It ain't no sin to be glad you're alive

I did it. I conquered Malaria. Well, hopefully. On Wednesday I was feeling a little nauseous during the day, but being the tough guy I am I thought nothing of it. That night I started to feel some abdominal pain but again, being the tough guy I am I was willing to brush it off as a case of food poisoning or rabies. Nothing serious. I left the dinner table on Wednesday to go up to our room and that was when things really went downhill. the pain escalated in a hurry and before I knew it I was curled up in a ball on our bathroom floor pleading to God to let me live. I can't help but feel partially responsible for the Canucks game 7 loss to the Bruins as part of the deal I made with God was that if he would let me live I would be willing to see the Canucks lose that game. Before you get mad at me please think back to some of the great times we've shared together. Still mad? Didn't think so. So there I was, laying on our bathroom floor. I had been too busy trying to make my peace with kicking the bucket that I had forgot about Jen. Jennifer... lovely Jennifer. What would she do without me around? I called her phone and was barely able to get out the words, "I think you need to come here now." Jennifer came into the room and saw me laying on the floor and said, "Oh my goodness we need to go to the hospital." I told her that I didn't need to go as this was just a mild case of constapation. I like to think that I was just being tough by telling her I didn't need to go to the hospital but the reality is I didn't want to go becuase I just plain old hate hospitals. The smell, the needles, the blood and guts... Give me wallowing around on the bathroom floor any day. Then the puking started. That, combined with being in the worst pain I had ever experienced, was enough to convince me that maybe it was time to go visit a Doctor. The sweating and shaking were also minor factors. Jen called a taxi and I started worrying about how I was going to make it down the stairs and to the taxi. Not wanting to have Jen get back surgery in Tanzania we decided it would not be good for her to try carry me to the taxi. I walked and crawled my way to the taxi and we drove down the pothole-filled road to the hospital. The gate at the entrance to the hospital has a big speed bump that our taxi driver tried to drive over slowly. The first couple of times he didn't give it enough gas so we just sort of rocked back and forth a few times. It was a good time to get in a last slew of f-bombs before leaving this world for a place free of f-bombs... and all other bombs. It was mid-night so thankfully the hospital was pretty empty. We were in an office ith a doctor in 5 minutes. He told me to lay on a bed where he poked at different sections of my stomach. He informed me was just checking for appendicidis. I informed him I was going to either punch or puke on his face if he poked me one more time. He told us we needed to go to the lab to get some tests. We went into the lab where we were greeted by a lady who was talking on her cell phone. We sat on a couple of chairs and she came and pricked my finger to get a blood sample. She put her phone down for a second and also gave me a little cup, pointed to it and said, "Urine." She looked at Jen and told her she can leave. I told Jen I didn't think I had it in me to pee in a little cup at that moment. It turned out I didn't have to as a couple minutes later the lady tucked her phone between her chin and her shoulder to tell us, "You have Malaria. Sorry!" Before going back to talking on her phone. Jen and I looked at eachother and didn't know what to think. After a few seconds we both just laughed. Our next stop was a little room with two nurses who were holding a giant needle. I wasn't sure if the size of the needle was me not being able to see properly or some hallucinating, but I was informed after that it actually was a very large needle. Man I hate needles. The nurses couldn't speak english so they held the needle and pointed to me and said, "Buttox" then started to laugh. I layed on the bed, pulled down my shorts and felt the massive needle prick my bum. Afterwards Jen described the shot by saying, "It just kept going further and further into your bum." We then went to the pharmacy counter where we loaded up on pain killers, laxatives and anti-malaria pills. The needle started to work right away and by the time we got back to our place I was feeling a little less pain. I spent the next couple of days in bed and in the bathroom. Yesterday I took the last of the anti-malaria pills and today I am almost feeling back to normal and am back at the University working/writing this blog. It feels weird to know that Malaria kills so many people in Africa. All it took for me was a short trip to the hospital, $30 Canadian on pills and one enormous shot in the bum and I am pretty much back to normal after 5 days. I couldn't imagine going through that pain without any medication and not knowing when it was going to stop. As much as I hate hospitals I am sure glad they exist and extremely thankful that we are able to go to one to get help. Going through something like that makes me understand why people are so desperate that they do anything to get any amount of money. I know that if Jen or another family member was in that much pain I would try steal or do anything to try get money to help.
Anyways, time to get back to work. Suck it Malaria.

