Pole Sana

One of the most interesting parts of the language here, Kiswahili, is that passing someone on the street warrants more than just a “Hi” or “How’s it going?” Instead, sympathy tends to find its way into even the most casual interaction. “Pole” (pronounced POH-lay) in its simplest form means “sorry.” In hearing it used at least a dozen times a day, however, I have learned that it implies much more. If you ask me, a more accurate translation would come out to something more like “that’s too bad about you and the circumstances in which you have found yourself” or “I feel for you.” While standing in a line or trying to drive in this country may not give the sense that the Golden Rule is in effect, you can tell that people are still thinking of others. The word can be said to someone who is sick, carrying a heavy load of bananas, busy at work, stuck at the airport, or grieving. I have even heard it many times when I couldn’t even figure out why I was the recipient of one. I’ve never looked into the etymology of the word “sorry,” but I’m pretty sure I’ll find myself substituting “pole” even after I’m back home.

Running a marathon: definitely pole worthy

Having said all that, pole sana (very sorry) to those of you who have been waiting since December for an update on things. There haven’t been any huge trips to write about in 2010 so far, but at the same time I could never find the time to sit down and post something so I guess there’s no excuse. There’s been a lot of the same-old same-old in terms of new friends coming and going, soccer in the afternoons, slow internet, and hot weather. I’ll try to post a little here on the trips I’ve made within the country in the past month and a half, as well as what it’s like to start thinking about leaving somewhat soon and finding something else to keep me occupied.

Road improvements aren't exactly a top priority, even if they temporarily block half of the road.

My trip back to Tanzania was once again mostly uneventful. It was exciting for me to cut out one of the flights by leaving from Washington with Jeff and his family. My parents had a nice, if brief, chance to meet them at the airport before the five of us started our journey back to the post-holiday Moshi diet. I almost even had a clear shot through customs once again at the Kilimanjaro airport, but the agent hesitated for a moment when going through one of my two huge bags. It just so happened that this was the one that was half-filled with donated sweaters, socks, and shoes…mostly for women at a local HIV/AIDS support organization called KIWAKKUKI. Oh, and a small pink sweater happened to be what I had packed last, right on top of the bag he had open. Despite all this, I replied to his question, “Are all of these items strictly for personal use?” with a confident “Yes,” and moved on. Not much had changed in Moshi. Yes, one of the road construction projects on the way back from the airport was finished, but the month-old piles of rocks on the road outside our neighborhood had obviously had a relaxing holiday.

Sunset at the Chala campsite.

Within a week of coming back, I was already off on a two-day camping hash, this time at a place called Lake Chala. About an hour and a half from Moshi on the Kenyan border, this is one of those lakes that don’t necessarily show up on every map. It’s no Victoria, and the organized tourism industry doesn’t have it on the radar, so who needs to know where it is? Add to that the fact that my informal census counted a total of about five people living within a few miles of the lake, and this was a nice shift from the crowded metro system I had dealt with a week earlier in DC. For those of your trying to picture this place, it’s basically a lake in a crater in a savannah with some mountains in the distance. Thanks to a brand new campsite with showers and toilets, this was a nice place to hold a Saturday afternoon hash before camping out with about 50 others. I walked this hash, which was pretty average (which is a good thing) until the very end, where we had to scale about 500 steep feet of loose gravel. Unbeknownst to us, the view at the top would be a panorama of the lake from the rim of the giant crater. This was a nice reward for a long hike, even if the path along the top of this ridge was full of the meanest thorned plants I have ever encountered. They seemed harmless at first sight, but I came home with a few holes in my shirt and some scratched up extremities.

