bottle to let the CO2 out from all that it created in an hours time. Super funny.
Got back to glorious Arusha for our short one and half day retreat at the absolute nicest hotel I have even been to in my life. We had a suite. And a kitchen. And eight pillows. What sweetness it is to return to luxury like that, even if it was only was three days.
We were reunited with the General Culture kids again for our short stay, and as expected, we jumped into each others arms and couldn't stop hugging and smiling and everything. So nice to be back around familiar faces in a foreign place.
The entire next day -- the 3rd -- was spent on presentations. Seven hours of them. All of the general culture students projects, and then all of the bio ones. Exhausting, but inspiring to see what everyone had pulled off in a short amount of time.
That evening rushed by in a swirl of final speeches, goodbyes to our safari staff, incredible food, and a rambunctious gathering of all of us in the pool to create a giant whirlpool. The only thing that I can say about the past few days has been the complete and utter surreality that comes with the closing of a chapter of your life, and the knowledge of that ending so far from your comprehension. We've traveled for so long that closure feels far far far away.
Played card games, listened to music, got a little schwasty, and reveled in each others laughter for what was going to be the last time for a long time. A night to be remembered.
The next morning the people who were leaving Africa right after the program - about half of our group - headed up to Nairobi at 7:30 AM, and the rest of us wandered around the hotel grounds with the unmistakable stride of those lacking a purpose.
And now -- well, we have to pay for everything ourselves. What is that?
The plan is to head for Nairobi tomorrow and then over to Kisumu on Lake Victoria, gradually making our way over to Uganda to raft the class five rapids at the headwaters of the Nile. Off to London on the 19th, and home on the 22nd. Very, very, very excited.
Safari njema, and I will see you all soon. I'll have internet from time to time, so keep in touch.
Love,
Zach
The group dwindled to half yesterday, and Anton and I sat around and moped for most of the morning, filled with the unmistakable feeling of a closure that came too quickly. Is everyone really gone already? Have those three months of our lives passed before us? As when anything ends, I am struck by the surreal feeling of wondering if everything that I remember even happened, if all the moving around were really miles in physicality, if all the connections made will stand the strains of thousands of miles.
Of course it all really happened, but it's staggering to know that it's actually over.
The last week and a half of the trip was spent -- for the bio side - back at the gorgeous coast, snorkeling around on the reefs and lounging in our beach front bandas and reading and eating. I got a horribly annoying infection on my toe while there -- I'm pretty sure that the flippers initiated it -- and I was land bound for about half of the time we spent there. I tell you -- there is nothing that makes you more homesick than being sick in a world where you are so far from home comfort; I spent a lot of the time that I was on land reading (finished Life of Pi -- so good! -- and Catcher in the Rye, which is also fabulous), sleeping, and trying not to stress over the foot situation. It got so bad that I could barely walk. Ugh.
But Thanksgiving turned out to be a moving experience, and one that turned my pysche back on the upswing.
We had three different types of locally caught fish, and the camaraderie of a group that we have all grown to love to sustain us through the missing of home traditions and American food. Later in the evening, after significant amounts of coaxing, Anton, Kai and I (and Sam too, after some pushing) got everyone to run into the tropical ocean -- sans clothing, of course -- and float on the small waves that rocked us along. Had so much fun, until Lydia got stung by a jellyfish as she was dong a handstand and her whole body became covered in bumps. She was fine, but it still spooked us a bit.
The next night we did a night snorkel out from the beach, and watching as bioluminescents flashed the water beneath us. I could only use one fin on account of the foot, so it was tough going for me, and I turned back to go in earlier than Anton and Kai did, who stayed out swimming to the far offshore reef until about 11:30 at night. Pretty amazing to be out on a beach where you can only see the light of the moon and stars -- nothing else -- and where you can fall asleep to the breeze and palm trees swaying. Slept outside on a cot with a foam matress nearly everynight, which included the nighttme activity of running inside as a monsoon came in over the ocean and slammed into you. There was also always the threat of vervet monkeys coming up to you and picking thnigs out of your nose while you sleep, but luckily our at the coast were not of that persuasion.
With the bio side of the group, the male-female ratio was the fairest its been the whole trip (in the large group, it's 7men to 17women), with five guys and seven girls, and the guys were all clustered down at the far end of the beach, tucked away by our lonesome selves, and we formed a "bachelor herd" which became the running joke for the rest of the trip. With animals like zebras and impala and many others, the non-dominant males form these so called "bachelor herds" which wader around and vie for dominance with the dominant male who protects his "harem" of females. We saw a lot of this interaction between the animals here, so the extension of the joke seemed natural. None of us have had too much luck wooing the ladies this trip....
Just kidding. Sort of.
After bidding goodbye to the coast, we headed up into the Amani Forest, an ancient range of substrate that is much much older than the mainland continent itself, and is home to a whole manner of endemic animals, plants, etc. Did a night hike to see some of the coolest chameleons ever.
Kai also bought ten entire litres of palm wine, which is locally made and extracted straight from the coconut tree, and is in an active progress of fermenting the whole time. Which asically means that it gets stronger and stronger the longer you wait. We all partook in a bit, but most of us couldn't stomach too much of it. He had to keep opening the bottle to let the CO2 out from all that it created in an hours time. Super funny.
Got back to glorious Arusha for our short one and half day retreat at the absolute nicest hotel I have even been to in my life. We had a suite. And a kitchen. And eight pillows. What sweetness it is to return to luxury like that, even if it was only was three days.
We were reunited with the General Culture kids again for our short stay, and as expected, we jumped into each others arms and couldn't stop hugging and smiling and everything. So nice to be back around familiar faces in a foreign place.
The entire next day -- the 3rd -- was spent on presentations. Seven hours of them. All of the general culture students projects, and then all of the bio ones. Exhausting, but inspiring to see what everyone had pulled off in a short amount of time.
That evening rushed by in a swirl of final speeches, goodbyes to our safari staff, incredible food, and a rambunctious gathering of all of us in the pool to create a giant whirlpool. The only thing that I can say about the past few days has been the complete and utter surreality that comes with the closing of a chapter of your life, and the knowledge of that ending so far from your comprehension. We've traveled for so long that closure feels far far far away.
Played card games, listened to music, got a little schwasty, and reveled in each others laughter for what was going to be the last time for a long time. A night to be remembered.
The next morning the people who were leaving Africa right after the program - about half of our group - headed up to Nairobi at 7:30 AM, and the rest of us wandered around the hotel grounds with the unmistakable stride of those lacking a purpose.
And now -- well, we have to pay for everything ourselves. What is that?
The plan is to head for Nairobi tomorrow and then over to Kisumu on Lake Victoria, gradually making our way over to Uganda to raft the class five rapids at the headwaters of the Nile. Off to London on the 19th, and home on the 22nd. Very, very, very excited.
Safari njema, and I will see you all soon. I'll have internet from time to time, so keep in touch.
Love,
Zach
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
A Brief (Unexpected!) Update
Hello hello!
So, I now have computer access for one afternoon, completely unexpected, as we make our way from the bush -- Part Two -- back to the Coast. We have one night in Arusha with all the general culture kids -- it's Devon's birthday! -- for a brief reunion, a barbeque, and this completely unexpected and brief access to the internet world.
For the past ten days, I've been solely with the Bio kids as we ventured back to Oldonya Sambu -- this time in full green flush; it's been raining for the past week -- for 9 dyas to commence our Independent Study projects and bask in all day biology lessons, including some more formal ones at night, followed by late night on rocks watching stars and campfire lessons from our ever-ethusiastic, and amazing professor, Ken.
Originally, Anton and I wanted, desperately so, to do our project on baboons. We knew there was a troop nearby (we had seen them last time), and the idea of following them around for a full day for nine days straight sounded immensely appealing. They have some of the most subtle societies of the animal world, with lifelong friendships formed and a fascinating hierarchy that keeps the whole thing together. Plus, their eerie similiarity to our own expressions and mannerisms makes them sounds like a riot.
On the first morning of our project, we rose at 5:30 and drove off to the side of the mountain with Killerai (our guide) and Ole-Maria, a Maasai guide at camp who has the best smile ever, hoping to catch sight of them as they made their morning voyage down from the rocks where they sleep at night down to the savannah for a day of gorging on the abundant food of the rainy season.
We heard them before we saw them, and you can be sure that they saw us before we even caught the slighest hint of them. The barks of the lookouts on the rocks rolled down to us from the tips. Anton and I exchanged "holy-shit-I'm-excited" glances, and started our voyage up the hill, Ole-Maria with a rifle over his shoulder, and Anton and I peering ahead with the verve usually associated only with third graders at snack time.
Not two minutes into the stalking, Ole-Maria pointed ahead through the trees at the bottom of the slope, and with a shushed voice said "Tembo. Ile."
So... Tembo in Swahili is....
ELEPHANT!
(And "Ile" is the demostrative "there")
Unbelievable. We're walking 50 meters from a family of elephants.
Elephants have these uniquely padded feet so that, deespite their massive gait and size, they made almost no sound as they pad through the forest, adding even more to the surreality of seeing one of the most massive mammals on earth, who walks right in front of you without even making a sound. We treaded around them quietly, and made our gradual way up the scree.
About halfway up we caught sight of Papio anubis, the Olive Baboon, and the chase began. We ran up the 30 degree slope with as much energy as we could muster, and with as much stealth as that running could allow, following the family around the curvature of the mountain. There must have been fifty baboons in that one troop. And they all we looking at us.
Aided by an evolutionary histroy that requires agility and manueverability on steep ground, the baboons left us in a wake of freshly dropped dung. (If you corner a family, or end up coming upon their roosting site inadvertently, they are know to throw liquid feces your way, without warning.) And given the departure from our own evolutionary history towards a rather sedentary life, we lost them within the first few minutes.
After summitting the mountain and taking a well deserved break (while the baboon got further and further away), a cloud rolled in overtop of us, and we were left walking through a dense mist that made us feel like we were an island in the sky. Beautiful moment.
We descened the other side, having long lost all traces of our primate friends, and had Killerai pick us up, slightly defeated, but elated at the adventure we had just gone on.
All this is to say that we didn't actually follow baboons around for the week, and gave the idea up after our one taste of the challenges of actually stalking something that is on par with your own intelligence. A humbling moment, but one that is beautiful in its own right.
Insterad, we followed Zazu around. You know, the Hornbill from the Lion King. There are three different types of hornbill in the area -- Red-Billed, Von Der Deckens, and African Grey -- and we decided to follow this guys around -- in the hey-day of their mating season (love was indeed in the air) -- measuring the strength of their pair-bonds: how often we find them together, and how often we find them apart, and what sort of crazy antics we find in the inbetween space.
It proved to be challenging to no end -- science in the field reveals the staggering mystery of everything around you, and how you really never quite know what's actually happening in the ecological tapestry around you -- but some of the most memorable time in the bush of the whole trip. Walking around eveyday with a Maasai guide (I swear, he spotted about 90% of the hornbills for us; all of us Americans proved to be, despite our actually pretty-good field skills, horribly deficient at spotting what we needed to in a timely manner), watching the overtly sexual behaviors of our study subjects (they have this courtship dance that involves pelvic thrusts), and soaking in some of the most stunning landscape I have ever walked through.
In the past week, we've been having almost daily thunderstorms and rain bouts -- the long awaited rainy season has finally arrived, and the world around us is rejoicing. Green everywhere, all in the course of three days. Animals starting hundreds of mile long migrations. Fat frogs gorging on the explosion of termites in the air (the winged fellows launch out from their mound as soon as the rain starts and try to start new colonies by breeding mid-air and falling to the ground wherever they may). Suessical flowers sprouting from the most unexpected of places. And the sounds of thousands of birds filling the air with their courtship appeals to the rest of their species, a time of the year when "kupanda"ing (kupanda is the swahili word for "to mount") seems to be happening everywhere. All said, pretty cool time to be out here.
We probably logged a solid 15 hours worth of actual observation time of hornbills (at least a good 40 hours of hiking time) over the course of our study, and we saw some crazy things. Hornbills, after they have copulated with their wooed female (bird sex is basically two birds rubbing butts together -- only about three species of the avian class have real penises), then have the female retreat into the nest they have arranged for them -- which is a hollowed out cavity in a tree, lined with mus that they have collected around the rim -- and then essentially lock them into there for the entire time the egg is incubated. They do this by filling in the rest of the opening with mud, leaving only a slit by which the male feeds the caged female insects for her entire stay in there. We were lucky enough to find a few of these nests (which many of our guides had never seen before), and to watch the male bring the female food. We even were able to see the eye of the molted female inside. SO COOL.
They also have the courtship ritual where the male tries to feed the female (while they are still dating and the female is not encased in her hole yet.... what a bizarre way to go about nesting) an insect that her has caught; if she takes it, they will probably be together -- if she doesn't, she flies off leaving the male looking dejected and lonely. We actually saw the female take the bug and then, after appeasing the male, drop the insect onto the ground. She then flew off. Poor guy.
And that isn't even the beginning of it -- there is so much more to explore.
At night we would have biology lectures from our professor, Ken, who is so obviously in his element that he can barely hold his excitement back. It's a fantastic atmosphere to learn in; we all love him. What a crazy place to be learning -- everything we've been absorbing in "class" is then displayed in the field right before our eyes. It doesn't get much more exciting than that.
Almost every night Anton and I would go up to the rock outcropping above camp and sit and watch the stars, often staying up there for hours as we talked and talked and thought about everything within us and around us. I'll be cherishing those hours for years to come.
One night we even heard lions roaring, not a kilometer away. AHHH. Going to sleep hearing lions; man, that's the stuff we dream about.
We also danced with Maasai, threw spears, and talked around embers of acacia long into the night. But lets not even get into that.
Life feels natural and at ease here; there is so much of an ancient vibe that rings though the place and that sways the savannah grasses that I can't help but feel like life will always be this way, that this place is so immutable, so inextricably human, that leaving it will feel like leaving a bit of yourself behind.
One more month left in this outrageous place.
Off to the coast for Ind. Study project part two: the sagas of the butterfly fish. Stay tuned.
I'll be back to computers on the 2nd/3rd of December.
And then! -- it's off to Lake Vistoria with a small group of wonderful friends, gradually making our way up to Uganda for some rafting on the Nile and jungle exploring. Heck yes.
Miss you all, of course. And much love from the land of Simba, the birthplace of us all. :)
So, I now have computer access for one afternoon, completely unexpected, as we make our way from the bush -- Part Two -- back to the Coast. We have one night in Arusha with all the general culture kids -- it's Devon's birthday! -- for a brief reunion, a barbeque, and this completely unexpected and brief access to the internet world.
For the past ten days, I've been solely with the Bio kids as we ventured back to Oldonya Sambu -- this time in full green flush; it's been raining for the past week -- for 9 dyas to commence our Independent Study projects and bask in all day biology lessons, including some more formal ones at night, followed by late night on rocks watching stars and campfire lessons from our ever-ethusiastic, and amazing professor, Ken.
Originally, Anton and I wanted, desperately so, to do our project on baboons. We knew there was a troop nearby (we had seen them last time), and the idea of following them around for a full day for nine days straight sounded immensely appealing. They have some of the most subtle societies of the animal world, with lifelong friendships formed and a fascinating hierarchy that keeps the whole thing together. Plus, their eerie similiarity to our own expressions and mannerisms makes them sounds like a riot.
On the first morning of our project, we rose at 5:30 and drove off to the side of the mountain with Killerai (our guide) and Ole-Maria, a Maasai guide at camp who has the best smile ever, hoping to catch sight of them as they made their morning voyage down from the rocks where they sleep at night down to the savannah for a day of gorging on the abundant food of the rainy season.
