here, some pics: 1 from up in the hills, karate near the compost piles, and a couple from the goat roast party....

Nate- Feb 26 1957-June 16 2005
today i was in AH church- once we settled into the pew i remembered that that minister will be making a sermon, and i looked to my father next to me and said- 'uh oh dad i think we made a big mistake !'- he, not-knowing my thinking, agreed with a nod and said 'maybe'- but to my great surprise the whole experience was fantastic. the 1st hymn we sang was Bethoven- joyful joyful we adore thee- I thought of Nate =how Nate loved classics alongside loving alt-punk and so forth that people more expected of him- the unexpectedness of Nate- as we were singing that hymn- all about joy and thankfulness of god and the triumphant song of life- I was thinking this is the perfect hymn to have sung at Nate's funeral- then i was thinking how can i say that - it's all about joy joy joy-not at all a comfort recognition of the tragedy or fleetingness hymn for a time when we've just lost the one we adore- yet I kept thinking no! this song is perfect - it's not at all a funeral song but Nate was all about that joy - I sometimes leaned on Nate to carry that vision of joy and triumphance for me. I thought at his funeral we could all be singing that song because now it was up to us to carry it for each other- you know I said some 'whatever' things at Nate's funeral- it's only after this much time that I think i've come to the point where i could make a speech that would be a proper tribute to Nate. I was reading and rereading that hymn all through church trying to understand how i could think it was an appropriate funeral hymnn- i kept thinking no! impossible! it's of no comfort- and yet the words kept bringing up Nate for me.
Meanwhile, lately i have come to the conclusion that i don't believe in grief.

back in the u.s. so i'm uploading some photos! thinking i'll go back to the past posts and add pics= above is myself with Sommy,one of the agriculture trainers; friend, Solomon; a massai woman; outside a bar near the border of malawi; and friends Elly and Fay inside a bar in Arusha

ah ha- i am in the airport in Dubai, en route home from Tanzania- i was just in Zanzibar- I was reading Scibbling the Cat- in that book the writer says you shouldn't just be able to fly from africa and step off the plane the next day in the us- it's too many worlds apart for that. No problem for me- I started from Zanzibar on an all night ferry to Dar es Salaam- in the middle of the night we were gripping our mattresses to hold ourselves down in the rough seas - I with my eyes squeezed tightly shut to fend off threatening sea-sickness- on the lower decks people were getting sick all over the place- especially children- then we arrive at 6 am in Dar and run to catch a 6-30 am bus to Arusha- that should be an 8 hour ride but instead due to breakdowns is a 12 hour ride. next afternoon, a bus to nairobi (5 hours) and now the 1st of a 3 leg flight from Nairobi through Dubai, Hamberg, then JFK- when I arrive JFK i will have felt like I've traveled from someplace afar. I am worrying a bit about thrombosis- isn't that where you get deadly clots due to sitting for two many hours on end too many days in a row? So here in Dubai i have been walking up and down the corridors- with my heavy labtop in my backpack. there is an amazing looking $24 middle eastern buffet in a lounge full of sheiks and so forth- I had just decided to splurge and go for it but they don't take credit cards so instead i found a place on the floor in the hall to sit and use the free internet connection.

I have been thinking about chickens again. Last January one forlorn morning I was on my way to nowhere when I spotted a truly impressive Massai character with red dyed braids down his back, and full get up, walking with a westerner also in Massai wear with long hair- struck up conversation- Massai’s name was ‘Merinyo’ – ‘warrior’- They had a traditional medicine project in their village. Seven months later- last week I finally visited.

