Familiar Can Be Comforting

After an evening just sitting and talking about fun stuff, I feel like things are back to how they were with the girls before I left, or better. It's a nice and comforting feeling when everything else has changed here, including the relationships, even though I was only gone for two weeks.

The changes are everywhere. Our living situation has changed; food, water, and rooming. We have a lot more work to do in the lab and otherwise. The weather is cooler and more gray. Travel won't be as certain as last time with the political situation in Kenya. And when all of the short term visitors, from various groups, made it hard to hang out with the girls, that was the icing on the cake. Change isn't always bad, but I was feeling a little lost.

Regardless of whether everything will stay back-to-normal or not, I feel comforted and ready to tough out whatever I have to.

It's 10 PM and I Can't Keep My Eyes Open!!!

I should start by explaining that yesterday I spent five hours of non-stop hiking to collect water samples and survey data. I spent about three hours on the bumpiest road to get there and back, and then I spent over eight hours in the lab working with those samples.

This morning I climbed out of my mosquito net at 8 am when our Swahili tutor arrived. We had an hour and a half lesson, our third lesson ever; we started last week. And then I climbed back into bed for an hour.

I spent all day entering and organizing data, until the village chairman and water committee chairman of Nyambogo stopped by looking for Dina. I was in a sleeveless shirt since I had been working from home since it rained this morning. That's usually safe since the only non-western male visitor we ever have is five, Ausubuhi. When they stopped by I went looking for Dina, and came back only with three kids, not Dina. Eventually the visitors left and I received a phone call. I talked outside for a while, while Ausubuhi sat next to me and listened to my baby iPod. when I had to run inside (the iPod was clipped to me), he jumped up and tagged along like he was on a leash. He stopped inside the door to take off his shoes, and I only noticed because the earphones yanked on him. After that I paid more attention. When we got back outside I finished my conversation in front of an audience of about 20 little people that stared, but didn't understand. I just didn't have the energy to get them to leave.

When I finished talking on the phone, Ausubuhi and his two little friends, all of which spoke varying levels of English, played Uno with me. They had probably never played any card game, so it took plenty of patience to explain the 'same color or number' part. I'm also pretty sure they didn't understand that you win by getting rid of all your cards. Either way that was tiring, but fun.

On the way to dinner, there were about 100 high school kids coming from something, and I knew from the moment I saw them that I had used up my patience and energy for these types of things for the day. I wanted to turn around and not go to dinner. But we merged onto their road and got bombarded with questions and giggles and mockeries. When they were not so direct, and just in my general direction I just ignored them. Eventually they got right up in our space and started asking our names, and where we were going, and why, and if we would give them things; I just held in the screams. I think that was the most exhausting part.

When I got home I entered more data into the computer, mostly to delay going to bed; it was only 8pm. But now I can't fight it, I'm going to sleep.

Work or Play?

I would have to choose today as my favorite day of work, out of the entire co-op experience.

We went to Nyambogo to rebuild some of the filters that were not working well. One was working especially poorly; I suppose that's what you call a filter that takes water with a 10 bacteria count per 0.1 mL and turns it into thousands. So we set out to fix these filters that we were hoping were built wrong. I mean, if they weren't built wrong, than it was something else, and we had done our best to cross off all the other possible problems. This field work is quite interesting in that we don't always have a control and chosen variables, like we do in the lab. Fortunately, we found that the filters had been constructed very poorly, and all should start to work wonderfully now that they are repaired. Two of the rules, or perhaps the only two, of construction of the filters had been broken. A sand filter must have three distinct layers, fine sand being the top and thickest layer (it also does the important work). A filter must be built where it will be used so that this layer doesn't get disturbed. Of the four filters we tore apart today, one filter had all three layers mixed completely together and the other three filters had hardly any sand. I will feel like today was worthwhile if these filters give good data in the coming weeks.

The part that made today so great was our goal being oriented around something physical rather than mental. It reduces communication issues and when we're done there is a visible product of which to be proud.

