She Whose Clothing is Humility

One event that occurred during my homestay with Mamma Josephine requires its own post - not only because of how it left me entirely speechless and in awe– but because God so clearly showed his heart and will for humanity in an unmistakable way.

But before I can explain, it is vital to grasp that in order to understand Africa, you must first realize the enormous amounts of dust and dirt that dominate the scenery by relentlessly clinging to every surface with persistence greater than glue. The dirt rises into the air from the slightest disturbance and attacks the nearest entity. The plants here all seem to be various shades of rustic colored brown, but on closer inspection the dirt can actually be brushed away – revealing a bright green coating to the leaf. It is hard to imagine how it is still able to absorb the necessary sunlight. After returning from a run through the village, shoes are no longer recognizable, and socks are permanently stained. Every picture, shirt, notebook, water bottle and even sheet is suddenly tinted, giving the impression that one is constantly walking around with brown sunglasses on. “Clean” is a word unknown – and must be replaced with “only a little dirty” “pretty dirty” “unrecognizable”. And even then, the “unrecognizable” category can usually be stretched to be worn a few more days.

At night, the daily battle with the dust begins. First, I wipe my face. No matter how many times I scrub and pass the white wipe across my neck, ears and cheeks, the result is always the same: the white wipe is wearing a new tunic of brown. Next, and most importantly, the feet must be washed. Putting my feet under a stream of water will turn the water brown, but my feet will still look foreign. I have to chafe my scrub brush with soap and elbow grease the bottom of my feet for there to be even the slightest improvement. Even then, there are still areas which refuse to come clean. This process is so important because there are many, many things here that find an inviting home to dirty feet, which is considerably more unpleasant than washing one’s feet every night (trust me – I know from experience).

Now that you have a glimpse at how disgusting, yet crucial, feet washing is here in Africa, I can travel back to Mamma’s house...

During this stay, I was with my peer and friend Rainer. Now, Rainer has the dirtiest feet I have ever seen – even by African standards. And let me tell you – this worried Momma. After a few hours she became determined to wash his feet (keep in mind, she didn’t speak English and neither of us speak Swahili well, so there were many motions involved). Rainer doesn’t like washing his own feet though – and the idea of someone else washing them was definitely not appealing. Finally, however, she determinedly sat him down on the bed and came with a bucket of water, in which she poured a great deal of the precious boiling water into, and right then and there got down on her hands and knees and grabbed the prized dwindling bar of soap and delicately, yet forcefully, scrubbed one of his feet. Rainer is very ticklish and he began to laugh so hard he was crying at the sensation. Mamma was undeterred, and continued to scrub – being sure to get all the toes. After scrubbing, she yet again took the priceless clean water and rinsed his feet and placed them carefully in a clean shirt to dry them. As if this wasn’t enough, she then took his shoes and scrubbed them for at least ten minutes. After the whole process was done, his feet looked cleaner than any I have seen since leaving the US.

My own feet were not in terrible shape, but now it seemed sure that she was going to clean mine as well. She gave me fresh hot water, which was a luxury beyond compare: the hot water soaking into my tired, cracking toes. Any anxiousness I may have felt instantly disappeared at this moment. Her hands were rough from the endless days of work, but also so experienced in the ways of washing that it was impossible to notice. Her hands tickled the bottom of my feet, causing me to shiver in laughter. And once again, she went through the entire process with me as well – shoes and all. You need to understand as well that this is not common practice in Africa, none of my local friends had ever heard of this happening.

Now, you may have already recognized the incredible similarities of my situation to one of the most impacting stories of the New Testament, John 13: 1- 17. When I got back, I instantly looked up the exact passage and I honestly couldn't believe it as I read “After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him” – as those exact words could be used to describe my afternoon. The meaning of this passage has struck me deep before; that the lowest servant is the one who cleans the guests feet, in so that Jesus performing this act was not only showing immeasurable humility and a lesson in serving in any situation, but also displaying how badly we need Jesus to cleanse us of all sin – especially the dirtiest ones on the bottom of our feet.

Jesus said after Simon Peter questioned him washing his feet -

"You call Me Teacher and Lord, and you say well, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you. Most assuredly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master; nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him. "


I have never seen greater humility than in this woman today – who had no shame, and only love in bending down to care for our feet, unasked for and certainly expecting nothing in return. Until today I believe that humility was a quality that could never be mastered by humans. However, one definition of humility is by St. Bernard which describes it as "A virtue by which a man knowing himself as he truly is, abases himself. Jesus Christ is the ultimate definition of Humility." Which brings me to picturing Momma Josephine lowering herself to wash her white visitor’s feet, as though they were incredibly precious, just as Jesus would have done. She did not do it as a chore or requirement, but out of genuine concern and love for us, with no regards to herself and not a hint of pride. I felt truly honored that she would pour herself out to us in such a genuine way, but a mix of shame and guilt sink in as I know I am not brave enough to do what she has just done – nor even if I did, could I carry the same intentions she did in doing it. Heck – I don’t ever even look at my friend's feet to begin with.

