Lee-Anne Does Time in Kenyan Jail

It was late Monday evening when we were crossing the Tanzanian/Kenyan border on our way to Nairobi. I had just finished saying how kind the passport officer was in the office when a police officer began doing a random check for what I could only understand through his mumbling to be a ‘seat bag’. Not knowing what the hell he was talking about I stared blankly at him and he shouted at me to get off the stopped basi. Confused and angry I got up and stomped off the bus and Shebby followed me. When I realized we were heading towards a jail/office in a field completely void of any light, I began to panic. Me and two other young and pretty Kenyan girls were being forced into the jail holding cell. At first I refused aware of the danger of this situation. Having an engrained human rights based attitude of a typical 23, social science student I said, ‘I do not want to go in there it isn’t safe’. However, when I saw the concerned look on Shebby’s face and hearing the police officers threatening words, I decided it was a good idea to listen to the awful man.
I definitely overreacted once in the jail. I think the realization that you have no rights or powers is very scary. This is especially true when the person taking rights away is supposed to be the officials designated to enforce them. This does not surprise me but it is important to mention.
Ok so the jail was scary for the following reasons.

1. It was freaking pitch black and we couldn’t see the people/criminals behind us.
2. All the officers and soldiers have giant weapons. They are probably machine guns but I am quite happy to admit I am not familiar with the names of various small arms.
3. There were people in jail we couldn’t see calling out to us from behind bars because we were so scared.
4. The fact that the Kenyan girls were also scared was not reassuring.

Since I was visibly shaking and on the verge of hysterical tears, the girls grabbed me into a corner, pulled me close to them and said, ‘It’s going to be OK just try and stay quiet!’ For their actions I was very grateful. Then Shebby came with the officer who demanded I pay him for not wearing my seatbelt on the stopped basi. He was very short with me and he appeared agitated when he said I give him the money or go back. At this point my mood went from scared to full of rage. I felt like a violated, young, foreign woman. The atmosphere in the room with me, Shebby, the officer and the soldier was tense; everyone knew their actions, of intimidation and corruption were wrong. Under no circumstances should I be thrown into a jail for not wearing a seatbelt when other traveler’s, committing the same ‘crime’ were permitted to stay. I could see a smidgen of sympathy on the soldiers face as he said, ‘Are you ok? It’s alright, don’t worry.’ But I handed over my shillingi to those money hoarding thieves and snapped back, ‘No I am not OK and no this is not Ok, this whole thing is wrong.’ Looking back Shebby said my outburst was rather funny and I agree. I gathered my passport and stomped back onto the bus.

I am well aware of the situation and how I was vulnerable because I was a ‘western’ and a woman. But it still makes you frustrated at how vulnerable people are treated whether it is a result of their sex, race, religion or sexual preference. It is also embarrassing to admit that being a vulnerable person does not make you exempt from making other people feel vulnerable. It was almost instinctual for me to pull the ‘I am Canadian, I have rights’ ‘race’ card. It is shitty that people do that. The moment someone strips you of your rights you feel the need to retaliate and strip them of theirs. But maybe that isn’t everyone, Ghandi was a better person. I may just lack the self-awareness and control to not react. Although, I was not the aggressor, my counter-action to act out irrationally in an attempt to a regain power balance is not something I am particularly proud of.

Some concluding thoughts…I did overact. However, it is interesting to note that the officer asked Shebby to leave me there overnight and pick me up in the morning, ‘What the F*&% is that about?’ Thus, it is difficult to gage the potential danger of that situation, were Shebby not there. On the positive side I felt really connected and safe with Shebby. I haven’t felt as though I needed someone like that before. Nor have I felt so grateful to have someone like him there with me. For these reasons and many more I love traveling with him.