Merinyo’s slicker friend Langai came to escort me- the westerner was back in switzerland.
We took public transport- a dilapidated Landover that takes the Massai to their villages starting on paved road, continuing on open countryside. When the Landover had me and all the Massai packed in like tuna fish, we took off. Four of us to the front seat- the driver reaching between us to shift gears. The driver bragged that he had announced he’d depart at 3, and here it was -3- with us departing. I thought he’d said he’d depart at 2, so offered cheerfully ‘Africa time!’ He looked at me like I’m a fool and said ‘Not ‘Africa time’!’ 20 minutes later on the outskirts of town we pull into a mansion. Driver jumps out leaving the engine running. After quite a while Langai reaches over to turn off the engine. He’s just spotted the driver leaving in a taxi with the priest- owner of this Landover- apparently they have some sort of errand to run.
I conversationally remark to Langai how it’s funny; were a driver in America to leave a transport packed full of passengers with no explanation the passengers would get angry- Langai says ‘even here it’s not good’ – I am thinking it is like we are so many goats packed in, without need for room or explanations. 50 minutes later our driver is back- I have forgotten to ask what he was doing, and we’re off! We reach the turn off from the paved road an hour later, drive a bit into the brush, and come to a halt. Langai tells me the conductor –in charge of selling tickets and collecting money- sold all possible places to sit in the truck, and so is coming by dala dala -he’s not allowed to ride on the roof in town. Langai says it’s like an old Swahili saying: “be careful you don’t sell all the seats or you’ll have to ride on the roof” I think the conductor was having a few beers in town as we wait for close to an hour. - we’re out in the flatlands with big sky and dry, open landscape and are firmly back in ‘Africa time’ now. Our conductor finally appears, hops on the roof, we all get back in and set off.
People here pass around live chickens as though they are umbrellas, not animate. One guy for example was riding his bike holding the handlebars and also with his last two fingers holding a chicken. The funny thing too is how amiably the chickens tolerate it all. I was thinking on that truck we were packed in like goats but it also reminds me of chickens- appreciation of our animate-ness reduced to something like cargo.
That said, I loved the ride. The traffic police were surprised to see me riding in the ‘massai truck’. Traffic police - whose job seems to be to flag down vehicles, remark on their un-roadworthiness, and accept a small bribe to disregard it.
When we got out to Massai-land there is something beautiful about the way of life. Family clusters scattered across the countryside- a ‘patriarch’ and his 1st wife and their children in one ‘boma’, his subsequent wives and their children each in their own boma, the bomas forming a big circle. Around that circle a brush fence for protection. in the center of the circle another circle with brush fence to keep the livestock. We had dinner when we arrived after dark in the boma –dark warm womb-like mud hut- with Langai’s father, 1st wife, Merinyo, fellow warriors, and children. Much warmth and laughter in the boma- Obvious harmony and mutual enjoyment between men and women. It’s easy to hear nothing but stories of oppressed Massai women, but I think it’s not that simple.

here's something from back in march


So my home: I was relaxing one evening when the mouse scurried in - my scream sent him back out. Everyone here is amused that I am troubled by a mouse. (surely daphne you can accommodate a mouse?) But I plugged up the hole with a face cloth and haven’t seen him since. One night a cat came in through my window and landed on my head on top of the mosquito net- I jumped - but fortunately cat had the wherewithal to jump back out the window. My other pets are little lizards which scurry around up high and knock little pieces of cement down from the tops of the walls. I’m very happy for the geckos to be with me. Then I have a small population of little harmless ants. I don’t mind them at all as they are just wandering around, not infesting food. I’m close to living outside as I have two doors and can sweep ants and crumbs easily out. It’s an easy home to maintain as it’s about the size of most American bathrooms, and per tradition here I put down a nice sheet of linoleum on the floor. Everything wipes up or sweeps out easily. I’ve got a cast iron wok and wooden spoon with which to cook.
Outside my door it’s the dirt road, getting muddy now as the rains are starting again, where a lot of tour operators are. One is Jamal, who’s around a lot, nice guy, I see him most evenings and we can share a cob of corn, or as last night, fried cassava and fish from an outside stand- that’s a cheep dinner for here- about 20 cents- and a popular one in the rainy ‘low tourist’ season. There’s one shop run by a young woman carol. She has a fridge with beer and soda, so her shop becomes also a makeshift pub. This is supposed to be a tourist area; it’s full of budget hotels, but there are very few tourists partly because it’s rainy season, but I’ve never seen a huge tourist presence anyway. But there are usually five or so around.

was just out in massailand for a few days- it's amazing how they are and how they live but it was hard to have much of a conversation and there was not a lot to do! when i at last pulled out my camera the kids just flocked to me - all eager to have their picture taken- for some of the kids eager is an understatement- we spent a long time and all my camera batteries on various photo opportunities- I'll make them a CD - for me it was great just to break the ice- we tired of shooting in the boma -house- and went out into the cattle and goat yards to include them in the documentation- That's not at all the most interesting thing i could write about the massai, a tribe romanticized not only by western tourists, but also by the other tribes here- but it was the highlight of human interaction

i talked with a woman working for the porters' union in moshi- they have a survey for porters to rate the companies they work for, and they also write up reviews of the better companies. they can't write warnings of the bad companies, however- because it is all so touchy. she says they are always getting banned from this or that national park, and threatened to be kicked out of the country/ it is a very dirty business, she says. i may go to moshi to volunteer a bit for them to see what they do. my guide friend elly has dismissed them as some european's idea of a good thing, but that they make no difference. he's quite jaded. though so was she, actually. she said it's very hard to make an impact on the industry and it can be depressing even to try.
onto cheerier news though- we had a beautiful cook out up there on the shamba with all my beloved shamba coworkers- a truely touching send off, and the mojitos were a hit- i think should the farmers catch on they will be growing more mint! which is a natural pest repellent for a garden; we mix it with most of our crops. i keep trying to upload photos, but that day i was able to upload was like a miracle! never before neve since

we have our goat party today- and will also teach the locals about mojitos, as we have an underused supply of mint on the shamba, otherwise still feeling busy, meeting with this person and that - i've been out doing urban gardening with a volunteer and trainer - we make a nice garden out of a sack, where there's no land for a regular garden- hmmm. i've just now been offered a 2 week position out 'in the bush' managing some volunteers - could just fit into my flight schedule!