We heard them before we saw them, and you can be sure that they saw us before we even caught the slighest hint of them. The barks of the lookouts on the rocks rolled down to us from the tips. Anton and I exchanged "holy-shit-I'm-excited" glances, and started our voyage up the hill, Ole-Maria with a rifle over his shoulder, and Anton and I peering ahead with the verve usually associated only with third graders at snack time.
Not two minutes into the stalking, Ole-Maria pointed ahead through the trees at the bottom of the slope, and with a shushed voice said "Tembo. Ile."
So... Tembo in Swahili is....
ELEPHANT!
(And "Ile" is the demostrative "there")
Unbelievable. We're walking 50 meters from a family of elephants.
Elephants have these uniquely padded feet so that, deespite their massive gait and size, they made almost no sound as they pad through the forest, adding even more to the surreality of seeing one of the most massive mammals on earth, who walks right in front of you without even making a sound. We treaded around them quietly, and made our gradual way up the scree.
About halfway up we caught sight of Papio anubis, the Olive Baboon, and the chase began. We ran up the 30 degree slope with as much energy as we could muster, and with as much stealth as that running could allow, following the family around the curvature of the mountain. There must have been fifty baboons in that one troop. And they all we looking at us.
Aided by an evolutionary histroy that requires agility and manueverability on steep ground, the baboons left us in a wake of freshly dropped dung. (If you corner a family, or end up coming upon their roosting site inadvertently, they are know to throw liquid feces your way, without warning.) And given the departure from our own evolutionary history towards a rather sedentary life, we lost them within the first few minutes.
After summitting the mountain and taking a well deserved break (while the baboon got further and further away), a cloud rolled in overtop of us, and we were left walking through a dense mist that made us feel like we were an island in the sky. Beautiful moment.
We descened the other side, having long lost all traces of our primate friends, and had Killerai pick us up, slightly defeated, but elated at the adventure we had just gone on.
All this is to say that we didn't actually follow baboons around for the week, and gave the idea up after our one taste of the challenges of actually stalking something that is on par with your own intelligence. A humbling moment, but one that is beautiful in its own right.
Insterad, we followed Zazu around. You know, the Hornbill from the Lion King. There are three different types of hornbill in the area -- Red-Billed, Von Der Deckens, and African Grey -- and we decided to follow this guys around -- in the hey-day of their mating season (love was indeed in the air) -- measuring the strength of their pair-bonds: how often we find them together, and how often we find them apart, and what sort of crazy antics we find in the inbetween space.
It proved to be challenging to no end -- science in the field reveals the staggering mystery of everything around you, and how you really never quite know what's actually happening in the ecological tapestry around you -- but some of the most memorable time in the bush of the whole trip. Walking around eveyday with a Maasai guide (I swear, he spotted about 90% of the hornbills for us; all of us Americans proved to be, despite our actually pretty-good field skills, horribly deficient at spotting what we needed to in a timely manner), watching the overtly sexual behaviors of our study subjects (they have this courtship dance that involves pelvic thrusts), and soaking in some of the most stunning landscape I have ever walked through.
In the past week, we've been having almost daily thunderstorms and rain bouts -- the long awaited rainy season has finally arrived, and the world around us is rejoicing. Green everywhere, all in the course of three days. Animals starting hundreds of mile long migrations. Fat frogs gorging on the explosion of termites in the air (the winged fellows launch out from their mound as soon as the rain starts and try to start new colonies by breeding mid-air and falling to the ground wherever they may). Suessical flowers sprouting from the most unexpected of places. And the sounds of thousands of birds filling the air with their courtship appeals to the rest of their species, a time of the year when "kupanda"ing (kupanda is the swahili word for "to mount") seems to be happening everywhere. All said, pretty cool time to be out here.
We probably logged a solid 15 hours worth of actual observation time of hornbills (at least a good 40 hours of hiking time) over the course of our study, and we saw some crazy things. Hornbills, after they have copulated with their wooed female (bird sex is basically two birds rubbing butts together -- only about three species of the avian class have real penises), then have the female retreat into the nest they have arranged for them -- which is a hollowed out cavity in a tree, lined with mus that they have collected around the rim -- and then essentially lock them into there for the entire time the egg is incubated. They do this by filling in the rest of the opening with mud, leaving only a slit by which the male feeds the caged female insects for her entire stay in there. We were lucky enough to find a few of these nests (which many of our guides had never seen before), and to watch the male bring the female food. We even were able to see the eye of the molted female inside. SO COOL.
They also have the courtship ritual where the male tries to feed the female (while they are still dating and the female is not encased in her hole yet.... what a bizarre way to go about nesting) an insect that her has caught; if she takes it, they will probably be together -- if she doesn't, she flies off leaving the male looking dejected and lonely. We actually saw the female take the bug and then, after appeasing the male, drop the insect onto the ground. She then flew off. Poor guy.
And that isn't even the beginning of it -- there is so much more to explore.
At night we would have biology lectures from our professor, Ken, who is so obviously in his element that he can barely hold his excitement back. It's a fantastic atmosphere to learn in; we all love him. What a crazy place to be learning -- everything we've been absorbing in "class" is then displayed in the field right before our eyes. It doesn't get much more exciting than that.
Almost every night Anton and I would go up to the rock outcropping above camp and sit and watch the stars, often staying up there for hours as we talked and talked and thought about everything within us and around us. I'll be cherishing those hours for years to come.
One night we even heard lions roaring, not a kilometer away. AHHH. Going to sleep hearing lions; man, that's the stuff we dream about.
We also danced with Maasai, threw spears, and talked around embers of acacia long into the night. But lets not even get into that.
Life feels natural and at ease here; there is so much of an ancient vibe that rings though the place and that sways the savannah grasses that I can't help but feel like life will always be this way, that this place is so immutable, so inextricably human, that leaving it will feel like leaving a bit of yourself behind.
One more month left in this outrageous place.
Off to the coast for Ind. Study project part two: the sagas of the butterfly fish. Stay tuned.
I'll be back to computers on the 2nd/3rd of December.
And then! -- it's off to Lake Vistoria with a small group of wonderful friends, gradually making our way up to Uganda for some rafting on the Nile and jungle exploring. Heck yes.
Miss you all, of course. And much love from the land of Simba, the birthplace of us all. :)
Monday, November 9, 2009
Part Two
PART TWO (See Part One below first)
And… now it’s time for part two, which will unfortunately have to be quite abridged, as we only have this one day to access internet before the group splits up (much sadness) and the bio side heads back out to Oldonyo-Sambu to do independent study research projects. Trying to both relax and get all of this accomplished, and the nice poolside location that I’m now sitting next to, and the wine Anton and I are sipping helps this process move smoothly along. Borrowing Rachel Young’s computer – hope she doesn’t mind! – to give you a short blow by blow of the days that followed from where I left off.
Our trip to the Yaeda Valley was dry, as usual. We spent a stunning four days with the Hadzabe hunting-gathering people, ones who still live their lives in the same accordance as they have since the dawn of time – gathering tubers and berries and surviving off of the changes in seasonal production, and hunting everything that creepeth on the earth (no joke – they go after everything) with primitive bows that they make from entirely natural material, and arrows that I was even able to carve with them in an afternoon.
Epic tale: on our fourth day with the Hadza, when we went out for five hours on an actual hunt with individual men (super cool!), one of the groups actually – I kid you not – shot a giraffe with a poisoned arrow. The hunter came back to camp to take a break and wait for the poison to set in, and then in the early afternoon, the entire group of us set out with a band of hunters to track this staggering giraffe down. They spotted it at a certain point (by way of finding drops of blood on the ground and on select thorn bushes – craziness), and we chased it down for four hours. All the while we looked at each other, grins on our faces, whispering, “we’re stalking a freaking giraffe!” The hunt was to no avail; the poison wore off, and the giraffe ran away safely, but nonetheless, a good story to be able to tell. We were able to eat some bush hyrax meat (a bizarre rodent-ish animal that hangs out in rocks and climbs trees), which was chewy and rather tasteless, but what we witnessed was an incredibly privileged and rare glimpse into perhaps the most sustainable way of life that humankind has ever imagined. I could go on for this for ages – indeed I did in one of my papers here – so talk to me about it when I get back, and you will be rewarded with characteristic long windedness.
After the Hadza we headed up to Ngorongoro highlands and into the world famous (actually, it’s a World Heritage Site, which is pretty sweet) Ngorongoro crater, a complete ecosystem in the largest caldera in the world (a cladera is the imploded crater of a former volcano). This is where we saw LIONS! And a whole manner of other things. Check out the online world for better pictures than I could ever provide. The most touristy thing we did, for sure, but still, the Crater is a place I have wanted to visit ever since I saw it in the glossy print of nature books. Again, ask me for more when I return.
We were then rewarded with three free “reading days” in Soit-Sambu where we basically hung out in our camp all day, reading and writing and reflecting and in general catching up on personal time that you are deprived of when you are constantly around 30 other people. We read a lot, but we also did some hikes with some Maasai and saw some amazingly goofy Colobus monkeys.
On Halloween, we all decided to dress up like each other, which was a riot. Since we spend so much time with each other, we were able to nail each others’ idiosyncrasies dead on. The next night we sat around the fire and listened to Daudi’s crazy elephant stalking, lion stalking, and general badassness stories. We then sipped away around the fire, reminiscing and laughing and trying to get people to dance naked (this is Anton’s constant prerogative), and went to bad happy and ready to tackle our next adventure, the infamous Maasai homestay.
We travelled to a new area, where dead cows lined the road, to do our Maasai homestay component of the trip. The homestay itself was outrageously, well, low key. Not that it wasn’t new or exciting or a fantastic learning experience, but the fact that we could not speak their language – Maa – and they didn’t speak Swahili, we were stuck with the strange social awkwardness of not being able to say anything to each other. We learned a lot, and many people loved it, but I myself was ready for it to pass – the smoke inside the house from the fire, the water used for cleaning the dishes, the straight inequality of Maasai culture (men do not do ANYthing – women gather wood, cook, make fences, gater more wood, haul tons of water on their head, make beads, provide for the children, buy the food; the men, well, they herd the cattle around, and sit on their butts while they cattle and goats eat. Yeah.) Again, I wish I could tell you more, but ask me when I get back.
Settled here in Arusha for a few more hours.
We’re heading off for Lake Victoria and Uganda for rafting and other shenanigans post trip with a few people, and I’m sure I’ll have plenty of stories from that as well.
Sorry to have cheated you all of so much information, but it’s all I can do to keep sane. Rest assured that I am safe and having the unmistakable time of my life.
LOVE LOVE LOVE :) Take care everyone, and send me texts to that international phone of mine if you get the chance to! Number is in one of the first blog posts.
I’ll be back to Arusha on December 1st.
Miss you all.
Zach
And… now it’s time for part two, which will unfortunately have to be quite abridged, as we only have this one day to access internet before the group splits up (much sadness) and the bio side heads back out to Oldonyo-Sambu to do independent study research projects. Trying to both relax and get all of this accomplished, and the nice poolside location that I’m now sitting next to, and the wine Anton and I are sipping helps this process move smoothly along. Borrowing Rachel Young’s computer – hope she doesn’t mind! – to give you a short blow by blow of the days that followed from where I left off.
Our trip to the Yaeda Valley was dry, as usual. We spent a stunning four days with the Hadzabe hunting-gathering people, ones who still live their lives in the same accordance as they have since the dawn of time – gathering tubers and berries and surviving off of the changes in seasonal production, and hunting everything that creepeth on the earth (no joke – they go after everything) with primitive bows that they make from entirely natural material, and arrows that I was even able to carve with them in an afternoon.
Epic tale: on our fourth day with the Hadza, when we went out for five hours on an actual hunt with individual men (super cool!), one of the groups actually – I kid you not – shot a giraffe with a poisoned arrow. The hunter came back to camp to take a break and wait for the poison to set in, and then in the early afternoon, the entire group of us set out with a band of hunters to track this staggering giraffe down. They spotted it at a certain point (by way of finding drops of blood on the ground and on select thorn bushes – craziness), and we chased it down for four hours. All the while we looked at each other, grins on our faces, whispering, “we’re stalking a freaking giraffe!” The hunt was to no avail; the poison wore off, and the giraffe ran away safely, but nonetheless, a good story to be able to tell. We were able to eat some bush hyrax meat (a bizarre rodent-ish animal that hangs out in rocks and climbs trees), which was chewy and rather tasteless, but what we witnessed was an incredibly privileged and rare glimpse into perhaps the most sustainable way of life that humankind has ever imagined. I could go on for this for ages – indeed I did in one of my papers here – so talk to me about it when I get back, and you will be rewarded with characteristic long windedness.
After the Hadza we headed up to Ngorongoro highlands and into the world famous (actually, it’s a World Heritage Site, which is pretty sweet) Ngorongoro crater, a complete ecosystem in the largest caldera in the world (a cladera is the imploded crater of a former volcano). This is where we saw LIONS! And a whole manner of other things. Check out the online world for better pictures than I could ever provide. The most touristy thing we did, for sure, but still, the Crater is a place I have wanted to visit ever since I saw it in the glossy print of nature books. Again, ask me for more when I return.
We were then rewarded with three free “reading days” in Soit-Sambu where we basically hung out in our camp all day, reading and writing and reflecting and in general catching up on personal time that you are deprived of when you are constantly around 30 other people. We read a lot, but we also did some hikes with some Maasai and saw some amazingly goofy Colobus monkeys.
On Halloween, we all decided to dress up like each other, which was a riot. Since we spend so much time with each other, we were able to nail each others’ idiosyncrasies dead on. The next night we sat around the fire and listened to Daudi’s crazy elephant stalking, lion stalking, and general badassness stories. We then sipped away around the fire, reminiscing and laughing and trying to get people to dance naked (this is Anton’s constant prerogative), and went to bad happy and ready to tackle our next adventure, the infamous Maasai homestay.
We travelled to a new area, where dead cows lined the road, to do our Maasai homestay component of the trip. The homestay itself was outrageously, well, low key. Not that it wasn’t new or exciting or a fantastic learning experience, but the fact that we could not speak their language – Maa – and they didn’t speak Swahili, we were stuck with the strange social awkwardness of not being able to say anything to each other. We learned a lot, and many people loved it, but I myself was ready for it to pass – the smoke inside the house from the fire, the water used for cleaning the dishes, the straight inequality of Maasai culture (men do not do ANYthing – women gather wood, cook, make fences, gater more wood, haul tons of water on their head, make beads, provide for the children, buy the food; the men, well, they herd the cattle around, and sit on their butts while they cattle and goats eat. Yeah.) Again, I wish I could tell you more, but ask me when I get back.
Settled here in Arusha for a few more hours.
We’re heading off for Lake Victoria and Uganda for rafting and other shenanigans post trip with a few people, and I’m sure I’ll have plenty of stories from that as well.
Sorry to have cheated you all of so much information, but it’s all I can do to keep sane. Rest assured that I am safe and having the unmistakable time of my life.
LOVE LOVE LOVE :) Take care everyone, and send me texts to that international phone of mine if you get the chance to! Number is in one of the first blog posts.
I’ll be back to Arusha on December 1st.
Miss you all.
Zach
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Gad - Welcome back to the blog! -- post safari, post madness, post experiences that I can only hope to convey to you in the short (one day!) time that I have to convert them all to this electronic medium.
We have now returned to marching in time with civilization's beat (who thought we would all be so thrilled to see bustling Arusha?), which means a blessed pair of clean jeans, clean shirt, fans, sumptuously luxurious hotels, romantically lit restaurant booths, good wine, clubbing, the like.
As wonderful as this present moment is, all of it's peripheral -- it's the past three weeks that I'm sure you're dying to hear about, and I'm eager to write about, that we'll devote the rest of this blog to.