From this story, you would expect that this woman may have heard the biblical story before, or be of a “higher merit” than many of the other women in the town. However, when I returned to camp and told Moses who I had stayed with that day, he said he was familiar with her because she is known for being intoxicated every night in town.

I don’t think I have completely understood and processed everything that God has intended for me to learn from this, just as Jesus said “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” (John 13:7). I am sitting here at midnight listening to the long awaited rain fall down, cleansing the plants and turning the dust and dirt into a river of mud, and can't help but cry at this beautiful picture God has given me to hold to my heart for the rest of my life. I can't express how it feels to see Jesus's teachings so clearly – that not one of us is better than the other, no matter the money we make or how deep our sins or how often we go to church. If this woman – who is the poorest person I have ever met, is uneducated, is an alcoholic, and has probably never heard of Jesus – can stoop down and in one act prove to be a wiser, more humble and loving person than I have ever been, than how can I ever think of myself as superior again?

“Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” Philippians 2:3

Fairest and best adorned is she whose clothing is humility. - James Montgomery

Mamma Josephine's House

Living in someone’s house for a day in which you understand neither the culture nor the language has the most profound impression.

The first thing I notice is how suddenly the world is now in shades of brown instead of the normal bright pallet. Then the surroundings start to come into focus. Chicks chirping in the every room. The constant faint aroma of smoke from the fire lingering in the air. The smell of the earth which enveloping the room.

The house is small - less than the size of my room. It has three beds, two fires -which are the extent of their kitchen- and a place for a cow, donkey and 20 chickens to sleep. The ground is indistinguishable from the animals manure, and the chickens come and go as the please- one even finding a comfortable position on my lap (at which I screamed and the mamma laughed at me).

As the day begins you say your prayers. She led us to the grave of her husband, who died a month ago. I learned how to pray in Swahili for the grief and death of her family. Next, we clean the dishes, remove the animal droppings, and ration out food for the day. Fire wood is next, followed by feeding the cows and chickens. Then we boil the water and take a small break to drink tea. Cut the cabbage, slice the meat, buy tomatoes, stir the ogali and the feast is ready for lunch. After lunch we must again wash dishes, shell the harvest of beans, separate the beans, and then collect water to begin to cook supper. Then the children come back from school, and father returns from the field – and so the cooking preparations begin again.

Time goes slower here. Mostly because any activity you choose takes vast amounts of time. There is no tap that you can turn to get a glass of cold water. Instead, one must travel a mile with a bucket to a well, and then carry the heavy bucket back. One hour passed. Then a fire needs to be prepared. Another 15 minutes. Once the water is boiling and then cooled, 2 hours of the short 12 hour day have passed. Just on a glass of water.

There is no window you can walk up and order a hamburger from. Instead you must first decide if meat is actually worth the time and effort it takes. Here, these people will only eat red meat on extremely special occasions, such as the harvest time or a wedding. Bringing them the meat today was better than any Christmas morning they have ever had.

First, you must kill the cow. Then you must drain its blood, and skin off its hide. Next the organs and intestines are pulled away, and then you can finally begin to cut the meat away from the bones. Already up to 4 hours. After this you must boil the meat, salt it, and drench it in tomato sauce. Grill the onions, and then let it fry in vegetable oil for 30 minutes. Already up to 6 hours. Today I was lucky in that I did not have to kill the cow, but last week I watched the cooks here kill a goat for a meal we had. 

An incredible sense of guilt sinks into your soul. It’s hard to believe that in 3 months, what take this family all day I can accomplish in less than 15 minutes.

And every day she gets up and does the whole thing over again.

After seeing how hard these people must work for water, food, and money, it makes me realize how much I take for granted the things I have been blessed with. It will be difficult to turn the tap in my house at home, and even harder to stop for fast food. I wonder what this mamma must think of me, and how she would react to my house at home. I wonder how she has the courage to do this every day, when I realize that she knows nothing different, and therefore does not find it a burden at all.

Even though this mamma was so poor and just had her husband die, she let me see her life, share her meals, and mostly we just laughed the entire day at how I reacted to everything. It reminded me of the lyrics to “Through Heaven’s Eyes”

 and that's why we share all we have with you

though there's little to be found
when all you've got is nothing
there's lots to go around.

