:: louder than swahili

Selfportrait

'you'll never see the end of the road by your travelling with me...'

Dusty scenery driving back from the Kim Beach to Kigamboni late yesterday afternoon.

The men in tight khaki

This morning a police officer in tight khaki and shiny Ray Ban (not the common pirate Ray Bao ones) waved my car off Chole Road.

'How can you drive without a driver's licence?', he embarked on the conversation.

Well, that's a nice start, isn't it?!

Everytime this happens, everytime a police officer asks me a completely far our question, the irony lies ready on my tongue. I tell you, I was close to put on a broad smile and answer:

'I thought I could do anything in this country as long as I have money?!'

or

'Why do I need a driver's licence when it appears as if the majority don't?!'

But I didn't.

The Tanzanian police officers after all still leave me with the impression that they don't ask these questions for fun but for way more serious reasons. 

I have to admit though that I have never met an African police officer who scared me more than the Croatian police officers whom I met in Bosnia in February 1997 while driving a car with Bosnian registration plates out of its normal territory. Back there driver's licence was not even an issue.

The life of an mzungu (a not so typical one)

The life of a mzungu in Dar es Salaam is a challenging one:

What moustache and what sun glasses to wear today?

To put the fan on 3 or 4 or 5?

So many kali cigarettes to be smoken.

This mzungu is not a classical one, I can assure that, this one even has one thing in common with Bi Kidudde.

Mabati roof in plenty

Namanga, Dar es Salaam.

Climate Change: Acclimatize today!

In Denmark Tine Aurvig-Huggenberger, chief of public affairs in Prime Time Communications, a while ago used the term 'climate fucked'.

And the media flipped.

I do understand her, and find her arguments completely in place. The past week I have myself had an overdose of climate correct words. I am not the only one - when I posted my climate nausea (klimakvalme) on Facebook, I instantly got supportive comments in return.

However, I realised that my problem here in Tanzania is different from the ones of my Danish friends. Here I'm not being told to perform a long line of political correct things; I drive many kilometres in a Nissan Hardbody and I work in an office with aircondition, and nobody winks an eye.

I'm on the other hand being menthally challenged by the rethorics of the international climate change agenda, which I think have taken over the whole picture. The NGO I work for has surely gone overboard, too, and have so far been operating with a new range of climate related words; climate agents, climate campaign coordinator assistants, climate solitaire, climate debt, climate diploma, climate scoundrels, climate heroes etc.

It is as if it is all about adding the prefix 'climate' to something, and then people will listen. But what if you overdo it? I agree with the blogger here that this kind of campaigning is targeting the lowest denomitator, thus recquiring little from the receiver in terms of really understanding what this is about.

It is not new, and the Tanzanians have also becoming rather good at it. For a while climate has been integrated as the new buzz word in all important agendas. Kikwete says it and last week even Mama Nyerere took up the climate agenda, too.

I am blogging for the NGO I work for on climate change here, and I am desperately looking for links between the meeting in Copenhagen and the ground: What are all the climate words really about when it comes to a Tanzanian village?

I still don't know for certain. Climate change is complicated. And so far I'm stuck with the idea that for many of the NGOs and governments in both developed and developing countries it is very much about publicity, funds raised, donations gained - and then there'll be climate change.

Or..?!

Surely someone needs to acclimatisize soon, as the Tanzanian Kilimanjaro beer slogan suggests. Follow our blog here, and do not shy away from letting me know what you think!

Tuko pamoja - 'we're in this together'...

When someone says 'we're in this together' I always get a tiny bit paranoid.

My friends say this a lot. It is such a convinient phrase to explain why there always is people all over the place; why you have to wait; and why you cannot behave as if you're on your own.

Tuko pamoja means that you have to adjust, because you are not alone in this. That you will be given something, but also that you must give back.

A bit ubuntu, just in Kiswahili.

Moja means one. Umoja means unity. Pamoja means together.

I'm Scandinavian, I was brought up in a society defined by the social-democratic idea that we are all the same. It taught my generation that the government will look after you, and that you can find it all defined in the legal system - the regulations for what you have to give in order to receive. 