First off, thanks to all who wrote to me while I was away! It's one of the best feelings in the world to come back to the land of internet access and see messages coming from everyone that I love. Your world feels so far away as I look out around me and see the mountains of the rift valley and slogans of Swahili or botched English (one of my favorites along our many hours of driving and town pass-throughs was "Ultra Modern Hotel and Restaurant" in a remote little derelict town; the paint on which this name was printed had all but chipped off, and was barely legible -- quite modern indeed... just one of many funny language botching situations), but yet closer to me than even when I am there as I give in to daydreams of nostalgia, stories of time where we could never stop laughing, people and places and landscapes that come back to me when I close my eyes. It's true -- you love people all the more when you have time to miss them and remember exactly why they mean the world to you.
I mean it seriously when I say I have absolutely no idea where to begin.
Three weeks of traveling in a land that supports some of the richest biodiversity in the world, but is as arid as any place I have ever passed through, a place where the guise of human life reveals itself as nothing but hardship, heat, and holdovers from a time that has all but disappeared from our own cultural conciousness. We're stuck right now in one of the worst droughts this land has seen in years; the rainy season has now failed to come in many regions for at least three years running now (do climate change naysayers still exist? Let's send them to the Serengeti for a month when it's supposed to be turning green again, look at the hundreds, thousands of dead cattle, the crackle of the land beneath their feet, the lack of any moisture on the plains, and see if their fantasties and shouts of negativity still ring through the halls of the Capitol...), and the plains of northern Tanzania, those all-too-familiar sights of the Discovery Channel, are mowed down to the ground by the hundreds of thousands of wandering ungulates in search of food. The only green that breaks the landscapes on the plain are the umbrella of the acacia trees, and our own tank-like vechiles hurtling over the rough single-track road that became our haunt for the three weeks. The situation is bleak for all -- not just humans -- and we're finally seeing a little bit of rain over the past few days. Hoping for more, for the sake of everyone here.
But through all of this hardship and what may appear to be desolation (just had to set the scene for you), life persists in all the ancient ways that it has through these valleys and mountains. Animal life, plant life, human life -- simaltaneous accents of energy playing themselves out on this ever-dramatic and heart-wrenchingly beautiful landscape, herds of zebra, impala, elephant, giraffe, all the antelopes of Africa (of which there are an absurd amount) punctuating the stillness with that purposeful yet unmistakably relaxed assertion of life amidst a place that feels hostile to even the most seasoned of us. Our journey through this land has been everything we imagined it to be (though that phjrase does nothing for the imagination), and filled with, of course, the side treks and surprises that make a journey truly worth its while.
We waved goodbye to the tourist capitol of Tanzania, the city of Arusha, on the 15th of October (whoa!) from the seats of two huge, military sized, so-incomprehensibly-large-that-I-can't-possibly-convey-how large-they-are, Mercedes safari trucks, completely open on both sides (no windows to speak of -- only open air and bars to hang onto), roaring diesel engine (not the most environmentally friendly segment of my life, as far as gas consumption goes...), and those smiles that are characteristic of anticipation.
Dry, dry, dry. As soon as we left Arusha, the artificially kept green gardens and manicured drives disappeared and gave way to the rugged bush that I think we all remember from some distant glimmer in our evolutionary past.
Our first few days were spent at the Dorobo Safari's (I must stress again how incredible these guys are -- the three brothers that run this company. You'll hear stories of how badass they are) camp outside of Elboreet Village, a streching land of Maasai pasture and failed attempts at agriculture, where we stayed for three nights, tracking elephant and giraffe, and even some lion on foot (we didn't see any of them at this point). It's incredible the amount of life that you can discern exists in a certain area simply by the tracks they leave -- and in this time period, we all became coniseurs of the many forms of dung that dot the landscape, sometimes even using the ball-like dumps of passing elephants as projectiles for across camp matches of dominance (just so you all know, maturity is overrated...). The nights were filled with card games -- Mafia being key of these -- laughter, exchange of thoughts, and oh-my-Jesus-Christ STARS. They were just as incredible on the coast, and you can't beat stargazing on the beach with the Indian Ocean lulling you to sleep, but out in what I am convinced are some of the darkest palces left on earth, your own little place in the universe is but a tiny blip of conciousness bathed in starlight. Unbelievable.
We climbed up onto a mountain called Oldonyo-Sambu on the third day we were there, watched a family of baboons make there lumbering way down the mountain from atop a rock (Anton and I will hopefully be doing our independent study project on those same baboons! Hell yes), made our own lumbering and labored breathing way up, which involved crawling through a skethcy tunnel up over some rocks, and sitting on the summit surrounded by beautiful friends (it's a bit absurd how much we all love each other sometimes), baboons below, banana chips in our stomachs, spirits sooooaring.
Daudi (the oldest of the badass Peterson brothers -- he's in his 60s now, though is still incredibly young at heart and in actions, and has the most subtle wit of anyone I know) then proposed offhand to us that we bushwhack down the side of the mountain back to camp, which was a good 10K away. We all laughed -- of course he was kidding -- but then he just shrugged his shoulders and starting walking down the hill. We looked around in shock, and the more eager and adventurous of us (about half the group) quickly shouldered our bags and ran off to join him. Walking off the side of a mountain to get back to camp? I like this guy already.
We bushwhacked down a steep side of the mountain and eventually made it back down to the acacia studded plains at the foor of the hill, led by our Maasai guides, and treked across, gradually making our way back to camp. Along the way we surprised a family of giraffes from behind and watched their awkward gallop as they ran from us, occasionally looking back to see why we were there to begin with. The land seemed too dry to even support all the little grassland ungulates (think deer back at home, except in every shape, size, color, and horn type imaginable), let alone the hordes of cattle that the pastoral Maasai try to keep on the land. Population pressures (too many people on far too little resources) have made the Maasai fall on hard times. In a way, I don't feel particularly sorry for some of the hard times thy're having -- as long as they keep on pumping out kids (I think I found a statistic saying that over 50% of Maasai are under 18), they will keep on running into these problems. I know, I know, it's unfair to these people to say that, but there is nothing that makes you more axcutely aware of the world's inabilty to hold this burgeoning population of humans afloat than being in a place where it is physically impossible to squeeze more from the land. We need to turn our efforts to encouraging birth control (the prevalence of Catholic missionaries in the land has only exacerbated this, as many Maasai in the Arusha area cannot appeal for birth control methods because this imposed religion forbids it -- talk about frustrating!) and while it can be argued that these families need these children for help with work, given the experience I just came from where I stayed with a Maasai family for three days, I don't think this is the case. Removing the individual people-based perspective from the population arguement is never a sound idea, but I do think the ideas I've gleaned from being here can be seen as a microcosm for population control as a whole. Our experiences with the Hadzabe hunter-gatherer people gives an even more interesting tilt to these ideas. More on that soon.
Got back to camp exhausted, physically and mentally.
The next day we moved onto Tarangire National Park, which out last camp bordered. Not a minute after we crossed the parks borders we saw our first family of elephants. No lie. The fascinating thing about elephants (one of the many) is that during the poaching wave of the 80s, the population of elephants within the park skyrocketed. While poaching was covertly doable in the park boundaries, the elephants for the most part were safe inside. Knowing this, elephants flocked from all over their wandering areas back to Tarangire to escape from the poachers that lay in wait in the thousands all over land that was unprotected. They even discovered that they were completely immune to shooting if they gathered around the gates to the park where the highest concentration of rangers were. A chillingly cool example of animal intelligence, and added to the fact that elephants have mouring rituals over the skulls of disceased family members, and that they communicate by way of subsonic (deep, deep sounds) means, it gives us, by way of those massive relics of the age of the mammoths, a glimpse of the tendency of evolution to move towards more intelligent beings. And this, above all else, gives me hope -- and an immutable reason -- to call for more sustainable means of life so that others, like the elephants (who may come to "rule the world" as the most highly evolved, self-aware animals if we allow them to after us) may simply continue to live.
Thanks for listening to my enviro-philosophical rants. You know that I appreciate it.
In Tarangire, we saw pretty much everything. And I'll have to say that that statement is the only, and best, way to put it. A leopard, a family of lions, thousands of elephants (I kid you not), impala, zebra, warthog, wildebeest, buffalo, griaffe, water birds galore, kudu, hartebeest, gazelles, everythiiiing. The day of gamedriving even ended in a freak rainstorm which we embraced with all of our Portland love of those drops from the sky. Sam, Anton and I sat atop the bars of the truck, holding on and swiging back, as we hurlted through the bush, watching the sun set through the clouds and the animals run in palpable excitement. Needless to say, the opening of the Lion King rang through my head (we may have had a rousing, off key, chorus of it later that night...)
Tarangire gave us that "Africa Experience" that we all expected and looked forward to, and in all reality, will be remembered as one of the most beautiful, "in touch" days of the trip. But even that could be viewed as peripherary compared the next 20 days of safari -- all those moments that made us turn to each other and say, wait, this right here around me is Africa? The things that catch you off gaurd are the things that you remember the most.
After our two days of touristy experience in Tarangire, we headed up to the verdant, green, rugged, jungle-laden mountains of the Nou Forest. Never heard of it? No one has. Another check on the cool factor of Dorobo. The drive up was nothing short of spectacular. We hung off the side of the trucks the whole way up. I cannot wait to be able to actually show you guys pictures. Even then though, it might not be enough. I'll try with words.
Immidiately, everything was green. The mountains were almost perpetually in fog and misty rain, which fed the myriad cyrtal streams than crossed through untouched jungle. And....
Pine Trees! You have no idea how excited a group of Portlandians can get over the sight of a coniferous tree when you haven't seen one in a few months. We quite literally jumped out of the truck to grab at its branches and pull them in, crunching the needles in our fingers and breathing in the oil that all of us miss so dearly. And moss as well! In Africa? What is going on?
The forest was freezing at night, and our campsite was tucked away in a spongy little groove on the edge of a meadow, where we seriously all got the best sleep we have had all night. Fleece came out, knit hats, wool pants, wool socks, snuggling in tents to keep warm (ah, the life). Even slugs to keep us company (along with leopards, vervet monekys, and everything else that remained hidden in the forest and out of sight [but not out of mind]). These days were built in to the trip to allow us to see a side of East Africa that rarely anyone ever sees, and so that we could have some time to talk with the Iraqw people (the name of the agriculturalist tride that inhabits these hills) who thankfully spoke some Swahili. Their native language involves clicks, and has no sort of relation to any of the Bantu or Nilotic language groups that surround them, which is yet another fascinating thing about the evolution of languages. These days were also relaxing ones, where we could catch up on our course readings and journaling (I am still having class, just so you know! :p ), which Anton and I of course did, we wouldn't dare think otherwise, and we certainly wouldn't spend our time tracking animals in the deep jungle for four hours. Or getting lost too on the way back.
What can I say...
We found the tracks of some sort of fairly large jungle cat though, and got scared off by the aggresive barking of a hidden animal in the bushes! Totally worth it.
Our last full day in the forest was mainly spent trekking off to a hidden waterfall way way way off the beaten track (I'm convinced that I'm probably the only person in the state of Maryland, probably much of the East Coast other than previous LC trip goers, who have seen this waterfall). The hike was basically bushwhacking through the jungle -- we do this often -- for two or three hours, following our local guides, and ending up at this spectacular, crystal clear 200 foot tall waterfall pouring over the side of a rock face into a huge basin. And what do you think we all did? Stood there and took pictures, marvelling at just how "gorgeous" and "serene" and "beautiful" the cascade was? That's a big no. We quickly stripped down to our skivies (not that we're good at that yet... there haven't been anu naked runs on the beach or skinny dipping in the Indian Ocean or anything of the sort....) and threw ourselves into the pool. It took my breath away, the glacial freeze of it shocking your lungs and heart, and I couldn't help but remember when I watched some people dip themselves into a glacial meltwater lake on the side of Mt. Adams, where an Antartica of ice still floated like a perpetual ice cube, and saying to myself that I would never put myself into water that cold. We cursed and laughed and tauted each other to come in and join us; we bathed under the hail storm of water falling from great heights; we picked leeches off of each other afterwards; we took EA09 Swimsuit Edition calendar pictures; we broke the cardinal rule of African watersources -- to never get into them (although this one was fresh enough that it was completely safe, no parasites for me...); we emerged from the water and froze and ate cookies and gave each other hugs and listened to the thunder of the jungle coming to greet us. And then we made the trek back and fit six people in a three person tent and spooned until it was time for dinner and class. This is the Africa that I will remember. And it keeps on going.
On one of the mornings, a group of six of us got up at 4:30 to go and hike into the jungle to look for leopards. They're most active at dawn and dusk, and we wanted to hear one calling or at least spot its eyes in a tree. As far as big cats go, they're actually not all that dangerous, mainly because they are solitary and will only go after you if a) you provoke them or b) you look particularly tasty. Being a stringy runner has its perks sometimes. While our moonlit, foggy walk proved to not yield any leopards, we did see two sets of eyes, green and luminescent in the beams of our headlamps. Pretty damn cool.
The trek out of the Nou Forest was soggy and cold, and it was with sadness that we left the pine trees and soothing sounds of the jungle at night. But -- we were headed to the Yaeda Valley, home of one of the last hunter-gatherer people in existence -- the Hadzabe -- and there was nothing but excitement in the air.
BUT, I need to take an internet break. Three hours in a hot room is tough. I'll be typing part two of this later today, don't worry.
Love and miss everyone, more so than ever as we launch into the last bit of this trip. One day of internet to get back in touch with everyone! Ah! Not enough. Sorry that I haven't responded to any personal emails, but I will try to later today, and of course I love hearing from you and thank you for taking the time to do so.
All together strange to be back again. But tonight will be a night of Club AQ, perhaps more wine, and a much needed dose of civilization after the bush.
More soon.
Zach
We have now returned to marching in time with civilization's beat (who thought we would all be so thrilled to see bustling Arusha?), which means a blessed pair of clean jeans, clean shirt, fans, sumptuously luxurious hotels, romantically lit restaurant booths, good wine, clubbing, the like.
As wonderful as this present moment is, all of it's peripheral -- it's the past three weeks that I'm sure you're dying to hear about, and I'm eager to write about, that we'll devote the rest of this blog to.
First off, thanks to all who wrote to me while I was away! It's one of the best feelings in the world to come back to the land of internet access and see messages coming from everyone that I love. Your world feels so far away as I look out around me and see the mountains of the rift valley and slogans of Swahili or botched English (one of my favorites along our many hours of driving and town pass-throughs was "Ultra Modern Hotel and Restaurant" in a remote little derelict town; the paint on which this name was printed had all but chipped off, and was barely legible -- quite modern indeed... just one of many funny language botching situations), but yet closer to me than even when I am there as I give in to daydreams of nostalgia, stories of time where we could never stop laughing, people and places and landscapes that come back to me when I close my eyes. It's true -- you love people all the more when you have time to miss them and remember exactly why they mean the world to you.
I mean it seriously when I say I have absolutely no idea where to begin.
Three weeks of traveling in a land that supports some of the richest biodiversity in the world, but is as arid as any place I have ever passed through, a place where the guise of human life reveals itself as nothing but hardship, heat, and holdovers from a time that has all but disappeared from our own cultural conciousness. We're stuck right now in one of the worst droughts this land has seen in years; the rainy season has now failed to come in many regions for at least three years running now (do climate change naysayers still exist? Let's send them to the Serengeti for a month when it's supposed to be turning green again, look at the hundreds, thousands of dead cattle, the crackle of the land beneath their feet, the lack of any moisture on the plains, and see if their fantasties and shouts of negativity still ring through the halls of the Capitol...), and the plains of northern Tanzania, those all-too-familiar sights of the Discovery Channel, are mowed down to the ground by the hundreds of thousands of wandering ungulates in search of food. The only green that breaks the landscapes on the plain are the umbrella of the acacia trees, and our own tank-like vechiles hurtling over the rough single-track road that became our haunt for the three weeks. The situation is bleak for all -- not just humans -- and we're finally seeing a little bit of rain over the past few days. Hoping for more, for the sake of everyone here.
