A Trip to Kamanga

Last weekend our family had the opportunity to cross the waters of Lake Victoria and visit a small village called Kamanga. Kyle had the opportunity to visit there last month with Nina Hjortlund, the founding director and CEO of Australia for Cedar Tanzania – a non-profit based out of Australia working within the community to provide basic healthcare to those in need (australiaforcedartanzania.org). Kyle was very impressed with the work they were doing, and we both wanted to learn more. Specifically, I was interested in learning about what physical therapy programs they offered to children with disabilities in the area, as I am beginning work with Huruma Special Unit in Mwanza (a school for children with disabilities started by a fellow lay missioner in 2006). Nina immediately offered up one the guest houses they had at the hospital for our family to stay in.

Thursday morning we drove down to one of the local ferry terminals in Mwanza. We navigated payment for ourselves and the vehicle and boarded the ferry for a 45-minute ferry ride across the water. This was the second time I had been out on the lake (the first time was a quick 10-minute boat ride to Sananne Island National Park – located just off the shores of downtown Mwanza). The view looking back on the town is beautiful. Mwanza is commonly referred to as “Rock City” – for good reason. Giant boulders and stacks of rocks are strewn everywhere across the shoreline and along the hills. The rocks are now dotted with houses and other structures – but using my imagination I can picture what this area must have looked like 100 years ago. It’s remarkably beautiful.

The waters of Lake Victoria are home to crocodiles as well as hippos – and despite the kids scanning the water for signs of either – none were to be seen. But we all enjoyed the cool breeze coming off the lake and for 25 cents we all enjoyed a “ndazi na chai” (slightly sweet bread with tea) that a woman on the ferry was selling. Upon arrival on the other side we disembarked and drove the very short distance (several hundred meters) to the new hospital Cedars Tanzania recently built. We were welcomed by several staff that were expecting us and shown into our simple yet comfortable “house” on the hospital property. After getting settled, I introduced myself to two caregivers onsite that were in charge of physical therapy for patients in the area. They invited both Josephine and me to accompany them on several home visits that afternoon. Usually, these women use motorcycles to reach their clients outside of the village; today, because I had the truck, we all drove together.

Having lived in Tanzania almost 6 months now, I’m getting used to what is considered a “road.” Prior to living in Tanzania I would have considered many of the roads I have now driven down to be nothing more than a jeep or cattle trail. Visiting patients that day was no different. We bumped our way across ravines and through fields, eventually stopping alongside a man herding a large group of cattle and goats. We hiked along a dirt trail and wound our way toward a mud hut surrounded by bushes and trees. Waiting inside was an older couple – both suffering from Hansen’s disease, better known as leprosy. The husband was blind in both eyes and suffered from wounds on his feet. His wife had only nubs left for fingers and also suffered from wounds on both feet. Neither one of them could walk and were completely reliant on their grandchildren to bring them food and any other necessities. The two ladies chatted with them both briefly in Kiswahili before cleaning their wounds, applying raw honey to the open sores, and re-wrapping with sterile gauze. They explained to me that this was done twice weekly during home visits. I asked them if they were on medications for their leprosy. The wife answered “No … the medications caused severe GI upset and we could not continue taking them.” Without medications, the disease would continue spreading. But without proper medical care, the side effects of the leprosy drug cocktail was too strong. They felt they had no choice but to stop treatment. I was both frustrated and disheartened by the situation. The woman looked at me with earnest, smiling eyes and said, “I would like you to take me to America with you.” We laughed about how I would love to take her home with me. Then, in a more serious voice she stated, “Now you will get to know the people of Tanzania and how we live.”

