Making a List, Checking it Twice

Well, Christmas has come and gone. You know it was a holiday in Moshi because everyone ate pilau, which is a rare treat because it involves meat. Protein is not something you come across very often with our families. But everyone was happy, went to church, came home, and ate pilau. While not a time of gift giving and Santa Claus, Christmas here is a time for family, and it was wonderful to see relatives form other villages coming to see some of our kids and their caregivers. Even non-christians celebrate with their families. It was good times.

As for OIT, holidays have slowed things down, but today we went to the newly rented center to see how the renovations shaped up, and it’s looking good. There are a few classrooms, offices, and a volunteer house, which should be really nice. We have to do some cleaning of the floors, so we made a list of everything we will need, then added on some things we will need to get for our New Year’s day party, then some more things we need for basics… we have a lot of shopping to do! But it’s good and very exciting to be getting things set up so OIT can be a really useful organization for our families and this community, and to have the center be a place where people feel comfortable and at home.

I apologize for the lack of pictures—the dial up internet has not been my friend, so I probably won’t be able to get any up until I am back in the USA in late January. It’s hard to believe my time here is half over (well, this trip anyway)…

Gina's Back!

I have returned. :) I decided to spend my winter break back here in Moshi helping set up the new “Salama Center” and getting the OIT program ready to roll.

It’s really fun to see everyone, and realize that while an entire academic semester has gone by, and I spent most of it looking forward to coming back here, in reality the three and a half months I have been in New York were not that long. But a few things have changed.

Domina, a caregiver who had been pregnant with triplets when I left, gave birth in early September. One of the babies did pass away, but the other two, a boy and girl are alive and well (and absolutely adorable).

Kenneth, one of the toddlers in the program who was completely freaked out by white people and refused to come near Molly or I all summer, and screamed and cried when we got too close, actually shook my hand. I think his grandma caught him off guard, because as soon as he did it he realized I was white and started crying. But, baby steps… :). And, speaking of babies, there was another addition to his house as well. We went to visit today and there was a young woman who I had not met before, but apparently has moved into his family’s house (which is one room). Lo and behold, she had just had a baby, who was born one month ago, but was two months premature, so she was TINY. She was all wrapped up in blankets sleeping soundly. Her name is Dora, and she is also adorable. That house is getting might cramped, though…

As many of you figured out from my previous blog entries, Grayson was my favorite little man in the program, so FYI he is doing well. We walked up to his house and when his grandma saw us coming she literally ran into the street to greet us. I have seriously never seen an old woman move so fast :). She is awesome.

There is a new compound for the OIT center, complete with offices, a volunteer house, classrooms and a kitchen. It is still largely being renovated, but we went there today and things are going as planned. When finished, it will have English classes, a computer center, a sewing classroom, and a day care/nursery school. We just need to get some start-up furniture and a few appliances, and it will be ready to open.

I haven’t seen all the kids yet, as I’ve only gotten to Majengo (the neighborhood the kids live in) twice in the few days I have been here, but I will see them this week as we go around delivering Holiday Greetings from the OIT Ladies in New York (and Chicago). I will of course be sending out more updates.

So this month I look forward to seeing the kids, helping set up a computer lab at the new center, a Holiday party, getting the kids back in school (the school year here runs from January-November), and the inevitable surprises…

Gina's Farewell

(This entry was written by Gina)

Well, I just got back to the USA and am a little delirious from my travels, but I wanted to write a post with final thoughts.

Leaving was pretty hectic. I completed everything I could in terms of information gathering and projects, and I know Luka and Justas will see everything we started through to the end. One thing I’m really excited to see is a potential partnership with a Tanzanian organization that provides computers to educational institutions there. If everything works out OIT will be able to offer computer classes to our kids, their families and the community, which is awesome, as VERY few people have ever used a computer before. Even those with experience know only the basics. So look for more info on that in the near future.

