african farewell

This concludes my Africa posts. Perhaps I'll go back through my photos and add a photo here or there in the next few months, but I'm ready to bring this blog back to my present life. These photographs represent my last day in Africa. I can honestly say I was sad to leave. Sure, I missed my friends and the normalcy of American life, but I could have stayed longer. "Be more relational," were Daudi's parting words. He encouraged me to focus on relationships and not worry about the "other stuff." I've tried to do this since my return. I try not to watch the clock or worry if I'm a few minutes late. I try to make the people I'm with a priority. I have a long way to go, but his words still echo, bounce around in the walls of my mind.

kweranga

[tip: view the audio slideshow in fullscreen mode for a better experience]

My reason for going to Africa? Kweranga. It's an introduction ceremony in Tooro culture. Daudi brings "his village" to Kellen's village to ask for her hand in marriage. We travel to her home, after our briefing from Daudi's spokesperson. The ceremony is in Tooro. We listen and smile but don't understand.

We arrive by van and wait for an invitation to "enter." Once welcomed, we come with gifts for the family: green bags filled with clothes and fabric, calabashes, crates of soda and a television and DVD player. We kneel to the elders and walk backward to our seats. A handful of us are invited into the family home where we drink milk from a calabash in unison. We return to our seats. A group of a few hundred face us, judge us and decide to accept us.

music credits:
1 - four bored at the kitchen table in Uganda
2 - same as above, except we used our voices instead of fingers this time
3 - the crowd at Kellen's home
4 - dj music

hay más

Just a visual reminder that there is more to come from Africa. Here are two snaps from Uganda. I should have the kweranga multimedia posted by tomorrow night or Tuesday at the latest.

milk and food

I kept a list of the food I liked while on my trip. The first item to make the list was Worcester flavored pretzel nuggets, which British Airways served on my flight. Another notable item from the flight was the Lily O'Brien cookie. Yummm. Tanzanian discoveries in my first few days included maandazi (a chunk of fried bread that you can dip in sugar - like donuts!), chapati (like a pita but almost always served warm, sometimes with egg in it), chips mayai (hmm ... like an egg and potato omelet that you cover in ketchup) and ugali (excellent when served with flavorful greens).

In Uganda, there were a few more nice discoveries. I met my favorite little Ugandan snack on the last day - roasted g nuts (peanuts covered in flour and spices, then baked). I stopped at a grocery store on my way to the Entebbe airport to buy several packs, as well as some baked plantain chips.

Matoke is a staple in Uganda. Imagine stewed, watery, mashed bananas. Can you tell I didn't like matoke? I tried it several different places and never fell in love, but I could drink the peanut sauce that you drizzle over the matoke for breakfast every day!

In addition to the good food, something else edible caught my eye the first few days in Africa. The milk. Everyone boiled the milk. It is sold in bags, unpastearized so it must be boiled before served. Think whole milk is fattening? When you let this milk sit in your cup or the pot for a few seconds, it gets a cheese-like film. As long as I didn't look at the milk, I was fine. By the end of the trip, I had made peace with the milk and even acquired a taste for it. For now, I'm back to my carton of skim, but I still have g nuts in the cupboard.

ask and you shall receive

My random postings are confusing my brilliant friend Shannon. She wants to know where, exactly, in Africa I traveled.

"Hey, El - can you post a map of where you were and how you got there? The mixed up order is confusing me, plus my knowledge of African geography is total poo. :)"

I hope this map helps. The points aren't exact, but they will give you a close idea. If you click on the larger view, the list that appears is in chronological order. Be sure to click the points on the map for additional details. I still may trace in all of the routes we drove via bus, but I think I'd like to sleep. For now, I can list where I stayed each night, in order: Ong'ata Rongai, Arusha, Arusha, Arusha, Mto wa Mbu, Engaruka, Engaruka, Arusha, on a bus in Kenya, Fort Portal, Fort Portal, Fort Portal, on a plane in the African skies.