Bagamoyo Field Trip

On the weekend we had a field trip to Bagamoyo. Being a history nut, I was obviously gung-ho, and Joel being quite the opposite of a history nut was obviously NOT gung-ho. So, off I went with six other girls to visit historic Bagamoyo.

First interesting fact: Bagamoyo in Kiswahili translates to "Crush Down Your Heart". The area was given this name by slaves, as it was cenral area in the slave trade. Bagamoyo is a port city and served as the mainland terminus for the lucrative and brutal slave trade. At its peak, an estimated 50,000 slaves per year were taken from the African interior to Bagamoyo for transshipment to the slave markets and spice and clove plantations of Zanzibar. It is an odd feeling having read Book of Negroes two years ago. I remember how vivid the book was able to describe the location and conditions of what the men and women in the slave trade were subjected to (though that takes place in West Africa, and we are far East). It was almost surreal to be standing on grounds where these atrocities took place.

The posts where they would chain slaves up before they were autctioned off and shipped off to Zanzibar.

Today, this area is a historic site, and home to a fish market. That was one of the most amazing, smelliest, noisiest and fly-infested five minutes I have ever experienced. The fisherman (who set out bright and early) come in with buckets and nets full of fish, and local people crowd around in a giant circle. The fisherman will hold up one fish at a time, and yell out prices. When someone bids, he will toss the fish to his "shucker" (for lack of a better word), who will gut and clean the fish in record speed, and pass it on to the winner, at which time money is exchanged.We have been cooked fish a few times for dinner, generally when we are eating traditional tanzania food. I'll admit, I put on a brave face as I ate my entire fish (the poor guy was staring back at me from his plate, his mouth open in what looked like a silent protest) as I dug through his ribs, gills, left over innards to access the meat. I am now deciding to take a mini haitus from eating fish, atleast until the smell of the fish market dissaptes from my mind.

Crowds waiting for the fisherman

Shucking Fish (Is that the proper term?)

Fish Auction, mid action.

We had the chance to visit a 500 year old Baobab tree. (Think LION KING, Rafiki.)When leafless, it looks like a giant upsidedown tree (see legends below..) but since we are here in the wet/"cooler" season, it was leafy and full of like. The Baobab Tree is also known as the tree of life, with good reason too. It is capable of providing shelter, food and water for the animal and human inhabitants of the African Savannah regions. The cork-like bark is fire resistant and is used for cloth and rope. The leaves are used for condiments and medicines. The fruit, called "monkey bread", is rich in vitamin C and is eaten. The tree is capable of storing hundreds of litres of water, which is tapped in dry periods. Mature trees are frequently hollow, providing living space for numerous animals and humans alike.Trees are even used as bars, barns and more. Radio-carbon dating has measured that age of some Baobab trees at over 2,000 years old. For most of the year, the tree is leafless, and looks very much like it has its roots sticking up in the air.

Baobab Tree Legends:

There are numerous legends offering explanations of how the tree came to be stuffed in the ground upside down, so it could no longer complain. Some of the myths are:

• The Bushmen believed that goings-on in the baobab so offended God that in his wrath he uprooted it and cast it back into the earth upside-down.
• It is said that if you drink its delectable sap you’ll receive protection from the crafty crocodile; but don’t pluck its flowers, for whosoever does so will be torn apart by lions!
• It is also claimed that on the day of creation, each animal was given a tree to plant and that the hyena planted the baobab upside-down and, as a result, it should never have grown. But grow it did, and today baobabs dot the Limpopo landscape.

Standing in front of the gigantic trunk.

Baobab in all it's glory. God's creation never ceases to amaze me.

Lunch was an adventure in itself. Being penny-pinching students, we decided to pack a lunch of left overs from last nights dinner, and bring it with us on our day trip. We figured we would find a nice beach or park where we could sit and eat. In Bagamoyo (as well as many places of Dar) you are not allowed to eat your own food in a public place (Hapana Pikiniki "no Picnic" as they say), as almost all of the public places are owned and run with restaurants attached. We drove around for half hour, and finally our taxi driver pulled into a fire station, and after letting us know how hospitable the people of Tz are, he hopped out of the an and walked over to the fire men, and asked if we could eat lunch on their property. Sure enough they welcomed us to have lunch under their tree, and even let us take a few photos afterwards.