The big news when I left was that the woman Molly wrote about before (Domina) is having TRIPLETS, not twins, so please keep her in your thoughts. Triplets are dangerous enough in the US, and in Tanzania, while I am sure they will do the best they can for her, facilities just aren’t what they are here. And even if she has the children all right, the first few months of their lives will be hard, as will the economic burden on her family. They will be going from 5 people in one room to 8 people in two rooms. I can not imagine how hard it is going to be.

Otherwise, things are pretty normal there. Grayson, the boy who had the operation, is doing fine. Most of the children are doing well in school, and those who aren’t are getting some special attention from Luka and Justas.

Finally, I just wanted to say that I am so glad I had an opportunity to be part of this project. I really think it can be successful and a HUGE help to the kids and their families for a long time to come. I’ll stay involved, as will Molly, and we’ll keep everyone updated as we can. Siyo kwa heri!

Molly's Farewell

(This entry was written by Molly)

We spent my last full day in Tanzania walking around, trying to visit as many families as possible. The past few weeks (I know, it’s been awhile since I last wrote…) have flown by for me, and it feels like we suddenly reached this arbitrary stopping point… hello again, I’m leaving, goodbye. Everyone asks when I’m coming back, and I tell them honestly, “as soon as I am able.”

While I have loved getting to know all of these caregivers, children and their families—and I will miss them all—there are certainly some that were harder to say goodbye to than others. I don’t think most of the kids even realized that I’m leaving, and they were probably confused as to why we were making such a big deal about leaving for the evening. We’ve settled down and become a part of the community, and kids habitually wander over after school, asking for paper and markers to draw, jumping on us, searching the office for our soccer ball. After spending a few minutes telling a group of kids how much I’ll miss them, how sorry I am to go… one of looked up and smiled, then ran away, calling back, “See you tomorrow!” I think it’s better that way, without a difficult goodbye, but I just hope that when they realize I’m gone, they don’t feel abandoned. .

As we left the office for the last time yesterday, I got the cutest sendoff possible. There at the front of a group of kids was Bahati, blowing kisses (her latest trick) and waving, leading the kids in a chorus of goodbyes.

Before heading home, Gina and I stopped for our last bottle of Coca-Cola at Justas’ house. I sat in the same place, drinking the same beverage as I had my first afternoon in Majengo, remarking on how much my impression of Majengo has changed between then and now, and how different a place can look and feel when you know and love the people there.

There’s only a few days before Gina leaves here, too. The Majengo community slowly watched our group of wazungu (white people) grow and shrink—first there was me, walking alone down the streets of Majengo, hoping I would remember the way to the KAFAO office. Then it was Gina and I, every morning and afternoon, getting to know each other, joking, sometimes accompanied by Luka. Then Kristie joined us (and we usually rode past in a taxi), and then Neal came. And then the goodbyes began… Neal left, and soon after, Kristie was gone too. And now I’m leaving, and Gina will be taking that solitary walk through Majengo twice a day (although I’m pretty sure she’d have to try to get lost, now). And soon, the scene of this whole eventful summer will be thousands of miles away from us…

… But, as I reminded everyone I said goodbye to yesterday, “siyo kwa heri” (this is not goodbye). I can’t wait to start the email exchanges, and to hear all the exciting news coming out of Majengo, as the furniture arrives, the computers are installed, the classes begin, the child-sponsoring commences, and and new center opens as the new year begins.

Bits and Pieces

(This entry was written by Gina)

So again, sorry about the infrequent blogging, but computer access has not been abundant for me (us) lately...

But here are some updates…

Grayson (the boy who needed the operation for his breathing/sleeping problem) is home now, and doing quite well. He still is not a big fan of eating, and had a few complications in the hospital, but we went to see him yesterday with some lollipops and he perked up immediately, and even started running around his house. His grandmother reported that he slept well, and therefore, so did she. It was great to see them doing better, and I’m sure Grayson will be totally back to himself in a few days.

One of our girls who was living in a bad situation (not abusive or anything, just dirty and overcrowded) has now moved out of her old house and in with another relative, and seems better off, which is good because we were worried about her.