If you go to a bar in Denmark it is perfectly normal to seperate the bill according to who drank what exactly; if you stay with someone you are supposed to add to the budget; and if you borrow money from a friend or relative you are in fact considered to pay back, unless they told you it was a gift. 

Very much the opposite of the concept of the classical African extended family, which in the case you happen to be the one who has, can be a neverending source of reception.

In Denmark I am actually not the one who has, but I am still supposed to look after myself.

Here I am considered one who has.

A bit tricky this pamoja.

Addition: Read Swahili Street's thoughts on ubuntu/umoja here.

Africa. Always in serious colours.

   

I ask: Does revolutionaries read UN protocols?

'President Jakaya Kikwete wants the United Nations to officially adopt a protocol banning military coups in Africa.'

What exactly did I miss here? I thought the whole point of being a revolutionista is that you don't read UN resolutions? 

Lakini, while we are at it, I think we should take it further and suggest more official UN protocols. For instance:

Climate change now; wars should stop; poverty must end sasa hivi; albino killings gives Tanzania a bad image; traffic accidents kill people; gender based violence is not good for families; mob justice is a mess; traffic jams make blood pressure go up; low tide (especially at Selander Bridge) makes Dar es Salaam stink, and high tide just looks nicer; corruption make the wazungu sleepless; kito kidogo is too much;  you cannot wear malapa if you don't lift your feet; bascially we must decrease uswahili behaviour (a friend of mine is already working on that protocol); we must tell wazungu males, who live in the illusion that they work for change in Africa, to get real; that fax machines belong in the 80ties; and that education should be free (really free)....

Now I'm all exhausted.

Alfred Mutua, what do you say?

Not a week in Bongoland without:

• a Very-Important-Person disguised in a long line of black, flashy cars with rotating blue lights bringing all traffic to a halt (think it was Kikwete this morning on Ocean Road);
• a newspaper writing about a corruption investigation case in process (looking forward to when the papers eventually write about cases solved, big potatoes behind bars); 
• a newspaper copying photos in low resolution from the Internet;
• a miss Earth/Air/Ilala/Korosho/you-don’t-need-a-brain competition;
• mob justice; 
• high tide & low tide;
• power cuts;
• traffic jams;
• accidents;
• people asking for money;
• a presidential plea for international aid/ deal with the Chinese/ trip overseas;
• a mobile phone company splashing pink/green/blue paint on the walls of innocent house facades/ adding another billboard on Ali Hassan Mwinyi Road so that the people of Bongo have something nice to look at while stuck in traffic;
• another funny quote from a representative from the Tanzanian civil society related to posho, sitting allowance or interpretation of the theory of where money originates from;
• another newspaper documenting a VIP mzungu shaking hands with a government official;
• another week ahead.

Cool Walls

 

African leaders advise Bono on reform of U2 (love this)

A while ago I complained about Bono here.

I wrote:

I don't have a final decisive stand on Bono and Africa. I think Bono is a bit over-hyped, too obsessed with black shades and being Bono, and I don't listen to U2's music anymore with the same enthusiam. Too mainstream. But in terms of 'telling Africa's stories' I think the long line of African artists (or people who stayed around long enough to at least try to get it under their skin), who promote Africa and who integrate Africa into their actual work, write or sing about Africa because they can't help it, do a much better job.

...

Funny, today I read that An expert commission of African leaders today announced their plan for comprehensive reform of music band U2. Saying that U2’s rock had lost touch with its African roots, the commission called for urgent measures to halt U2’s slide towards impending crisis.

“Our youth today are imperiled by low quality music,” said Commission chairman Nelson Mandela. “We will be lending African musicians to U2 to try to refurbish their sound to satisfy the urgent and growing needs for diversionary entertainment at a time of crisis in the global music and financial sectors.”

FANTASTIC. I'm all in line with Mandela!

Copyright. According to Tanzanian media (photo of me in The Guardian, page 7)

I'm almost giving up on the Tanzanian newspapers!

