Living in Tanzania--a life Saver, my MAXOAK 36,000

I have lived in Tanzania for the past 14 years, with twice a year trips back to our homes in Durham North Carolina and Boone.  There are certain essentials that come with living in Tanzania.  One of them is the critical need to be able to use my computer whether the power is on or off.  On this trip, we have had power outages at least 4x a week and sometimes several in one day.  (I have to say that this is an improvement over the early years here, but nevertheless it is unnerving). In addition, I like to take my computer outdoors and feel the tropical breezes and watch for birds when I am in the USA and when I am in Tanzania.

This external power bank for my MacBook Air is amazing.  It is good for up to 8 hours (seriously) without a charge and it is also slim, has a nice case and easy to pack.  I would never leave on a trip without it in my back pack, and definitely won't head to any international location without it.

It is built for MacBook Air up to 2018, and charges faithfully.  It also holds a charge for a very long time so that you don't have to recharge it when you have just stored it in your back pack for some time.

Compared to some of the other power banks that I have owned, it holds the charge much longer.  It is comparative in price, (some are more expensive some less--but most of the less expensive ones absolutely cannot compare with this one, and many do not work to charge a MacBook Air.)  So, I just wanted to say three cheers to this product and may it outlive me!!!

The Baobab Forest in Himo Tanzania

I haven't posted a blog in some time.  I try to make my blogs more about places, people and the marvels of where we live than anything else; thus, I hope that this blog bides you well.  Today, this Sunday, John and I went to our first "hash" of our trip in Kilimanjaro Region Tanzania.  "Hash" means that lots of your friends, acquaintances, friends of acquaintances, and total newcomers meet at an afternoon hour usually on Sunday and manage to follow the "hare" to find the way to the end of the walk/run.  This "hare" sets the trail with flour.  Sometimes the flour has a cross, and when that happens you have to find the next  flour about 100 meters away.  Then you shout a spirited "on on" and the rest of the group follows with one sort of designated person putting an arrow for the path. Sometimes the path may seem "spot on" but there is a giant "F" after several meters and then you have to turn around and look for the correct path again.  We have ourselves set many of these hashes with tricks and turns (that if I am walking as I used to do  running, personally hate- but love to set). The good news is that there are bites and delicious beer at the end of each of these "hashes."

Today's hash was in a particularly thorny, high and difficult trek.  But, the area was too interesting for me to pass up even though I am still a bit jet lagged and anxious about falling on my new back. This hash was in what we call the "Baobab Forest."  It is an area where there are many baobab trees, but lots of bush and acacias as well and we are told, snakes (never seen one here).

Because of my relatively recent surgery, I determined within 500 meters that I could not safely do this hash.  So, I set about the area and found some interesting things for photos. Even John said that I would have been very unhappy with this hash, a. because of the steep sides and b. because there was no place to place your feet to avoid a slide, and c. because there were times when you had to crawl under thorny acacia bushes to get to the next flour patch.  I hate to admit defeat, but I certainly have no interest in either a fractured hip or a terminal tip over the side of a rock.  So, I tried to photograph a few not very good shots of baobab trees and other things nearby.

The problem about taking good baobab shots is that there is so much scruff around them that you cannot get a clean shot without a "panga" machete to cut everything away.  Some friends actually suggested that the next Hash at this spot should include one person with a panga to cut some of the bush away.  His reasoning was sound as he had many cuts and scrapes when he finished the run.  But, I am pretty sure that would not have helped me.

Our destination was "Simba Hill" in Himo.  "Simba Hill" is of course kiswahili for Lion Hill.  Himo is a tiny town outside the bigger area of Marangu, which hosts the primary climbing gate for Kilimanjaro.  At the top of "Simba Hill" is "Simba Rock" which John describes as 10 feet up, "possible" 10 feet down "impossible".  But the view is supposed to be spectacular from there.  I will never know.