Lillian, our one girl who was seven and never went to school, officially started last week, which is awesome. Apparently they gave her a test the first day, and she did not do well on it so they suggested keeping her out of school until January, which is the beginning of the school year, but Luka insisted, as she is allready a year behind age-wise, and they put her in class one. She came to see us at the end of the day, and all her notebooks had big red check marks throughout her work, and I have never seen her with a bigger smile on her face. So apparently she was just nervous on the test, and we have no doubt she will do well.

We are continuing with school visits, and I’m in the process of compiling the data on that. It’s another strange sort of problem where the things you think will be the easiest turn out to be difficult in another country. I figured the easiest thing to do would be list the kids grades in each subject. WRONG. They use a different grading system here, and I think it involves curves, so a 56 in one class can be an A and a C in another. And report cards are not readily available, and different levels of school have grades come out at different times. Ugh. It’s also going to be a chore for the KAFAO/OIT staff to figure out who is going to school regularly, and why not if they aren’t. But thankfully they should be getting a social worker soon, and that will be a good assignment for them.

So that’s a few of the things we’ve been working on. I will have many more stories when I get back to the US at the end of August, as will Molly. Kristie leaves this Thursday, and she will have lots of info for everyone, too. Busy, busy, busy…

Busy Little Beavers...

(This entry was written by Gina)

It’s been difficult to blog this last week, as so many little things have been happening rather than one large event or story. Kristie (from OIT in New York) came last Saturday to crack the whip on us interns… or, rather, to bring us chocolate and take us to dinner :). She is getting a lot done with Luka and Justas in terms of paperwork and official registration as an NGO, meeting with the KAFAO Board of Directors, etc.

We also had a pretty awesome HIV/AIDS info session for caregivers, wherein a woman living with HIV who volunteers at a local NGO, which Luka had a contact with, came to speak. I couldn’t understand a word she said, but you could tell the audience was riveted, and she kept people laughing and engaged. We had several comments about how much people enjoyed it after, and one caregiver approached the speaker to ask her to potentially pay a support visit to a neighbor of hers’ who has recently been diagnosed and is not doing well. We are hoping to get many of the kids and caregivers tested soon, as so few have been despite the high risks.

Our other recent activity has been school visits, where we are gathering info about our individual students, and also about conditions of schools. My first question to the first teacher I spoke with had a shocking answer. I asked how many kids were in her class, and she replied “93.” I said “Do you mean in the whole grade or just the one class?” She said “Just my class.” While this did prove to be uncharacteristically high, the average class size here is about 50-60. There are any number of other disturbing statistics I discovered, like toilet to student ratio being about 1:100 (and these are pits, not flushing toilets). But rather than dwell on this, I just want to focus on the fact that the sorts of problems we discovered in the schools are exactly what we are seeking to give support to the children for. Like the classroom I visited today, where the teacher of our orphan said she was an average student, but quite confidently asserted that if she received more support, she would be one of the best in the class. I really look forward to seeing the improvements in grades and behavioral indicators next year, when the kids have been getting some extra tutoring and families are getting support from OI sponsors.

We've also been continuing with teaching english, cooking lessons, and lots of other projects, so we’ve been busy, despite the lack of blogging! We’ll keep trying our best to keep ya’ll updated!

The Price of Health

(This entry was written by Gina)

Yesterday I had the interesting experience of accompanying one of the orphans and his grandmother to the hospital. This child, who is two years old and absolutely adorable, has a chronic breathing problem for which he has already undergone an operation. This operation did not work, however, as his grandmother can not afford the “good” hospital, and had to take him to a local clinic. He therefore rarely sleeps for more than an hour or so at a time, because no matter what position they put him in or how they prop him up, he can’t breathe while asleep unless he is literally strapped to his grandmothers back in an upright position (women here carry children in what I call “baby back-packs,” which involves laying the child across their back, then wrapping it tightly in a large piece of cloth which they tie around themselves). His grandmother, therefore, does not sleep either. You can’t help but notice how tired this woman always is, but she is the sole provider for this child, which means she works everyday to make teacakes, which she sells for an estimated income of 500 Tanzanian Shillings a day (about 50 cents). Last week his breathing got so bad that in desperation she borrowed the 3000 shillings she needed from a friend to take him to the clinic, and he was given three shots and a prescription she could not afford to buy.