Heart of Africa

The last week has put me directly into the heart of Africa. Her pains, joys, sorrows, hardships, laughs, wants and gifts.

The first thing that took my breath away was seeing a goat prepared for a meal. Meat for most of the people here is an extreme luxury, and I already take for granted that we are offered it almost every meal. But it had never occurred to me to really ponder what having meat means, and why it is such a luxury. The goat we had was large, and cost 100,000 shillings (about $80), and looked so scared as it was tied up to the tree out back, as though it would run out of its’ white and speckled brown hide at any second. My teacher Yohanna, who is from the Maasai tribe was going to kill it, and so he had several students come and hold the goat down. The goat bleated for help, but there was nothing any one could do now. It felt instinctive to want to run out and stop the knife from coming down on its’ throat, but I knew that if I was to ever eat meat again, I had to watch and let this happen. Besides, this is the most humane way to have meat. The animal lived a long full life in the village and was going to die quickly with almost no pain. Nothing compared to how the packets of meat in the supermarkets at home “magically” appear there for us to enjoy.

Once the goat was dead, it had to be drained and so Yohanna hung it from a tree and began to skillfully peel away it’s hide – even offering us “goat hide” bracelets. He cut open the stomach, and set aside the testicles of the goat for the youngest student to try – as is tradition. The cooks came and gathered the meat and set it on the grills and even some of the meat directly into the fire. At dinner I decided to try it – if I backed away from eating this meat – how could I justify ever meat again? I was also brave enough to try a bite of the liver, which strangely tasted very good. I would encourage you all to consider your meat at your next meal – where it came from, what the cost is, and be thankful for the life of the animal.

On a lighter note, the next day we visited Tarangire, were I got to see lions for the very first time. There was a pride resting  under a baobab tree, and they were too far off to see any real details. Are specific assignment took my group to the edge of the park, where the road we were supposed to be on was no longer a “road”. John – the intern here – decided that we should take the road anyway though. I swear we almost flipped over the tank and a few times I thought I was going to fly out of the top. After one particularly bad ditch that none of us thought we were going to make it out of, we just laughed for a whole 10 minutes at how ridiculous the situation was. Better than any rollercoaster I have ever been on, no doubt. Troubles continued on this particular trip, with one of the rovers breaking down. We therefore got stuck at one of the lodges for a while – which was no complaint as we had access to an amazing swimming pool. I couldn’t have asked for a better day.

 A few days later we got to go to the local secondary school, where we paired off with some of the girls and talked for a while. The girls I was with were incredibly shy but infinitely precious. They said that it takes them an hour to walk to school in the morning, and they feel very fortunate to be able to go to school because many of the kids can’t afford it. I was shocked when I asked them what they wanted to be and they all said doctors – and they meant it. I asked them if any of them had boyfriends and they just laughed at me saying their studies were far too important for boys and that they would get married after school was completely done. They showed us around their school, and yet again it was another five star across the face at how much I take for granted. These classrooms were bare, with no lights, windows or even desks. There were no school supplies to be seen. The room which they did their science experiments had no chemicals, safety equipment, or anything of the sort that I think is necessary. As we were leaving, suddenly my shy friends broke out in a run after me and enveloped me in a hug saying “I love you!” “Please come again!”

As if this wasn’t enough to process in one day, we then headed over to the orphanage in the town nearby. These children are here as a result of their parents dying to HIV/AIDS, but were lucky enough to not contract the disease themselves. As soon as we arrived, children came and jumped into our arms and begged to play with us. We played games and pushed them on their swing and showed them pictures. When they had to go eat, the head showed us to where the children slept. The first room was again very small, but had 2 bunk beds in it. He said that this was the girls dormitory and that 4 girls slept in each bed, so 16 girls total slept here. I couldn’t even fathom how they all must huddle together every night, never knowing a bed for their own.

We painted one of the rooms there, and then continued to play with the children until I thought I couldn’t bare the mixture of sadness and happiness anymore. One boy was wearing a flannel “Shrek” shirt and loved to try on my glasses and climbed onto my back. Some of the older boys looked on with hopelessness in their eyes, as though they fully realized their lot in life, and dared not hope for better.

A few days later many of the students here became incredibly sick. 15 of the 32 students were so sick that they couldn’t leave their beds, and were in danger of severe dehydration. No one knew what was making them so sick, and the camp was so still and silent it seemed as though death itself was lurking outside. Thank God, it seemed to pass within a few days and today everyone is on their feet again. I was lucky enough to not get sick, but I think that was only due to the fact that I was already on antibiotics.