But through all of this hardship and what may appear to be desolation (just had to set the scene for you), life persists in all the ancient ways that it has through these valleys and mountains. Animal life, plant life, human life -- simaltaneous accents of energy playing themselves out on this ever-dramatic and heart-wrenchingly beautiful landscape, herds of zebra, impala, elephant, giraffe, all the antelopes of Africa (of which there are an absurd amount) punctuating the stillness with that purposeful yet unmistakably relaxed assertion of life amidst a place that feels hostile to even the most seasoned of us. Our journey through this land has been everything we imagined it to be (though that phjrase does nothing for the imagination), and filled with, of course, the side treks and surprises that make a journey truly worth its while.
We waved goodbye to the tourist capitol of Tanzania, the city of Arusha, on the 15th of October (whoa!) from the seats of two huge, military sized, so-incomprehensibly-large-that-I-can't-possibly-convey-how large-they-are, Mercedes safari trucks, completely open on both sides (no windows to speak of -- only open air and bars to hang onto), roaring diesel engine (not the most environmentally friendly segment of my life, as far as gas consumption goes...), and those smiles that are characteristic of anticipation.
Dry, dry, dry. As soon as we left Arusha, the artificially kept green gardens and manicured drives disappeared and gave way to the rugged bush that I think we all remember from some distant glimmer in our evolutionary past.
Our first few days were spent at the Dorobo Safari's (I must stress again how incredible these guys are -- the three brothers that run this company. You'll hear stories of how badass they are) camp outside of Elboreet Village, a streching land of Maasai pasture and failed attempts at agriculture, where we stayed for three nights, tracking elephant and giraffe, and even some lion on foot (we didn't see any of them at this point). It's incredible the amount of life that you can discern exists in a certain area simply by the tracks they leave -- and in this time period, we all became coniseurs of the many forms of dung that dot the landscape, sometimes even using the ball-like dumps of passing elephants as projectiles for across camp matches of dominance (just so you all know, maturity is overrated...). The nights were filled with card games -- Mafia being key of these -- laughter, exchange of thoughts, and oh-my-Jesus-Christ STARS. They were just as incredible on the coast, and you can't beat stargazing on the beach with the Indian Ocean lulling you to sleep, but out in what I am convinced are some of the darkest palces left on earth, your own little place in the universe is but a tiny blip of conciousness bathed in starlight. Unbelievable.
We climbed up onto a mountain called Oldonyo-Sambu on the third day we were there, watched a family of baboons make there lumbering way down the mountain from atop a rock (Anton and I will hopefully be doing our independent study project on those same baboons! Hell yes), made our own lumbering and labored breathing way up, which involved crawling through a skethcy tunnel up over some rocks, and sitting on the summit surrounded by beautiful friends (it's a bit absurd how much we all love each other sometimes), baboons below, banana chips in our stomachs, spirits sooooaring.
Daudi (the oldest of the badass Peterson brothers -- he's in his 60s now, though is still incredibly young at heart and in actions, and has the most subtle wit of anyone I know) then proposed offhand to us that we bushwhack down the side of the mountain back to camp, which was a good 10K away. We all laughed -- of course he was kidding -- but then he just shrugged his shoulders and starting walking down the hill. We looked around in shock, and the more eager and adventurous of us (about half the group) quickly shouldered our bags and ran off to join him. Walking off the side of a mountain to get back to camp? I like this guy already.
We bushwhacked down a steep side of the mountain and eventually made it back down to the acacia studded plains at the foor of the hill, led by our Maasai guides, and treked across, gradually making our way back to camp. Along the way we surprised a family of giraffes from behind and watched their awkward gallop as they ran from us, occasionally looking back to see why we were there to begin with. The land seemed too dry to even support all the little grassland ungulates (think deer back at home, except in every shape, size, color, and horn type imaginable), let alone the hordes of cattle that the pastoral Maasai try to keep on the land. Population pressures (too many people on far too little resources) have made the Maasai fall on hard times. In a way, I don't feel particularly sorry for some of the hard times thy're having -- as long as they keep on pumping out kids (I think I found a statistic saying that over 50% of Maasai are under 18), they will keep on running into these problems. I know, I know, it's unfair to these people to say that, but there is nothing that makes you more axcutely aware of the world's inabilty to hold this burgeoning population of humans afloat than being in a place where it is physically impossible to squeeze more from the land. We need to turn our efforts to encouraging birth control (the prevalence of Catholic missionaries in the land has only exacerbated this, as many Maasai in the Arusha area cannot appeal for birth control methods because this imposed religion forbids it -- talk about frustrating!) and while it can be argued that these families need these children for help with work, given the experience I just came from where I stayed with a Maasai family for three days, I don't think this is the case. Removing the individual people-based perspective from the population arguement is never a sound idea, but I do think the ideas I've gleaned from being here can be seen as a microcosm for population control as a whole. Our experiences with the Hadzabe hunter-gatherer people gives an even more interesting tilt to these ideas. More on that soon.
Got back to camp exhausted, physically and mentally.
The next day we moved onto Tarangire National Park, which out last camp bordered. Not a minute after we crossed the parks borders we saw our first family of elephants. No lie. The fascinating thing about elephants (one of the many) is that during the poaching wave of the 80s, the population of elephants within the park skyrocketed. While poaching was covertly doable in the park boundaries, the elephants for the most part were safe inside. Knowing this, elephants flocked from all over their wandering areas back to Tarangire to escape from the poachers that lay in wait in the thousands all over land that was unprotected. They even discovered that they were completely immune to shooting if they gathered around the gates to the park where the highest concentration of rangers were. A chillingly cool example of animal intelligence, and added to the fact that elephants have mouring rituals over the skulls of disceased family members, and that they communicate by way of subsonic (deep, deep sounds) means, it gives us, by way of those massive relics of the age of the mammoths, a glimpse of the tendency of evolution to move towards more intelligent beings. And this, above all else, gives me hope -- and an immutable reason -- to call for more sustainable means of life so that others, like the elephants (who may come to "rule the world" as the most highly evolved, self-aware animals if we allow them to after us) may simply continue to live.
Thanks for listening to my enviro-philosophical rants. You know that I appreciate it.
In Tarangire, we saw pretty much everything. And I'll have to say that that statement is the only, and best, way to put it. A leopard, a family of lions, thousands of elephants (I kid you not), impala, zebra, warthog, wildebeest, buffalo, griaffe, water birds galore, kudu, hartebeest, gazelles, everythiiiing. The day of gamedriving even ended in a freak rainstorm which we embraced with all of our Portland love of those drops from the sky. Sam, Anton and I sat atop the bars of the truck, holding on and swiging back, as we hurlted through the bush, watching the sun set through the clouds and the animals run in palpable excitement. Needless to say, the opening of the Lion King rang through my head (we may have had a rousing, off key, chorus of it later that night...)
Tarangire gave us that "Africa Experience" that we all expected and looked forward to, and in all reality, will be remembered as one of the most beautiful, "in touch" days of the trip. But even that could be viewed as peripherary compared the next 20 days of safari -- all those moments that made us turn to each other and say, wait, this right here around me is Africa? The things that catch you off gaurd are the things that you remember the most.
After our two days of touristy experience in Tarangire, we headed up to the verdant, green, rugged, jungle-laden mountains of the Nou Forest. Never heard of it? No one has. Another check on the cool factor of Dorobo. The drive up was nothing short of spectacular. We hung off the side of the trucks the whole way up. I cannot wait to be able to actually show you guys pictures. Even then though, it might not be enough. I'll try with words.
Immidiately, everything was green. The mountains were almost perpetually in fog and misty rain, which fed the myriad cyrtal streams than crossed through untouched jungle. And....
Pine Trees! You have no idea how excited a group of Portlandians can get over the sight of a coniferous tree when you haven't seen one in a few months. We quite literally jumped out of the truck to grab at its branches and pull them in, crunching the needles in our fingers and breathing in the oil that all of us miss so dearly. And moss as well! In Africa? What is going on?
The forest was freezing at night, and our campsite was tucked away in a spongy little groove on the edge of a meadow, where we seriously all got the best sleep we have had all night. Fleece came out, knit hats, wool pants, wool socks, snuggling in tents to keep warm (ah, the life). Even slugs to keep us company (along with leopards, vervet monekys, and everything else that remained hidden in the forest and out of sight [but not out of mind]). These days were built in to the trip to allow us to see a side of East Africa that rarely anyone ever sees, and so that we could have some time to talk with the Iraqw people (the name of the agriculturalist tride that inhabits these hills) who thankfully spoke some Swahili. Their native language involves clicks, and has no sort of relation to any of the Bantu or Nilotic language groups that surround them, which is yet another fascinating thing about the evolution of languages. These days were also relaxing ones, where we could catch up on our course readings and journaling (I am still having class, just so you know! :p ), which Anton and I of course did, we wouldn't dare think otherwise, and we certainly wouldn't spend our time tracking animals in the deep jungle for four hours. Or getting lost too on the way back.
What can I say...
We found the tracks of some sort of fairly large jungle cat though, and got scared off by the aggresive barking of a hidden animal in the bushes! Totally worth it.
Our last full day in the forest was mainly spent trekking off to a hidden waterfall way way way off the beaten track (I'm convinced that I'm probably the only person in the state of Maryland, probably much of the East Coast other than previous LC trip goers, who have seen this waterfall). The hike was basically bushwhacking through the jungle -- we do this often -- for two or three hours, following our local guides, and ending up at this spectacular, crystal clear 200 foot tall waterfall pouring over the side of a rock face into a huge basin. And what do you think we all did? Stood there and took pictures, marvelling at just how "gorgeous" and "serene" and "beautiful" the cascade was? That's a big no. We quickly stripped down to our skivies (not that we're good at that yet... there haven't been anu naked runs on the beach or skinny dipping in the Indian Ocean or anything of the sort....) and threw ourselves into the pool. It took my breath away, the glacial freeze of it shocking your lungs and heart, and I couldn't help but remember when I watched some people dip themselves into a glacial meltwater lake on the side of Mt. Adams, where an Antartica of ice still floated like a perpetual ice cube, and saying to myself that I would never put myself into water that cold. We cursed and laughed and tauted each other to come in and join us; we bathed under the hail storm of water falling from great heights; we picked leeches off of each other afterwards; we took EA09 Swimsuit Edition calendar pictures; we broke the cardinal rule of African watersources -- to never get into them (although this one was fresh enough that it was completely safe, no parasites for me...); we emerged from the water and froze and ate cookies and gave each other hugs and listened to the thunder of the jungle coming to greet us. And then we made the trek back and fit six people in a three person tent and spooned until it was time for dinner and class. This is the Africa that I will remember. And it keeps on going.
On one of the mornings, a group of six of us got up at 4:30 to go and hike into the jungle to look for leopards. They're most active at dawn and dusk, and we wanted to hear one calling or at least spot its eyes in a tree. As far as big cats go, they're actually not all that dangerous, mainly because they are solitary and will only go after you if a) you provoke them or b) you look particularly tasty. Being a stringy runner has its perks sometimes. While our moonlit, foggy walk proved to not yield any leopards, we did see two sets of eyes, green and luminescent in the beams of our headlamps. Pretty damn cool.
The trek out of the Nou Forest was soggy and cold, and it was with sadness that we left the pine trees and soothing sounds of the jungle at night. But -- we were headed to the Yaeda Valley, home of one of the last hunter-gatherer people in existence -- the Hadzabe -- and there was nothing but excitement in the air.
BUT, I need to take an internet break. Three hours in a hot room is tough. I'll be typing part two of this later today, don't worry.
Love and miss everyone, more so than ever as we launch into the last bit of this trip. One day of internet to get back in touch with everyone! Ah! Not enough. Sorry that I haven't responded to any personal emails, but I will try to later today, and of course I love hearing from you and thank you for taking the time to do so.
All together strange to be back again. But tonight will be a night of Club AQ, perhaps more wine, and a much needed dose of civilization after the bush.
More soon.
Zach
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
And Here We Go!
Ah! Internet overload! So much to write and not the least bit of time to do it!
I'm headed out to the vast plains of the Serengeti, where we'll be waking up to the call of lions (and hearing them rub up next to our tent :P Just kidding...) and bathing in the light of the luminescent and outrageously bright Milky Way. In other words, Safari Time!
The plan is to trek through all manner of different national parks throughout northern and central Tanzania, spot as many forms of life as we can, and take part in the ancient rhythms of life on the very plains where humankind first came to be. From all that I hear, it oddly enough feels like you are "coming home" -- after all the human migrations, and all the evolution of our own kind, I still believe that there is something primal etched into our far-forgotten collective memory that knits us back to the land that we'll be treading over and sleeping on. You'll be sure to hear all about it once I return.
The past week and a half has been a blur, as the whole trip has, and I unfortunately don't have the internet time to type it all out. But I'll give it a go right now.
After our week in Zanzibar's Stone Town, we spent a spectacular and relaxing day off in the north of the island on October 2nd on some of the most beautiful beaches in the world (so they say... I would agree, though). Clear, warm waters of the central Indian Ocean, soccer games on the beach (which are probably the most exhausting games ever -- running on sand....), dinner of pizza and passionfruit juice at a romantic table on the beach, not ten meters from the lapping, sussonant surf (don't worry, it wasn't just Anton and I at the table, we had another couple...), a late night with everyone laughing on the beach, and the best sleep I've gotten in a while with an air-conditioned bungalow and double sized beds. Luxury, despite it's cultural pretentiousness, is quite wonderful when the time is right.
That next morning, two sketchy sketchy boats were waiting for us in the meter of water right off the beach, which would take us across the straight of Zanzibar to the mainland of Tanzania. Our destination was a little village called Pembe-Awbe -- site of the Dorobo Brothers spectacular beach-front snorkeling hangout.
The ride across was .... slightly terrifying, but what we're coming to realize is, well, it's Africa. Everything is just a bit sketchy. The boats were pretty tiny, powered by a five horsepower engine (could have been even less), and looked handmade (I later found out they were). About halfway across the straight, after surfacing from the knockout punch of Dramamine, I saw that our "copilot" was bailing out water from the belly of the boat, not for simply a few minutes, but for the rest of the trip across. We weren't sinking, but I wouldn't put it past the boat to pull a move like that. We powered along at all of four miles an hour, and it took us about five hours to make the 22 mile trip across the straight. Pretty, pretty funny, actually. It was also quite a fun feeling to board and exit the boat by simply walking into the water and climbing a ladder, and then jumping off when you got to the meter of water on the other shore. Sort of like the excitement that is boarding a plane by a stepladder; the method makes complete sense, but it feels so antiquated that you just can't help but laugh. We did this method for the entire week we were at the coast.
And man! The Coast! So beautiful. Pictures will be up sometime... maybe. Or you can just see them when I get home....
Anyway, the Dorobo Brothers, who we will be doing safari with, are a company of three brothers who were born in Tanzania to missionary parents from Minnesota, and were brought up here in Africa, went to school here, and decided to live their lives here, heading up a sustainable and local safari company that also operates a low-key snorkeling base. Our accommodations consisted of "bandas" -- thatched hut A-Frame tent like structures, with screens and a porch, with room for four people and their sleeping pads and mats. We were seriously right on the ocean. Our porch was all of ten meters from it. The breeze blew constantly, and the bugs were nonexistent. Palm trees everywhere, white sand, curious sand crabs, and beautiful sunrises. The main banda where we had our classes and our meals was built right around a baobab tree (the tree that Rafiki lives in -- pop culture reference of the day...) , with a super cool loft built in the upper branches that had an every more stellar view of the beach.