Thankfully her grandson is with KAFAO, and Luka was able to get some money donated from a friend to take this child to the “good” hospital, and pay back her friend. So we went and were at first told we had to come back the next day for the public clinic, which is one of those deals where you sit in a waiting room all day and may or may not be seen, and were also informed that if we did this, the child would not be able to receive his operation until September. Somehow it was figured out that if we paid 10,000 shillings—the “full price” of about 10 dollars—we could be seen that day, and potentially have his operation done very soon. That was the chosen option, and we saw the doctor who ordered an x-ray, and told us to come back for a consultation on Wednesday.

I want to point out that I am not criticizing the hospital. I have no doubt they do all they can for their patients, but the fact is healthcare costs money, in this or any country. My point is such a small amount of money in relative terms has made a huge difference to the health and well being of the child and his grandmother. Hopefully the consultation will go well, and he will now receive the treatment he needs, thus enabling both he and his grandma to get a good night’s sleep.

Oobleck is a Staple Food

Do you remember oobleck? You probably made it in elementary school science classes. Essentially, it's flour and water mixed together... and it's super fun to play with! I'm sure it comes in plenty of variations for kids having fun learning in US classrooms-- maybe different colors, consistencies and concentrations, to spice things up and keep us entertained and excited about learning. Kids here make oobleck, too.

But for them, it's not a science experiment. It has nothing to do with "having fun learning", in fact, not all of the kids who make it get the chance to go to school "learn" at all... and many who do probably don't even go to school in "classrooms" as we know them. Here, oobleck is a staple food, and it's called "ugali."

During my first week here (as you can read in earlier posts), we worked to complete Family Needs Assessment forms for the orphans and their foster families, that we are working with here. The purpose of these forms was to help our organization determine the conditions and needs of the children and their families. As Gina mentioned, we were trying to establish basic information-- age and education level of the children, income of their (often single) parents, daily food consumption. Pretty much every family responded "ugali" to the question of "what foods does your family eat on a daily basis?" For some families, "ugali" was the only response. For many, there is only one meal per day.

This is to say that on a daily basis, children here are (literally) living off of this concoction of flour and water. If they are lucky, they'll get a banana in there, too. Maybe some rice. Probably no meat, probably few vegetables, probably no fruit other than that banana.

That is ridiculous, and incredibly hard for me to comprehend (I don't, and can't understand what that would be like). Maybe on a rough day, we'll be running late and skimp on breakfast, eat a small lunch, and come home famished. But the difference between us and these kids is not only that we had a breakfast and lunch in the first place, but that if we got really desperate, we could buy something so frivelous as a candy bar at one of the many stands on the way home, reach out to one of the many fruit vendors walking the streets offering delicious fruits for under 20 US cents, or raid the pantry when we came home. To us "wazungu" (white people, foreigners), there is food everywhere here (I KNOW this is not the case throughout Tanzania, where there is a SERIOUS food shortage... but in urbanized Moshitown, even on the outskirts, there is no shortage of food, provided you have the money to buy it). Our walk to and from work every day entails passing numerous food stands, general stores, a market, and dozens of women carrying buckets and branches of fruit in and out of town. It seems very possible that, were I simply one of the hundreds of tourists that flood this area, I would never realize that behind the tourist-driven economy of Moshi, there are hundreds of people starving in a country that has an alarmingly high rate of malnutrition among children (and adults).