Which reminds me – I visited the clinic in Karatu and I was astonished at how nice it was. Dr. Frank is an America who gave up everything he had to come and start this beautiful clinic here with his wife Susan. It was in a picturesque setting, with flowers and bushes, and clean floors and even Mac computers. This clinic is one of the best in the whole district of Arusha. The nurses were so sweet and spoke perfect English and the whole check up and 3 medications only cost me $15. I am sincerely in awe of what this man has given to the community here. I did not have bronchitis or worms – which was a blessing to hear. The dr. though it was most likely an infection in my lungs that antibiotics and antihistamines would clear up. So far I have been on the mend!

I have come to know a young woman, Anna, here fairly well. She lives with the momma I stayed with down the road. She is the only child in her family who has continued past secondary school to the university in Kenya and she was getting ready to return there for her 2^nd year of school. She said she was so grateful for school, and that now her father is finally proud of her for going, which is a huge deal because many people here do not value women’s education – especially in a very poor family when the women is considered to be needed at home. She was kind enough to talk to me for a few hours about her life here, and explain to me how to cook meat and gather water properly.

I also had the opportunity to talk to many of the other members in the community about their life here and the troubles that weigh on them day to day. Many of the people say that this year it has not rained enough, and since their entire revenue depends on their crops, many of the people are going hungry. The water here is a problem as well as there are very few wells in town, and it is hard to carry all of the water necessary for their families and cattle. Everything I never take a second thought for, the people here must worry about constantly. There are too few teachers for the schools – causing the majority of the community to be illiterate. Many homes do not have enough money to send their children to school. Often there are enough doctors, but not enough money or transportation to go to these clinics. Most of all, it seems as though there is no help from anyone else, and they have the mindset that no matter how large the problems – they are on their own to solve it.

I have been greatly impacted and changed by these events, and I feel Africa is constantly leading me by the hand to show me all the wisdom she contains. I am eager to learn more, but feel a burden as it is hard to understand what I should do with these things I have seen, learned and accomplished. How do I take these experiences and form it into something larger than a feeling? What words can I form which will make people understand what I have been through, and more importantly, what Africa has been through?

Nyota Mazuri

Oh how the adventures continue. On Friday for my ecology class we had a field lecture where we got to drive out to a giant grazing field near Lake Manyara and learn how to identify grasses and use a GIS. Sounds kinda boring right? Definitely not. Even driving there was an adventure as we had to go off roading to get the site. The field we were in stretched to the edge of my vision and had all kinds of livestock grazing in it from the local Maasai tribe. Many of the young Maasai boy came and visited us and they couldn’t have been over 10 years old yet they were in charge of hundreds of cows, goats and sheep. The field was on the outskirts of a salt bed near a lake, and this is one of the more famous lakes where flamingoes are found! We got to walk their afterwards and we were right next to these wildebeest, zebra, impala and water buffalo. We even saw a huge crane right next to us that was almost as big as me. When we go to the salt beds we had to walk for 10 minutes through flamingo poop and wow – was that an experience. My hiking shoes were completely covered in it, and some of the student's shoes even got stuck and we had to pry them out. 

The edge of the horizon looked pink because of how many flamingoes were lined up in the water. When they would fly it looked like a cloud was forming. It was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. 

On the way home we passed right by the dead carcass of a water buffalo, and then our tank got a flat tire and we had to learn how to change it out. On the safari’s I went on last week we were not allowed out of the car – so it was very real to be walking so near these incredible animals knowing that there is nothing stopping them from hurting you. I was left in awe.

On Saturday one of my teachers who is from the Maasai tribe taught us how to throw our spears. Now, these spears are very heavy. They have what looks like a tent pole stake on one end and on the other end a machete blade. The goal is to have the spear stick in the ground after arching it through the air. It was very challenging. I ended up getting pretty good at it – my friend Nina, who is one of the guards here, thinks I could kill a lion with my throw. I think he is full of BS. I had to laugh at that.

On Sunday we had the rare opportunity to visit an Iraqw Boma. The Iraqw’s are an ancient tribe that has still persisted in Africa in modern times. He showed us how they built their houses underground in order to protect them from the wildlife and other tribes. It looked almost like a hobbit hole from Lord of the Rings! You could only tell it was a house from one side, and when you go inside it is dark and held up by wooden pillars. All 32 of us could fit inside this house. He said that even the cows would sleep inside with the family at night. He described to us how they made clothes before they had access to factories. They would take goat hides and sew them together, and one skirt could take over 2 months to make! He let me try on a wedding skirt, one which was dyed and then beaded into intricate patterns that symbolized a long marriage and many children. He also showed me how they would dance during celebrations. We got to feed the cows and one of them was licking me.