The view after our climb

We broke out into small groups for dinner, which basically consisted of fancy snacks that I hadn’t even come close to in Moshi. That night I also learned a lesson that a yoga mat that you found in your closet does not effectively double as a sleeping mat. Needless to say, the sleepless night had me ready to go back to the house. Not before a brisk morning hike, though…Suzanne, Terrie, Nikoly, Elizabeth, and I decided to trek down to the edge of the lake, since we had only been able to look from a distance. While it turned out to be more of a technical descent than anything else, it was well worth it to see the clear water and rocky shore. There were legends floating around that crocodiles still live in this lake, but if this is true it looks like they would have a tough time trying to climb around on the land with their short legs. I may have lost some sleep and hydration over the weekend, but it was nice to hang out at an inland oasis for a few days.

Crocs? Psh.

The next weekend, I participated in my first trip with the Kilimanjaro Mountain Club to the Rau Forest. This all may sound impressive, but in all honesty it was slightly more exciting than walking slowly through Duke Forest with a huge crowd. Yes, we saw monkeys. Yes, we saw a gigantic tree. Yes, the rice fields we saw were among the greenest things my eyes have ever seen. Yes, there were a few river (creek) crossings. But seriously, other than that it was all pretty ho-hum. The mvule tree, according to our guide, is the tallest on the continent, but I remain skeptical about that. OK, I’ll admit it was cool, but maybe when you all come to visit we can find something slightly cooler.

A tribute to the effective irrigation system in Lower Moshi

Occupying yet another Sunday was my sixth hash, this time down the road and up the mountain a bit in Machame. I decided at the last minute to run this one…good decision for me, bad decision for anyone who wants to see pictures of it. This was definitely the most picturesque of all the hashes I’ve done so far (go figure), as well as one of the most difficult. We did a lot of climbing and a lot of careful jogging along ridges with steep drop-offs to one side, and managed to return to the cars missing only about 670 calories apiece. The trail ultimately had us scale the east side of a valley, go for a while (and take in the sights), descend to cross a river, climb up the other side, and run all the way back to the start. This turned out to be a great hash, especially considering our concerns that it would be rained out as we had driven though several downpours to get there. Add in the full spread of snacks and drinks Bob set up for us at the end, and I can’t think of many cooler ways to spend a Sunday afternoon. Hopefully this link to my GPS map of the route works for everyone: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/25557565

At least you can see how much more jungle-esque it looks than Moshi

Making up for the time I’ve been spending indoors at work lately, I went on another camping trip the following weekend. This time was slightly less formal, as I’d be going with my British friend Rick to a campsite a few hours west of here in a place called Monduli. All I knew going into this was that we’d be doing some hiking with friends, and that we’d be stopping to pick up food in Arusha on the way. This turned out to be a nice weekend, as we stayed at a pretty rustic campground on top of a hill and basically hiked/hung out with some local Maasai guys. A fence of thorns surrounded the area, I’m assuming to keep out certain animals, but we didn’t see anything beyond baboons in the two days. We did, however see evidence (if you know what I mean) of giraffes, hyena, badgers, buffalo, and domesticated cows. On the short Saturday hike our guide gave us a chance to see a secluded area with a special meaning for his tribe. Apparently, after a Maasai man in this area is, ahem, circumcised, he must spend 20 days alone in a tiny hut in this ravine, eating nothing but meat. Just as we were all amazed hearing about what must be an ancient custom, the older guide started to pose under a rock formation and request that we take his picture. At the end of the hike, our Italian friend Freddy met up with us and broke out his new giant stunt kite. We all (including Manny, one of the Maasai) took turns until sundown trying to handle the thing, which is apparently powerful enough to take a small person for a ride under the right conditions.