The thing that really topped off the day was the kids. After we all built the first filter together, we split up and went in two groups to handle the rest. One little kid, who sat next to me while I worked on her family's filter, walked all the way to the next filter home, barefoot with me. She held my hand the whole way back, even when the other little kids giggled, although it was probably because they were jealous, or mad that I didn't have 20 hands.

Then when I got to the third filter home, there were so many kids. We had a hold up and somehow all of my team members got lost looking for things and people. I got to sit with the kids and just have fun. We started to sieve the sand, which gave us something to do. There were no adults around, so I got to try out my Swahili/Luo without any embarrassment. Good thing too, because it's pretty bad; I had the kids laughing non-stop. I also used a little English with them.

While the translator had been around I heard them all telling me the same thing over and over again, so I asked what it was. He told me that they were saying, "You make water," not specifically as a question or a statement. I find that sort of funny considering I mentioned in the last blog that making water is the only thing we can't do to water. Anyway, every time they asked me, I would shake my head no, because we're only cleaning it, and that confused them a lot.

It was really fun to see them interact with each other and with me. I had always dreaded the kids in the villages just a bit, because when other adults are around I feel so self conscious about all the things big people worry about. Will they say something inappropriate? Will they ask for something? How do we communicate without sounding ridiculous? Will they get yelled at for poking at my skin or touching my hair? The worst of all is that if I'm nice to one kid there will be a million of them surrounding me, getting more and more wound up, until it's overwhelming and exhausting. But today there were only fifteen or twenty, and they were relatively calm; they didn't get out of control, and we just worked on sorting gravel. They giggled, and they tried out the things that I said, and they bickered only a little. They even got on a kick of leaning really close to me and speaking extra loud and slow, but they saw that I still didn't understand, so they gave that up.

It was a great day, I enjoyed it.

Water Trouble for the Water Team

I don't remember if I already explained, but the water situation is more interesting in the hostel this time than last. There are eight pumps down at the lake, all of which once pumped water to a tank at the top of a hill before gravity fed water to our town . . . or so the story goes. Apparently the lake water level lowered, so only one of those pumps still remains under water. While we were home for Christmas, the final, submerged pump broke. There are many stories going around as to why it's not being fixed, but the important part is that now to get water, it must be hauled from the lake.

For a time, while there were lots of temporary guests in the hostel, we got water nearly every day, and we needed it. They would bring a drum, maybe 500L large, full of lake water and pump it up to our tank above the house, assuming there was electricity.

Now that we are only three, we still have water hauled every day. But they bring us about 60L per day, when we are lucky. I don't understand how 500L for 8 people is close to 60L for 3, but we are managing.

We spent all weekend with NO water. Well, when it sprinkled outside we all ran out to try to fill a bottle (1.5L) for showering. I've been managing with one shower every other day. Last night when I went to bed, I thought that the following morning was going to be the first time in my life a shower would be the reason I jumped out of bed without hitting the snooze. Unfortunately, after half a day of collecting samples and survey data in the hot sun on the edge of the Kenyan border, and spending from 2pm to 2am in the lab, not even that overdue shower could keep me from hitting snooze before my Swahili lesson. I admit, I attended the lesson without a shower.

A close second to showering is flushing the toilets, as none of us have agreed that it's time to retreat to the squatty potty, aka the pit latrines. On Sunday a man brought water on his bicycle, as they have been doing while the truck is being repaired. One man with three 20L jerry cans comes all the way from the lake (about a 15 min DRIVE) on his bike for 80 cents. The worst part is I went out to fill a bottle. Then I went for a bucket to get water to flush the toilet, but before I made it back outside he had dumped the water out in the yard and was off. I was confused, so I stood there, looking at the wet grass in total confusion. I still have not figured it out, but one thing I know is that the water was just fine for flushing the toilet. It is true that it was about the worst water we had ever had brought to us; it smelled like cow and was totally brown, not green.

