Because Dar is a base for so much of Harvard’s research, and because the GDP is seemingly higher since the cost of living is so high (rent ranges drastically, but can be as much as $4,000 / month for a 3-bedroom apartment), I had the impression that medical care would be decent in this city.
Not so – one woman spoke of how they had to take her brother to India for medical care, and some ex-pats here decided to fly to Nairobi to have their baby, since all advice they received pointed away from having a child in Dar if it could be helped.
Even though there are some trauma centers and decent private hospitals (such as Aga Khan), evidently medical care is not reliable for complicated cases (besides eye care, randomly). This is especially troublesome since Dar is the largest city in Tanzania (population = 4 million).
State College med-evac-ing complicated cases to Hershey somehow doesn’t seem as bad anymore…
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
A ri-di, a ri-di-di
A friend has been living in Dar for several months now, and told us that she has been visiting an orphanage on Saturdays, her respite from the city and work life. Joe and I went along with her this Saturday to visit the kids.
This orphanage is about an hour north of the city, in a plot of green land away from main roads. There are about 20 kids living there, aged 5 to 14. This orphanage is a home – a glittering example of a program that works – every child had shoes, clean, new clothes, bunk beds with stuffed animals and neatly strung ITN’s. The adults running it are caring, peaceful and calm souls that welcome visitors with open arms and treat the children as their own. The kids help out in meal preparation, and rarely fight with each other.
Hanging out with kids is always refreshing, a reminder that happiness and optimism persist despite adversity and many of their extremely difficult lives up to now. This visit was no exception – the children instantly showered us with hugs, and took us towards their outside field to start the games. It was great to start to get to know them individually - at one point I met Happy, a 9 year old girl with wisdom beyond her years and a kind face and smiley eyes. In a game I was observing, she would start giggling randomly and often, especially when she got out, and I instantly bonded with her.
After a couple hours of name games, slap dilliyoso (whose words I made up when I taught the game since I don’t remember the real words – must look those up for next time), dodgeball, trampolining, “Mr. Wolf,” and hop-skotch, the kids convened together to start performing for us. They lined up obediently in height order, tied African scarves to their waists, and began an elaborate hour of singing and dancing.
Dominick, the eldest, played the drums. Each of their unique and distinctive personalities sung out as they took on solos and duos together: the three of us “mzungus” (foreigners) sat, entertained and thoroughly impressed. They sang in Swahili and English (with cute little accents), and there was no need for other instruments besides the drum for beat. They then tried to teach us their moves – African dancing is definitely harder than it looks, as Kopal had warned me, as is drumming: ojala que hope is not lost and I can learn some decent beats from them this summer.
Afterwards they told us to perform for them, and the three of us looked from one to the other, searching hopelessly for an upbeat song that we knew all of the lyrics to. We tried a couple of choruses from Bon Jovi and Journey, deciding Lady Gaga or other pop songs were probably not the most appropriate. One failure of my education up to now is teaching me how to perform on the spot. Let me know if you have any suggestions of child appropriate English songs – we were thinking “You are my Sunshine” might be good for next week.
We tried to re-create the dance moves throughout the weekend following our visit (singing the “a ri-di, a ri-di-di” chant of theirs): one was similar to “the sprinkler,” and another looked a little bit like the can-can, but with more hip, but we need a few more lessons to get them down.
While the orphanage runs well, there are reminders that funding is always a problem – they had to get rid of security recently, something that costs under 100 USD a month. This is pretty troublesome since security is needed throughout Dar.
This orphanage is about an hour north of the city, in a plot of green land away from main roads. There are about 20 kids living there, aged 5 to 14. This orphanage is a home – a glittering example of a program that works – every child had shoes, clean, new clothes, bunk beds with stuffed animals and neatly strung ITN’s. The adults running it are caring, peaceful and calm souls that welcome visitors with open arms and treat the children as their own. The kids help out in meal preparation, and rarely fight with each other.
Hanging out with kids is always refreshing, a reminder that happiness and optimism persist despite adversity and many of their extremely difficult lives up to now. This visit was no exception – the children instantly showered us with hugs, and took us towards their outside field to start the games. It was great to start to get to know them individually - at one point I met Happy, a 9 year old girl with wisdom beyond her years and a kind face and smiley eyes. In a game I was observing, she would start giggling randomly and often, especially when she got out, and I instantly bonded with her.