View Larger Map

hashim raps

Hashim sings a Christian rap song in Swahili at the bus station in Kampala. (Turning this into a video with a single image was easier than posting this as audio alone.) If you like audio, there is more to come!

kweranga prep

Kellen sits under a dryer, waiting for a weave.


Kellen bargains over the price of something. This girl knows how to get a good deal!


Kellen and Daudi use a calculator do to some quick math. Daudi's eyes bulge from his head ... haha. Marriage isn't cheap (even in Africa!).

fort portal

Home for my last four days in Africa.


A cow cuts the grass down the hill from the house.


Art on the wall. Most of the art at the house was religious.


The table where many good meals and chai were shared.

Welcome to Fort Portal, Uganda (or UG, as they like to say). Daudi's love, Kellen, is from Fort Portal, so the kweranga (introduction ceremony) was held there. We journeyed to UG three days before the celebration. The time we spent in Fort Portal was a lot like the days before a wedding in the U.S. - dresses to rent, details to work out, hair to cut/style, people to pay, etc. The maid of honor's family took us under their wing. They fed us, made our beds and drew us hot bath water. Since Daudi is Tanzanian and from a different tribe than Kellen, they were also instrumental in helping Daudi and "his party" understand the Tooro customs. I cannot express enough appreciation for them. Thank you, Deborah, Joshua, Caleb and Pinyo!

in transit

I ♥ Kampala


On the road east of Kampala


The River Nile


A hustler at the Tanzanian/Kenyan border

Buses can't drive in Uganda and Tanzania at night for security reasons, but Kampala Coaches is a clever company. Their bus leaves Arusha, Tanzania about 3:30 p.m. It reaches the Kenyan border as the sun sets. In Kenya, buses can drive at night because the country can afford to hire traffic police 24 hours. The bus then reaches the Ugandan border at about 6 a.m., as the sun rises.

It's a long bus ride. It took me longer to get from Arusha, Tanzania to Fort Portal, Uganda than it did for me to travel from St. Louis to Nairobi via airplane. Once the bus reached Kampala, we took lunch and boarded another bus to arrive in Fort Portal, a three to four hour drive west of Kampala. When the trip is about the journey and not the destination, luckily it matters not how long it takes.

midpoint

All of the images and stories I've shared up until now comprise about a week of my time in Africa. After this week, Daudi and I were dirty and tired. (If you need any more convincing that I needed braids, check out the dreads starting to form in this photo!) So we had a good night's sleep in Arusha and then boarded an overnight bus for Uganda. Interesting stories to follow.

tribunal for rwanda

One of the most interesting experiences I had while in Africa was sitting in on the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. I wrote this in my journal shortly after my few hours at the Tribunal.

They sit on the other side of a glass wall. The victim on the stand is not in sight but hidden by walls and a curtain, protected, if only for this short time in court. Justice is in the hands of the judges. Do they know the power and message they send with their verdict? The lawyers argue, debate. Is the witness speaking of persecution to himself personally or is he speaking generally about "the people"? It makes a difference. They call for a closed session.

I shuffle myself to the next courtroom for the Nshogoza Trial. A lawyer is on the stand being questioned. Objections, over rulings and debate bounce off the walls. I listen to the trial through a headset with a translator when they don't speak English. Recess.

I've witnessed a small piece of what I hope is global justice. I'll probably read a book about this Tribunal one day and its significance to Africa, politics and war. It will carry a message. This shows me the power of a small group of people in an ordinary courtroom in Arusha, Tanzania. They make history while trying to heal Rwanda's past.

archaeological engaruka

The view from a hill we hiked. From here you can see all of Engaruka.


Onesmo led the hike and gave us a history and culture lesson along the way. (He also carried my water, haha!)