Ready for the cover of Maasai Magazine

The Maasai guys were also fascinated by my GPS watch and iPod, which I let them borrow for a while around the campfire after dinner. Before I learned that they were really into The Clash, Michael Jackson, and Buddy Holly, the big group had an ongoing feast with burgers, cheese, sausage…and a bag of lasagna. I have to also point out that about half of the group was Italian, and that nobody had ever heard of dehydrated camping food before. Suffice to say, I took some heat for the just-add-boiling-water meal. Don’t worry though – they do still talk to me, and it turned out to be a relatively good meal. Sunday we kind of did the equivalent of the “spin the globe” game, choosing to scale the line of mountains to the east without any idea of what that would involve. It turned out to be an exhausting 17-kilometer (10.5 mile) trek of ups and downs that would cover a net elevation gain of about 2,300 feet. We were treated to some great views along the way, including one from a remote secondary school in a location that would make Greg Mortenson proud (plug: read Stones into Schools). We grabbed a quick lunch and turned around just short of the very top, since the guide was a little wary that there would be buffalo around the corner. A few hours and a lot of strange clingy plants later, we made it back to the cars for the ride back to Moshi. Here’s another GPS map for the geeks like me: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/25557578

Hard work is typically rewarded with good views.

The most recent hash took place just down the road from where I live in Shanty Town, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it was any less difficult or scenic. We could tell Jan got pretty excited in setting this one, as it ended up being about 10 km (as opposed to the average of about 6-8 km) of river crossings and confusing shifts in direction. Nonetheless, it was a nice run that included the Bridge of Doom, as pictured in the first post back in September. Jan also had parties (yes, plural) at his place that weekend, where I got to catch up with some people and meet some new ones. Among the new friends was Donato, an Italian police officer currently working at the local immigration academy for the UN. That would probably be me last guess, however, since he basically acts like he’s 20 (in a good way). Anyway, we were both planning on running the 5k at the Kilimanjaro Marathon the following weekend, so we decided to train together after work. Of course, this training regimen quickly came to also include Wii Fit sessions and authentic Italian food with some other friends.

Tom leading the pack across the river, just as I thought I'd make it out with dry shoes.

Still, this motivation helped prepare me for the shortest of the three races last Sunday at the Kilimanjaro Marathon. Probably the biggest event in town every year, this brought professional runners from all over East Africa to a sponsorship carnival that happened to have some running involved. After an early morning mixup with the ride situation, we showed up slightly late and had to run to the starting line. Thankfully the mass of humanity there had delayed the start a few minutes, so we didn't miss anything. A lot of the more sane people I know also participated in the 5k, which actually turned out to be a mess of kids cutting corners to get to the finish line for the free goody bag. It also turned out to be 5.2 kilometers, but who’s counting? At the end of this, I felt even more pity for those who were running four-to-eight times as far in the half- and full marathon. Richard, a med student from Duke, is the only person I know who ran all 26.2 miles, which I can’t even fathom doing in this climate. I also couldn’t think of a better way to spend this night than watching the gold medal Olympic hockey game live. While this normally wouldn’t be possible, I used some of my fast internet credit to find a video feed and invited some folks (including one Canadian) over to watch on the projector. Even though it didn’t turn out perfectly in the end, it was an amazing game. It was also amazing to consider that soon it should be much easier for people here to tune in to things like this from halfway around the world.

Can you guess who ran 4X as far as the other?