No respect of copyright. No idea of context:

Just found myself on page 7 in the Guardian.

The photo caption says: 'Tanzanians in the diaspora. Most of them are academic, economic and social refugees'.

Hata mimi...??!!

The photo is from Banana, an area close to the airport in Dar es Salaam. The photo portrays Adrian Nzamba and me on an assignment for Tanzanian Youth Coalition in June 2009. I'm an expat, Adrian a Tanzanian, who at the moment is attending training in Copenhagen.

I must admit the caption still makes me laugh: Does it really look as if we are Tanzanians in the diaspora?

The photo is in low resolution and obviously taken from a previous blog post here, where I clearly state that the photo is by James Seigel.

This is stealing. You cannot copy a photo from the Internet, print it in the paper without the photographer's accept. Even if you had the accept, it would be decent to acknowledge the photographer.

So, what do you do when that happens?

You ring the editor of the Guardian (who maybe calls you back).

Today's Quote: Fear & Loathing

  Taken from here.

Darwinism unfiltered

Today I drove from the airport to my house by taxi. On the way we pass two accidents on the Kawawa Road. The neverending stream of daladalas have come to a halt, and they start going in both directions in the two lanes meant for forward. Mad as usual. Police men trying to navigate the chaos. It is Darwinism unfiltered.

The reaction from the taxi driver is laughter. 

Ha ha ha ha, he goes. Another accident. Ha ha ha ha...

I'll never get used to the fact that here it is considered normal to react with a laughter. Even when things are bad.

Happy Weekend in Zanzibar (I just know)

I'm in Bongo, and we have 30 degrees tropical heat with occasional showers;

Drove through town this morning from one end to another.

Almost finished my neverending list(s) of to-dos, some even with pleasure;

Ate too many green pilipilis for lunch - burning inside.

Now I'm taking the late afternoon boat to Zanzibar (hoping it will be the new 'Kilimanjaro' waiting;

Got the ticket, my passport, sun glasses, flipflops, camera, water, my moving sickness tablets, and;

a friend picking me up in 12 minutes;

more friends waiting on the other side of the Indian Ocean.

What else?

Things are rather good.

Hata mimi!! My photos are published in a South African photo magazine

I've gone very serious and adult. Am very happy.

Dowload the Photo Comment Magazine here.

Come to Africa. The road is yours. Go. Go. Go.

While we're at interpretating Tanzanian road signs. Occasionally, on my long safaris, I end up taking them rather personal.

As if they are talking back to me. This one says it all:

Cut the crap.

Stop beating around the bush.

Just go.

The road is at your feet.

Use the opportunities given.

Explore.

Come to Africa.

And don't leave yet, there are still roads you haven't taken.

Go. Go. Go.

Follow the arrows. Just do it. Been there. Done that.

 

I just realised that I knew exactly what to do when I saw this road sign on the road between Moshi and Tanga.

It didn't even feel strange, but relatively normal.

Per intuition, though. I still can't explain what it really means in practice.

Praise to the Tanzanian (road) sign makers. This is indeed an area where creativity seeps through.

Reintegrating into Danish traffic might have consequences.

I'm not ready.

Does it corrupt one country to keep supporting a(nother) corrupt country?

A commenter on my blog raises an interesting questions in terms of my previous post here, where I quote Transparency International's list over corrupted countries.

Denmark is 2nd on the list, Tanzania 126.

'Not so weird after all! The courts are full of former ministers accused of taking large sums of money, and present ones continue grabbing. Where theft and corrupt practices has been accepted as 'kawaida', where the speaker of parliament has laughed off double allowances by law makers as acceptable, where jourmalists take brown envelopes every day in exchange for story placement, where citizens pay nurses to see a doctor, where traffic officers are not concerned about road safety, etc. etc. But the donor countries keep on talking of "ëncouraging developments" and continue with budget support!! Supporting corrupt countries should get negative marks too, maybe Danmark's position would change.'

Tanzania is the country which Denmark has supported over the longest period of time, and the country which get the highest percentage of Danish development aid.