This particular tribe has been trying to come up with alternative ways for energy besides burning wood. What they found is that they could make methane gas from cow poop and urine and then they would let it heat and compress with water underground and the gas would form! This was completely fascinating to me.  

Unfortunately I have been fairly sick lately. I have had a cough that has persisted over two weeks and so I have to go to the clinic/ hospital soon. I will let you know how that goes – it should be quite the experience.

There is nothing like the stars here. Late at night when I am supposed to be working on my studies I will sneak away from my work and my peers and go lay under the stars and retrace the constellations over and over. Last night the moon was orange as it was rising and Jupiter was right above it. There is nothing like the stars that can help you grasp exactly how small we are here. And yet, this is the best reminder of all that even though we are so small, we have someone constantly watching us and loving us. Regardless of the fact that we are just a blink of an eye in the vast time and space of the universe, we are still loved more than "Nyota Mazuir" - the most beautiful star. Even more than the majestic glow of Jupiter on the orange horizon of the rising moon. 

Tonight we have a goat roast where they are slaughtering the goat out back by our fire pit. We can watch the process if we want to. I am scared, but I think I need to watch it. I have never watched a mammal die before, and even though I know it will be hard, I think it will give me perspective on what it means to eat meat, and what is sacrificed for that luxury. It is a struggle knowing that most meat that ends up on our tables will not die as humanely as this goat will.  

I am having very conflicting emotions. Yesterday on our day off we were given the opportunity to go swimming at a lodge with a bar and go to an “American” restaurant there. The pool was amazing and it was refreshing to have pizza, but I couldn’t help thinking to myself how sad it was that many of peers, myself, and even the teachers still crave the comforts of home. Everything is so different here that people will cling to the smallest thing that reminds them of home – even if that is just a hamburger or lounging out in a bikini.

I find that I don’t want to feel like I’m at home -  even though I miss it - and it constantly frustrates me that they provide ways to help us remember where we are from. I want to feel like I’m more in Africa and experience exactly what that means. I know it will always be obvious that I am an American here, but I don’t want to be holding on to that identity. I want to be able to let go of it and let Africa transform me, which will be impossible if I wish for the life I left behind. 

Shikamo

I am supposed to be doing research right now, but I can’t get my mind away from where my heart is at. I want to show you the change of spirit and perspective that is taking root within my soul. This is not meant to make you feel guilty, make me seem like I am above you for coming here (because I most certainly am not), nor make you fear or worry for me.

Here is the reality of Africa.

Even though I feel like the camp we are living in is too American, it is still very different from the common luxuries of home. You wake up every morning to the rooster before an alarm clock. My skin is two shades darker, not from lounging at the pool, but from the dust on the roads that clings to every inch of you. Having a shower every 3 days is very normal, and if you take longer than 5 minutes it is considered wasteful. The bathroom floor always has a layer of mud on it. You only flush the toilet once a day. You don’t wear makeup, blow dry or straighten hair, paint nails, or even shave. It is rare to wear a matching outfit. You absolutely have to wash your feet before bed or you will get jiggers. It is completely normal for the power to go out 5 times a day. Seeing a spider in the bathroom that is as large as my palm doesn’t scare me as much as the mosquitoes. I have to scrub my clothes by hand, and it takes over 2 hours. I haven’t had a glass of milk, desert, or any food that comes out of a package. Meals consist of bread, rice, beans and protein from whatever animal they killed out back. The most highly prized things here are clean water, juice and any dairy. You never leave excess food on your plate.

And I am not trying to make you feel sorry for me. Because here, I live better than royalty.

The town I am living in, Rhotia, is not very impoverished by African standards. It is a small rural town that has a lot of livestock, few vehicles, and lots of children. As you walk through the town the children come running up to you and hold your hand, and the best way to tell them apart and remember their names is by what they are wearing as it is the same every single day. One girl showed me her house yesterday and it is smaller than my bedroom at home. And usually a whole family sleeps there, which can be over 8 people. And the houses are built out of mud and tree trunks. The girls wonder at my long hair, as theirs is as short as the boys. They people have never tasted clean water or cold milk. A flushing toilet would scare them. A hot shower is unheard of. No one has even seen a picture of a washing machine.

This makes me wonder exactly what more poverty can be, and also fear it.

My Swahili is getting to the point now where I often can understand what the children are saying, and it makes me sad because sometimes they ask me for money or for pens or a sip of my water and I can almost not bare to say no, as we have been asked to do. But even when you say you don’t have anything to give them, they still want to play with you anyway – which makes me wish all the world were as these simple, loving children.