For five days we went out to Maziwe and Fungazinga reefs, about four miles off the coast, and snorkeled around for about four hours each day. Butterflyfish, lobsters, octopus, coral galore, groupers, urchins, sea cucumbers, sea stars, and all manner of other amazing life that is expressed only on the tropical reefs structures that dot the underwater tapestry of the equatorial world. Our group (Rachel Young, Anton and I) decided to do our data collection on Butterflyfish diversity, and saw some beautiful fish swim our way as we layed transect lines and counted them. There is a certain magic and peace to snorkeling -- only hearing your own breath in and out, watching the world shimmer below. I could do it for days, and am thankful we'll be heading back to the coast for one more week at the end of the trip.
Alright, really running out of time now, so I'll finish this off ....
We're in Arusha right now, the main safari hotspot for departures, and are about to head off to Ngogorogoro Crater (and many other parks) tomorrow. The drive up to Arusha was a stressful 12 hour adventure in a cramped bus, included fishtailing on a slick dirt road and doing a ferry crossing on a tiny transport (oh Africa....), and making it finally to our campsite at around 8 at night, after starting at 8AM that morning. Good fun....
We've had two days off to explore and relax in Arusha, and while we all could use another one, we're stoked to be heading off. For the time being, no news is good news from me, and I'll be away from internet for the next three weeks. We'll be back to Arusha in the beginning of November, so look for word from me then. For now, I'll be as safe as can possibly be, taking loads of pictures, wrangling lions and leopards, conversing with elephants, and the like. There will of course be Circle of Life singing too. Over African sunrises. Heck yes.
Love and miss you all, and be sure to leave me some messages for when I get back to the land of internet!
Zach
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Sandy Days Ahead
Hello yet again -- all this access to internet is beginning to be quite a luxury.
Hope everyone is enjoying seeing some pictures up. The Colobus monkeys were incredible in person, and I hope everyone approves of my wife-to-be. :)
Today is our last day in Stone Town, and our last day of internet, convenience, bars, tourists, and hecklers, etc. until we arrive in Arusha on the 11th of October or something to start Safari adventure! The trip is already a third of the way over, and I have now officially spent an entire month wandering around this amazing continent. Unbelievable.
So, this is just a short post to say that you won't be hearing from me for a little bit, but look for some more updates come the 11th. We'll be in Pembe-Abwe on the mainland Tanzania Coast on what appears to be, by common word and the veiled hints from Ken, our teacher, a beach all to ourselves in outrageous beach houses right on the water. And.... we'll be there for a week, snorkeling around on coral atolls for four to eight hours a day. And doing some night swims as well (or just skinny dipping, you know...) Eating good food cooked for us by the safari provider that we'll be with, and reading animal behavior/coastal ecology essays -- enticing, no? I'm stoked, as I'm sure many of the others are as well.
Enough for now, I suppose. Registering for spring semester classes soon, which is strange to think about. I don't know how I'll ever be able to transition back to the word of Lewis & Clark again. We shall see.
Peace and love from the coast of Africa!
Zach
Hope everyone is enjoying seeing some pictures up. The Colobus monkeys were incredible in person, and I hope everyone approves of my wife-to-be. :)
Today is our last day in Stone Town, and our last day of internet, convenience, bars, tourists, and hecklers, etc. until we arrive in Arusha on the 11th of October or something to start Safari adventure! The trip is already a third of the way over, and I have now officially spent an entire month wandering around this amazing continent. Unbelievable.
So, this is just a short post to say that you won't be hearing from me for a little bit, but look for some more updates come the 11th. We'll be in Pembe-Abwe on the mainland Tanzania Coast on what appears to be, by common word and the veiled hints from Ken, our teacher, a beach all to ourselves in outrageous beach houses right on the water. And.... we'll be there for a week, snorkeling around on coral atolls for four to eight hours a day. And doing some night swims as well (or just skinny dipping, you know...) Eating good food cooked for us by the safari provider that we'll be with, and reading animal behavior/coastal ecology essays -- enticing, no? I'm stoked, as I'm sure many of the others are as well.
Enough for now, I suppose. Registering for spring semester classes soon, which is strange to think about. I don't know how I'll ever be able to transition back to the word of Lewis & Clark again. We shall see.
Peace and love from the coast of Africa!
Zach
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Colobus Monkeys in the Land of Spices
Oh yes, two blog posts in less than 24 hours. I am on it.
I find myself with a bit of spare time and some excess energy, having just finished up my Swahili oral exam, waiting for all the rest to finish. I forget to grab my camera on the way out today -- I have an excellent picture (indeed, many, truth be told) to post up here -- so hopefully I'll remember it tomorrow. The computers here seem to be fast enough to actually be able to upload.
So, field trips to go see a family of Zanzibarian Colobus monkeys (who are endemic to the island) in their native habitat? I'm down. And then walking through a mangrove marsh on the mangrove roots themselves? Even more so. And then going to tour a spire farm where they grow essentially everything that the Western world uses for baking? Heck yes indeed.
Today was an early day, entailing getting up at an ungodly seven o'clock and leaving the hotel at eight to head out to the Ngozi(?) forest for a few hours of monkey spotting before the suns heat drove them into sleepy recluse. I can't shake the feeling when we all board these buses that this is just one massive high school field trip that goes on for three months. Which makes it all the more awesome, because it's like field trips and dorm life together.
Stepping back into a forest never stops being able to lower any ambient level of stress; simply the susenence of thousands of unseen insects and the shushed shimmering of the trees around you is enough to make you feel, somehow, like you're at home.
Hiking through the woods with half a group of biology and environmental studies students (and many other majors too), is endlessly endlessly entertaining. Names of plants, exclamations of excitement; it's great to be around so many people who are interested in what is around them. Plus the fact that our teacher knows everything about this place -- well, you can't go wrong.
We found the Colobus Monkeys and descended on them like some sort of Nature Channel paparazzi, to which they have been pretty acclimated to over the many years of their life with tourists abounding. But still, they were incredible. So unbelievably human. I'll post a picture next go around.
We then were able to walk around on the actual roots of the mangroves by the coast, and feel what it must have been like for locals years and years ago as they explored the island without the handy boardwalk that we had access to.
So, enough touristy things.
We headed off next to a spice farm where they grew everything fragrant and wonderful in baking, and we simply could not get enough of it. Cloves (only able to grow on Zanzibar & Pemba, believe it or not), nutmeg ( which is actually a nut with a beautifully decorated shell - red streatks running down it), mace (which is the outside of the nutmeg shell), cocoa! (AHH!), coffee, starfruit, passionfruit, vanilla bean, black pepper (which is just a measly looking, non-descript vine), coconut, curry powder (made from a bright yellow root), ginger, massala, and cinnamon. Mmmm.
Did you know that menthol -- the stuff in cough drops -- is from the same tree as cinnamon? All that menthol is is the root of the cinnamon tree, which is unbelievable. Also, cocoa beans grow right out of the side of the tree itself, and look quite goofy. The leaves of all these plants smell like the spice itself. Starfruit grows off the side of the tree, like actually right off of the bark, and not in bunches in the leaves. And on, and on. SO AMAZING.
The family also wove us some baskets out of palm fronds, which they let us keep. And their hospitality also included some tasty coconut milk, which we drank straight from the fruit itself. We actually saw one of the local boys climb up the tree -- a 35 to 40 foot tree, mind you -- without a harness, to go and pick more. He did some
acrobatics on the way down.
In return, we looted the supply of spices that they had bagged up for sale, and gave them quite a bit of business for the day, which we felt great about. Sustainable harvesting going on, right there. I got what must have been 50 dollars worth of spices for 7000 Tanzanian Shillings (about 5 or 6 dollars), and the guy even threw in a bag of saffron for free. Super, super cool. Our hands all still smell of a cocktail of exotic hand rubs by way of the many leaves that passed through our fingers today. I'd be okay if it didn't go away.
Alright, pictures tomorrow to add on to the post. I will try my hardest to make it happen! But if it doesn't, well... hakuna matata (which is indeed a true swahili phrtase, though the locals think it's hilarious when we use it).
With that, tutaonana badaaye, and you'll hear more from me soon. Last little bit before I disappear!
Love,
Zach
I find myself with a bit of spare time and some excess energy, having just finished up my Swahili oral exam, waiting for all the rest to finish. I forget to grab my camera on the way out today -- I have an excellent picture (indeed, many, truth be told) to post up here -- so hopefully I'll remember it tomorrow. The computers here seem to be fast enough to actually be able to upload.
So, field trips to go see a family of Zanzibarian Colobus monkeys (who are endemic to the island) in their native habitat? I'm down. And then walking through a mangrove marsh on the mangrove roots themselves? Even more so. And then going to tour a spire farm where they grow essentially everything that the Western world uses for baking? Heck yes indeed.
Today was an early day, entailing getting up at an ungodly seven o'clock and leaving the hotel at eight to head out to the Ngozi(?) forest for a few hours of monkey spotting before the suns heat drove them into sleepy recluse. I can't shake the feeling when we all board these buses that this is just one massive high school field trip that goes on for three months. Which makes it all the more awesome, because it's like field trips and dorm life together.
Stepping back into a forest never stops being able to lower any ambient level of stress; simply the susenence of thousands of unseen insects and the shushed shimmering of the trees around you is enough to make you feel, somehow, like you're at home.
Hiking through the woods with half a group of biology and environmental studies students (and many other majors too), is endlessly endlessly entertaining. Names of plants, exclamations of excitement; it's great to be around so many people who are interested in what is around them. Plus the fact that our teacher knows everything about this place -- well, you can't go wrong.
We found the Colobus Monkeys and descended on them like some sort of Nature Channel paparazzi, to which they have been pretty acclimated to over the many years of their life with tourists abounding. But still, they were incredible. So unbelievably human. I'll post a picture next go around.
We then were able to walk around on the actual roots of the mangroves by the coast, and feel what it must have been like for locals years and years ago as they explored the island without the handy boardwalk that we had access to.
So, enough touristy things.
We headed off next to a spice farm where they grew everything fragrant and wonderful in baking, and we simply could not get enough of it. Cloves (only able to grow on Zanzibar & Pemba, believe it or not), nutmeg ( which is actually a nut with a beautifully decorated shell - red streatks running down it), mace (which is the outside of the nutmeg shell), cocoa! (AHH!), coffee, starfruit, passionfruit, vanilla bean, black pepper (which is just a measly looking, non-descript vine), coconut, curry powder (made from a bright yellow root), ginger, massala, and cinnamon. Mmmm.
Did you know that menthol -- the stuff in cough drops -- is from the same tree as cinnamon? All that menthol is is the root of the cinnamon tree, which is unbelievable. Also, cocoa beans grow right out of the side of the tree itself, and look quite goofy. The leaves of all these plants smell like the spice itself. Starfruit grows off the side of the tree, like actually right off of the bark, and not in bunches in the leaves. And on, and on. SO AMAZING.
The family also wove us some baskets out of palm fronds, which they let us keep. And their hospitality also included some tasty coconut milk, which we drank straight from the fruit itself. We actually saw one of the local boys climb up the tree -- a 35 to 40 foot tree, mind you -- without a harness, to go and pick more. He did some
acrobatics on the way down.In return, we looted the supply of spices that they had bagged up for sale, and gave them quite a bit of business for the day, which we felt great about. Sustainable harvesting going on, right there. I got what must have been 50 dollars worth of spices for 7000 Tanzanian Shillings (about 5 or 6 dollars), and the guy even threw in a bag of saffron for free. Super, super cool. Our hands all still smell of a cocktail of exotic hand rubs by way of the many leaves that passed through our fingers today. I'd be okay if it didn't go away.
Alright, pictures tomorrow to add on to the post. I will try my hardest to make it happen! But if it doesn't, well... hakuna matata (which is indeed a true swahili phrtase, though the locals think it's hilarious when we use it).
With that, tutaonana badaaye, and you'll hear more from me soon. Last little bit before I disappear!
Love,
Zach
Monday, September 28, 2009
Marriage Proposals & The Sick Ward
Greetings from the sultry, humid, Omani-infused island of Zanzibar!
(Zanzibar... just say it... it's something about the twos 'z's...)
Situated here in the center of what used to be the location of one of the largest trading empires of the Indian Ocean, and also the site of the Indian Ocean Slave Trade which supplied the Arabian Peninsula with any number of concubines and other forced labor throughout the years. It is also now one of the largest tourist sites in East Africa, so the streets are flooded with white people from all over, who, we must say, are pretty funny to watch.
So, it's been a, well, intense couple of days, to say the least. And that's for all involved.
Last time I wrote we were still in coastal Mombasa, gearing up to cross the border into Tanzania and then for our island expeditions.
We left Mombasa in a sauna of a bus (30 people breathing at 8AM in humid Mombasa with a boatload of gear -- understandable, but perhaps not so much desirable) headed down for Dar Es Salaam, stopping off in Tanga which is where we were slated to catch our plane off the mainland later in the day.
Mombasa is encased by two inlets/bays, one to the north of the city and one to the south. The one in the north is the older, and historic, of the two, as it is shallow and boats are easily able to dock there right in the heart of the trading center. Mombasa is unique along the coast because it offers an access point from the reefs that surround the entire East African coastline where the reefs disappear for a short bit and open up, allowing ships to easily get to land. This, of course, is why it has been the powerhouse of the Swahili culture and trade exchange for over a thousand years -- they quite literally have a monopoly on the docking points. The other bay of Mombasa is a deep, deep water one that the Americans during the Gulf War paid to have deepened even more so that they could store their ships there, as it was the only friendly port from that point on north. Consequently, there is no bridge across that bay, even though it is the only way to get to Tanzania from Mombasa. As we started down the ramp to the bay, the bus driver kicked us off of the bus (with all our stuff on it), and we walked down to the dock where a huge ferry chugs along all day, moving throngs of working people and huge buses, motorcycles and commuter cars back and forth. We went across on one of the earlier ones, and then waited for a long, hot thirty minutes for our bus to come meet us again. Good fun, all around.
After getting back on, we sped along through the coastal countryside -- staggering amounts of coconut trees, women in beautiful, vibrant kangas and head coverings hauling bunches of bananas at their sides, mud huts with palm thatched roofs -- windows wide, hair flying (at least mine, the Jesus hair as it is well known now), thick air flowing through us. It took about three hours to reach the Tanzanian border on nice paved road.
Once we got to the border though, conditions changed, noticeably. First off, everything became Swahili. And gramatically correct, fast Swahili. Polepole, tafadhali became a phrase we used frequently over the next week.
The border crossing felt like a rip off. Visas go for 100 USD each, so since half of the group had already gotten theirs, we only had a $1,300 reciept. Could have been $2,500. Yikes. Make a lot of money off of American tourists, and I'm skeptical as to where it actually goes. Especially regarding the fact that the customs building had a room that was simply marked "Interrogation Room." Nice.
The road after the border turned into what would pass for a one lane unpaved backroad back in the states. However, it was actually the main way through to Dar Es Salaam, the largest city in Tanzania. And our bus was hurtling on it at what was easily 60 mphs. Super glad I was not in the front seat...
We got to Tanga and bid goodbye to most of our stuff as it was sent to where we'll be next week. What we were left with was a less than 15 kilo (33 pound) daypack with all of the stuff we needed for Pemba and Zanzibar (10 days). The airport at Tanga was wonderful and nearly laughable. Small planes only, bag scanning consisting of the main guy asking, "sir, do you have an weapons in the bag?" and then tossing it into the pile to be stowed, and security was passed through by literally the waving of a wand (a wand with special metal sensing powers, of course).
We got on the plane giddy with excitement -- for it was a small Cesna 200 (or something like that) that only seats 14 people. Though I'd been in a plane that small before, the excitement never ceases to grab you. I can't believe how small this is! We're going to be flying over the ocean! I might vomit on you! Stuff like that.