As long as I'm working for the Danes I'll keep pretending that I do understand the finer concept of budget support.

How corrupt is your country?

Transparency International's 2009 corruption index: find the full ranking of 180 countries here. 

Tanzania is 126 - and Denmark is 2 on the list.

To be honest, it is a mystery to me why Tanzania is this high on the list.

I live my life on the African continent between two explanations

The question 'Who does Mo Ibrahim think he is?' is being asked over at Swahili Street.

My two favourite answers to questions regarding big or small mysteries on the African continent are at the moment:

That's how it is. Followed by the fatalistic piece of advice: Forget it, you can't change it anyway!*

or

Capitalism. Followed by the advice: Make noise, go tell them that it is bad for Africa!

I live my life on the African continent between these two explanations.

Swahili Street is right, and I hate to admit it. Because Youssou was still good, old, beautiful Youssou last night and Angelique Kidjo was radiating, in spite they're being paid for by mobile phone company Zain to play for the rich people in Dar es Salaam.

When we walked out the entrance gate of the Karimjee Hall, the casual workers on the load of the taka taka truck shouted, while the truck left an unmistakenly reminder of the uswahilini on its way to collect our rubbish.

Of course, this is absurd.

As absurd as Mo's idea of a cash prizes for ‘good’ presidents - or, well, in this year's case: no prices. We all know that presidents don't need extra pocket money or being invited to VIP concerts. We all know who need it the most.

But Mo's got airtime (in more than one way), and big men listen to money.

However, last night, I said That's how it is, and enjoyed the fact that I got to see some of the greatest African artists under circumstances which would never have worked in Europe.

* Probably a more frequent explanation is the popular  'TIA', short for 'This Is Africa' made famous by the film Blood Diamond, and somehow very bling among newly arrived wazungu on the continent.

Pernille's Travel Guide: 10 things to do in Dar

Recently I had an article published in Ujumbe Magazine - '10 Things to do in Dar'.

The idea behind the article was to promote Dar es Salaam, and to tell people that they shouldn't trust all what their guidebook says.

I even appear to be in line with today's editorial from The Citizen, though I do not completely agree with their suggestions.

(I'm aware the article has a few mistakes, but nobody's perfect in Bongo, and it's too late for changes anyway).

Download 10_things_to_do_in_Dar.

7 seconds away. I'll be waiting

Just returned from an intense concert in a beautiful garden in Dar es Salaam.

All I can say is that more African men ought to wear light blue shirts like Youssou N'Dour.

The man is beautiful.

He said; Africa can be happiness like this.

Makes me feel like visiting West Africa.

Never had that idea before.

Mimi hata nafanya uswahili kabisa

Kiswahili is a never ending source of wonder. I don't speak it, and I say so with a sad heart. However, I try to compensate, and dig into certain concepts and words which I find it rather revealing as an entrance to understand the culture.

For the past days I have been messing around with one string, which I both find interesting in terms of the title of my blog (:: louder than swahili), secondly if put into the perspective of being Danish.

It goes like this:

'Kiswahili' is the Swahili word for the Swahili language, sometimes used in English. 'Ki-' is a prefix attached to nouns of the noun class that includes languages.

You add 'm', you have 'mswahili' = a swahili person. You say 'waswahili', and you have more than one person referring to the people of the 'Swahili Coast'.

You add 'u' and you have the substantive 'uswahili', referring to the culture of the Swahili people, and then you ask yourself what exactly is that? Online dictionaries gives you the politically and historically correct answer, the waswahili another.

When you add '-ni' to a substantive, it means 'inside of it or within it'. For example; a teacher will teach in the darasani (classroom), and a farmer will be in the shambani (in the field).

The thing is that words and their meanings change, over time and with people.

I asked a colleague last week how she'd explain 'uswahili' and 'uswahilini'. She said; 'when being uswahili, you are a primitive, lazy person', and then she subconsciously demonstrated how to answer the telephone in the most significant uswahili way. I told her she could stop now, and both of us laughed for a while about how uswahili subconsciously sneaks into our behaviour.