With that said, I think back on the families that have invited us to cook with them-- preparing veritable feasts, even by my American standards (there was always WAY more food than I could eat!). This "oobleck" realization makes the generosity of these families stand out to me, even more. It also makes me think, and worry, about the families that can't, won't, and can't invite us to cook with them. It makes me think about our Saturday gathering a few weeks ago, where we debated and wondered about whether or not to provide food and, when we decided to provide something, what foods and how much we would provide. It is very possible that for some of our guests that day, our mandazi (donuts), vitumbua (teacakes) and soda were not only the most EXCITING foods they'd had in awhile, but maybe the only foods--besides flour and water-- that they ate that day.

Definitely, as soon as we get this program up, food support and supplements will be an IMMENSE help to these families, and the nutrition (and futures) of these children.

(This was posted by Molly)

Join our Facebook Group!

( This entry was written by Gina)

This is just a quick ad for our new "Orphans International, Tanzania" Facebook group. Since we have trouble uploading photos onto this blog, feel free to join us there and see some. If you are not on Facebook, we will be able to post pictures when Molly and I return to the States at the end of August.

Things They Don't Teach In Statistics Class

(This entry was written by Gina)

In my statistics class last semester, we learned about he various kinds of data; how to calculate it, enter it into statistical programs, make determinations about frequencies and standard deviations, determine levels of significance, etc. The thing was, we were using fake data created by our instructors so we would come to certain conclusions for testing purposes. The hard part, which they can’t really teach, is step one—determining how best to enter the data. For future statistical analysis, which OIT will need to prove effectiveness of the program, I have been quantifying data about the orphans who we have been assessing these last few weeks.

Age, birth-date, and number of people living in your house seem, from an American perspective, like easy numbers to enter. But in Africa, where no one knows how old they are because that’s just not that important here, or a “house” can mean any number of things, figuring these things out and accurately quantifying them presents unique challenges. How does one decide what number to enter when a four-year-old girl has had malaria so many times her care-giver can’t count them (one of which is at the moment she is being interviewed)? Is chronic neglect a major or minor medical issue? Do bananas qualify as a food group when no other fruits or vegetables are being consumed? Does the seven-year-old girl whose illiterate mother is only 20, and whose father disappeared, really not count as an orphan? These are interesting determinations to make. Most difficult is the determining why I feel, or anyone feels, that we are somehow capable of making these choices.

But we make our best estimates, consult with our counterparts, and hope that all this confusion will somehow come together, and the work we are doing now means that next year, it can be said with confidence that each child consumes four food groups regularly, has been tested for HIV (and is receiving any necessary treatment), and was able to go to school.

Community... and cooking

Domina is very pregnant-- with twins. When you ask her how many kids she hopes to have, she holds her (very large) belly and laughs, saying "basi! basi!" (enough!). With these two, she'll be up to seven.

Domina invited us to cook last week. We learned the art of making makande, a traditional bean and maize dish that lots of the families we work with claim to eat on a regular basis. I definitely approached this cooking lesson with a western mindset-- thinking, sure, we'll be back in a couple of hours, after we make this. WRONG. Makande takes at minimum 4 hours to cook. It involved lots of chopping, dicing, shredding... much to the amusement of everyone there (especially the kids), I was a highly-inefficient coconut-shredder, who nevertheless insisted on shredding the coconut with no help, and who couldn't lift her arms all the way for the two days following.

By mid-afternoon, a veritable feast had been created. We sat at a table in Domina's one-room apartment, sharing a delicious meal of local foods with the women that had taught us how to cook them, children popping their heads in, requesting more photos to be taken, more candy, and grabbing at handfuls of food until they were finally allowed to eat (after we had all been served).

The cooking lesson was a success, and was, in fact, repeated yesterday with a different family (more women, more children this time), as we learned how to make chapati (which are like tortillas), pilau (rice wity meat and vegetables), cooked bananas, and mishikaki (meat-sticks). We have a standing invitation to make vitumbua (tea cakes) with one of the children's grandmothers next week.