After a couple hours of name games, slap dilliyoso (whose words I made up when I taught the game since I don’t remember the real words – must look those up for next time), dodgeball, trampolining, “Mr. Wolf,” and hop-skotch, the kids convened together to start performing for us. They lined up obediently in height order, tied African scarves to their waists, and began an elaborate hour of singing and dancing.
Dominick, the eldest, played the drums. Each of their unique and distinctive personalities sung out as they took on solos and duos together: the three of us “mzungus” (foreigners) sat, entertained and thoroughly impressed. They sang in Swahili and English (with cute little accents), and there was no need for other instruments besides the drum for beat. They then tried to teach us their moves – African dancing is definitely harder than it looks, as Kopal had warned me, as is drumming: ojala que hope is not lost and I can learn some decent beats from them this summer.
Afterwards they told us to perform for them, and the three of us looked from one to the other, searching hopelessly for an upbeat song that we knew all of the lyrics to. We tried a couple of choruses from Bon Jovi and Journey, deciding Lady Gaga or other pop songs were probably not the most appropriate. One failure of my education up to now is teaching me how to perform on the spot. Let me know if you have any suggestions of child appropriate English songs – we were thinking “You are my Sunshine” might be good for next week.
We tried to re-create the dance moves throughout the weekend following our visit (singing the “a ri-di, a ri-di-di” chant of theirs): one was similar to “the sprinkler,” and another looked a little bit like the can-can, but with more hip, but we need a few more lessons to get them down.
While the orphanage runs well, there are reminders that funding is always a problem – they had to get rid of security recently, something that costs under 100 USD a month. This is pretty troublesome since security is needed throughout Dar.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Strangers and Islands
We were talking about personality traits the other night, and Joe recapped this game he played with monks while staying at their convent in Korea:
“You were in a storm and land on a random island: you don’t know where you are, and you don’t know if anyone lives on the island.
1) You come across an apple tree and are hungry; you also don’t know if you’ll be able to come back to the tree later. How many apples do you take?
2) You then come to a house in the middle of nowhere. Describe the door on the house as you visualize it in your head – is it open, closed, what does it look like?
3) You manage to get inside of the house and you see something dart by the window, what was it?
4) What do you do then - Do you decide to stay, come up with the plan, leave the house etc?
5) You go back to revisit it and notice a trunk full of candles. You stay in the house for the night – how many candles do you light?”
Your answers to the questions are supposed to reveal personality traits. How many apples you take apparently is indicative of how you deal with finances / money, whether the door is open reveals how open you are to strangers, or how open you think they are to you. The answer to 4 represents how you make a decision, and how many candles you light evidently represents the number of people you are willing to let into your life.
Not sure if all of my responses accurately depict my traits regarding these questions, but I think my answer to the door question pretty accurately represents how open I am to complete strangers – I described a rustic red door (bright but with peeling paint) and a brass handle, that was mainly shut but was propped a little bit open and could swing open or closed at any time depending on how it was pushed. Read: a little intrinsically cautious, but open to people given the right circumstances.
Tanzanians have been pretty friendly so far – they have pointed me in the right direction, taken me to the bank, phone store etc that I was looking for, don’t usually take advantage of the fact that I’m clearly directionally challenged when deciding what cab fare to charge me. Co-workers in the City Council regularly make each other coffee, peel vegetables and fruits for everyone to share, let me use the special toilet (western style), and chat cheerily throughout the day, bringing together co-workers of all ages, levels, and both genders.
Last week, we also got the chance to meet the head of the Tanzanian Joint Finance Commission, through contacts of a woman my mom met at the State College Indian grocery store. He was very friendly, and even welcomed us to visit in Zanzibar. This was something I’m pretty sure is rare in most countries, indicating a sense of openness and friendliness.
Ex-pats, a common sight on the Peninsula and many bars, have also been pretty friendly and easy to meet as well, perhaps because we usually go out in big groups. They are here for a plethora of reasons – working for non-profits, for-profits; teaching, micro-finance, etc. Many of the people we meet are public-health or policy related as well.
“You were in a storm and land on a random island: you don’t know where you are, and you don’t know if anyone lives on the island.
1) You come across an apple tree and are hungry; you also don’t know if you’ll be able to come back to the tree later. How many apples do you take?
2) You then come to a house in the middle of nowhere. Describe the door on the house as you visualize it in your head – is it open, closed, what does it look like?
3) You manage to get inside of the house and you see something dart by the window, what was it?