The flight to the Emerald Island of Pemba was beautiful. We were only at 3500 feet up, so far below the clouds, and we could see the crstaline blue waters of the coral atolls and white sand beaches of the equatorial islands of the Zanzibar Archipelago. Many shutters snapping, many gasps of excitement, much nose grease pressed ontop the hermetically sealed windows.
We touched down on in the main village of Chake-Chake on Pemba at around 5PM, and thewn headed off to our beautiful guest house for the night, with a huge rooftop balcony where we all ate a wonderful dinner of fresh tuna and all sorts of fruit.
There is a species of bat that is endemic to the island of Pemba (meaning it exists there and only there) called the Pemba Flying Fox that flies out in droves right at du
sk. At first, we jumped in excitement at seeing one, beating its wings just over the balcony and flying inbetween us and the Indian Ocean. Silent passing by. And then, quite literally without any notice, the sky filled with their elegant forms flapping above us as they came out to eat their allotment of fruit and insects for the night. Completely and utterly surreal. They were so close -- remember, these are massive bats -- and we couldn't hear a single sound from them. They glided above us by the thousands. Quite incredible.
Then began the entertainment for the night.
Quite a few people had been feeling the effects of foreign microscopic creatures in their stomach over the past few days, and it was only a matter of time before it spread to more people. I started feeling it right before dinner, so I was only able to eat a little bit of tuna, and I retired early that night. There were four of us in the room -- Sam, Miles, Anton and I -- and no one else was sick but me. By the time I woke up the next morning after a measly two or three hours of sleep, we got to talking and found our that none of us had really slept and that over the course of a few hours, we all had gotten whatever it was that floating around, meaning that the toilet received quite a workout that night. As we lay in bed in what we then dubbed "The Sick Ward," groaning over the fact that we seemed to have nothing left in our bodies, we thought about the fact that we were supposed to start our Pemba homestays that morning, and that it already sounded like a bad idea.
By the time the bus came to pick us up, Anton was feeling much better, and I was feeling passable enough to give the experience a try. We crammed into two "dalla-dallas" -- the pick-up converted to taxi vehicles (check out the picture to the right... we were crammed in there) -- on the island, and headed off to the remote village of Tumbe on the northern tip of the island.
I felt pretty marginal the whole ride up, bouncing around, sucking in dust and exhaust, but once we got there I was sort of stuck and decided that I best go for it. We were all gathered together in our Muslim garb, patiently and quite nervously waiting for our families to pick us up.
I was the first to be called. With a note of embarassment, as I had no idea what my host brother was saying, I picked up my stuff and headed out, sweating like no other, to my house for the next two days.
I'm usually alright with going out of my cultural comfort zone, but this was an experience that pushed the envelope at all corners. As soon as I got back to the house, I dropped my stuff off and sat outside with my host brother, and before I had even sat down, a swarm of people -- probably close to 30 of them -- had gathered around me, staring staring staring at me. I tried to say something in Swahili and they all threw their heads back and laughed. They then proceeded to ask me questions in rapid, dialectic Swahili to which I could only stare and say "sifahamu (I don't understand), tena polepole (repeat slowly)," to which they laughed at again. For the entirety of the few hours I was there, I was like a circus act -- stares followed me wherever I went.
Our student leader hunted me down after a few hours -- she knew I was sick -- and said that she really wanted me to go back to the hotel, to which I gladly agreed. I spent the rest of the day sleeping, trying to break whatever it was that was in me, hoping to feel better the next day.
I should just let myself rest....
But this is such an experience that one of ever gets to do....
So I went back to the village the next morning and stayed at Alex (our student leader)'s house, socializing with her sisters for most of the afternoon. I was still lightheaded, and really did not feel like being stared at more. Instead, there were a bunch a kids around me most of the day, most of them sixth grade girls who were really eager to learn English, and to ask me questions. They were so nice, and I had a great time exchanging words on animal names, food names, names of eyes, ears nose, mouth, and basic swahili.
One of Alex's host sisters though (who is 20), decided to sit with me a little bit later, and at that point my learning sort of ceased as I became markedly more self-concious of my poor swahili. What can I say? -- She was incredibly pretty and speaking to me in a language I spoke like a two-year old. As conversation progressed at its laughable pace, with a whole bunch of good mannered jokes in there, she asked me, with a bat of the eyelids, if I wanted to marry her and take her back to the states with me. "Bila shaka!" (Of course!) And then we arranged that she would come back with me at some point and that we would be "wapenzi" -- lovers. She took a ring from her finger (forget the fact that she slid it off first...), gave it to me, and with a flourish I slid it back on to her finger and we celebrated with a good-hearted laugh and twingling of eyes. (Picture of her on the side! Though she's not looking at the camera...)
I left later that night to sleep one more day in the hotel -- still feeling off -- and came back to the village the final morning to pick up the rest of the group. Moza (that's her name) and I shouted to each other that "sitasahau wewe!" (I will not forget you!), and that someday we would be together. I'll miss her.
But.... I did give her my phone number back in the states, so you never know....
Other's experiences with Tumbe were not so pleasant, and if I were a white female, neither would have mine. Since the village is dominated by these groups of young men, checks on sexual advnacves are pretty non-existent, so the females of our group got incessant marriage proposals (ones that were not lighthearted, like mine), and even had demands for them to sleep in the same bed as some of the host brothers. Completely unexpected variables in this experience that no one on the trip -- even the leaders -- has anticipated, and which we are trying to rememdy for future years. Needless to say, everyone was glad to bid Tumbe goodbye and move on to Zanzibar.
And now I find myself running out of internet time and nearing dinner, so with that, I bid you adieu, and send much love to everyone back in the States! Had the most incredible gelato today at this Italian Restaurant right on the Indian Ocean, and pizza with real mozarello cheese. Oh man... living the life.
Learning much, as always, and living in the light of the ceaseless amazement afforded by human culture.
More from me soon before I head off into the bush! Leaving Zanzibar on Friday, so I'm sure I'll be back to the internet at some point before then. Love the comments!
Salaam,
Zach
(Zanzibar... just say it... it's something about the twos 'z's...)
Situated here in the center of what used to be the location of one of the largest trading empires of the Indian Ocean, and also the site of the Indian Ocean Slave Trade which supplied the Arabian Peninsula with any number of concubines and other forced labor throughout the years. It is also now one of the largest tourist sites in East Africa, so the streets are flooded with white people from all over, who, we must say, are pretty funny to watch.
So, it's been a, well, intense couple of days, to say the least. And that's for all involved.
Last time I wrote we were still in coastal Mombasa, gearing up to cross the border into Tanzania and then for our island expeditions.
We left Mombasa in a sauna of a bus (30 people breathing at 8AM in humid Mombasa with a boatload of gear -- understandable, but perhaps not so much desirable) headed down for Dar Es Salaam, stopping off in Tanga which is where we were slated to catch our plane off the mainland later in the day.
Mombasa is encased by two inlets/bays, one to the north of the city and one to the south. The one in the north is the older, and historic, of the two, as it is shallow and boats are easily able to dock there right in the heart of the trading center. Mombasa is unique along the coast because it offers an access point from the reefs that surround the entire East African coastline where the reefs disappear for a short bit and open up, allowing ships to easily get to land. This, of course, is why it has been the powerhouse of the Swahili culture and trade exchange for over a thousand years -- they quite literally have a monopoly on the docking points. The other bay of Mombasa is a deep, deep water one that the Americans during the Gulf War paid to have deepened even more so that they could store their ships there, as it was the only friendly port from that point on north. Consequently, there is no bridge across that bay, even though it is the only way to get to Tanzania from Mombasa. As we started down the ramp to the bay, the bus driver kicked us off of the bus (with all our stuff on it), and we walked down to the dock where a huge ferry chugs along all day, moving throngs of working people and huge buses, motorcycles and commuter cars back and forth. We went across on one of the earlier ones, and then waited for a long, hot thirty minutes for our bus to come meet us again. Good fun, all around.
After getting back on, we sped along through the coastal countryside -- staggering amounts of coconut trees, women in beautiful, vibrant kangas and head coverings hauling bunches of bananas at their sides, mud huts with palm thatched roofs -- windows wide, hair flying (at least mine, the Jesus hair as it is well known now), thick air flowing through us. It took about three hours to reach the Tanzanian border on nice paved road.
Once we got to the border though, conditions changed, noticeably. First off, everything became Swahili. And gramatically correct, fast Swahili. Polepole, tafadhali became a phrase we used frequently over the next week.
The border crossing felt like a rip off. Visas go for 100 USD each, so since half of the group had already gotten theirs, we only had a $1,300 reciept. Could have been $2,500. Yikes. Make a lot of money off of American tourists, and I'm skeptical as to where it actually goes. Especially regarding the fact that the customs building had a room that was simply marked "Interrogation Room." Nice.
The road after the border turned into what would pass for a one lane unpaved backroad back in the states. However, it was actually the main way through to Dar Es Salaam, the largest city in Tanzania. And our bus was hurtling on it at what was easily 60 mphs. Super glad I was not in the front seat...
We got to Tanga and bid goodbye to most of our stuff as it was sent to where we'll be next week. What we were left with was a less than 15 kilo (33 pound) daypack with all of the stuff we needed for Pemba and Zanzibar (10 days). The airport at Tanga was wonderful and nearly laughable. Small planes only, bag scanning consisting of the main guy asking, "sir, do you have an weapons in the bag?" and then tossing it into the pile to be stowed, and security was passed through by literally the waving of a wand (a wand with special metal sensing powers, of course).
We got on the plane giddy with excitement -- for it was a small Cesna 200 (or something like that) that only seats 14 people. Though I'd been in a plane that small before, the excitement never ceases to grab you. I can't believe how small this is! We're going to be flying over the ocean! I might vomit on you! Stuff like that.
The flight to the Emerald Island of Pemba was beautiful. We were only at 3500 feet up, so far below the clouds, and we could see the crstaline blue waters of the coral atolls and white sand beaches of the equatorial islands of the Zanzibar Archipelago. Many shutters snapping, many gasps of excitement, much nose grease pressed ontop the hermetically sealed windows.
We touched down on in the main village of Chake-Chake on Pemba at around 5PM, and thewn headed off to our beautiful guest house for the night, with a huge rooftop balcony where we all ate a wonderful dinner of fresh tuna and all sorts of fruit.
There is a species of bat that is endemic to the island of Pemba (meaning it exists there and only there) called the Pemba Flying Fox that flies out in droves right at du
sk. At first, we jumped in excitement at seeing one, beating its wings just over the balcony and flying inbetween us and the Indian Ocean. Silent passing by. And then, quite literally without any notice, the sky filled with their elegant forms flapping above us as they came out to eat their allotment of fruit and insects for the night. Completely and utterly surreal. They were so close -- remember, these are massive bats -- and we couldn't hear a single sound from them. They glided above us by the thousands. Quite incredible.Then began the entertainment for the night.
Quite a few people had been feeling the effects of foreign microscopic creatures in their stomach over the past few days, and it was only a matter of time before it spread to more people. I started feeling it right before dinner, so I was only able to eat a little bit of tuna, and I retired early that night. There were four of us in the room -- Sam, Miles, Anton and I -- and no one else was sick but me. By the time I woke up the next morning after a measly two or three hours of sleep, we got to talking and found our that none of us had really slept and that over the course of a few hours, we all had gotten whatever it was that floating around, meaning that the toilet received quite a workout that night. As we lay in bed in what we then dubbed "The Sick Ward," groaning over the fact that we seemed to have nothing left in our bodies, we thought about the fact that we were supposed to start our Pemba homestays that morning, and that it already sounded like a bad idea.
By the time the bus came to pick us up, Anton was feeling much better, and I was feeling passable enough to give the experience a try. We crammed into two "dalla-dallas" -- the pick-up converted to taxi vehicles (check out the picture to the right... we were crammed in there) -- on the island, and headed off to the remote village of Tumbe on the northern tip of the island.
I felt pretty marginal the whole ride up, bouncing around, sucking in dust and exhaust, but once we got there I was sort of stuck and decided that I best go for it. We were all gathered together in our Muslim garb, patiently and quite nervously waiting for our families to pick us up.
I was the first to be called. With a note of embarassment, as I had no idea what my host brother was saying, I picked up my stuff and headed out, sweating like no other, to my house for the next two days.
I'm usually alright with going out of my cultural comfort zone, but this was an experience that pushed the envelope at all corners. As soon as I got back to the house, I dropped my stuff off and sat outside with my host brother, and before I had even sat down, a swarm of people -- probably close to 30 of them -- had gathered around me, staring staring staring at me. I tried to say something in Swahili and they all threw their heads back and laughed. They then proceeded to ask me questions in rapid, dialectic Swahili to which I could only stare and say "sifahamu (I don't understand), tena polepole (repeat slowly)," to which they laughed at again. For the entirety of the few hours I was there, I was like a circus act -- stares followed me wherever I went.
Our student leader hunted me down after a few hours -- she knew I was sick -- and said that she really wanted me to go back to the hotel, to which I gladly agreed. I spent the rest of the day sleeping, trying to break whatever it was that was in me, hoping to feel better the next day.
I should just let myself rest....
But this is such an experience that one of ever gets to do....
So I went back to the village the next morning and stayed at Alex (our student leader)'s house, socializing with her sisters for most of the afternoon. I was still lightheaded, and really did not feel like being stared at more. Instead, there were a bunch a kids around me most of the day, most of them sixth grade girls who were really eager to learn English, and to ask me questions. They were so nice, and I had a great time exchanging words on animal names, food names, names of eyes, ears nose, mouth, and basic swahili.
One of Alex's host sisters though (who is 20), decided to sit with me a little bit later, and at that point my learning sort of ceased as I became markedly more self-concious of my poor swahili. What can I say? -- She was incredibly pretty and speaking to me in a language I spoke like a two-year old. As conversation progressed at its laughable pace, with a whole bunch of good mannered jokes in there, she asked me, with a bat of the eyelids, if I wanted to marry her and take her back to the states with me. "Bila shaka!" (Of course!) And then we arranged that she would come back with me at some point and that we would be "wapenzi" -- lovers. She took a ring from her finger (forget the fact that she slid it off first...), gave it to me, and with a flourish I slid it back on to her finger and we celebrated with a good-hearted laugh and twingling of eyes. (Picture of her on the side! Though she's not looking at the camera...)
I left later that night to sleep one more day in the hotel -- still feeling off -- and came back to the village the final morning to pick up the rest of the group. Moza (that's her name) and I shouted to each other that "sitasahau wewe!" (I will not forget you!), and that someday we would be together. I'll miss her.
But.... I did give her my phone number back in the states, so you never know....
Other's experiences with Tumbe were not so pleasant, and if I were a white female, neither would have mine. Since the village is dominated by these groups of young men, checks on sexual advnacves are pretty non-existent, so the females of our group got incessant marriage proposals (ones that were not lighthearted, like mine), and even had demands for them to sleep in the same bed as some of the host brothers. Completely unexpected variables in this experience that no one on the trip -- even the leaders -- has anticipated, and which we are trying to rememdy for future years. Needless to say, everyone was glad to bid Tumbe goodbye and move on to Zanzibar.
And now I find myself running out of internet time and nearing dinner, so with that, I bid you adieu, and send much love to everyone back in the States! Had the most incredible gelato today at this Italian Restaurant right on the Indian Ocean, and pizza with real mozarello cheese. Oh man... living the life.
Learning much, as always, and living in the light of the ceaseless amazement afforded by human culture.
More from me soon before I head off into the bush! Leaving Zanzibar on Friday, so I'm sure I'll be back to the internet at some point before then. Love the comments!