The beginning of cooking lessons happened to coincide with our decision to begin free English classes for the caregivers. Domina, along with Suzana (who cooked with us yesterday) came to both of the two classes we have so far taught. Monday was our first class, and I greeted three students, who by the end of the class asked if our scheduled bi-weekly classes could be tri-weekly. Word must have spread, because upwards of 10 students showed up yesterday (with neighbors and children dropping by as they pleased... some of them staying to copy the notes from the board after class ended). Bahati (our three-year-old avocado-loving neighbor and common lunch guest), was in and out of our outdoor classroom, while Agnes (Suzana's four year-old daughter, whose thick braids are a precursor to the dreadlocks she tells her mother she wants) drew quitely by her mother for two and a half hours. Some of the men who work in the shop next door came by in the end, and this morning, I was greeted with a hearty "how are you?"

A conversation about witch-doctors last week evolved into a discussion about AIDS education in the villages. Luka told me some of the rumors he had heard, like that Westerners were putting AIDS in condoms. In light of our success with the english classes, and our increasing popularity in the community (or, at least our acceptance...) we have been talking about starting informational classes for the caregivers and older children, especially about HIV/AIDS (this is also in light of certain responses to the family needs assessment surveys we completed my first week here). Even though it would be well in the future, Luka and I ave been talking about how great it would be to branch out with these classes into the local, smaller villages in the area (many of these orphaned or abandoned children came from villages, and are now living with family members in the Moshi area).

"WORK" has been happening, too. Gina and Luka have been pouring over Excel spreadsheets every morning, and we are starting to compile and quantify the responses/results from the family needs assessments we completed earlier. But what I find most exciting, most interesting, these days, is the way that this community of caregivers has opened to us, invited us into their homes, shared with us, and responded to us-- whether by coming to English classes, dropping by the office to say hi, or confiding to us about what we can do to really help their families. Not only am I excited about the way I feel like I am bonding with these women, but I'm also excited by the way I see them working together, helping each other, and encouraging each other. Having a "community" among the participating families will make bringing support to them a lot easier, and definitely, a lot more enjoyable.

Meeting with the Families...

(This entry was written by Gina)

This past Saturday Molly and I were welcomed by the current caregivers and orphans in Justas and Luka’s current program (Kilimanjaro Aid for AIDS Orpahans--KAFAO) at a meeting to explain who we are and why we are here. While they had all met Molly during home-visits the week before, I had arrived later and many of their faces were new to me. This meeting was productive in that I feel the clients have a better understanding of how OI is working toward integrating them into current programs, and also helped them be more comfortable with us.

It was also personally disturbing, however, because I think my understanding of the reality of these children’s lives was brought to a new level. These children in no way look or act differently than any others I have met anywhere in the world. Some love us and can’t wait to shake our hands simply by virtue of our being “mzungu’s.” One in particular is absolutely petrified of us and screams, cries, and runs away whenever he suspects we may even be looking at him. They are just kids who want to play soccer and get love and attention from whichever adult looks ready to give some.

As I do not speak Swahili, I have been spared really understanding the interviews I have been party to, but the bits and pieces I pick up are what lets me know these kids are not like the others in my life. Fractured comments in variations of “His dad committed suicide when he found out he had HIV” and “His mom abandoned him when he was 2” are repeated at every house. Also common are “We have no (mosquito) net” and “We eat only corn paste, rice and bananas.” Other comments from the grandmothers of many of the children are “All my five sons died of HIV,” and “My income is 500 shillings (less than 50 cents) a day.”

Yet they all smile, laugh, and greet us into their homes. And life goes on in what seems an absolutely normal manner. I continue to be inspired by the generosity and strength of these children’s families, and that of Justas and Luka.

"Hello, My Name is Name"

(This entry was written by Gina)

After a tumultuous journey, I finally arrived in Moshi, and have spent the last five days orienting myself, getting to know Justas and Luca (and Molly), and practicing my Swahili. The most surprising aspect of this has been that in Swahili, my name (Gina-spelled jina with the soft ‘g’ sound) means “name.” This is how a typical introductory conversation goes:

Tanzanian Person: “How are you this morning?”
Me: “Good.”
Tanzanian Person: “What is your name?”
Me: “Name.”
Tanzanian Person: (Nodding) “Yes, what is your name?”
Me: “My name is name.”
Tanzanian Person: (look of massive confusion)
Me: (In English) “My name is name—Gina”
Tanzanian Person: (various reactions from further confusion to hysterical laughter)

So that is fun. But at least they remember!