Simba Hill

Meanwhile back at "base camp" Patricia drinks one Serengeti beer, and then wanders around.  The most striking thing about this area other than the trees is that it is a deserted but not official burial ground.  The cultural practices of  Tanzania include burying your dead at the family plot.  Most of the time there are people living in these homes, but at this one, we found only a deserted house with a broken lock.  But there were 3 graves near the house and another  ruin of a house with 2 burial sites. I think these two graves are most interesting.

Burial 1 (died 2016)

                

This burial is significant to me because this person lived from 1995 to 2016 (age 21).  Perfect to have been part of the AIDS epidemic that wiped so many young people out.  In Tanzania medical drugs did not become available for free until 2004; thus many many people died. Perhaps more likely this person died from a motor accident of some kind.  This, too is killing the young people in epidemic proportions.

This grave caused great discussion amongst the "wazees" (the old people particularly who have been in the country for a long while).  I was told in no uncertain terms that  the date of birth was probably inflated in this woman's case.  I disagreed.  But of course, there were no birth records amongst the Chagga people in 1913.  There might have been bibles (which I argued) and there might have been some even that would have made the memory of the family more certain.  But, surely as my friend argued, if I didn't dig the body up and have it evaluated for age, I couldn't be sure that this person lived to be 106.  I argued that the tribe most predominant here, the Chagga's, if they survived young and middle age, tended to live very long, There is no disputing that, but I had to agree, that not knowing anything about this family, I could be wrong. The relative, dying at aged 21, would have been a registered birth.  But this one, no. Anyway, it was a beautiful sight to see.

3 graves

Though there were lots of rocks and Acacia trees around, I chose to try for a good Baobab shot.  I failed but here are some of the trees in the forest.

3 Baobobs (actually 4)

My attempt to be creative

A big Baobab 

As you photographers can see, I need help, but I had no panga to clear all that brush from the bottom of the tree and probably would not have been successful anyway.  Still the old trees are a treasure.

We drove back to Moshi with the sunset just under this sort of abandoned building.  Some day, back to the Baobab Forest.  Just let the record show that we have driven past this forest probably 20 times in the last 14 years, and I have forever tried to get beautiful shots.  But I have never had hours to look, squat, lie down on my stomach, crawled up and down hills, tried different angles and all the rest.  I just think that the bush and the baobabs don't care about me and my shots. Perhaps one day, and perhaps some of my photographer friends can try to help me.  I promise that there are rows and rows of these wonderful old trees, but I am unlikely to be the person that can form the right photograph of them. Sigh. Welcome to Moshi.  A paradise all its own.

Finding a Family in Tanzania

In Search of the History of a Family

Here we are back in the land of Kilimanjaro, the Usambara Mountains, Amani, Muheza, Tanga and Pangani.  It has been a remarkable 3 weeks in this marvelous and still new (to us) country where we have lived for 14 years.  But, part of my purpose, in addition to rekindling old friendships and making new (social workers conference) was to try to find the lost history of Donald Bagster Wilson and his wife Margaret (Peggie) Elizabeth Wilson. 

This remarkable couple lost two children during childbirth and raised two children, one of whom is one of my dearest friends, Sylvie Emmanuel. 

Sylvie is between John and me-smiling!

There are so many remarkable stories about this family and wonderfully, they are a family that writes and saves letters and scrapbooks and diaries.  As my friend Patricia Beaver and I began research for the Emmanuels regarding the history of their family, we found a treasure trove of material.  We are still sorting what we can include and what will be a 2000 page book that no one will read.

Bagster Wilson's mummy cloth--sometime very long ago 

So, this safari began with the hope of finding more information regarding the time that the Wilson family lived and worked in Muheza and Amani, both malaria centers near Tanga and the Usambara Mountains.  John and I were thankfully accompanied by Greg and Nikoli Emmanuel and of course the loving, cute, “wicked” dog “RD”. 

Heading down to Muheza, and then up to Amani, I thought about all the cluster of pictures I had seen of the Wilsons on the road to various malaria sites by the side of the road….in mud, in ditches, broken down even in the front of their hotel, and in various places. Somehow they always got over the mud, out of the ditches and patched up the cars and continued on their way.