   

Our second visit took us through another ravine. We parked outside an open field along a school. It was lunchtime and all the children were out playing soccer or gathered in small groups chatting with one another. As usual, we were quite the spectacle – 2 muzungus and 2 locals weaving their way through the children to a small concrete house on the other side of the field. There we found Paulo, a young 12-year-old boy with Cerebral palsy and severe scoliosis. He was sitting quietly on the steps of his house, waiting for his mother to return from market. His withered legs rested beneath him as he sat patiently in the shade, unable to move himself off the porch. Two times a week the physical therapists from the hospital come out to provide Paulo with PT sessions. He is unable to attend school due to his disability, but both therapists assure me he is incredibly bright and a talented young man. Yet again, I am frustrated by the situation. Just one hundred yards away his able-bodied peers run and play and learn at one of the government schools; Paulo, due to his disability, is unable to attend and instead sits on the porch and listens to them. Several years ago, Tanzania’s government declared that public schools become “inclusive” for all children – but the reality is, no extra funding or training has been offered to local schools to make this happen. If a child with a disability cannot navigate the stairs or restrooms or the classrooms by him or herself – the situation is deemed helpless and the child returns home. But public schools are already overwhelmed and underfunded – and its not as if money just grows on trees. The idea of inclusive schools is nice, but in Tanzania, it’s just not yet realistic for many students.

 

The next morning I observed PT sessions being done on-site at the hospital. Several children with cerebral palsy, as well as an older woman with hip and shoulder pain, came in for their twice weekly visits. Kyle taught a small business/investing class that afternoon (using the PT room as a classroom) to a group of locals. Here in Tanzania, it is common practice for groups to create their own “savings and loans” programs; everybody chips in a certain amount every week and members are allowed to take out loans for helping with business ideas (a vegetable stand, fishing equipment, etc.). The loans must be paid back after a certain amount of time, but at a much lower interest rate than what the bank charges. Kyle was able to show them to power of compounding interest, as well as offer some technology to help them keep track of their money more efficiently.

 

Both nights in Kamanga we ate out at local eateries. Kamanga truly is a village with very little available. It has a small market downtown to buy oil, rice, beans, fruits, vegetables. One store was selling used clothing. Another had amenities such as toilet paper (mostly used by us muzungus and not locals), laundry soap, and sodas. For dinner the 5 of huddled inside a wooden hut with plastic lawn chairs and plastic plates. We ate a simple plate of rice and beans (Charlotte ordered ugali – a stiff corn porridge eaten in Tanzania - instead of rice). We celebrated with 2 beers (for mom and dad) and 3 sodas. All the drinks arrived warm (no refrigeration) and we cheered to our success at navigating a Tanzanian village restaurant on our own.*

The next day it was time to pack up and head home. We enjoyed the quiet and solitude of Kamanga; quite the contrast to the hustle and bustle of Mwanza. The birds along the water's edge were spectacular and we all enjoyed falling asleep to the buzz of crickets. We look forward to returning soon!

*Most of the family promptly suffered from diarrhea and stomach pains for the next few days. But we trust that “this too shall pass …” (hopefully without the need for antibiotics! Ha ha!).

Foods of Tanzania

Friends and family from back home often ask me what we eat in Africa. I can’t speak for any other area other than Mwanza, Tanzania (did you know that 3 United States land masses can fit inside the continent of Africa!?!) – but after 5 months here we are starting to gain a better understanding of what is eaten in our local area. Despite a relatively stable climate year-round (average highs in the low 80s and lows in the low 70s with 2 wet seasons each year – one in the spring and one in the fall), we have been told there is still seasonality to certain fruits and vegetables. So far, I haven’t noticed anything disappearing from the markets yet, but I guess we will have to wait and see what the next 7 months bring.

Porridge/Uji: Many Tanzanians eat their first real meal of the day mid-morning. This simple corn, millet and/or sorghum porridge is a daily staple at many of the boarding schools, as well as for many families both in the cities and rural areas. It’s filling and easy for small children to drink from a cup so it makes for a quick and easy meal. I’ve had it given to me several times at Huruma School for Children with Disabilities. At the school they make a slightly sweet version with a bit of sugar added. Many of the teachers squeeze half of a lemon into their porridge.

Corn and beans/Makande: This dish is also a staple for many Tanzanians and also served at boarding schools on a daily basis. Lunch is served between 1pm and 2pm in Tanzania, and this one dish meal is easy to make and affordable. It consists of coarse dried field corn (what we would call “hominy” back in the US) boiled together with some variety of bean. Since most locals here still cook over wood fires or charcoal, making a one pot dish is very convenient. It also means less dishes to wash. Easy access to water is not a guarantee here and we see many families (even within city limits) carrying buckets of water long distances back home for washing and drinking. Personally, I find the makande dish a bit bland – but it has turned into one of Collin’s favorite Tanzanian meals!