4) What do you do then - Do you decide to stay, come up with the plan, leave the house etc?
5) You go back to revisit it and notice a trunk full of candles. You stay in the house for the night – how many candles do you light?”
Your answers to the questions are supposed to reveal personality traits. How many apples you take apparently is indicative of how you deal with finances / money, whether the door is open reveals how open you are to strangers, or how open you think they are to you. The answer to 4 represents how you make a decision, and how many candles you light evidently represents the number of people you are willing to let into your life.
Not sure if all of my responses accurately depict my traits regarding these questions, but I think my answer to the door question pretty accurately represents how open I am to complete strangers – I described a rustic red door (bright but with peeling paint) and a brass handle, that was mainly shut but was propped a little bit open and could swing open or closed at any time depending on how it was pushed. Read: a little intrinsically cautious, but open to people given the right circumstances.
Tanzanians have been pretty friendly so far – they have pointed me in the right direction, taken me to the bank, phone store etc that I was looking for, don’t usually take advantage of the fact that I’m clearly directionally challenged when deciding what cab fare to charge me. Co-workers in the City Council regularly make each other coffee, peel vegetables and fruits for everyone to share, let me use the special toilet (western style), and chat cheerily throughout the day, bringing together co-workers of all ages, levels, and both genders.
Last week, we also got the chance to meet the head of the Tanzanian Joint Finance Commission, through contacts of a woman my mom met at the State College Indian grocery store. He was very friendly, and even welcomed us to visit in Zanzibar. This was something I’m pretty sure is rare in most countries, indicating a sense of openness and friendliness.
Ex-pats, a common sight on the Peninsula and many bars, have also been pretty friendly and easy to meet as well, perhaps because we usually go out in big groups. They are here for a plethora of reasons – working for non-profits, for-profits; teaching, micro-finance, etc. Many of the people we meet are public-health or policy related as well.
World Travelers
Watching the world cup incessantly (and the World Cup’s official K’Naan song) makes the world seem so much smaller, and everyone so much more similar.
We re-watched another youtube video this morning, “Where the hell is Matt?,” and I remembered how adorable it was. This guy travels all over and dances with random passer-by-ers in each city. Perhaps dancing and smiling is all it takes to speak the universal language – Esperanto really isn’t needed.
And, little reminders that news travels and that the world is all really one big place persist: a co-worker was reading an article about “Deadly Star Wars Lifesavers in the UK” this morning. Another Tanzanian was wearing a cowboy shirt and hat to work.
We re-watched another youtube video this morning, “Where the hell is Matt?,” and I remembered how adorable it was. This guy travels all over and dances with random passer-by-ers in each city. Perhaps dancing and smiling is all it takes to speak the universal language – Esperanto really isn’t needed.
And, little reminders that news travels and that the world is all really one big place persist: a co-worker was reading an article about “Deadly Star Wars Lifesavers in the UK” this morning. Another Tanzanian was wearing a cowboy shirt and hat to work.
The Battle with the Mbu
My impression was that mosquitoes (“mbu” in Swahili) would not be as big of a problem right now – we are in a city, and rainy season has just passed. Additionally, malaria incidence/year in Dar es Salaam is around 5%, versus 25% or more in other regions of Tanzania. However, that doesn’t mean that malaria doesn’t exist, or that mosquitoes aren’t a problem. A roommate in our house got malaria just last week (albeit a milder version since she’s on anti-malarials), and Tanzanians I have talked to here says pretty much everyone has had multiple bouts. Also, 95% of the mosquitoes we see don’t carry the malaria parasite, but many of them are carriers for lymphatic filariasis, a condition that can cause swelling of body parts by (cutting off blood circulation).
On Monday, I awoke to a mosquito angrily buzzing straight into my ear, and noticed 17 mosquito bites on one elbow alone. Clearly the electrocuting racket (which I first saw in my uncle’s house in Calcutta) we were using before bedtime and the rather older bednets weren’t working. Swarms of mosquitoes infested the house around dusk, and even though all of us heavily apply the local roll-on mosquito repellant, something more had to be done. Shouting “DIE MOSQUITO, DIE” also seemed to have no effect, surprisingly.
We decided it was time to change the bednets in the house. Joe went out and bought brand new insecticide treated bednets – we were sure we outsmarted them this time, being Public Health practitioners and all. I was looking forward to passing out last night, sure to find dead mosquitoes lying on the net in the morning.