I do not know how they wear these jackets in their blazing heat, and infront of a blazing fire.

Since we are on the subject of 911 related sites, this is one of the oldest police stations in Bagamoyo (ironically, or not?) right beside the former slave market.

There are many artists in Bagamoyo, and even a really good school for sculptures. Their sculptures are everywhere, such as this one popping out of the ground on the side of the road. Somewhat creepy looking. Best thing to do is offer it a kiss? 

We also visited Koale ruins of mosques and graves from the 13th - 15th century. Arab influence has been prominent here for hundreds of years, and still is today. These ruins were mosques from the 15th century, and the graves are also from that time. It was tradition to build towers ontop of the graves. The higher the tower, the more important the person buried there was. 

2 somehwat important people, one quite improtant, and then another who must have been incredibly great.

Sitting on the steps of the mosque ruin, where the designated person used to climb to shout out the call to prayer. (It is now played on microphone / loud speaker) five times per day. Listening to the sound has become part of our daily routine.

 Joel... you missed out!

Minute Man

Sorry for the lack of posts. Between getting up at 3:00am to watch Canucks games and the roller coaster of emotions with an over time win in game 2 followed by a complete collapse in game 3 I have been feeling tired. But seriously... What the heck happened in game 3?! Oh well, it's only one game. Jennifer is just out at a place where they have fast internet. I am at home preparing for a meeting this afternoon in the city where I will be the official minute taker. I was hoping to just take hours as that seems a little more managable but they really want those minutes.
ex: 1st Hour: People showed up. I cruised the web for Canucks stuff. Some people started talking in Kiawahili.
2nd Hour: Just having a meeting and stuff...
3rd Hour: Meeting over.

Having never taken minutes (at least not for a meeting) I am a little nervous. The Chair Person emailed me this morning and told me he is expecting an official report after. I am also excited as the meeting is about micro finance and housing in Tanzania. These are two things that interest me and I am curious to hear more about them. Land ownership, housing and zoning here is nothing like in Canada. A lot of people just construct "houses" wherever they want on land that is not theirs. In a strange way it seems to "work" for them. I can't wait to add my two-cents as the minute taker. I better warn everyone in advance to expect a lot of me cutting them off with "Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. Can you repeat that last thought? I'm trying to take minutes here so..."
The last couple days we have not gone to our placement at the university as earlier this week we had a discouraging experience there. On Tuesday we were eating lunch at a little out door area they have there when a man from Tanzania came to our table and started talking to us. He asked us where we were from and what we were doing there. We explained that we were from Canada and we were helping PhD students with their research here. When we mentioned that we were helping the PhD students research informal settlements it seemed to upset him a little bit. He told us that Canadians and Americans think informal settlements are a novelty because we don't have them where we are from. He said that he was disappointed that the university was wasting money and other resources on us when the money could have just been given to the people living in the informal settlements because that would have made a bigger difference. We tried to tell him that we came to the university and this is how they told us we would help the most and that it was the PhD students who had chosen the research topics but he did not seem to understand. When I told him I was making maps he told me that the government could accuse me of being a spy. Apparently Canada feels a white person in the middle of a bunch of Tanzanians would blend in seemlessly. He also compared our work to people going into a hospital and studying sick patients but not actually helping them. His closing thought was that we were just undergrad students and that it is backwards for us to be helping PhD students. While I understood a lot of why he felt the way he did it was discouraging to hear these things from an older and educated person. If only it were as easy as staying home in Canada and throwing money at people living in poverty. Unfortunately it is not. Next time I see him I would love to ask him out for a Kili so we can chat some more. I do enjoy hearing people's thoughts and ideas about development - even if I think the person is crazy. Next week we are going out into the field and I am hoping to try map an informal settlement or a small section of one. It is strange to look at exisiting maps here as the areas with informal settlements are just big blank spaces on the map. I am possibly going to be a shorter research paper on the importance of mapping and how it makes everyone feel important if everyone is on the map. Man I love maps. Time to go take some minutes.