(Carrying water home after gathering it from an irrigation ditch)

Stiff porridge/Ugali: Throughout much of Tanzania ugali is served regularly (if not daily). It is essentially corn flour boiled in water to make a very thick, playdough consistency mash. It is very bland with no spices or flavor added. It is typically served alongside stewed/soupy meat (goat, beef, fish, or chicken). One uses their hands to scoop up the ugali; then, by flattening it out with the fingers, it can be used to scoop up the broth and meat. Being in Mwanza, along Lake Victoria, one of the most popular (and affordable) dishes served with ugali is “dagaa” – a small, sardine like fish.

Small fish/Dagaa: At night in Mwanza, the lake is dotted with thousands of small lights. Each light is a wooden fishing boat. During the night, as the water cools, the fish swim to the surface of the lake. Lights attached to the boats help attract the fish to the surface where fishermen catch the fish with nets. In the morning, women meet the men along the lake shore, fill plastic buckets with dagaa, then walk home with brightly colored buckets balanced atop their heads. Once home they spread the small fish out onto straw mats (or directly onto concrete patios and walkways) to dry in the hot African sun. After dried, the dagaa is sold at local markets and small stands throughout the city. It is an affordable and accessible protein for locals. Ask many Tanzanian kids what their favorite meal is and they often answer: Ugali and dagaa!

 

   (Small fish for sale at the market next to tomatoes and plantains; dagaa spread out to dry)

Meat/Nyama: As previously mentioned, chicken, beef, and goat are also eaten locally. Meat is more expensive than dagaa, so many locals only eat it on special occasions (Christmas, Easter, etc.). If one can afford it, though, it is a regular food of choice for many here. Live chickens are found for sale in all the markets (my Swahili is finally good enough that I can now politely tell the chicken vendors, “Sili kuku” … “I don’t eat chicken” – which usually makes them laugh). Chickens also roam free in almost every neighborhood and yard I’ve been to. They are allowed to breed and produce chicks – and eventually are eaten for food throughout the year. They are not “kept” for the most part – but merely live off food scraps tossed in the yard and bugs. Essentially, they are a free food source for locals. We also see a lot of cows and goats being herded by young boys through the neighborhoods, as well as sheep and goats tethered to the roadside (yes – even in the city!).

Flat Bread/Chapati: One of the kids’ favorite Tanzanian foods is chapati. Wheat flour, salt, and oil is mixed into a dough, flattened into a circle, and then cooked on a stove or grill. It is pretty much a thick tortilla. They are made and sold on the streets. Sarah, the lady that helps us with laundry and cooking throughout the week, makes them every Wednesday. We eat ours with lentils – but it is often served with meat dishes.

  

Cassava Leaves/Kisamvu: This unique dish is made from the fresh leaves of the cassava plant (though I’ve also heard it rumored what I am buying in the market might come from the Kisamvu tree, as well?). Because the leaves contain naturally occurring forms of cyanide, the leaves must first be mashed and then boiled (for over an hour) to make them safe to eat. I am able to buy the mashed cassava leaves in the market (they mash them right there for you using a large wooden pestle and mortar for 10 minutes), then take it home and boil and freeze it for future use. A typical kisamvu dish starts the way most dishes start here (sauteing finely diced carrots, purple onions, green peppers, and tomatoes). To that base one adds boiled cassava leaves, coconut milk, and peanut butter. It doesn't look appetizing but is quite good!

 

   (Mortar and pestle used to mash cassava leaves; cassava plant growing alongside the road)

Eggs and Potatoes/Chips Mayai: Another of the kids’ favorite dishes so far in Tanzania is a dish served at many local eateries called “chips mayai”. Influenced by the British, French fries are referred to as “chips” in Tanzania. “Mayai” is the word for “eggs” in Swahili. So the direct translation of “chips mayai” is “egg French fries.” And that’s exactly what they are. Fresh potatoes are peeled and sliced, then deep fried in oil. After cooking for a while, several whisked eggs are poured on top of the potatoes to make a French fry omelet. I can’t say they are healthy (each serving probably contains ¼ cup of oil) … But they do taste pretty darn good! Eggs are expensive here, so like meat, they are a bit of a luxury.