At a boma


The remnants of an old home


Remnants of an old canal wall, used to channel water for irrigation and survival

What I haven't shared with you all about Engaruka is its historical significance. The ruins of the old city of Engaruka still exist and are considered one of the best archaeological sites in Tanzania. Evidence of old irrigation canals and rock homes are easily spotted, as well as tombs from war. The Maasai were not the first to settle the land but gained it after war(s).

engaruka accommodations

Where do you stay when you are in el medio de la nada? You camp! My tent is the one illuminated by the sun in the top photograph. A typical breakfast - chapati and chai. The chai was cooked in the stainless kettle over open flame so it gets a real rich, smokey flavor. Yum. I could eat chapati all day long. Another plus about camping in Engaruka is the stars. I have never seen so many stars in my life. Imagine a sky with more light than dark.

engaruka: first person

[Transposed from the journal I kept while in Africa]

Their necks are disguised with large loops of white beads, like halos that have fallen from above their heads. They sing, call and response. They bob, bounce and laugh. The earrings hanging from their sagging lobes and cartilage swing and catch the light of the midday sun. Their necklaces bounce up and down, up and down.

Down. The halo has been dropped over my head, and I'm holding two hands. I'm in the middle and try to mimic their routine. I think first of my body movement, then I focus on trying to make my necklace flap like theirs. I lose myself in the movements. After a few songs, they guide me to the shade of a nearby tree. I sit on the middle of a cowhide. Two Maasai woman wiggle onto the hide with me, sandwiching me. Thigh to thigh, thigh to thigh. They drape a kanga over my legs and pour beads onto my lap.

One woman begins to put beads onto a string. More than a dozen men, women and children surround us, sitting, standing and kneeling. The woman then hands me the string. I clumsily put the beads onto the string, one by one. After a few tries, I string about 10 beads at once, as the women who sit with me do. A man takes note, raises his brow and the group celebrates with various whoops, words and chuckles. My small victory. I continue this new skill until the bracelet is finished.

The woman to my left puts the new piece of jewelry around my wrist and pulls it tight. Snap. The thread breaks. The woman to my right scolds her and takes over. She uses a razor blade, very close to my wrist. I look the other way. She remedies the break and fastens the bracelet to my wrist. I put it out in front of me and show it off. The ladies laugh.

We exchange questions through a man who speaks both Maasai and English. Are you Christian? Where do you buy your beads? Do you have donkeys in your country? How do you use them? Are you in a polygamous marriage? I buy three bracelets from the woman to my right. It's my way of saying thank you for the dance and lesson under the shade tree. Thud. A girl throws a heavy, beaded necklace onto my lap. With all eyes on me, I try it on. Several more ladies shed their jewelry and pass it to me. I say no thanks.

I thank the ladies and the man of the boma (home). I leave with a piece of their culture attached to my right arm and, of course, the rich memories.

the women of engaruka

the road to engaruka

[Transposed from the journal I kept while in Africa]

I board Peace Kiazi, which translates to Peace Potato, bound for Engaruka. A turn north takes us onto a washboard road. The seat vibrates me like an expensive salon chair would in the States. Soon, the Maasai and giraffes are as common as street lights and stop signs on my daily drive to work. Two chickens in a closed cardboard box cluck on a rack above my head.

Across from me, a man's decorated earlobes hang inches from his shoulders. He's beautiful. At our stop in Selela - the one stop on the two-hour trip from Mto Wa Mbu - children reach toward my window, then turn their palms up. I'm not sure if they are begging or saying hello. I reach for a young girl's hand. She jumps to touch mine and squeals when our hands brush. Bags, bananas and more pass through the bus windows from one pair of hands to the next.

Entering Engaruka I pay an entrance fee of 5000 shillings (about $4). It's mzungu (White) price, for which I receive a receipt. Some leave the bus. Others board. We ride to the last stop. I sit inside the pages of National Geographic magazine. Covered Muslims, Maasai warriors and other indigenous faces with dark eyes stare at me. Huts with thatched roofs and mud and stick walls blanket the landscape. I remind myself to inhale and exhale. I don't think I've ever been this far from home.

mto wa mbu

mto wa mbu guesthouse

One night at this guesthouse was the only night of my trip that I didn't spend in someone's home or in a tent.

arusha modern secondary school