Salaam,
Zach
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Aleku Salaam
Hello to all from the dripping humidity of the East African Coast,
(I'm used to it of course, so no big :P)
It is impossibly hard to remember that we are indeed still in Kenya, much less Africa. I feel like I have been transported to some paradisical port on the Arabian Penisula, where the palms sway and the Indian Ocean rolls in and the people speak straight coastal Swahili, which has much more of an Arabic twinge to it (the greeting to the post is the greeting that we have been getting by everyone here on the coast -- it literaly means, peace be with you, though I may have spelled the first word wrong). People here are beautiful -- I mean that in all ways. Men and women both look "smart" (as the people will tell us) at all times, and they have a sense of life where you take things as they come, which is even more pronounced here than in Nairobi.
As unfamiliar as I still am with Islam, I already like it much more than the strange breed of Christianity in Nairobi. Somehow, it just feels better here. That may have something to do with the fact that the Swahili Coast has had contact with the Muslims of Arabia for over a Millenium now, so their depth of faith, tradition, and culture is astounding. Mosques are stunning buildings, and I feel so peaceful walking past them. And there is certainly something about the lilt of the calls to prayer that echo through the skinny, wandering roads of the beautiful Old Town (it reminds me very much of the old parts of cities in Europe, where cars were not even a consideration) that makes me want to go and partake even more so in the culture.
Before we go too far, it is worth mentioning the 10 hour adventure on the bumpy roads of the central highlands. We saw our first: giraffe! ostrich! wildebeast! elephants! olive baboons! thomson's gazelles! kudus! all of which were within sight from the road. My first thoughts when I saw the family of baboons looking up at us from the road was the incredible connection we have to all primates -- they made eye contact with us, and I am almost certain I saw a little glint of humor in their eyes as they saw a bus-full of wazungu (whote people) pass by them. I think we even stand out to them.
We sped through some beautiful, desolate land, and saw some rather sobering facts about living in the dry plains between Nairobi and Mombasa. Huts made of plastic bags, squatters in quite seriously the middle of nowhere. But I bet if you talked to them they would still have a spark of life that I have been able to classify as distinctly African.
As soon as we got to the 1000 year old city of Mombasa, there was an immidiate difference from the land that we had just driven through. Palms swayed on the road, and we saw people decked out in their Ramadhan best, as the fast was breaking when we drove in. Colors everywhere, markets, people, and old architechture, which is such a contrast from Nairobi which in my mind still feels like it doesn't belong (kind of in the middle of dry, dry land).
We went to a little carnival the night we got here, which involved some sketchy swings that were handpushed, but looking incredibly fun, lots of Swahili, lots of kids running around, and some loud music. Brought me back to the greasy carnivals of New Windsor, Maryland. Mmm.
The next day we woke up and headed out as a group to buy our Muslim wear for the next week and a half. The guys went into one shop, led around by, believe it or not, the most esteemed Swahili Poet in the world right now, an older Swahili Man by the name of Ahmed Shiekh. He read us some of his poems today, which was pretty neat to hear.
The guys all bought what are called kanzu, which essentially are light cloth (usually polyester, though I imagine they were real silk back before plastics) robes that go all the way down to just above your ankles. In all reality, I think they are quite beautiful. We also bought some Muslim caps, which I believe are called kafa, that complete our outfit.
The girls went to a different shop to purchase bui-bui's, if I have spelled that right, which are the traditional black robes and black head coverings that the people of Islam are known to wear. Some were not looking forward to it, but they grew on just about everyone. And I must say, there is a certainly hidden grace and beauty that is evoked by the women when they are wearing these clothes; I can see how to the tradition is not so much repression of women as it is a more subtle sense of beauty than we perhaps are used to in the Western world. Very cool, all around.
As we walked the streets with our new garb, we were treated completely differently than we were before. People could not stop holding us up on the road to tell us how absolutely beautiful we looked, and how much they loved our choice. Rather than being passive observers of the culture, we now entered into actually experiencing it full out. Some people asked us if we were Muslim, but most just greeted us with warm smiles and an "aleku salaam." I am not kidding you when I say that we legitimately walked away from some absolutely horrible, abnoxious Americans walking down the street: huge brightly colored tanks tops, tattoos down the arms, shorts, sneakers, arrogant sunglasses. Yikes, man. They didn't even give us a second look. I'm convinced that we blend in. And I really think this experience has made me acutely feel what a different traveling experience people could have if they tried a little harder topush beyond their comfort zones and embrace more fully a culture that is foreign to them. You risk the potential of seeming like you are impersonating them, and perhaps mocking them, but as long as you approach it with a respect for the way of life, my suspicion is that people will welcome you into their restaurants and places like you have been living there your whole life.
Last night, our teacher Dave treated us to a spectacular five-star dining experience in an old Colonial British Club, that he is a member of of course (Dave knows everone, seriously. And is the nicest guy ever....), right on the water of the bay and Ocean. The accomodations were stunning: lime juice on the balcony, a huge patio to eat on, the plam trees fanning us as they blew in the late evening breeze, the stars shining, and the incredible experience of eating with what has become a tightly-knit group.
Afterwards, we headed back to the hotel to have a drink with our teachers Ken and Dave, which is always a good time.
We have the rest of today off, and Anton and I are planning on finding some good eats, exploring Old Town Mombasa, and going out later tonight with the whole group to a local watering hole. And using up our stipend money for the day in the process, of course....
Tomorrow we head off to cross the Tanzania border, and then to hop on a small plane (which is going to be super cool) over to the island of Pemba, where we will spend one more night in a hotel prior to meeting our new families in a little town on the north of the island. Pemba has no internet, as far as we know, and the town we are in has absolutely no electricity, so you won't hear from me for the next five days or so. But you can be sure I'm thinking of you! :)
Alright, time to explore and eat more good food than is humanly possible.
Salaam,
Zach
(I'm used to it of course, so no big :P)
It is impossibly hard to remember that we are indeed still in Kenya, much less Africa. I feel like I have been transported to some paradisical port on the Arabian Penisula, where the palms sway and the Indian Ocean rolls in and the people speak straight coastal Swahili, which has much more of an Arabic twinge to it (the greeting to the post is the greeting that we have been getting by everyone here on the coast -- it literaly means, peace be with you, though I may have spelled the first word wrong). People here are beautiful -- I mean that in all ways. Men and women both look "smart" (as the people will tell us) at all times, and they have a sense of life where you take things as they come, which is even more pronounced here than in Nairobi.
As unfamiliar as I still am with Islam, I already like it much more than the strange breed of Christianity in Nairobi. Somehow, it just feels better here. That may have something to do with the fact that the Swahili Coast has had contact with the Muslims of Arabia for over a Millenium now, so their depth of faith, tradition, and culture is astounding. Mosques are stunning buildings, and I feel so peaceful walking past them. And there is certainly something about the lilt of the calls to prayer that echo through the skinny, wandering roads of the beautiful Old Town (it reminds me very much of the old parts of cities in Europe, where cars were not even a consideration) that makes me want to go and partake even more so in the culture.
Before we go too far, it is worth mentioning the 10 hour adventure on the bumpy roads of the central highlands. We saw our first: giraffe! ostrich! wildebeast! elephants! olive baboons! thomson's gazelles! kudus! all of which were within sight from the road. My first thoughts when I saw the family of baboons looking up at us from the road was the incredible connection we have to all primates -- they made eye contact with us, and I am almost certain I saw a little glint of humor in their eyes as they saw a bus-full of wazungu (whote people) pass by them. I think we even stand out to them.
We sped through some beautiful, desolate land, and saw some rather sobering facts about living in the dry plains between Nairobi and Mombasa. Huts made of plastic bags, squatters in quite seriously the middle of nowhere. But I bet if you talked to them they would still have a spark of life that I have been able to classify as distinctly African.
As soon as we got to the 1000 year old city of Mombasa, there was an immidiate difference from the land that we had just driven through. Palms swayed on the road, and we saw people decked out in their Ramadhan best, as the fast was breaking when we drove in. Colors everywhere, markets, people, and old architechture, which is such a contrast from Nairobi which in my mind still feels like it doesn't belong (kind of in the middle of dry, dry land).
We went to a little carnival the night we got here, which involved some sketchy swings that were handpushed, but looking incredibly fun, lots of Swahili, lots of kids running around, and some loud music. Brought me back to the greasy carnivals of New Windsor, Maryland. Mmm.
The next day we woke up and headed out as a group to buy our Muslim wear for the next week and a half. The guys went into one shop, led around by, believe it or not, the most esteemed Swahili Poet in the world right now, an older Swahili Man by the name of Ahmed Shiekh. He read us some of his poems today, which was pretty neat to hear.
The guys all bought what are called kanzu, which essentially are light cloth (usually polyester, though I imagine they were real silk back before plastics) robes that go all the way down to just above your ankles. In all reality, I think they are quite beautiful. We also bought some Muslim caps, which I believe are called kafa, that complete our outfit.
The girls went to a different shop to purchase bui-bui's, if I have spelled that right, which are the traditional black robes and black head coverings that the people of Islam are known to wear. Some were not looking forward to it, but they grew on just about everyone. And I must say, there is a certainly hidden grace and beauty that is evoked by the women when they are wearing these clothes; I can see how to the tradition is not so much repression of women as it is a more subtle sense of beauty than we perhaps are used to in the Western world. Very cool, all around.
As we walked the streets with our new garb, we were treated completely differently than we were before. People could not stop holding us up on the road to tell us how absolutely beautiful we looked, and how much they loved our choice. Rather than being passive observers of the culture, we now entered into actually experiencing it full out. Some people asked us if we were Muslim, but most just greeted us with warm smiles and an "aleku salaam." I am not kidding you when I say that we legitimately walked away from some absolutely horrible, abnoxious Americans walking down the street: huge brightly colored tanks tops, tattoos down the arms, shorts, sneakers, arrogant sunglasses. Yikes, man. They didn't even give us a second look. I'm convinced that we blend in. And I really think this experience has made me acutely feel what a different traveling experience people could have if they tried a little harder topush beyond their comfort zones and embrace more fully a culture that is foreign to them. You risk the potential of seeming like you are impersonating them, and perhaps mocking them, but as long as you approach it with a respect for the way of life, my suspicion is that people will welcome you into their restaurants and places like you have been living there your whole life.
Last night, our teacher Dave treated us to a spectacular five-star dining experience in an old Colonial British Club, that he is a member of of course (Dave knows everone, seriously. And is the nicest guy ever....), right on the water of the bay and Ocean. The accomodations were stunning: lime juice on the balcony, a huge patio to eat on, the plam trees fanning us as they blew in the late evening breeze, the stars shining, and the incredible experience of eating with what has become a tightly-knit group.
Afterwards, we headed back to the hotel to have a drink with our teachers Ken and Dave, which is always a good time.
We have the rest of today off, and Anton and I are planning on finding some good eats, exploring Old Town Mombasa, and going out later tonight with the whole group to a local watering hole. And using up our stipend money for the day in the process, of course....
Tomorrow we head off to cross the Tanzania border, and then to hop on a small plane (which is going to be super cool) over to the island of Pemba, where we will spend one more night in a hotel prior to meeting our new families in a little town on the north of the island. Pemba has no internet, as far as we know, and the town we are in has absolutely no electricity, so you won't hear from me for the next five days or so. But you can be sure I'm thinking of you! :)
Alright, time to explore and eat more good food than is humanly possible.
Salaam,
Zach
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Leaving the Highlands
Hello hello!
So, today is my final day in Nairobi, and while the prospect of leaving our host families and leaving this city that we have become pretty comfortable in is a bit of a bummer, we all can barely hold back the excitement that we have for the days ahead of us.
The schedule, as far as I know it, looks roughly like this:
Leave Nairobi on the 20th at 8AM to travel by bus to the coastal city of Mombasa. Mombasa is a heavily Muslim city, given the constant cultural exchange with the Middle East and the Indian Ocean from the 7th century on, and what is really exciting is the fact that Ramadhan is predicted to end the night that we arrive there, so the city will be ablaze with celebration of the breaking of the fast, and with all sorts of music and people and culture surrounding us. Will be really neat. For all you don't know, Ramadhan is based on the lunar months, as is the Muslim Calendar, so we can never really predict when the fast will break.
We'll be in Mombasa for three days, from the 20th to the 23rd, and we'll be back in a hotel again (which means a reunion with western showers...). We'll be led around by a Muslim Scholar and Poet (I believe his name is Ahmed Sheikh), and we'll be decked out in Muslim garb while we stroll the city. We'll also get to participate in a Muslim prayer of some sort within a mosque there, which will be an experience few westerners get to do. Very cool indeed. We'll also see Ft. Jesus, a huge Portuguese fort built by those Iberian Peninsulars back in the 16th century. History! Sweet deal.
From there, we will cross the Tanzanian border on the 23rd, and leave most of our stuff in the city of Tanga while we bring a 15 kilo bag for the next tens days with us aboard a tiny little pond skipping plane over to the island of Pemba. Pemba is a super remote island off the coast of Tanzania, and as far as I know, they still do not have electricity. Of course, it is heavily Muslim like the coast, and this is where we will commence our second homestay. Whoa. We'll be in a culture that is subsistence, day-to-day based, and one that speaks little to no English. My swahili is certainly not up to par yet, but we'll see how I fare when I am there. My guess is that it will be pretty challenging, with lots of gestures, awkward laughs, and other funny cultural quips. And the waters of Pemba look outrageous -- take a look at google images to see what I mean.
We'll be there until the 26th, and then we'll take a little ferry over to Zanzibar, which is one of the most historically entranched islands on the Indian Ocean. You guessed it, heavily Muslim again, but it has the strange dynamic of having a very touristy aspect too it, which many of the locals are not all that fond of. Once we are dressed in our Muslim garb though, we are not even seen as tourists; we are seen as quite beautiful.
The Zanzibar journey will end on the first of October, and at that point we will be almost a third of the way through our structured trip already. So hard to believe.
I will probably have internet until I leave Zanzibar (but not in Pemba), and then a little bit in Arusha in mainland Tanzania, but after that, it's time for intense safari and homestay with Maasai and all manner of other ridiculous experiences. But you can be sure that I am keeping a journal, and that I'll type it all up once I get back in.
Alright, that's all for now. Anton, our friend Rachel and I enjoyed a bustling night downtown, where we met with someone Rachel, who is super involved in the youth climate change movement back at home, knows from over the internet. She's the main coordinator of the youth climate change movement in Kenya, which is super cool. So awesome to see people mobilized all the way over here -- and the way that Rachel and her talked with overflowing enthusiam gave me great hope. It seems that above all the youth of Kenya want a fair climate agreement coming out of Copenhagen (which is where the succesor to Kyoto will be finalized in December), and they aren't seeking vengeance against the west for what they have caused. The West should be held to high standards, for sure, but the developing world needs to as well, she said. The world is gearing up for this Copenhagen conference (where both Rachel and the girl we met, Grace, are going), so pay attention to it as the year progresses on, and try to make sure that Obama makes it there. His presense would be huge.
Attracted by the thumping subwoofers that we heard from across the street, we wandered into "Betty's Klub" last night, and like our last bar experience, were the only non-locals. Which was awesome. And the blacklights were on, which made us feel like even our skin was radiating whiteness. As always, good fun. People dancing right next to their tables, singing along to Reggae, bartenders rushing around through the crowds to serve people, and not being able to hold a conversation without yelling.
My host mother gave me an awesome touristy looking "traditional" African shirt and shorts, which contrary to the fact that I stand out even more, I really like them. Earth tones, and it I were to go and lay in the sand, I would be sure to blend in completely.
Sun and Sand, here we come. Hopefully more from me in the upcoming days.
Love,
Zach
So, today is my final day in Nairobi, and while the prospect of leaving our host families and leaving this city that we have become pretty comfortable in is a bit of a bummer, we all can barely hold back the excitement that we have for the days ahead of us.