Sweet breads/Mandazi: These round, fried breads taste like a very slightly sweetened donut. Men and women carry clear buckets of these all-around town in the morning, along with a thermos of hot tea. The little donuts are sold for 200 TSH (about 10 cents)/each. On the weekends it is often the job of children to walk the neighborhoods and streets with buckets of mandazi their mothers have made trying to sell them. Chai (sweetened black tea) and mandazi are a common morning snack/meal in Tanzania. One will often see women sitting alongside the street in the mornings cooking their sweetbreads in cast iron molds over a charcoal or wood fire.

(Cooking mandazi over a charcoal fire)

Beans and Rice/Maharege na Wali: Being vegetarians, our family eats A LOT of beans and rice in Africa. But so do the locals - especially those that can't afford meat. There are many varieties of beans at the markets. Most of the rice available is white – and one needs to carefully sift and clean it to get the tiny pebbles and rocks out before cooking it. Once a week Sarah makes pilau (a spiced rice) for us. Most evenings though, we eat simple white rice – and beans (with some sort of cabbage or spinach green cooked on the side).

 

Fruits and Vegetables/Matunda na Maboga: As mentioned in previous posts, there are lots and lots of fresh fruits and vegetables available here year-round. A typical market stand will have: purple onions, eggplant, green peppers, tomatoes, carrots, garlic, watermelon, papaya, pineapple, mangoes, bananas, plantains, cucumbers, okra, passion fruit, squash and squash leaves, spinach, green peas, cabbage, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and more. It is possible to get cool weather crops (broccoli, cauliflower, apples, etc.) – but only at specialized stands that import these crops from Kenya and other countries. Anything without a peel must be thoroughly washed and/or peeled to make sure bacteria and amoebas are not present. We peel all our carrots and cucumbers. Any greens or unpeeled vegetables need to be thoroughly washed and dried in boiled and filtered water. I often add a drop of bleach to the water, as well. I typically blanch and peel tomatoes. So, food preparation takes quite a bit more time than we are used to. But the freshness and flavor of the produce is like eating out of garden. It’s amazing how sweet the carrots, cucumbers and watermelons are; we forget what “real” food tastes like in the US! So, while eating here takes a bit more planning and preparation – I will definitely say it is worth it. All that said, I really miss my cool weather, northwest berries. Come August I will be very sad to be missing out on my blackberry cobbler and strawberry pie.

Pizza Night: Of course pizza has made its way to Tanzania! (Is there a country where one cannot find pizza!?) There is one pizza restaurant in town that I know of – and a few of the “nicer” restaurants have pizza on the menu. Honestly, the pizza in Tanzania is not that great. Luckily, mom knows how to make pizza! I also found a decent mozzarella cheese in Mwanza (cheese is incredibly expensive and hard to find here). So, every Sunday night has turned into pizza night at the Johnson household. It’s a little piece of home that we all enjoy, especially when feeling nostalgic or homesick. (It also gives mom and dad an excuse to open a Kilimanjaro Light at the end of a long week.)

A Walk with Binti

One of the hardest things we had to do when saying “yes” to becoming Maryknoll Lay Missioners was saying “goodbye” to our pets. I’m the kind of person that considers my pets to be a part of the family. I’m not fanatical (no – I do not believe my pets are my children and I certainly try not to project human emotions onto them, though I admit at times this is easy and convenient to do), but I do love our family pets and feel a fierce loyalty to them. Afterall, we made the decision to adopt them into our family and commit to their well-being. And so, one of the hardest parts of joining Maryknoll was recognizing that no – our 2 dogs and cat could not go on mission with us. And I understood the reasoning behind it. But it was still incredibly difficult to kiss our beloved pets goodbye. My parents took our dachshund Jack, a dear friend that considered our other dog as his own adopted Dunkin, and our cat Wally ended up with an elderly-lady that had just lost her pet and needed the love of new furry friend (the last photo I saw of Wally he looked fat, happy, and contented with his new life). The kids were incredibly brave through this “finding-homes-for-our-pets” process. I hated every second of it but admit I have finally found some peace with it – mostly through admiring how our pets have continued bringing joy into the lives of others.