I am finally able to 'BE FREE' in Tanzania

It’s been awhile since my last post and I am now finished project in Morogoro. I am having problems changing my flights so currently I am traveling Tanzania with my good friend Shabani Amiri Mbandu; his close friends call him Shebby.
We spent two days in Bagamoyo a town approx. 1 hour north of Dar. It is a historical town as it was once a prominent 19th century settlements along the East African coast. It has a museum that tells the not so nice tales of slavery and colonialism. This left me speechless and I am not sure why. It may have something to do with me coming to the realization that I am not sure I will ever rid of the ‘neo-colonialist’ in myself (if that makes sense). It is rather disturbing thought for me.
I am now in Mwanza after a 30-hour bus trip, which was long but I did not get tired of it till the final few hours. It was incredible to see so many Tanzanian towns but the long drive through some semi-arid desert in Northern Tanzania was the real highlight for me. Also, the 20 US dollar transit fee for mzungu’s to travel through Kenya was totally worth it. Yes, that’s right we took the basi up through Nairobi, Kenya on the way to Mwanza. It was very exciting to get to go to Nairobi. I felt a strange attachment to the place so I think we will go back after a few days in the Lake Victoria region. So Mwanza, also appropriately nicknamed Rock City due to the abundance of large rocks, is really nice. I can understand the recent annoyance of many Tanzanian officials over the documentary ‘Darwins Nightmare’ and its portrayal of the region as being both poverty-stricken and a center of corruption. This is mainly because the images left in my mind after seeing the documentary vs. what I have experienced so far differ greatly. However, I am not entirely convinced that making documentaries, which tell only one story of a particular place, are completely wrong in doing so. Many important issues in any region are often hidden and it could be argued this documentary tells the stories of people that don’t have the opportunity to tell it themselves. These are probably the stories of people that I would never know because I am seeing Tanzania through a distorted tourist perspective. In any case the documentary would probably have been more appropriate if it was done through a Tanzanian perspective but these thoughts are merely an aside. I do like Mwanza and I had a great time at a disco last night, my dance moves are improving. Today, we will see about taking a boat on the Lake Victoria.
I think Shebby and I are doing a fine job traveling together. We have fun and have not had any tense moments and it has been 5 days of travel and we are together almost 24 hours a day. This is a huge transition from Morogoro where we hung out together in groups a few nights a week. I know he gets tired of speaking English because he tells me but he never complains. He never complains about anything. This has caused me to notice how much I complain and I don’t like it. He is also teaching me Swahili slowly but he says I am a ‘mwanafunzi mzuri’ or good student. To conclude, I’m really enjoying the opportunity to travel through Tanzania, safely I will add for all those concerned.

There are only 2 weeks and 2 days left in Morogoro and I beginning to feel sad. I don't really think I want to go home yet. I know I am going to miss it here 'sana', since this happens every time I travel.

This past week we did the Batik workshop with the People Living with HIV/AIDS (PLWA's). We did little other than organize the workshop because Mama Batik came from Dar to teach them skills. I had an opportunity to see and learn how to do batik. It was so relaxing. It was also nice to get the group together all week. The training is also like a support group. As seeing as I was feeling like I could use a little support myself, I felt immediately relaxed through participating.

I am a little concerned about all the report writing coming up. I will try and think positively and be grateful for the experience in writing up actual development reports. Since I do so many at university as practice. But realistically I will hate writing them.

In these last few weeks I have started to interact with many Tanzanians and have attended more events, this has changed my experience here for the better. We went to a birthday party and a music festival-so much fun. I sat with my Tanzanian friends Shebby and Rogers, very nice guys. They also speak english which is nice since my Swahili stinks. I feel as though for a long time we were too isolated here. I have never sat around- in my downtime during my travels -in my life. I believe there are two reasons for this.

1.Our group is a quiet bunch. Not very adventurous and when we are it seems contrived.
2.The outrageous set of rules and policies imposed on us from YCI. It isn’t that I feel the desire to break them. I simply think don’t protect so much as they exclude us from having fun or making any real friendships. There is this fear in the group whereby everyone seems pre-occupied trying not to break policy. An important member of Faraja -the NGO we work with- suggested that they were extreme and that we should feel free here and not live in a cage. And I agree.