Nobody wants to be uswahili, as it has become derorgatory slang for people who are lazy: People who don't lift their feet but slide over the floor in worn-out malapa with sulky faces; People who can make conversations going only by using: 'eh, eh, eh...?; People who play the ngoma all day long (which again is slang for having sex) - and there you go.

I asked her to make a sentence with the word 'uswahilini', and she said 'nakaa uswahilini' and then translated it to: 'I live in the slum'. Historically, uswahilini refers to the way the waswahili live, for instance in Pangani, Bagamoyo or Mikindani. The swahili houses are built in a very unique way. But in today's Dar es Salaam it means 'the slum', because that's where the waswahili live, and that's how they live.

Sometimes I use the helping verb 'to do': 'mimi hata nafanya uswahili kabisa' (even me I'm doing it completely swahiliish).

A lot of this playing around only makes sense within a given context. I put it on Facebook, and my Kenyan friend from Mombassa answered back Ati una-do? (Say what?). It surely left her with an idea of what I might be doing.

Not sure if it makes sense out of the swahili context?

One thing I've learnt is that nothing is louder than swahili.

More information here.

The really strong sicknesses of women

Kiswahili is not for the weak hearted.

Book on sale on a street in Dar es Salaam.

Meet the natives (they might be gone before you know of it)

Maybe you remember this article by Alex Renton which was published on September 6 2009 in the Observer?

Within this article Alex Renton interviewed the manager, Liz McKee, from Thomson Safaris, which later has changed name to the slightly different Thomson Family Adventures. The company is on their website offering an active family’s dream come true and meeting the native Tanzanians. 

That is if there is still any natives left, I'm noting.

The Loliondo saga which makes up an essential part of Renton's article, is namely still cooking with fresh details.

Later in September the Danish Ambassador, Bjarne H. Sørensen, formally handed over 15 years of Danish support to the Maasai as part of the ERETO celebrations, but it was overshadowed by recent events that have seen the pastoralists being forcefully evicted from their homes, and their bomas burned down. ERETO has assisted in supplying water, animal health-care, restocking livestock, women’s economic groups and HIV/AIDS awareness, also in Loliondo. 

Afterwards the topic heated up the Ubunge in Dodoma, the Tanzanian parliament, as referred to here on November 7.

Back to the Thomson Family Adventures. The company still uses the term 'natives', which I find rather curious, taking into consideration that the term in British post-colonial context is considered patronising. 

In this case, in particular, as the natives here are reduced to a bunch of colorful Maasai expected to live up to the tourists' stereotypical ideas of natives - and then stay off the land of the safari company (according to Renton's article).

I think we all go to Africa with some sort of wish to have our stereotypes confirmed.

However, my annual income has so far prevented me from getting that done at Thompson's. Vanity and pride might be other reasons. Conscience, too.

It simply makes me feel like an idiot if I have to pay for engaging in a meeting with the population facilitated by a safari company who try to pretend they are philantropists.

It is as simple as that.

Arranging paid meetings like this make people stay with their stereotypes; It makes the natives believe that all wazungu are rich, while the wazungu believe that all the Maasai are poor people in need.

Last week I went along with the natives - the cheap way - and not that far from the Ngorongoro. I travelled with the natives to Kiserian and Moirowa villages (photo).  Poor, yes. But also strong and resourceful people.

Natives all over, too, in the Lion Guest House in Namanga on the border to Kenya, in fact very few wazungu - and that costed only 5,000 TSH for a room, and I even got to see a lot of natives only dressed in towels when we shared the communal bathing facilities!

If you want my opinion on the colourfull variety of wazungu who think they contribute to change in Africa, while making money, read here. Again, this is not rocket science, this is only another example of capitalism mixed with arrogance.

When I say Africa....

what do you picture...? Africa Rising is asking the question here:

When a Western charity makes an appeal for funds with the photo of a seemingly helpless African child, the Western donor is cast in the role of the strong, generous, and righteous person helping the lowly and needy. Strength, generosity, and righteousness are all good things, but I fear that an unrighteous pattern has developed. The West and Africa have become type-cast into strong and weak, resourceful and helpless, giver and receiver, parent and child.