Fortunately, as the water team, we know and have tried nearly all the tricks. Just about the only thing we can't do is make water out of no water. Although it rained so hard on Tuesday that we, meaning the house keeper, filled nearly half of the 500L drum with the best looking water I've seen since our bottled drinking water. Beyond that we are getting along quite well with a cloth sieve, the sand filter, and solar disinfection. The lab results will be in Saturday.

The sand filter had been previously set up to test water in a place where we knew its exact conditions, a control for our experiments. But I must say there is no way to test the filter quite like using it because you need it. I have learned more about that particular filter in the last week than in the prior three months.

The truck is fixed, and water came out of our taps again today; well, the lower ones. So I filled a bottle for tomorrow's shower, and almost wished for the man on the bicycle to come back.

I guess we had been spoiled in the first three months. As much as it sounds pitiful, its sort of fun. How else would I know that I prefer green to brown, algae and schisto to mud and poop?

The Little Guy

When all else fails, or is just boring, the five year old will keep things interesting. His name is Ausubuhi, and he spent a few months in the United States last summer having skin grafted on his infected scalp burn. He now stays with our neighbors, so I see him all the time.

When I first got here in October he was hyper all the time, even in the house. He barely spoke English, just a few key words. His main language is the tribal language, Luo. At school he is learning Swahili, and at the neighbor's house they speak English. I found out quickly that he understood most things, even though he didn't have the words to reply. I also found out that he understood me mostly because of context; if I asked "What is . . . ?" he rarely understood.

Many nights I help get him get ready for bed. I brush his teeth, read to him, and put cream on the graft on his head. Occasionally, I help him take a bath, but he is pretty independent with that task and I mainly instigated him to make a huge mess, so I only do that when I really feel like getting wet.

Any time he hears me come in the door he calls for me. He can't say Ely, so he calls me Ali, like Prince Ali from Aladdin, not like Ally. One time Sara tried to teach him to say it right. She said, "Eh, eh, Ely;" his attempt was, "Eh, eh, Ali." And he got so much laughter out of us that for a couple days he said it a lot. Anyway, when I come in and don't find him when he calls, he runs in and climbs me like a tree. I would say that I instigate trouble a bit more than I should, but he's so cute.

When I returned after my two week trip home, he was shy for a day or two. Of course we were quite a large group of mzungu at first. He warmed back up though, and while the second group of mzungus were here, he always came to see me or find me.

I switched rooms when I got back, and the person in my old room said that several times he came looking for me and got disappointed when I wasn't there. In general he gravitates to me; the less I try, the more he hangs around. I felt bad because all the visitors wanted to play with him, but he eventually warmed up to them also.

After being gone for a while, it is clear that he has grown; he talks more and he understands more. One thing I notice is the longer the sentence, the quieter he speaks. Regardless, he's learning a lot, including phrases such as "just a second" and "no way."

A couple of days ago he was playing outside, and I told him he had stuff on his shoe. He said "just a second" and ran into the house. When he came back out he was wearing a different shoe, but only on one foot. So he had on a clog and a flip flop, and was perfectly happy. The clog was actually a shoe I ruined when he asked me to drag him all the way home on a long sandy road. It was like dirt skiing, and he loved it.

Yesterday he had me rolling in the grass with him. I took him outside because he wouldn't stop banging on the piano during his family's recital. We played soccer, and before I knew it, we were rolling in the grass. One thing about him is that if he doesn't smell like earth he must not be feeling OK, and he gets (needs) a bath every day!

He also walks all the way to kindergarten and home with only the neighbor child, who is also in his grade. Sometimes he gets home an hour or two late, but no one ever worries. He's so funny and makes it easier to be so far from home.

No News is Good News . . . Most of the Time

Travelers often tell their families that no news is good news. That's definitely a good way to reduce stress when traveling to somewhat remote locations, but at the moment I'm going by the opposite theory. The university is having a Cool Co-op contest, and the winners will be announced at half time of a basketball game, amongst other things. I think it would be great publicity for the project, as well as the primary funders/supporters, which are the National Science Foundation and the University of Cincinnati.