Even though I am constantly surrounded by dangers seen and unseen here, the thing that has frightened me the most up to this point in my journey is a little boy, about 5 years old. We were driving through town and my window was open and he threw a piece of sharp glass at my face. It was the first time in the entire eleven days I have been here that I felt resentment for being here instead of a welcoming smile. It was the first time I have been reminded that the color of skin can still come between two people. It was the first time I have even felt racism against my own people.

After reflecting on this I am glad it happened. It allowed me to feel the shame, anger and fear of what these people have experienced nearly their whole history when interacting with “mzungos” (white people). Feeling this first hand made my heart ache  and my stomach sick and pray for a future where people can fully understand other cultures and love them despite their differences.

But don’t fear for me here. That experience was an exception; usually the locals and the children are always overflowing with joy to see me. True, unfiltered, real, full, blishful smiles: a smile often forgotten in the US. And it is more than that – they lookout for me. Yesterday I almost fell into a bush and one of the locals pulled me away from it telling me it was poisonous. Another little boy had found a US penny and tried to give it to me, which made me laugh. An old man put his hand on my forehead yesterday and blessed me, as though I was his lifelong friend.

Something I have learned in Swahili is to the elders here the correct greeting is “Shikamo”, which means “I respect you” – and the correct response is “Marahaba” which means “I accept your respect”. Many times the people here say “Shikamo” to me as I am walking, and even though by culture I am bound to respond by saying “Marahaba”, I don’t know how to accept this mentally. Because I don’t think they should respect me. I don’t know how to hand wash clothes, herd cattle, milk a goat, kill a chicken or even which side of the road to walk on. I know nothing about life here: I know nothing about the sting of poverty, the growl of a hungry stomach, sleeping in the dirt, drinking unclean water, nor do I have the wisdom of how to be content in spite of this. I don’t have the courage to run up to strangers and immediately love them, hold their hand, bless them, and offer them room in my house. I have not yet learned how to always be grateful just for having family, friends and a breath of fresh air in my lungs.

What’s worse is we often come to this amazing place acting as though we know better than they do: guaranteeing that we know how to “live the life”. We act like they need our education, our money and our government. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying they don’t need help. But I am saying people value things that don’t make a difference in “the quality of life”. More valuable than money, education, and government is learning how “to be content in any and every situation” as these people have mastered.

I pray every day that I would discover how to see the world as they do.

I pray that we would let them teach us the secret of how to smile with joy when all seems hopeless.

It is I who should greet these beautiful people with “Shikamo”. 

Is this really MY life?!

Wow. That is all that can come to my mind as I try to think of how to impress on you all the amazing experiences I have had the last three days in few enough words that this blog won’t turn into a book.

For instance – first day of class we passed around poop to identify the species. As well as huge acacia branches which are covered in 2 inch thorns. Then we learned about how the Maasai tribe has to kill a lion in order to become a Warrior! But then it got better…

On Saturday we had our first non – program day (we only have one day a week with no classes) and we went on a hike up to an elephant cave! This was a really unique experience because the elephants travel the same path we did – but during the night. So along the way you could see and touch the trees that the elephants would rub their tusks on every night. The elephants travel to these mud caves to eat the dirt there because it is full of calcium and iron. The cave is right next to this amazing waterfall as well.

After that we went into town again and got to experience the local food market. It was all in these long rows of mud structures covered by thin straw roofs and you felt like you were in a maze going through it. I have never seen so many fruits and veggies that I couldn’t name in my whole life.

That afternoon I painted on the street outside of our camp. It was very interesting to see the locals react to the painting. Many of them didn’t know what it was our thought I was trying to sell it. One older man even tried to sell me his land as I was sitting there. After this I didn’t think things could really be any more awesome until…

SAFARI. We went to Lake Manyara National Park in the afternoon and I don’t even know how to describe the feeling of it. It is purely something that has to be experienced to be understood. When we got out of the tank at the visitor center there was a Sykes monkey right in the tree next to me. Not but ten minutes later a forest elephant was by the trees by the road. I think at this point I went into complete denial that I was actually experiencing these things. It was a great day in the park: we saw 4 Waterbuck, 2 Giraffe, heard of Zebra, 3 Warthogs, 4 Water Buffalo, Impala, Gazelle, 3 Dikdiks, heard of Hippos, 1 African Fish Eagle, a million Baboons, too many Vervet monkeys, Mongooses, Hamerkops, Egyptian Geese, Wildebeest, tons of Hornbills and many many more ELEPHANTS! Our guide, Kioko (also ecology teacher), is amazing. He drives at 40 mph and then will just slam on the brakes and point something out that I can only see if I study the area for 10 minutes with my binoculars. I don’t know how he does it…

And I know you are all thinking – what about the lions!? Those will come later when we camp in the Serengeti for 5 days! (as well as Leopards – hopefully!)