I agree. Also to this:

There is strength in Africa, and there is resourcefulness, generosity, and righteousness. Africa Rising exists to make those strengths known, to extend their reach, and to help Westerners move beyond stereotypes of Africa to relationships with Africans.

Female wazungu in flock

Occasionally I have to go to the international clinic in Masaki on the peninsula in Dar es Salaam. Some weeks ago, after having returned from a 10 hours' drive, I urgently needed a cure, which would make an infernal mix of stomach cramps, exhaustion and back pain go away.

 

Two women of my tribe enter the waiting room, accompanied by their children, who also make up the reason for their visit. They occupy a line of chairs, and start talking while they make bland gestures, and communicate at the top of their voices in their native tongue.

 

Exchange greetings, and exchange information as was it habitual commodities. As if they are the only ones in the room. They use irony, and joke with the facts that their children are not dying this time, that it is not that serious.

 

The talk goes on.

 

Aimlessly to the indifferent.

 

Woman A: How are you spending the coming holidays?

Woman B: Oh, I tried calling the X, but everything is booked. One really needs to get away sometimes.

Woman A (nods convincingly, expressing her sincere agreement): We really should get together one of these days. Go somewhere. Bring the children.

 

I start shrinking.

 

Not only by the thought of bringing a lot of children to one place, but about the whole idea of being caught in the midst of a flock of female wazungu slowly running out of commodities to exchange. Females, whose men's choice of careers have turned their families into modern versions of hunters and gatherers.

 

Not that I wouldn't envy - on occasion - the benefits of a man providing, but when I do, I do so for a wide range of obscure reasons. Not that I put all the female wazungu spouses in one box - far from - but when I meet them in flock in Masaki, I imagine the diluted conversations pending.

 

All in spite, I admit, I am a female mzungu myself - one who does know the directions to the Yacht Club; the best kanga designer/tailor in town; where to buy the best German homebaked bread; where to go for sushi; and a lot of other supposedly valuable commodities for a classic Dar es Salaam female, wazungu exchange of information.

 

Here a female mzungu can not only afford the international clinic, lakini, also the irony and the jokes which distances us to the majority of the people. When I lived in northern Uganda it was not unusual that I had to give someone a lift to a clinic, and that morning in the Dar es Salaam clinic it struck me that in Uganda I lived and worked closer to the Ugandans to ever joke about the fact that a child wouldn’t be dying today. 

 

The female wazungu operating in flock make me feel like I'm 16 years old again and back in high school spending too much time figuring out why I am not part of what appears to be the group of girls the boys are interested in. 22 years later, I know that that was a waste of time, and that I definitely don't belong among the wazungu females who isolate themselves in a bourgois life style far off the kelele.

Getting emotional: The Tanzanian state of education

Working with development, we all have our favourites, something which is closer to our hearts than other areas.

In my case it is education - but as in human potential, creativity, personal drive, eagerness and motivation. So far, I have only found the word 'education' enlisted among the buzz words in the development support bible.

However, it all boils down to utilised and appreciated human potential, creativity, personal drive, eagerness and motivation, which will be the only forces change is made of.

Of course, this is my opinion. I used to be a teacher, and I have absolutely no objective approach to this. I have written about it before from northern Uganda and South Sudan - countries which in my opinion easilier can explain why they haven't got their education system in place. Tanzania has not gone through the same conflicts and problems, and have moreover received non-stop development support since the 1960ties

That makes me rather emotional. Not just the state of education in Tanzania, but the fact that this vast human potential, creativity, personal drive, eagerness and motivation 365 days a year in a large range of Tanzanian villages just isn't utilised, but ignored.There are lots of explanations for this. Education is merely the only thing neglected in the rural areas. Access to water, health services, decent infrastructure and information are other absent, basic necessities for development. The distance between the people who have and the ones who don't, is rather tangible in Tanzania.