You can vote for my project, which I put under Cool Places and titled "Clean Water in Tanzania" at:
http://www.uc.edu/coolco-ops/1cc_voting.asp

Thanks for all the support!!

Mangoes are My New Favorite Fruit!

I have recently developed a liking for mangoes. They have a great flavor; it's like someone has taken a bit of spice from the cabinet (maybe cloves, I can't pick it out) and flavored the mango. But it's a lot more than the taste that I enjoy. It's having to get all messy tearing off the peel, though I still haven't gotten to the point of peeling it with my teeth. Then, when I bite into it, juice drips down my fingers, hands, and arms all the way to my elbows. It also drips down my chin, and the strings get stuck in my teeth. It's one enormous mess. The whole thing is like a real life metaphor.

In general I have never liked to be messy. I would normally want to wipe myself off five times during one mango. But it is a strangely comforting feeling to not have to care. It makes the mango a million times better.

I know there is no way I could be so messy in cold weather, so it's not only the American culture, but I feel like our culture plays a big part in setting standards for beauty and cleanliness. It's crazy, the whole thing. It seems that the standards of personal appearance are the hardest to break free from, and yet they can often be nearly impossible to conform to. To be seen as functional in our society you have to keep from crossing a fine line. From what I can tell, the line is a combination of beliefs, practices, interpersonal skills (which can compensate for a lot) and a million other things. It seems that a person can be off in many combinations of areas and still be considered functional in society; but if someone doesn't make efforts on their appearance, they are considered to have gone off the deep end. Actually, I can hardly think of anyone I know like that, but I could go on and on with a list of people that wish they didn't have to care. It's so intense, and rigid. If I just give a little thought to the typical American job interviewing process, with the need to look perfect and dress in a specific manner; I love mangoes even more.

Fresh Fish

Since the education team of 10 people left on Wednesday a lot of our free time has been spent with a medical group from California. This morning we all got up early, for a Sunday. The reason? We had a rubber dingy reserved at the lake. There is an island nearby and someone had suggested visiting the island.

It took two trips to get about 15 people to the island. The first half were taken to the island, and the second half were the swimmers, not to be taken the whole way. The rubber dingy took us out past the shore, where all the fisherman were preparing their little boats. As we stripped down to our bathing suits, all the fishermen were watching us as though we were crazy. Apparently thighs are the big deal here. I think it's because people always have them covered, but there's the chicken or the egg question.

The island was much closer than I expected, and smaller as well. After we stripped there wasn't much hesitation. Everyone was in the water within 10 seconds, thankfully it wasn't cold at all. It had taken the boat about 10 minutes to reach the island with the first group, but it took me almost an hour to swim. The biggest concern for the medical people was getting sick. They discussed and discussed the risks before we got to the lake. I have already been exposed to schisto, and plan on treating myself in a few months, so my biggest fear was any creatures that might have been swimming with me.

Once I dove in I found myself in the dilemma of how to stick with the crowd. Half of the group paced themselves at what I thought would be too fast for me, and the other half went too slow for me. I feared not being near another person, because I felt like a bigger target for anything below me. Also, if a creature were to choose only one meal, my odds became better in a group.

I don't know about the logic, but I ended up paddling along with the slow group. Some swimmers slowed down, and were picked up by the rubber dingy, but another girl and I kept a pace that turned out to be perfect. The island kept slowly growing and growing, and I kept thinking that it would have been a nightmare if this wasn't by choice. It seemed so close that there is no way it could have been so far. I kept comparing it to the wall at the other end of the pool, and my judgement was continually wrong.