Otherwise, I have been so massively impressed by the beauty of this place, and being so thankful for the opportunity to be helping start this program. I have to admit that I almost didn’t believe the OIT staff in the US when they described Luka and Justas to me, and the beginnings of the project. I never would have imagined two men who have so much kindness in their hearts as to give anything extra that they have to support the local children, but here they are! They literally met at church, decided to help orphans, and started their organization. All expenses have been paid out of their own pockets with literally no outside assistance. They are nothing short of amazing.

Being a student of international development, I am always reading rhetoric in the literature about the importance of “community involvement” and “home-grown solutions.” I have never encountered a more pure example of either. I look forward to spending the rest of my summer here, and laying the groundwork for a fantastic NGO.

Swahili School

Today we completed our last Family Needs Assessment form, and this afternoon, Gina and I began our first Swahili lesson. After lunch, self-appointed "mwalimu" (teacher) Justas took us outside the office, where he had set up a blackboard and a bench for our outdoors lesson. Since the day I arrived in Moshi, he has been talking about being our Swahili teacher. Now that Gina is here, and things are settling down, Justas felt we were ready to begin learning. He was prepared with a notebook, where he had listed out his lesson plan. As he stood at the board, helpfully explaining greetings and feelings, one of the neighborhood kids, Bahati, came running up to our outdoor classroom demanding candy. We invited her to school, and she obediently sat down on the bench, promptly demanding soda and paper. I gave her a sip of soda, a piece of paper, and she took my pen out of my hands. After trading the pen for a box of colored pencils, she took a few moments to draw on my notes, and then left, pencils in hand. Our lesson concluded shortly after, and Gina and I headed downtown.

Aside from that, we're getting ready for our gathering this Saturday. Last night, Gina and I sat and hand-decorated our invitations for the 27 orphans and their caregivers, and today, during the Swahili lesson, Luka delivered them. We placed the order for 100 tea cakes (vitumbua) and 100 "mandazi". We're all hoping the weather will be nice... since this will be an outdoors event!

Speaking of climate, Mount Kilimanjaro made its first appearance, yesterday. It has been rainy or at least cloudy since I got here, but suddenly, in the late afternoon yesterday, the entire mountain became clear. You could see all of the base-hills leading up to the highest peak in Africa, which was topped with snow and absolutely breathtaking in the orange light of a sunset. Here, they say that if Kili comes out for you, it's a blessing. I hope that's true and it means good things to come for these orphans and their families.

The Beginning of Home Visits

Yesterday, we began home visits. The Family Needs Assessment forms take a lot longer than we had expected. We DID manage to visit 10 orphans and their families, BUT we spent 9 hours straight doing these surveys! Which means-- including the half hour of walking to and from work-- I was essentially walking for 10 hours yesterday. Tiring as it was, it was incredibly rewarding. I can't get photos to upload on any computer I've found here, BUT I will try to get pictures out ASAP.

Today, we continued with home visits, but we only made it through 5. We were all tired from yesterday, plus, (in my opinion) some of the visits today were a lot more emotionally challenging. We began this morning with a visit to an adorable 11-year-old boy who has AIDS, who is sick, and who may have been perscribed the wrong dosage of ARVs, which is making him even more sick. The situation in itself is sad, but what made the visit heartbreaking was how loving his family was towards him. His grandmother, who took him after his parents died, wasn't there, but her brother was. Every chance he got, this boy's great-uncle was hugging him. As we were leaving, they asked us to stay and to eat oranges with them.

At least for me, I was walking a lot slower for the rest of the day... worrying about the boy's medication, and wondering what it must be like to watch as a child you love dies. Pretty heavy, to say the least.