In many cases, the schools are there - as in hardware. Buildings are constructed all over the country, but often they don't provide enough space for the pupils enrolled or they are in miserable states. Other problems are obviously also that some teachers don't show up; don't teach; don't speak the tribal language of the children in that area; that they take bribes or demand other services. But teachers are also directed by the government where to work, paid an absolutely ridiculously little salary considering their role and tasks. According to the teachers I spoke to last week, a Tanzanian teacher makes about 75 - 300 USD monthly, that is if they are paid at all - recently teachers have announced that they may go on a 'go slow strike', demanding amongst others their salaries.

And while researching for this blog post, I read this article, which presents a rather interesting variety of view points in terms of the modern Tanzanian teachers, most of them offending, like this one:

Many modern day teachers may have come up short in being role models. Take the female unmarried pregnant teacher or with own children. Single parenthood may be the trend in urban Tanzania, but single mom teacher is setting the example that it is OK to disobey the commandments of the Holy Bible, Quran or other beliefs of one’s community.

The list is long, however, what is fundamental is, that Tanzania has an educational system which simply doesn't meet the need for the vast majority of the watanzania.

Last week I visited two schools in Monduli District - each a primary school in the villages of Moirowa and Kiserian. Both are populated by the Maasai, though Moirowa over time has had a Somali influence which has integrated with the Maasai. They are both situated about 35 km from the main road going between Arusha and Namanga at the border to Kenya, turning in Longido towards Lake Natron. Both villages are situated about 100 km from Arusha, in an area where you on clear days can see you can see the mountains of Kilimanjaro, Meru, Longido and Ol Doinyo Lengai.In the school in Kiserian there was no water and no kitchen facilities for cooking food for the children. Some of the children walk up to 15 km to and from school every day. Enrollment is highly influenced by the present draught in the area, as families shift according to access to water.

In the school in Moirowa there was water, and food was prepared for the pupils - a thin maize soup with beans. Here the children did not walk as far as in Kiserian, and a much higher percentage of girls were enrolled.

The visitors coming with me had brought paper and crayons, and the pupils sat down and drew. Using their human potential, creativity, personal drive, eagerness and motivation. The teachers went along; The children concentrated and produced. As long as there is this ability, everything is possible. Africans have made it big, coming from everywhere. However, a lot of potential is not utilised in Tanzania.

About 50% of Tanzania’s population is under 18 years: How can Tanzania ignore the importance of education?

If in doubt: Scroll back and take another look at the first photo of the child concentrating to draw!

Adaptation: It is easier summing up what Africa has changed in me, than what I have changed in Africa

The logo on my car refuses to stay white.

Gradually it has taken colour after the red dust, and it won't go off, even after lots of rain.

Metaphorically speaking: Not too sure if it symbolises the rest of the NGO I work for.

Lakini, personally I do feel that it is more difficult getting the dust off than getting dusty. It is easier coming to Africa, than returning. It is easier summing up what Africa has changed in me, than what I have changed in Africa.

I know some of you will laugh, but months ago I collected a little bag of red soil from the Kilimanjaro region, where the soil is blindingly red. They have my favourite colour soil in that area, and Kilimanjaro is one of the most astounding places in Africa. To take with me home and stare at when I am going to blend in with the Danish landscape.

Does red African soil fade over time if you move it out of its original environment?  

Back in Dar es Salaam

I got back to Dar es Salaam yesterday after 10 days on th road. I love driving, getting out there, but sometimes driving back home is a real mission. Within a month I have driven 2763 kilometres. I am exhausted. Being back in Dar es Salaam just feels fantastic.

Now sorting photos and editing. More to come.

Nothing like instant 'Africafe' (before 200 km on dusty roads)

Today I woke up in Namanga on the border to Kenya. The morning rain wet the dust, and messed up the front screen of the car, which was covered in a fine layer of red dust from the night before. Soon me, too. When you take off from Namanga, you have a great landscape ahead: Kilimanjaro, Meru and Longido. Later, when we drove into the bush, again the peak of Ol Doinyo Lengai.Quite a few of the people interested in 'my' job as communication adviser ask me;

How much do you travel and how much time do you spend outside the office every month?