Regardless, algae swirled around my face, and I kept thinking of our water samples and the E. coli we find in even a single drop. Great for improving your immune system, although I might have a different take on it tomorrow. As we neared the island, there were some rocks with tropical birds, and bird poop, on them. I considered climbing onto them and using them as stepping stones to the shore, but the poop and the 'just finish' force kept me away. Good thing too, as we swam past I saw an enormous lizard, maybe a monitor lizard, sunning himself on a rock. We swam as fast as possible till the last second, then I stumbled up a rock and ran for the sand. The boat was just a little behind us, and when the boat people got out they told me that there had been a lizard, about three feet long with a head as large as mine, swimming right next to me, although someone else thought it was an otter. Either way, I was so grateful not to know until it was over. Then we wandered around the island and enjoyed ourselves for a while. I'm exhausted, but it was amazing!!

Recent Article about the VLOP trip

Below is a link to an article published on the UC website about the Village Life Outreach Project's recent trip.

http://www.uc.edu/news/NR.asp?id=7676

Home and Back Again

I had no idea what to expect when I returned home. I had spent three months in the middle of nowhere. Anywhere I had gone I stood out like a sore thumb, as a foreigner; everyone just stopped and watched. In Tanzania the electricity was on when it felt like it, and the rest of the modern conveniences that existed followed a similar trend. Considering all of this, I am surprised to reflect and see that I had little to no culture shock.

There were a few physical things that took me back. I was always surprised to get hot water out of the tap. Whenever I saw wet plates or silverware my first thought was to dry them off, before remembering that the water from the tap is clean. Other than that, being home was normal, and a really great break.

Coming back to Africa was quite a bit harder this time because I knew already the pain I would feel from missing people. In addition to missing people, I miss the understanding that surrounds me at home between everyone I interact with, both verbally and culturally. As much as I try to be culturally open, its hard to have people here, in Tanzania, curious, almost skeptical, of all the things that I do and believe, especially when they are things that are so fundamentally me that I never even thought about them. I suppose the rigidness of the culture here plays a role in the level of comfort I feel as an outsider. I have to mention that if this sounds miserable, I have given the wrong tone. It is definitely difficult, and after returning to my comfort zone for two weeks I would even call it a struggle for the moment, but it's good. I'm gaining a lot personally, and making a difference for the people around me. I also have come to the conclusion that by accepting the fact of not really fitting in with the people here, I can then be an influence to others. I can be an example of gender equality and other more subtle things.

At the moment, I'm sitting outside the local motel waiting to eat. Lunch was supposed to be at one, but its now one thirty, and still no sign of food. So I guess I will move on to the actual return and the past two weeks.

We returned just three days after the Kenyan elections with a group of about ten teachers. It was nice to travel with such a variety of people and personalities that still shared similar interests to mine. At first I could only think about missing people, but when we landed, the air and the weather, and everything about Nairobi reminded me that it was all worth it, and that this was what I wanted to be doing. After spending two weeks in Midwest winter, I felt that 'beginning of summer' feel the first few days that I was here. It was unlike my previous arrival, as I had come straight from a Cincinnati summer.

The journey to Shirati was a bonding experience with the new group. In addition to the experience of traveling through a political situation with a six year old - even if she is the world's best behaved six year old (Maya, Dr. Oerther's daughter, travelled with the group - NS) - it was New Years Eve, and we had temporary trouble on the underside of the car. We got stuck so bad that we tied the two cars together to pull the other out, then we punctured the oil pan of one van which put it totally out of use. This was while driving through safari (but not to look at the animals, only to take a less traveled road) which meant we were as in-the-middle-of-nowhere as possible. We once again tied the two vans together, stuffed all the luggage into one van, all the people into another (which made 12 in a nine person van), and pulled the second van to a small intersection. Amazingly the luggage van made it to our destination later that night, only a few hours after us; a miracle worked by our driver.

The two weeks with the group here were productive, and a change of pace of work for me. With the group gone, I'm still getting back into the life I was used to here for two months. There are several things that are different this time, but the changes seem to be adding a dynamic that keeps things interesting and challenging.

It's 2:15 and still no lunch!!!