On the bright side of things, we got one of the smaller, quieter girls to have lunch with us. We suspect she is not getting enough food at home, and despite her TINY size (she's somewhere between 2 and 3 years old), she ate two mini-cakes, half of a large avocado, and half of a cucumber. Between mouthfuls, she managed to tell me she loved avocados-- the first thing she's ever said to me-- so I promised her I would bring her another tomorrow.

With 15 down, that leaves 12 more home-visits to go. I don't think we'll finish tomorrow, but the work has been good, and it feels like we are accomplishing a lot. I am also realizing how much support these children and their families need, and hoping that we can get what they need to them, as soon as possible.

Starting in Moshi

I am so excited. Today was day 2 in Moshi, and I was able to officially meet with Luka and Justas—our African contacts for the Orphans International Tanzania project. I have to admit, I came to Moshi rather clueless, but full of motivation and excitement to help what sounded like a “good idea” get started. Essentially, all I knew was that we had 2 African contacts who would help us reach out to 27 orphans living with “foster” families, and as the program expanded, we would eventually create a center that would provide services and support for these orphans and their families. I wasn’t even sure what had been accomplished already—as I understood things (and this may have just been poor-listening on my part), we hadn’t even confirmed the “orphan” status of these children, we didn’t have “headquarters,” and I had no idea who these Luka and Justas people were, other than kindered-spirits.

I was very pleasantly surprised. It turns out, Luka and Justas are far from “random” participants in this project—they have been unofficially running the Kilimanjaro Aid for AIDS Orphans (KAFAO) organization for the past two years, completely out of their own pockets. This is no small feat, as I quickly came to see. Their organization—which currently has seven volunteers—has been providing exercise books, food, soap and even clothing to these orphans and these families on a regular basis. Last year, they even managed to have a “social event,” where they welcomed the orphans and their families, in order to create a community for the participants in the program. When they went to officially register their program with the government last year, they realized they needed a headquarters; so, they began renting a two-room office in Majengo. It was in this office that they welcomed me this morning, where they shared story of KAFAO, and where the future of this organization—soon to become, officially, Orphans International Tanzania—began to take shape, and to seem so clear and possible and immediately exciting to me.

On one of the office walls, pictures of participating orphaned children smile down on those who sit opposite them. Throughout our meeting in the office, some of these children—who live, play or go to school in the neighborhood—managed to pop their heads into the office to say hi, to smile, or to shyly run away and stand, watching, behind the tree in the courtyard out front.

Luka and Justas presented me with a folder containing an official documentation of each child’s confirmed status as an “orphan”, signed and verified by the government. They began telling me about visiting these children and their families—each week—and it became clear to me that Orphans International will be supporting and enhancing a program that is already in motion—albeit precariously and continuously on the verge of running out of money. With each file, each document and every photo that they handed me, they smiled hopefully—at me, at each other—and the excitement in the room became palpable. These men’s vision to create a stable support-base for these orphans and the families that took them in is soon to become a reality.

First things first: we need to fill out “Family Needs Assessment” forms for each of the 27 participating families. This is good, explain Luka and Justas, because ever since they told the families that Orphans International would be sending interns, the families have been asking to meet us. But the questionnaires are in English? Luka and Justas proudly hand me their Swahili translation of this eight-page document. After making 27 copies of both the English and Swahili versions of these forms, we are ready to begin home-visits tomorrow morning. Justas estimates we will finish 10 per day (meaning we will finish by the end of the week… which seems reasonable to me), however, Luka makes a more ambitious estimation that maybe we could finish all 27 tomorrow. We will see! In any case, I have a feeling the next day(s) will be pretty intense.

I have been SO inspired by Luka and Justas’ commitment to these orphans and to their families, by their motivation to get things off the ground as SOON as possible, and by their obvious compassion and care for the well-being of these children and their community. I’ve been dedicated to this project since the first, rough-explanation I was given about it… but after meeting Luka and Justas, seeing their work, meeting some of the other participants (they called all of the volunteers to come meet me, but only some of them could make it), and meeting some of the orphans, I feel VERY motivated, and very positive about this project.