Under the Same Sun

Last Thursday I had the chance to visit an NGO called Under the Same Sun. It is an NGO that educates about Albinism, and advocates for persons with Albinism. I had heard about the NGO while still back at home, and was especially intruiged as its Founder and CEO is Peter Ash, a Langley resident (and Person with Albinism). While I am usually quick in updating what I have seen, heard and done here, I have had to take some time to sit and reflect on the visit before feeling able to tackle trying to explain the experience. Mostly I am just overwhelmed at the injustice of what can happen to those persons with Albinism here, and saddened (and shocked) at how the abundance of naiveity or a lack of education on a genetic condition can lead to the slaughter and death of innocent people. The uneducation combined with the misinformation (a high percentage of population believes in witchcraft and consults witch docotrs) can mean living a life in fear of attack (or worse) for a person with Albinism. What originally intruiged me about this NGO was the Canadian (and Langley) roots. It turns out the office is less than a five minute drive from our guest house. On Thursday we sat down in their board room and were provided with the chance to hear the background of the organization, as well as ask questions to the staff. Before trying to explain further, maybe first I will give a exceprt from their website about who they are and what they do. 

Peter Ash, Founder and CEO

Under The Same Sun (UTSS) Fund is a Canadian, federally registered, non-profit organization founded in 2008 by the current CEO, Peter Ash. UTSS Fund is investing significantly within Tanzania to improve the lives of  Persons With Albinism (PWA) by establishing a well staffed office and resource center there. Our primary focus is on advocacy and education as well as assisting PWA to access external information, education bursaries, health care and other community supports available to assist with their genetic condition.

Albinism is a rare, non-contagious, genetically inherited condition occurring in both genders regardless of ethnicity, in all countries of the world. BOTH the father and mother must carry the gene for it to be passed on even if they do not have albinism themselves. The condition results in a lack of pigmentation in the hair, skin and eyes, causing vulnerability to sun exposure and bright light. Almost all people with albinism are visually impaired, with the majority being classified as “legally blind”. While numbers vary, in North America and Europe it is estimated that 1 in every 20,000 people have some form of albinism. In Tanzania, and throughout East Africa, albinism is much more prevalent, with estimates of 1 in 2,000 people being affected. The term “person with albinism” (PWA) is preferred to the term “albino”.

 There are four main challenges that persons with Albinism in Tanzania face. (some of this I have also borrowed from their website 
/http://www.underthesamesun.com/ )
1) The horror of the rapidly growing industry in the sale of Albino body parts

This unimaginable evil is driven by the belief (in some areas of the country) that the body parts of PWA possess magical powers capable of bringing riches if used in potions produced by local witchdoctors. Between 2007 & the present, official reports indicate that 68 PWA have been brutally attacked and their body parts hacked off and sold to witchdoctors. Of the 68 attacks, 59 were murders and 9 are mutilated survivors. Leaders in the albinism community believe the actual number of attacks & deaths are closer to 100 or more. Reports also indicate that albino body parts are being exported outside of Tanzania. (See the UTSS website for survivor honor roll stories, and awareness and advocacy materials)

2) Lack of Low Vision and Aids

There is a considerable lack of glasses, magnifiers and specialized vision sensitive computer equipment in Tanzania. This results in tremendous difficulty completing educational programs, increasing the likelihood of dropping out and subsequent unemployment. 11 out of the 13 staff at UTSS are presons with Albinism, and what intriguied me is that a handful were former teachers, or worked for the ministry of education in Tanzania. Their gifts for teaching are now being used through UTSS to provide education opportunities to those that may not have otherwise had a chance. Providing scholarships and the chance for further education for persons with Albinism is one of their major initiatives.  Currently they are supporting 318 students with Albinism from nursery school through to PhD level. The scholarships assist with education fees, as well as provide medical treatment for skin cancer and visual aid. Many students with Albinism drop out of school around grade 7, as  the education system here often cannot take into account low vision. Things as simple as the font being too small on a test, or the writing on the blackboard being illegible can inhibit a student from passing into the higher level grades. This resonated with me, and frustrated me, having worked as an educational assistant for a few years, and realizing how blessed we are in Canada to have the AMAZING resources and computer technology that we do. Having those resources (or even the man power for things such as scribing for tests, or reading questions and passages for students that struggle either visually or otherwise) can make the difference between being able to complete education, or having to withdraw. 

