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-