Unfortunately, that was not the case - a finger was swollen this morning from bites; still can’t entirely bend it. Perhaps it was because the corners of the net were not entirely tucked in. Also, even though we google-translated the bednet packaging, it’s possible the insecticide hasn’t yet been applied, which is why they included mini-packets of the treatment with the bednet. Yet another reason to learn practical Swahili... But even if the net was insecticide treated, mosquitoes would have to sit on it for a rather long time for it to take effect.
At least we get to see first hand how complex combating malaria is…
On Monday, I awoke to a mosquito angrily buzzing straight into my ear, and noticed 17 mosquito bites on one elbow alone. Clearly the electrocuting racket (which I first saw in my uncle’s house in Calcutta) we were using before bedtime and the rather older bednets weren’t working. Swarms of mosquitoes infested the house around dusk, and even though all of us heavily apply the local roll-on mosquito repellant, something more had to be done. Shouting “DIE MOSQUITO, DIE” also seemed to have no effect, surprisingly.
We decided it was time to change the bednets in the house. Joe went out and bought brand new insecticide treated bednets – we were sure we outsmarted them this time, being Public Health practitioners and all. I was looking forward to passing out last night, sure to find dead mosquitoes lying on the net in the morning.
Unfortunately, that was not the case - a finger was swollen this morning from bites; still can’t entirely bend it. Perhaps it was because the corners of the net were not entirely tucked in. Also, even though we google-translated the bednet packaging, it’s possible the insecticide hasn’t yet been applied, which is why they included mini-packets of the treatment with the bednet. Yet another reason to learn practical Swahili... But even if the net was insecticide treated, mosquitoes would have to sit on it for a rather long time for it to take effect.
At least we get to see first hand how complex combating malaria is…
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Karibu, karibu
Since this is the first time I'm having to work or study in a country without knowing the language, I bought the Swahili Rosetta Stone before coming, hoping it would allow me to get around, order some food and at least give me a little street cred. The program is pretty fun, and the CD case boasts that it's so fun you won't be able to stop (sort of like the pringles of computer programs). I know phrases like, "mvulana chini ndege," "boy under airplane," and "wanamke wanasoma," "women reading." I even can say "small umbrella," "mwavuli mdogo."
However, I unfortunately haven't gotten to the practical section yet. So, when I stopped by at my first day at the Dar City Council yesterday, I was greeted by my supervisor with "karibu," "welcome." Instead of saying "thank you," or "hello," my reflexes went with "karibu." The room erupted in giggles. Goal for the week: useful phrase building.
And Joe just got here!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Where am I, exactly?
As we exited the plane in Dar es Salaam, a passenger in front of me commented, "There's that heat!" Suddenly, I couldn't help comparing it to landing in India, feeling that rush of warmth you feel when you land in a tropical climate, that inescapable heat mixed with humidity and all the smells associated with the country in question.
Entering the airport perpetuated the comparison. There was a mad rush to fill out the entry card and forms, and begin to stand in that never-ending mosh of impatient travelers wishing to get their visa and begin their journey. A young man slyly sidled in front of me in the mosh, keeping his eyes on the visa windows and avoiding eye contact. I looked at the dark passport he clutched in his hands - "Republic of India." I smiled a little bit internally, picturing the same scene in the Delhi airport.
An airport official then came over to me, pointing at the visa application of an elderly man of South Asian descent, indicating they wished to know if I had seen the man. I shook my head, slightly perplexed - no, I had not seen the man, why wasn't he asking anyone else around me? Another woman came over a couple minutes later, "Is this your father," she asked?
I found the driver sent to pick me up as I exited the airport, shaking my head at the eager taxi drivers wishing to pick up another customer. We began the journey to Upanga, known as the "Indian neighborhood," to the research house of a friends I will be staying at for the first few days. "How does Indian food sound tonight?" they asked. "Perfect!" I replied.
When we got to dinner, I began to confuse my surroundings - a cement paved outside seating area, full of Indian patrons. The menu looked authentic, and included pav bhaji and other unmistakably Indian appetizers. While men of Tanzanian descent took our orders, Indian families chatted and chuckled around us. But it wasn't until I was lying under my mosquito net later that night, listening to "Vande Mataram" blare on the seemingly neighborhood-wide speakers that I began questioning where I was, and how small the world of ours truly is.
Regardless, I am excited to begin my journey today, and discover all that is distinctly Tanzanian.
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