3) Epidemic Rates of Skin Cancer

The lack of, or reduced levels of, melanin in the skin of a PWA creates high risk for skin cancer due to sun exposure. Combine this with the profound lack of protective sunscreens, wide brimmed hats and proper clothing in Tanzania and you find epidemic rates of skin cancer in all ages. As a result, the average life expectancy for a PWA in Tanzania is 30 years, with only 2% living beyond 40 years. In countries and circumstances where adequate health care is provided and widely known, PWA have the same life expectancy as the general population. What inspired me most about this, is how easy it is to make a small difference through this NGO by the donation of practical items. Part of what they do is collect donations of protective sunscreens, wide brimmed hats and proper clothing, and dispurse them to local persons with Albinism.  

4) Widespread Social Discrimination Fueled by Powerful Myths

In sub Saharan Africa, there has been a long standing and widespread lack of public awareness about albinism. Powerful myths surround albinism, including these:

• PWA never die - They simply vanish - They are not human - They are ghosts.
• PWA are born to black women who have slept with a white man, or a European ghost. (Most women giving birth to a baby with albinism are abandoned by the father of the child. In most cases, neither parent knows that the father always carries the gene as well as the mother.)
• A PWA is a curse from the gods or from dead ancestors. As a result, touching a PWA will bring bad luck, sickness or even death.

As a result of these and other myths, many families do not bother to educate their children with albinism. Also, employers avoid hiring a PWA due to fears that their customers and staff will "catch" the condition, or that food would be contaminated. Sadly, in some social settings, many PWA are not offered the same kind of social & physical contact, due to this kind of misinformation. (see their myth-busting brochure for more information... http://www.underthesamesun.com/sites/default/files/UTSS-Brochure-Myth-Busting.pdf)


Having the chance to hear the stories of the staff at UTSS (especially how they all came to work for the organization in the past few years) was a powerful example to me of how God has a hand in our lives, ALL lives, whether in Langley, in Dar or elsewhere. He can call us, and use us to do His work. I admire Peter's bravery in taking on this initiative from half way across the world, and am inspired by what it has turned into in only its first few years. I am saddened by the stories of the attacks on the persons with Albinism, and frustrated by the motives behind the attacks (and the lack of support and protection from government officials who contribute to the practice) I feel a pull toward this NGO as I am encouraged that one of their biggest initiatives is education and advocacy (maybe that is the teacher in me), as well as the practicality of making a difference by donating to a scholarship fund or else practical items such as suncreen and sun glasses. We are going to be visiting again to attend and possibly assist with a low vision clinic that UTSS is offering in mid june for the local population (mainly children) with Albinism. In the meantime I am left in deep in thought.

“Education is the most powerful weapon, which you can use to change the world.”
- Nelson Mandella

Sports Day at HOPAC

Today was  High School sports day at HOPAC. It was one of those days that made me feel at home in that it reminded me of home. I think school sports day near the end of the school year is a Universal idea, though there are differences. It was similar to the sports days that I myself went to, and it wasn't. The biggest thing was the barefeet. Everything was done barefoot. sprinting, long jump, javelin, long distance running... you name it - barefoot. The school has a large grass field and the lanes of the track were drawn out in white powder / chalk around the perimeter of the field. In the centre of the field were the discus, javelin and shot put. If you are immediately thinking HAZARD, you are more perceptive than me. I was in charge of monitoring and measuring out the javelin and discus throws. I clearly underestimated the abilities of the grade 9 boys (and did not think to watch for runners rounding the corner) when a hard rubber discus was launched into the middle of a pack of runners. One boy (at least near the back of the pack) took a hit to the shoulder, but carried on valiantly. Apparently the trick is to wait for the runners to pass by. Rookie mistake. At least it wasn't the javelin. Anyways, the sun was blazing.. I think it jumped up at least 10 degrees in the past two days. Here is a few pictures of the day..

About to Race. No gun, just two pieces of wood to clap together to start it off.

Brave students running past the end of my javelin pit (diagonal white line extending to the track is my pit)

Alex (green shirt) is one of the UFV students who is interning at HOPAC

Senior Boys preparing for Javelin. Mike (Red shirt) is the other UFV intern at HOPAC

Best seat in the house

\

Isaiah throwing the Javelin. (He also played 'Rolf" in the musical)

Don't be fooled by my killer form. I am Hopeless. There is no javelin in my future. I proceeded to somehow hit myself in the back of the head before launching it all of 3 feet.