The part I liked best was we were traveling down this road and a large Bull elephant, a female and an infant elephant were literally 10 feet away from our tank (mom- don’t freak out). We could have reached out and touched them at one point. I was scared that the male might charge us, but they were surprisingly rather docile. It was just an incredible experience.

I went away from the day in a huge state of culture shock. This being the first time I have felt this. It wasn’t a bad feeling just more of a constant “how can this actually be my life??” thought process.

And then today we got to go BACK! Our specific assignment was to go “babooning”. This word makes me laugh. But we study a troop of baboons for 2 and a half hours and now we have to write a report on it! But it was another beautiful day in the park – I got to see a baby dikdik, which made my heart melt, as well as ostrich, flamingoes, cranes, owl, more elephants and a giraffe ran right in front of the tank!

Even though there is so much excitement as soon as we get back from these out of world experiences we have to get right to studying because the teachers assign us so much homework.

Alright I need to make myself stop because I could spend all day writing about this and it is already past midnight here.

One last note – I bought a huge Maasai Spear and if you don’t know what one looks like – look it up. Now.

Lala salama! (goodnight)

 Hike to Elephant Cave

 Elephant Caves

 Maasia Giraffe

 Impala

 Lake Manyara Savanna 

 Savanna Elephant

 Young Owl

 Sykes Monkey

 Baboon Troop with Infant

I think this is an Elephant Femur - I found it on the hike to the caves!

Pictures!

Local Boy in Rhotia - he was really interested to see his face in the camera

 Sunset from just outside our camp in Tanzania

Overlook of Lake Manyara National park. I could see Giraffes, Zebra and Elephants with my binoculars here.

Huts you can see on the drive from Arusha to Rhotia

BA Land Rover I was telling you about

Sorry I can't post more pictures! The Internet is very slow so I can only do a few here and there. 

Jambo!

Jambo! (Hello, Swahili)

I am sorry to everyone for not posting sooner, but the last five days have been so insanely crazy and the first chance I had at internet was last night! But I just want everyone to know that I MADE IT. I am here in Tanzania, on Moya Hill in a small town called Rhotia, which is in the county Karatu, confusing huh? It has been quite the adventure – so let me just fill you in on all of the mishaps that already have occurred!

My first flight from Denver to Chicago ended up being delayed for two hours due to some sort of fuel shortage?? So when we finally arrived in Chicago, I had missed my connecting flight to Newark where I was scheduled to meet the rest of my group. Luckily I was with Amy, a fellow SFS student who also goes to DU but we ironically didn’t know each other before we had arrived at the air port. So once we were in the O’Hare airport things got really crazy. We stood in line for 2 hours to talk to customer service and they told us that we would probably have to stay overnight in Chicago and catch a flight to Newark in the morning. Finally we convinced her that we really did need to be on a plane that day, and she said she would try to get us seats in the next few hours. She gave us what we thought were boarding passes – but after we went all the way to the international terminal and through security they told us they actually weren’t and we didn’t have seats on the plane. So that was disappointing. We then had to go talk to someone through our flight agency and after about an hour of her arguing to various people on the phone she said that our best option was actually to get on a plane that leaves in twenty minutes that is going to Brussels (in Belgium) and then on to Nairobi. We decided to go for this plan and sprinted to our gate and took off into Europe! Unfortunately this route left me and Amy without a connection with our group so it was going to be just me and her for the next 2 days. Our connection in Brussels was only an hour so we did not have a chance to explore which was too bad. We got into Nairobi on Sunday night at 10 pm, but the staff that was going to pick the group up was not going to arrive at the airport until 8 am on Monday. So when Amy and I arrived we didn’t know what to do! We tried to get into contact with our travel agent and she had a hotel booked for us but the security officers said we were not allowed to leave the airport without our visas and the staff that were going to pick us up had those. So we found the most comfortable chairs we could and tried to sleep and read through the night. This was a pretty scary experience because at one point I am pretty sure we were the only white people in the whole airport and not very many people spoke English. In the morning we were able to find the staff and meet up with the group! This was really exciting since we hadn’t had any contact with them since Friday. Kiota, one of the directors, the informed us that we were taking a short flight in Tanzania and that it didn’t take off for another 8 hours! That was hard news since Amy and I had already been in the airport for what seemed like forever, but we made due. Then when we went to go get our luggage we found that it was not with the groups luggage, which was actually not surprising. We found someone to help us put in our luggage info though and just prayed that it would show up eventually. The flight we took was right by mt. Kilimanjaro and so we got to see it as we were flying. The plane was really small too – we had to walk out onto the runways to board it and we were all crammed in there. I was so tired though that I slept through the whole 30 minute flight which was somewhat humorous. After this they told us we were then going to take Land Rovers into Arusha and stay there for the night. They told us that it was too dark to drive to our base camp and they wanted to do it in the daylight. We then got to jump into the most Bad Ass (sorry for the French) Rovers I have ever seen. We drove about an hour to a small hotel in this crazy little city where they fed us and we were finally able to shower and sleep in a bed! That was a great moment.