I also thought of their loyal houseman “Rice” who stayed with their family for many years, often with one or the other childre entrusted to him while another was rushed off to school or to the doctor or to other sorts of places.

Marvelous researchers met us in Muheza and told us that they, too were eager to find the stories of the Wilsons in Muheza and Amani and were ever grateful to receive copies of the photos of Donald Bagster Wilson in his role as the first Director of the East African Malaria Institute, Peggie Wilson’s lovely portrait, and to hear a little about his history and that of Amani.

At Ubulu

Let's have another drink of coffee

In Tanga with Willcocks

Our drive to Amani included all the marvelous images of cool deep forests sometimes with carefully planted trees that had been planted by Germans when Amani was the East African Agricultural Institute before the wars.  It also included the famous “9 hairpin turns” that Peggie Wilson refers to in her letters to Donald’s family (primarily).  They were indeed hairpin turns. 

finally valley view

And then there was Amani itself.  As if a walk back in time occurred for us, we met the Caretaker and looked at all the clean old bottles of probably horrible things, live mice, dead rats, butterflies and bugs of all kinds, the old house that we had heard so much about and a tour inside that showed carefully maintained rooms, though we couldn’t find the Bishops room (where he could enter secretly and visit with those he was called to but also to leave alone).  Here wsa the beautiful eating porch on the second floor.  Suddenly Peggie Wilson came alive for us.  You could feel her presence in this room.

caretaker and his flock

butterfly good

bugs, good

Horrible chemicals but malaria good

Science magazine  page

caretaker and dead friends

caretaker and his friend

Amani house

major house

party and eating room

When we returned to the earth it seems, we drove over the familiar Muheza Road to reach Pangani where we entered Mkoa Bay (Moa Bay in the 1930’s) and though evening had fallen Timoteo (long time Pangani Caregaker) prepared crabs which we made a perfect mess of, added some salad and with wine and beer in hand looked out over the falling horizon of the bay.  Our next day included much talk of the visit to Amani, and lots of swimming fun and walking on the beach.  We had a new appreciation of the preciousness of life and renewed friendship with Vera and her husband and partner Robbie over sundowners. 

dhau at night

Scouts on a school break.

ISM Verandah.

Emmanuel Veranda

Greg's babobabao tree ( 30 years old!)

Mkoa Bay Lodge & erosion of coral

Timotheo  fixes crabs

Nikoli takes RD for a hated run in beautiful water.

Vera Greg Nikoli and John

famous Robbie tells us the new project

Vera is famous in Pangani for working on two films about GBV.  (Gender Based Violence) Each are earning awards and we are so happy for this humble woman who has given massive amounts of her time and emotional strength to people in Pangani!

Leaving Pangani is always hard, partly because it is a long monotonous drive home, and partly because we are leaving that sense of peace behind to return to the “shidas” (worries) and relentless work of the week.  Fortunately we had time to take another little tour of Pangani before we left, which seemed like a sleepy Islamic town that hides a history of being a major port for slaves in the 1800’s as well as coconut export.

Buying fish

Maybe coconut or betel nut working

"Old is Gold"

This fish....and that fish....and more fish

pay by weight

Uh oh, Nikoli drivint!!!

As we drove through the Sisal Farms, we were reminded of all the Greeks who started these farms years ago, and now the neat sisal has found its way back.  May it live long in this beautiful land just below the Pare mountains.

Sisal stacked in neat rows.

Meanwhile back in Moshi, we are so happy to be in our house where there are welcomes everywhere from the magnificent Frangi Pani’s to the Traveler’s fern, to the yesterday, today and tomorrow bushes filled with fragrant flowers, to the “family” cactus producing its babies each day.

Big smelly Frangi Pani

Traveler's Fern

Family Cactus (red "flower" becomes a new arm of cactus

Yesterday Today and Tomorrw-Each fragrant flower lasts 3 days

Coconut Palm has coconuts! And Pauli's favorite Palm

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