Post Pre-Week From Hell

It has become apparent to me that I have developed a fear of confined spaces. Friday on the mini bus ride to Dar es Salaam to catch the ferry to Zanzibar. I was in the back row of the van-like vehicle trapped in the corner. There always seems to be room for more people, even when the only space left is between the heads of passengers and the ceiling. By our time of departure that space also filled and then I hit the panic button I didn’t know I had. I can usually talk myself out of ‘crazy’ when I feel it mounting but I didn’t this time. I lost it, sweaty and struggling for air, I climbed over the heads of many confused Tanzanians.
In general I always thought ‘westerners’ seemed to have many mental/social disorders; sleeplessness, anxiety, depression etc. I used to be part of the group of people who are highly critical of these social/mental disorders. But of course after experiencing this I am re-examining my opinions. I have realized the reasons like people are bored, spoiled, enjoy constant attention are grossly over-simplified. And I imagine I just offended anyone reading this that experiences these disorders in any capacity by having said I once thought this. Again, I am amazed at how many assumptions I make; it makes me feel a bit like a rotten banana. Anyways, I came to the conclusion that my claustrophobic episode was a result of being ‘forced’ into an uncomfortable setting that was not something I had ever done. And because it was different and new, it was scary. In Canada I am always given a choice and to get anywhere I don’t have to feel like I am in an unsafe and uncomfortable situation. Sometimes if I want to go anywhere I have to do things I would deem as unsafe in Canada. There is actually a huge contrast when I think about it. At home if you let a small child in a car without a seatbelt, people would likely accuse you of child abuse. But in Dar I saw a mama, papa and mtoto (child) on a Vespa and for some bizarre reason it looked sweet, not dangerous. The difference in the societies also becomes an issue for me because at times it seems like everything seems so disorganized when in actuality it is organized differently. And I just don’t know how it is organized and usually I am basing everything on my Canadians standards of friendliness and politeness. So therefore the norm is what is happening and I am the only one frustrated and confused. Then just when you think everyone is inconsiderate and ‘out to get you’, you realize you are the only angry one and you look like the ass. It is really amazing how societies and people work.

The Week from Hell or ( What it feels like to be at the bottom of the downhill slope on the culture shock diagram)

So I am posting a blog today but I actually have two other that come before this one but I will post them after. I feel like I would rather post the most recent and then the delay in posting the others will become clear.
The week from hell began with last week-end in Zanzibar. I have vowed never to go back there again. Everyone says it was circumstance, not Zanzibar that was the problem but I am serious no more Morogoro mountains and no more Zanzibar. The island itself is beautiful, but way too many tourists. I didn’t like how far detached I became from the realities of the island and why I am here in the first place. As an aside, I am writing this ironically, beside a pool at a hotel, a little fancy but it is Saturday. So Zanzibar was to expensive for only a weekend, especially when you spend half a day outside the volunteer house while people inside search your bags-not only mine all 10 of us had them searched. Yes, it is true there appears to be a thief among us. Three people, maybe four had money stolen. This has altered group dynamics. It also made me vow to never do a group trip like this again. In the end the money was found, it had been misplaced, not stolen but either way I was really upset. Then we went to the beach rather late and barely got to swim. The ferry ride home was fun as we sat at the bow of the ferry. First hour was so freakn fun. The second hour I had to use all my concentration to meditate so I did not puke. Ok so the weekend is now over and I have never been so happy to be ‘home’ and was feeling good. Then Monday happened, worst day yet.
I got horribly sick, out of both ends, must have been something I ate. I was also experiencing anxiety, dizziness and for some reason couldn’t get comfortable in my own skin. I felt as though I was slowly losing my mind and not even an all night talk/junk-fest with Andrea could save me. I felt as though I was dying in my body, mind and spirits and then you are really only breathing, it really sucked. This lasted two days-I don’t really enjoy talking about it yet so try not to ask me about it. As I physically got better so did my spirits.
But then there was the thief… so often random things wake me in the night. The 5am Muslim prayers through a megaphone rarely wake me anymore which is good because when I am half asleep they are a little errie/Big-Brotherish-and I am sorry that is not culturally sensitive but it has I have been socialized to feel. Anyways, the neighbours screaming always wakes me up and for the second time in two weeks the neighbours have screamed. I have been made aware that in Tanzanian towns, when there is a thief in your house you must yell ‘Mwizi’, it means thief and all the neighbours will rush to assist you. This happened two nights ago at 5 30 am. I had a feeling it was a thief and I was petrified. Not because there was a thief but because a few days earlier Marko told us it is common to beat thieves sometimes to death and sometimes they set them on fire after they beat them. Since my room is feet away from the dirt road, I had horrid visions of some thief on fire running past my room. This didn’t happen and the thief escaped. I am painting a bit of an unrealistic picture of Morogoro because it is safe here, not hatari. Our neighbour said it was unlikely they would have set the thief on fire. However, I heard through the neighbourhood grapevine it has happened before. But, we were cautioned by a community member to lock up because we are a targeted group.
As Friday slowly rolled along I felt better, safer and a bit saner. The basketball team that we began this week with the Schule was a total success, the kids love it and we go and I think it builds their confidence having us there to encourage them. The coaches said they need basketball shoes so next week we will buy them. As usual we feel this may become problematic when they grow out of them and there may be no one here to buy them new ones that fit. But that is another reason why short term development projects stink.
Anyways, as I was walking to basketball with fellow group members, we were discussing them mental/emotional struggles of being here when were halted by a few men carrying a dead body-it was covered-from the hospital through our path and then to the shed. I don’t know where they go after that. We froze and stood slient for a moment. At that moment, I realized I was not only alive but I was healthy again and this made me feel grateful and happy. Then I began to go back up the culture shock curve.