The next morning came early and we left for the 3 hour drive to camp at 8 am. Here we really got to see the city Arusha and it was quite the sight. There were chickens and cows and goats everywhere and small shops and huts filled with Africans garbed in the brightest colored fabrics. The cars all drive on the opposite sides of the road here, and there are no street signals so it got crazy quick. One thing that I found very amusing was that motorcycles were extremely popular here – something I definitely didn’t expect. Almost anyone that saw us driving by would flat our stare at all of the mzungoos (white persons) as they hardly ever seen them in their town. In fact I didn’t see a single white person in the whole town aside from my classmates. I saw other very interesting things too. Like you would often see the momma’s with huge bags and buckets on their heads, things you see pictures of but it is actually hard to believe when you see it, and almost all of the children we passed by would wave and shout Jambo! They were all very friendly. After we left the borders of the town we were driving through wild lands were you would occasionally see mud huts and sheep/goats herders (the swahili term for a herd of goats and sheep is shats). During this drive I think the realization that I was in Africa actually hit me. Before that it all seemed like some sort of dream.

The coolest part of my adventure so far I think would be as we were driving into camp we saw several giraffes near to the road. They were just absolutely enormous! We also saw a small herd of zebra as well as a baboon and a mongoose that was road kill. Our driver said that this was actually uncommon to see this wildlife so near the road. We got to pull over and use binoculars and we spied more giraffe and some huge elephants! Very exciting.

Finally we arrived in Rhotia were all the children were very excited to see us coming and always greeting us. Our camp site is just amazing. It is bordered from the outside, and so we have to enter through the gate to get here. We have a dining hall, a classroom, a gazebo, a library, a fire pit, and five bandas (huts where we sleep). The water here is a huge blessing which we can drink from the tap and we have a water purifying machine so all of the water is completely safe! We also have electricity, but it is on a power sharing grid so occasionally the power will randomly go out. We have flush toilets and showers with hot water, which I was definitely not expecting! I live with two other girls in my room, Val and Nina, and I adore them both. There is also 3 other girls in the same hut as us but in a different room. The hardest part has just been not having my luggage so I have had to mooch clothes off of my new friends which is always interesting… but my luggage will be here tomorrow so I am very excited about that.

Yesterday we got to walk around Rhotia and meet the locals. I found a few things quite interesting. They have a bench specifically for “The Old Men” and you are not allowed anywhere near it. Children will just run up to you and put their hands out just begging to be picked up and so I found myself holding quite a few adorable children. I have made some of the locals laugh so hard they fall to their knees at my mispronunciations of certain words. I was almost run over by a herd of slow moving cattle. And one of the drunks was really excited that I was here and shook my hand for at least 10 minutes trying his best in English to tell me how good an education is – quite the experience.

The food here is very different, but also very good! I don’t know the names of half of what I am eating, but it usually is something you put with noodles, rice and bread. I am surprised to find how good it is!!

In a few hours we get to go to the local market and we are playing a game called 3,000 shillings. This is so we can learn bargaining skills! We have 3,000 shillings and the person who comes back with the best item wins. 3,000 shillings is about 2 USD. I am pretty excited for this.

Alright everyone I am so sorry that this is so long but I just had so much to share with you! I hope you will continue reading about my adventures as next week we get to go to Lake Manyara national park! I start classes tomorrow so I promise you the next posts will be much shorter as a) I won’t have time and b) I doubt you really want to know about wildlife conservation techniques J haha.

Last but not least! I can send mail here so if you want a postcard from Africa send me your mailing address to rhollmann@q.com I can check my email pretty frequently so if you want to talk to me this is the best way! Also, if you are feeling very motivated you can send mail to me at

Rebecca Hollmann

SFS Center for Wildlife Management Studies,

P.O. Box 304

KARATU, TANZANIA

East Africa

And I should receive it in a few weeks. I will only be at this site until October 24^th and then we will be heading over to Kenya!

Miss you all and Kwa Heri!