tomorrow is my last day at work- it's good! we're having a farewell dinner for me at a chinese restaurant tomorrow night, and then next week they are firing up a goat out at the farm- i'd like to spare the goat, but it's an honor, the guys our there in tengeru are pulling out the stoppers and everyone's looking forward to delicious goat, so.... goat's are great for people to cultivate over here anyway- much less destructive to the environment than cows- so it's good to support goat cultivation too. The other day we caught three birds by putting sticky solution on a stick over where they've been devastating our leafy green crops- we were all so excited to catch these rascally birds, and grill them- but when i saw how small helpless and beautiful they were i was a little taken aback. It takes a strong heart to be a farmer.

What is it about chickens on buses? it was 6 am and we were on a most annoying bus; sealed windows and air conditioning, when the fresh window breezes are some of the saving graces on these buses. Plus i was thinking, what happens should we plunge over one of these bridges into the river, and can't crawl out the windows? The bus was filling and many had a chicken in hand, leading me to wonder- what is it about chickens? is it a portable lunch option, like carrying a lunch box? I had set out from Arusha a few days earlier- My first bus ride started at 5.30 am to arrive at 9.30 pm in Mbeya, on the border of Malawi. Spectacular landscape- baobob trees, monkeys, mountains, rivers, open stretches- By 8.00pm I had begun to have enough. We'd reached a check point of sorts in the middle of nowhere- my seat had begun to be cramped in any position and i was relieved we only had 1.5 hours to go. Then a uniformed youth troops through like something out of the Chinese Maoist army and says in Swahili - that's it, sleeping here tonight, continue in the morning. I choose not to pay attention to such nonsense. But my seat mate turns to me with a big grin,'he says we're sleeping here tonight!' "Where." "on the bus!" "On the bus." I look at him like he's crazy and go out to see the crowd of passengers arguing in the parking lot- 'lets pay whatever bribe needs to get paid here and move along', I am thinking. Next thing I am in a 'bar' at the side of this checkpoint with a couple other fellow passengers. "I'm very happy we're sleeping here tonight!" the woman says, "I'm absolutely single and was thinking how would I find accommodation after dark!" "But you're Tanzanian!" says the man, "we're all brothers and sisters- We help each other!" It was cold, and these two were proving too pollyanna-ish so i returned to my place on the bus. luckily my seat mate had exited, so i had two seats to stretch out onto. Most everyone else though had to make due with their one seat, and sit upright as they had been the past 15.5 hours. The bus had become one big slumber party. One person would say something and the whole bus would crack up. Someone else would say something and the whole bus cracks up. They were so good-spiritedly handling the situation once they'd realized that no amount of arguing would change this particular officer's view that buses need be off the road by 8.00 pm, not the usual 10.00pm, due to the hazard of traveling after dark, and he had taken possession of our driver's license. The officer could care a less that our bus was full of people of all ages, babies, children, ill people, old people- that we were so close to our destination, and that sleeping on the bus was hardship! One woman on the bus was in a high fever or crazy and belting out Church songs every so often, waking up the entire bus- again, my bus-mates take things in stride and after trying to quiet her start laughing-
Anyway, dawn came and we sped off to Mbeya, where our driver was now 3 hours late for the morning crowd waiting to set out to Arusha. On the way to Mbeya, the police stopped him for speeding.
Anyways. At another point in my travels, we landed off a crowded dala dala that had gone through the most beautiful countryside, staggered into mid morning small village and it was like Dr. Seuss; Circus-like African beat music blaring in the background and everyone, all shapes and sizes and ages going by on bicycles- the size of the bike having little correspondence with the size of the rider- the music making everyone seem on parade- I could have waited there all day, was loving it there- but a woman came by on her way to a funeral and decided to take on passengers for a bit of cash, so we hopped a ride with her to the next middle of nowhere town. I was loving these small towns and happy to linger. But soon enough we found transport on a motorcycle to take us to our destination- Matema, on lake malawi. for me it was a bit anti-climactic to arrive, beautiful mountain edged beach though it was, as the trip there was so much fun. oddly enough there was no fish to be found there, only rice and beans- no avocado, the occasional banana. and homemade beer made from fermented black tea and sugar-

sorry for that last post i think it was a little smug.
that said i have another observation- the national parks here- it's a little odd. they seem like islands of international interest and influence- some luxury hotels in the Serengeti go for upwards of $600 a night- The daily entrance fees for the parks are very high- and have just risen-I heard it was to reduce the tourist traffic and environmental impact that comes with it. I think it wasn't the Tanzanian government's idea to raise the fees. It's almost as though the parks are international property, not a part of Tanzania. They are little international islands; I'm not sure who is in charge but it seems like it's not altogether Tanzania.