Lee-Anne Climbs a Mountain

So last Saturday, yes one week ago, a soon to be priest called Saji from India took us to his home at the seminary. We had a nice curry lunch but the best part of the day was when we went on a complete tour of the traditional medicine garden, I hope to go back again. The worse part of the day was when I got smashed in the head with the basketball- it was definitely a pass I should have caught with my hands, not my head. However, I was not paying attention. I dont think I like playing basketball and also I find it difficult to remain alert as a participant in a sports game. Anyways, I fricked up my jaw.

Sunday I climbed a mountain, it was stupidly difficult. But the last hour of the uphill torture was not my finest hour. Josh sarcastically described me as a 'real treat to hike with!'. I think there were many things about this hike which were funny but not necessary to explain in a post/blog or whatever. Making it to the top-altough it was not the total top- was totally worth it. We had peanut butter and banana sandwiches for lunch YUM. However, I probably won't climb the mountain again as I didnt particularly enjoy the experience overall. Even though the downhill part was easy I managed to fall in a giant hole that was disguised as solid ground. One leg, up to the knee was in a hole and the rest of me in mud. It is interesting to note Tanzanian woman-not all, not the one we live with- do this walk everyday to the market and walk back up the moutain with very heavy things balanced on their heads. However they do not go as high as we did.

So that weekend was not relaxing and caused too much injury. This weekend was better, relaxing, thus boring and not blogging material. I am out of time so will have to reflect and attempt to be more intelligible next time I post something.

Living is Morogoro is getting better everyday. We have more defined roles now in the group. I enjoy having a routine everyday. The NGO we are working with is Faraja and it works within the community dealing with many issues that involve HIV/AIDS. There are many departments. There is a schule/school for disadvantaged kids. A youth centre for youth aged 15-25 who are unable to attend school for numerous reasons. Home Based Care for those living with HIV/AIDS. Legal Aid to assist those- mainly women- who need legal advice or assistance but have often limited funds and/or knowledge about the legal system. Faraja is a local NGO and is under the direction of Tanzanians, poa sana.

I am going to be working on an income generation project that was started by Canadian volunteers 10 months ago. The group we are working with was a selected group of PLWA (People Living with HIV/AIDS) from the Home Based Care department who have begun learnign the techniques dying fabric/batik. They have had two workshops in the past. But upon our arrival we realized that they were not making a profit. This was a disappointment to the group and to the Canadians volunteers. Today we had our first business meeting with some team leaders of the group and it was quite successful. The group decided amongst themselves that their training was not enough and that would like to refine their technique and this will also increase their productivity-eww what an awful sounding word. Thus we are going to have another workshop and hopefully a new instructor from Dar will come who has more experience and is more dedicated to PLWA's. Aside from this we will also host hopefully a couple of playdays. They take place on Saturdays and parents and children affected by HIV/AIDS have a chance to get together and play/express health concerns etc.

Elizabeth, Janice and I will be going to the Youth Centre three times a week. Two times for aerobics and once a week for Ultimate Frisbee-these activities will be interesting I am sure. We are all taking turns going to the Schule during the week. The students are meant to be on vacation but they decided as a group to come back after one week if we were going to be there. There I think my focus will be life skills/confidence building because it was requested by the teachers at the school.

And those are my roles and responsibilities as a volunteer, next I will try to post some of the stupid things I have done this week. There are definitely way too many but they are rather funny.