All that said, I had no desire to accept another animal into our life anytime soon; it would feel like too much of a betrayal to the pets we had just rehomed. But people make plans, and God laughs – or so the saying goes. After a short 6 weeks in country, we ended up with a 7-month old Tanzanian rescue dog. A group of children had been throwing rocks at some abandoned puppies; one was killed. The other was rescued by a gardener and brought into the safety of a friend’s property. She named her Puppy and raised her with her other 4 dogs – hoping eventually to find some soft-hearted, easy-to-persuade (pushover?) family to take her in. She didn’t have to wait long. We showed up several month later and adopted Puppy. (We renamed her “Binti” – which means “daughter” in Swahili.)

The first time I clipped a leash on Binti she snapped at it with her teeth, flailing around on the ground trying to get it off. We didn’t go on a walk that day. Instead, I let the leash drag around behind her and rewarded her with treats. We did this for several days. When she finally decided the leash was acceptable, we ventured outside our gate. She hated it. Children and motorcycles terrified her. Every movement made her jump and try to run home. Every day we ventured a little further out. I rewarded her with treats whenever a motorcycle or person walked by and within a few weeks – we were walking!

Now we walk almost every morning. Walking a dog in Tanzania is … a thing. A thing that almost nobody does. So, when someone does do it, it is amusing, curious, and interesting to everyone watching. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m quite the introvert and definitely don’t like standing out in a crowd. While this is impossible for me to achieve in Tanzania (I clearly stand out here and there’s not much I can do about that) – I stand out even more now that I am walking a dog. I’m a spectacle. That much is obvious. But Binti is blissfully unaware of the attention we draw. She is happy as can be and has learned to enjoy the sights, sounds, and smells of our walk through the Bwiru neighborhood.

After a month of walking, we are getting to know the area better. We are even getting to know some of the people – and they are getting to know us. There is the lady at the end of our road, near the school, that sells her bananas, oranges, and onions. We greet each other warmly now each morning as she is setting up her make-shift shop for the day. We pass Mwanza Brewing Company and make our way to the edge of Lake Victoria, passing women and men carrying large plastic containers – and I’m always reminded of how so many of the people here must walk a great distance just to access clean water (there is a water filling station by the brewery where many locals come to fill their containers throughout the day). I’m greeted by young adults walking in small groups on their way to classes at a university near the lake; I see determination and hope written across their faces. I wonder if they know the same statistics I know about university graduates in Tanzania – that many will graduate only to not be able to find a job. I wonder if they know those same statistics,and are willing to try anyways. Binti tugs at the leash to investigate the many birds we stumble upon – waterfowl, song birds, birds of prey. I’m always amazed at the diversity of birds here in Mwanza. I imagine at one time the United States was filled with birds like East Africa is now; it seems that loss of wildlife goes hand in hand with human “progress.” Can Tanzania break that cycle? Can they learn from the West’s mistakes and somehow protect the wildlife that is still thriving here? I think of the young students I just passed on their way to university, hopeful that perhaps one of them will discover the answer. Together, we skirt mud puddles and jump small ravines made by the rains. Shikamoo. Hujambo. Habari za asubuhi. Mambo. Kwema. The greetings are many; I’m learning the correct responses to each. And so we make our way home, through the neighborhoods with electrified fences, high walls, and manicured lawns – the ones that sit right next to the mud brick houses where women cook over charcoal stoves in their yard (and I think of how perhaps not so different the US is from this extreme, sometimes obscene, contrast of haves and have-nots). It’s only been an hour. But it’s been an hour in East Africa. And Africa always seems to have something to teach me – when I choose to listen.

And, so, while I do miss our pets back home immensely – just like I miss my family and friends that we also hugged and kissed goodbye – I am also grateful. Grateful for the here and now. Grateful for this opportunity to be in Africa. Grateful for time together as a family to learn how to be together in new ways. Grateful for increasing faith that, even on the hard days, carries me through. And yes, I’m grateful for Binti, the golden-eyed East African dog that made her way into our lives sooner than expected and is already introducing me to so much of her home: the people and land of Mwanza; the people and land of Tanzania.