We've been having earthquakes lately here! Sometimes 2-3 a day since Sunday. a volcano 500 km away is becoming active, creating the quakes-
so,in any case, a few quick comments about cars, kids and cats:

cars, first; - a pedestrian here has all the negotiating power of a cow- if a car is backing up and you're in the way you'll get a nudge, just like a cow. the other day a car came careening too fast around a sleepy corner, spun up onto the sidewalk and hit a woman who jumped away just in time only to get a bump not a serious hit- the driver came running out of the car and inspected his bumper!, then went to check in on the lady. I asked him if he was drunk, and told him he was dangerous, with bad behavior. Oh don't talk like that mazungu he said.

Kids- Kids here are communal property, not the exclusive property of parents- the other day i was visiting my old home-stay family, and there was a very cute, happy baby i didn't recognize, amongst the other mix of kids, cousins and neighbors- who's this? ah, this is the son of my daughter who lives in Scotland. She came to visit and brought him; she's back in Scotland now, and he'll stay with us for a while. How long? Until he's ready for primary school!
At solomon's complex, there are all sorts of kids running around and it's hard to keep them all straight. There's a set of twins, for one, and a couple of others, who live in the complex with their grandparents. Their mother lives an eight minute walk through the banana grove away. I’m told the kids think it's fun to live with their grandparents, so they just stay there instead. I may not be getting the whole story, but I think it may be just as simple as that- kids bounce around here a lot more than at home. They seem happier for it; more free, and more in the company of all their cousins and friends.

The dogs and cats here are also very free. flea-infested, malnourished, and tattered. But free! it’s so rare to see a neurotic dog or cat. They are contently lounging with all those of their kind alongside the roads and so forth. Never yapping. never jumping or creating a public nuisance- unless of course you come across a pack of them at night, which is another story.

Some volunteers here I know here went on safari and decided to sleep outside their tents under the stars. Those wacky volunteers. They were sniffed by a hyena according to one, and only feet away from some buffalo wandering through. If true, they truly risked their lives! I have to say safari operators are lax on warning tourists to stay in their tents. The safari I went on last year I left my tent in the middle of the night to pee outside, 10 feet away. Back in the tent 20 minutes later I heard lions growling near our tent! They don’t attack tents because they look for a neck, but me out peeing would have made a nice target.

finally some shots! above are the fields near our farm, mary digging, william our top consultant harvesting, below is a farmer group with their new compost pile. there's another of our trainer javasson making compost, there's elly with the theif, solomon and i walking down a road, mary with her son,elly's mom with her grandson and neighbor kids, a few of us in a banana beer shack, several of the beautiful hills i always rave about, a couple of waterfall shots for good measure,cute kids- one sneaked in of kilimanjaro though i wasn't actually there- i can't see the photos as i list them, so i think you can figure which is which. there are a few posts interspersed as well!

for some reason the internet has smiled upon my picture uploading today, so i'm putting on as many as i can. I have been staying at solomon's place while he's in zanzibar and i think about how to deal with my fleas at home. i am hoping to employ the idea of crop rotation. by removing their biggest feeding source, myself, they will die off naturally without my needing to spray anymore chemicals. i do love being at solomon's place. it's a complex of families renting rooms around the main house where the family who are the landlords live. all within a gate, which is the only way even modestly living locals feel safe from thieves. within our gates out back, though we are only a 40 minute walk up the hills from town center we have three cows and several chickens and roosters. most of those renting the rooms share the one outhouse and one bathing stall. you duck the cow to enter the outhouse. the people are some of the nicest i've met here - so warm and enveloping= taking me in as their family/neighbor- all the kids politely call out shikamoo mzungu to me everytime they see me. several of them like to come in and play in my place while i cook on the kerosene stove- they like it even better if solomon is there-= when they get too tiresome i say now it's study time, hand them a swahili english book and they stop right away and settle on the couch to sound out words. i figure they get a lot of play time, but not actually a lot of study opportunity. kids here are like sponges for any sort of teaching effort. they adore it if i help them to read or scratch out arithmatic equations in the dust- anything