I answer: as much as possible.

Probably not a very useful answer (if you like the idea of staying a lot in the office), lakini, true. In general in Africa, I see an increasing tendency to cluster expats in the bigger cities and tie them to desks. This is certainly the case of the NGO I work for, which in my opinion now is putting a greater focus on its programme and overall objectives in favour of the smaller civil society organisations we work in partnership with (and which often reside at the end of a dust road in rural Tanzania).

Moreover, it is a fact, that it is difficult to place European expats in rural areas because of the lack of amenities. It is also a common joke between local organisations that sooner or later one of their donors will be ask them to arrange to fly them in to places where there are no airstrips. We laugh when we imagine how the wazungu think they can get from Dar es Salaam to Kiteto to Arusha in only 5 days. Even me, I once had someone requesting me to pick someone up at the border between Tanzania and Uganda, and then take them to Iringa. (I told them I liked to drive, but doubted the visitors would like it as much as me, when they eventually got to look at a map of East Africa). 

However, in times with wide network coverage, mobile Internet modems, Nissan Hardbodies and the majority of the African population living in the rural areas, the only thing which makes sense, is to get out there.

I love having my base in Dar es Salaam, but I am not a writer of fiction.

Besides, this is what Africa is made of.

I love my job: Kilimanjaro, Meru, Longido and Ol Doinyo Lengai in ONE day

I have been happily cruising Tanzania this week – from Dar es Salaam to Tanga to Moshi to Arusha.

This morning I set off from Usa River at the foot of Mount Meru, drove towards Longido (photo above) about 75 km from Arusha and 30 km from the border to Kenya, then off into the bush towards Kiserian Village.

At a certain point during this drive, and on clear days, you can see the mountains of Kilimanjaro, Meru, Longido and Ol Doinyo Lengai.

All the sacred mountains in one go.

I went to Kiserian with two guests from MS ActionAid Denmark and our partner organisation CORDS to visit places where MS ActionAid Denmark supports work on land rights. The guests won their trip to Tanzania in a campaign competition, and this week I am the tour guide. So far, a rather pleasant task. Mainly because I get to go out and meet the wamaasai, and because I get to go through the most magic landscapes of Africa, while I do my job.

Obviously everything got delayed, political heated discussions in the morning in the office over the land issue in Ngorongoro (more about that in a seperate post); people needed lifti, and I ended up driving the last half hour to Namanga cloaked in black, African darkness, blinded by truck headlights, making me inhale 3 kg of African dust which I have now washed down the drains of the Lion Guesthouse on the border to Kenya.

Lakini. This kind of work makes me feel alive.

Personally, I think selected Scandinavian women should have a prize for not freaking out under these circumstances. Or it should be evident what it means when I put the achievement on my CV.

Apropos, jobs:

'My' job is now posted. I do hope who ever gets it, will appreciate getting out of the office working with the wamaasai as much as I do (while I get my head adjusted for leaving it). On days like this it feels like the hardest decision I am making - to return home to Copenhagen.

Lakini. There is a first & last for everything as the hotel on the border between Tanzania and Kenya so rightly puts it.

Red African soil. Close up.

Another juwala ball

Angalia, angalia! Mimi, hata ninacheza kama mwafrika

Look, look. Even me I'm dancing like an African.

Time stood still in Tanga; A tourist poster from (I assume) the 1970ties is hanging in a window of a tourist tour service in downtown Tanga.

Our stomach hurt with laughter. The rest of the day we asked ourselves:

But did you see the guy with the skirt?

Were LSD really so easily available in Tanga in the 1970ties?

Were they tourists or development workers?

Is this what happens when you take Ujamaa too seriously?

Is it too much pamoja?

Is it time to go home when you end up on a beach dancing in a skirt?

Where is that guy now (and does he know that he is hanging in a window in Tanga?)

Tanga: It's Kili Time. Make the most it!

  Another lazy afternoon in Tanga. When Tanzania is good, it is exceptionally good.

 

Here's your gateway to the UN! Work your way up!

Interesting job advert from the UN in Afghanistan.