The schedule, as far as I know it, looks roughly like this:
Leave Nairobi on the 20th at 8AM to travel by bus to the coastal city of Mombasa. Mombasa is a heavily Muslim city, given the constant cultural exchange with the Middle East and the Indian Ocean from the 7th century on, and what is really exciting is the fact that Ramadhan is predicted to end the night that we arrive there, so the city will be ablaze with celebration of the breaking of the fast, and with all sorts of music and people and culture surrounding us. Will be really neat. For all you don't know, Ramadhan is based on the lunar months, as is the Muslim Calendar, so we can never really predict when the fast will break.
We'll be in Mombasa for three days, from the 20th to the 23rd, and we'll be back in a hotel again (which means a reunion with western showers...). We'll be led around by a Muslim Scholar and Poet (I believe his name is Ahmed Sheikh), and we'll be decked out in Muslim garb while we stroll the city. We'll also get to participate in a Muslim prayer of some sort within a mosque there, which will be an experience few westerners get to do. Very cool indeed. We'll also see Ft. Jesus, a huge Portuguese fort built by those Iberian Peninsulars back in the 16th century. History! Sweet deal.
From there, we will cross the Tanzanian border on the 23rd, and leave most of our stuff in the city of Tanga while we bring a 15 kilo bag for the next tens days with us aboard a tiny little pond skipping plane over to the island of Pemba. Pemba is a super remote island off the coast of Tanzania, and as far as I know, they still do not have electricity. Of course, it is heavily Muslim like the coast, and this is where we will commence our second homestay. Whoa. We'll be in a culture that is subsistence, day-to-day based, and one that speaks little to no English. My swahili is certainly not up to par yet, but we'll see how I fare when I am there. My guess is that it will be pretty challenging, with lots of gestures, awkward laughs, and other funny cultural quips. And the waters of Pemba look outrageous -- take a look at google images to see what I mean.
We'll be there until the 26th, and then we'll take a little ferry over to Zanzibar, which is one of the most historically entranched islands on the Indian Ocean. You guessed it, heavily Muslim again, but it has the strange dynamic of having a very touristy aspect too it, which many of the locals are not all that fond of. Once we are dressed in our Muslim garb though, we are not even seen as tourists; we are seen as quite beautiful.
The Zanzibar journey will end on the first of October, and at that point we will be almost a third of the way through our structured trip already. So hard to believe.
I will probably have internet until I leave Zanzibar (but not in Pemba), and then a little bit in Arusha in mainland Tanzania, but after that, it's time for intense safari and homestay with Maasai and all manner of other ridiculous experiences. But you can be sure that I am keeping a journal, and that I'll type it all up once I get back in.
Alright, that's all for now. Anton, our friend Rachel and I enjoyed a bustling night downtown, where we met with someone Rachel, who is super involved in the youth climate change movement back at home, knows from over the internet. She's the main coordinator of the youth climate change movement in Kenya, which is super cool. So awesome to see people mobilized all the way over here -- and the way that Rachel and her talked with overflowing enthusiam gave me great hope. It seems that above all the youth of Kenya want a fair climate agreement coming out of Copenhagen (which is where the succesor to Kyoto will be finalized in December), and they aren't seeking vengeance against the west for what they have caused. The West should be held to high standards, for sure, but the developing world needs to as well, she said. The world is gearing up for this Copenhagen conference (where both Rachel and the girl we met, Grace, are going), so pay attention to it as the year progresses on, and try to make sure that Obama makes it there. His presense would be huge.
Attracted by the thumping subwoofers that we heard from across the street, we wandered into "Betty's Klub" last night, and like our last bar experience, were the only non-locals. Which was awesome. And the blacklights were on, which made us feel like even our skin was radiating whiteness. As always, good fun. People dancing right next to their tables, singing along to Reggae, bartenders rushing around through the crowds to serve people, and not being able to hold a conversation without yelling.
My host mother gave me an awesome touristy looking "traditional" African shirt and shorts, which contrary to the fact that I stand out even more, I really like them. Earth tones, and it I were to go and lay in the sand, I would be sure to blend in completely.
Sun and Sand, here we come. Hopefully more from me in the upcoming days.
Love,
Zach
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Hilly Ramblings
Hello hello hello,
So, today the temperatures have gone up significantly, and coinciding with that, we all are starting to feel the minor exhaustion of being out of one's own country for two weeks. The looks from people as you pass (and the fact that everyone -- literally, everyone -- is staring at you as you walk by), the little "how are yous" from the children starting to be a bit annoying, and the hawkers in the market -- at least in downtown Nairobi -- starting to wear on your patience.
So, today the temperatures have gone up significantly, and coinciding with that, we all are starting to feel the minor exhaustion of being out of one's own country for two weeks. The looks from people as you pass (and the fact that everyone -- literally, everyone -- is staring at you as you walk by), the little "how are yous" from the children starting to be a bit annoying, and the hawkers in the market -- at least in downtown Nairobi -- starting to wear on your patience.
But ... don't think that that gets to me on more than a surface level! Of course not! Hapana bila shaka. Every little hardship or annoyance here is adding to my experience, and I seriously do always feel like I am learning something.
Anyway, that was your liberal arts disclaimer. Now onto the stuff you actually read this blog for.
This weekend in Nairobi has finally made me feel like I am not just a tourist here. After a week of swahili (and a little not too hard test to go along with it), and a week of history and homestays, the weekend of adventures have been premium.
We started it off with a trip on the public busses -- an experience in and of itself -- into downtown on Friday night. Our trip leader, Alex, who was here on the 2007 trip, led a group of twelve of us down to the inner part of the urban metroplex for some dining that was not African food (as much as we all love it.... our system needed something other than rice, chapati, ugali, spinach, and beans), so after wandering around for a while, we found a medium sized place with good ambience and went on in. They separated the group, which was odd, and put three of us, me included, at a random table with two other local women who were sitting on the other side. Again, I love the communal sense of everything here -- in the States, that would never happen. Could you imagine an uptight little WASP family sitting at a restaurant and having two foreigners placed at their table, and then be expected to have a "normal dining out experience" with them there too. I laugh at visualizing how that situation would play itself out.
The first place we stopped at was listed in our guidebook, and we found it nestled snuggly in this super posh hotel, with prices more expensive than the states. We promptly decided that we would go elsewhere. Seeing other white people here weirds me out, even though the entire group is one too. However, and we don't hold it against them, we know that they are tourists, and that we really aren't (though of course we are to a certain extent), so the dynamic is weird. I seriously could not imagine living in this city as an expat. Even if you have been here for thirty years, like our history teacher has been, you will still -- and will always -- get stared at. Having some Swahili at your command is always good, but it only goes so far. People appreciate it, but sometimes they just laugh too as we struggle.
The three of us that sat at the table with the two locals (Hillary, Lila and I), had a really great conversation with them about what life is like here in the thrum and hustle of East Africa's largest, and for all intents only, metropolitan area. They loved our Swahili, and said that we definitely sounded like white people, and graciously decided to teach us some slang so that we could gain some more street cred. Tough to do here, for sure. They also told us that in Nairobi, you party from sun up to sun down, and then move from club to club all night. Pretty funny, as that wasn't any of the people in our group's vibe. The level of education here in Kenya is very high, and it's served us for our stay very well, allowing us to move around fairly easily with our patched swahili and American English (because, of course, they speak British English here, which has its inherent complications when we're misunderstood in both Swahili and English. Gestures are always enjoyable -- universal language pulling us through).
Ah - and a side note. I could drink mango juice all day. Oh my. It is so incredible here. Nzuri sana. Pretty cheap, and so fresh. It wouldn't surprise me to open up the door to the kitchen of the restaurant and see the people back there squeezing the mangoes themselves.
After a good meal of a mozarello (which I'm pretty sure was a mild cheddar, truth be told), tomato, basil and pesto sandwich, and some of the aforementioned drink of the gods, we headed out to an African bar. Oh yes.
Only white peope in there? Easily. And to make the journey even better, and even more culturally exciting, we were a group of ten girls and one guy. That one guy being, of course, curly haired, non-macho me. But man did the Africans treat me with respect. Before we headed out, some of the girls decided that it would probably be best if we designated me as the one husband and the rest of them as my harem. Yikes. That even feels weird to type. But polygamy is fairly common here, and its sway made the young African men I passed eye me with envy. I think I should soak that up while I'm here, because I'd say back in the states, the women rule the social scene.
Many of us ordered the "beer of East Africa", i.e. Tusker, which is a light 4% lager. Being from Portland, most of the students were accustomed to the mainy microbrewed beers of the city, so the African one wasn't all that great, but still -- was good to get a taste of the locals, and they view that beer with quite some pride too. Spirits here are sketchy to buy -- extremely so, actually -- and some people have recently died in Nairobi because of drinking locally made ones that are actually laced with poisons, and made in some pretty suspect ways (think the moonshiners of Tennesee during prohibition). Still, it was nice to be legally allowed to purchase alcohol here, and show that not all teenages do stupid things when they drink.
After about half an hour at a little table tucked away under the TV, where I was asked by a guy if I had any "secrets" -- mistakenly misinterpretting him with his accent when he really meant "cigarettes" -- we decided to go out onto the dance floor, where a mash of African swahili hip hop and American gansta swelled out over the tile and table amidst the swirling mists of the fog machine. Hilariously, we were the only ones out there for a while. Not only the only white people, but the only ones in a sea of locals. I can't even imagine what they were thinking. And to top off the absurdity of it all, the TVs were playing some discovery channel Safari program that involved lions eating antelope. So we danced to the urban bump of hip hop, and to the views of the Serengheti. Most excellent. It was a premium night. (Any of my Everything is Illuminated fans?)
As we were walking out of the bar, I was stopped by both of the guards that stood ourside of tthe place, and they pulled me in with hushed voices, hands on my back, saying, "Hey hey hey, let us buy you drink here, just three of us. You come in and we talk a bit." Nice gesture? Hahaha. It was nice, but you all know what they were getting at. As soon as they would have sat me down, they would have asked, "so, how much for one of your attractive American women?" I'm sure I would have demanded at least 200 cows. Probably more. Nairobi is a sketchy place to be if you have only X chromosomes, and I'm personally really glad that simply my male presence -- which wouldn't get me far in the States -- is enough to keep everyone from being hassled.
We all then tried to hail a taxi, and fit all eight of us in one single car (four people from the group had split off earlier, and took their own cab back). Alex haggled with the drivers in Swahili, driving the price down to where it should have been, while her and I watched all the others pile into the back seat. Can you picture six people in a the three person bench in a back on a civic? The windows were flesh color, with speckles where I believe I saw hair, shirts, and maybe even a shoe. Alex sat on my lap in the front seat. However, they made us get out -- the car was riding down on the wheels they said -- and we had to hunt down another one. Sadness. That would have been an awesome ride.
We finally found two that would work for us, and heading up to our little section of town, which is about half and hour out. The taxi driver got lost, drove us into some creepy area of town, and then had to consult with his other driver as to where we were. Figures that we got the drivers that had just moved to Nairobi too. But, after some time, we made it, all safely back to their own house.
I made it back to mine, and the outside gate was locked up, even though I made sure to tell my family I would be back at 11 or so, so with no options left, and me stnading for longer and longer in a dark alley, I decided to hop the ten foot wall. Great success, other than the tricky and strategically planted thorn bush next to the wall that decided to maul my right arm. For the next day, people kept asking, did you get into a fight with a cat? And then I had to explain the emvarrasing story of how, no, it was a bush. So it goes...
The next day was nothing short of incredible. A group of thirteen of us went up hiking in the Ngong Hills (see picture on the side)
, which is south of Nairobi up in the hills where many of the old British farms were (and where a huge expat community still lives), and where now the Massai herders that come into the city herd their increasingly gauntly looking cattle around. We went with three host siblings of some of my fellow students, and they were incredible guides and very very funny. They were originally scared of what we might think -- if we would be exhausted and angry at having to do so much hiking -- but soon found out that it's what our group wanted to do best.
, which is south of Nairobi up in the hills where many of the old British farms were (and where a huge expat community still lives), and where now the Massai herders that come into the city herd their increasingly gauntly looking cattle around. We went with three host siblings of some of my fellow students, and they were incredible guides and very very funny. They were originally scared of what we might think -- if we would be exhausted and angry at having to do so much hiking -- but soon found out that it's what our group wanted to do best.We started our jouney with rides on matatus, the crazy decked out vans that roam the city, and the one that we ended up in was the uber Jesus-loving red and green vinyl decked-out machine that decided to grace us with a wonderful song about how "abortion is a crime." Needless to say, the song made all of us very uncomfortable. The religiousness of the area is started to weird us out just a little bit, especially when we get, "do you love God" questions asked to us all along the steets. For the most part, people aren't obnoxious about it, but it still just feels so weird here. I can't get over that fact. And no matter how much cultural immersion I get myself into, I don't think I'll ever understand Jehovah Witnesses. My host mother was trying to tell me why they don't delebrate holidays, and while I really really appreciated her willingness to talk to me about it all, and her openness to my own beliefs, I still just don't understand why they would abstain from celebratory occasions. But I'm rambling now....
The Ngong hills were spectacular, and the views from the tops of the hills -- which are sort of captured in the picture I've posted on the side -- were so uplifting and made all of us so excited to get out on safari and on the road. Jagged mountains, plains strecthing into more ranges, green undulating hills, ooohhh man. And, we saw a colubus monkey too. Pretty sweet.
We played some frisbee on top, and then a fun little game involving chucking a hacky-sack ball with all your might at other people. Ate good food, got some nice sun burn (though my New Mexico tan is holding out for me), and enjoyed a day outside of the city, which we all really needed.
Anton and I had plans to go down to a nightclub later in the evening, but unfortunately I had to bail on him. Super tired, and the idea of heading on down there when it was so late and when I had no energy just sounded like trouble. We were going to go down with his host brother and some of his host brother's friends, who we all met, but at the last minute we decided against it. Funny side note again -- Edward, Anton's host brother, took the water bottle that I was holding (I sadly had to buy a bottled one...) after I had finished it and said, "here, let me take care of that." He then dropped the bottle on the ground and said that there's no law in Kenya against that, so the streets are littered with garbage. Most of it is burned, but a lot of it isn't. Anton and I had to hold back our natural instinct to pick up the bottle, and both felt bad afterwards. It's no fault of Edwards, just a cultural norm that we are not used too. By the way, for more accounts of these stories, check out Anton's blog at: antongabrielson.wordpress.com.
Today, Anton and I went down into town, ate some greasy food (which we were sorry for), then went on a search for yogurt because we thought it would help our greaded up stomachs (it didn't, by any means), and then decided that we should take the bumpy bus ride back up. The bus didn't drop us off where it was supposed to, so we had to navigate our way back to where we were staying on our own, which was good fun. Lots of dust and exhaust in the eyes as we wandered back. Also, I failed to mention that I was called Jesus yesterday by a passerby, which I thought I should share :) We also went to the market today, and were heckled like crazy to buy touristy trinkets. It was bad news. People sadly just don't seem to realize that white travelers are much more likely to buy good if they are given just a little bit of breathing room. It's one "cultural experience" that I really just can't appreciate. Sadly, I see the desperation behind some of their eyes, and I realize we must reek of money, but still. It's unfortunate for everyone involved.
More class tomorrow -- one more week -- and then we are off to Mombassa! So very excited to get to the coast, see beautiful water, and get a change of scenery. I know that two weeks will be about all of Nairobi that we'll be able to handle. Snorkeling, learning about Islam, getting to wear man skirts -- good times for all.
That's all for now! As always, thanks for reading, and I'm sure you'll hear again from me soon.
Peace, love and happiness,
Zach
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