So enough about the fun stuff…how about the daily challenges? I’d been warned before I came to Tanzania that it’s not a place for “Type A” people – that I should take up meditation before coming here. I tend to be a pretty patient person, so I figured there wouldn’t be much of a problem. It turns out that frustration also comes into play, even when undertaking a mundane task like paying rent. It’s a Tuesday. I decided I’d go ahead and pay for two months of rent, as well as the combined water/security fee (interesting combination). As I show up at work in the morning with cash in my backpack, I run into Francis, one of the administrative assistants who work hard to sort out any issues for us expats. He breaks his conversation to let me know that the director of housing needed me urgently in his office. This was strange, as I had never met this man, and nobody in his office actually knows my name since it is misspelled or left out in most of the records. No problem, though. I’d head over to his office in a half hour to talk with him. Well, he happened to be out of the office…but at least I could take care of the payments while I was there. As expected, it took about ten minutes for them to find the right record book and house number. Then, (also perfectly normal) they asked me how much I pay each month. I have no trouble sharing the right number with them, but it makes me wonder how arbitrary this value was in the first place. Either way, that’s taken care of. But wait, he doesn’t have any change in dollars for me. No big deal, I can apply the change to the water/security payment, right? Actually, he doesn’t know how much I should pay for that, and the woman who does is out of the office at the moment. That’s interesting. He wrote a note to record the credit to be used when I would return later that day, and I got back to work. Upon my return, everyone was in the office and my job seemed nearly complete. I gave the lady my credit note, which had me listed as “Tobias,” and she got to work in the books. What, I didn’t have exact change in shillings? Oh no, this would have to be recorded in two books. Dollars and shillings of various denominations were exchanged across desks, and a receipt was written for “Mr. William.” Before I could point out that error, the man took it back and tore it up. I would need two receipts, of course, since some was going to his pile and some to hers. Or because it wasn’t divisible by 50. I really didn’t know at that point. Anyway, it all worked out in the end as usual, but not without the usual adventure. Oh, and that Friday I finally got around to the urgent issue Francis had mentioned in the morning…I was finally signing my lease after living in the house for a full six months. So it goes.

So close. I got lots of poles at work the next day.

I had also been tested a few weeks earlier, as a pair of second year medical students approached me in our office on a Thursday morning. They said they needed help with the statistical software I had taught to the first years, and that I should give a lecture on it the following afternoon. This would be no problem at all under normal circumstances, but normal circumstances would dictate that I know how to use that specific function of the software, and maybe that I have a way to at least prepare. On the contrary, I had no idea how to do analysis with this software, which I just learned on my own in October and November. Conveniently, the software also doesn’t work on Macs, which dominate our office at the moment. And the lone PC was in the shop. And a virus wouldn’t let me install the program on any other PC. So on Friday, I spent the first twenty minutes of lecture learning about the lecture topic from scratch. It didn’t matter in the end, as it took a little longer for most of the class to trickle in. As I went over the process with everyone three or four times, I felt like I was actually starting to understand the outdated software too.

A 4 hour walk each way for some students

Speaking of software though, a large part of my work has involved learning how to use FileMaker Pro from scratch. In contrast to EpiInfo, this is a very versatile and modern tool that can be used to build almost any kind of form you can imagine. Early on, Brandi suggested I use it to come up with forms for medical data entry. This has branched into four big projects for me, the latest of which involves digitizing surgical records so that patient information can be entered on an iTouch. Ruchi and I are really excited about where this could lead if it works out, and several of the Tanzanian doctors have shown a lot of interest in the program. It probably doesn’t sound exciting at all, but it’s cool to be involved in bringing new uses of technology to a hospital where handwritten records are notoriously inadequate.

51 meters tall, 190 years old

So there’s 2010 for you. February was official outdoor month for me, but I have a strong feeling that the upcoming rainy season will give me more time to keep this updated. By my count, I have a little over three months left here. I’ll be busy with work, figuring out what’s next, and fitting in some final trips, so check back when you have a chance.

Media frenzy at the marathon

This week’s soundtrack:
Bob Dylan – Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright
U2 – Where the Streets Have No Name
Interpol – Say Hello to the Angels
The Decemberists – The Mariner’s Revenge Song
James Taylor – Something in the Way She Moves
Shannon – Let the Music Play
Vampire Weekend – Cousins
Red Hot Chili Peppers – Scar Tissue
Gorillaz – M1 A1
The Smiths – This Charming Man
Arcade Fire – Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)
The Strokes – The End Has No End
Red Hot Chili Peppers – Wet Sand
Chicago – If You Leave Me Now
Modest Mouse – 3 Inch Horses, Two Faced Monsters
Meaghan Smith – It Snowed
Brand New – (Fork and Knife)
Interpol – Wrecking Ball
Moby – Honey
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Down Boy
Spoon – Don’t You Evah
Interpol – Take You on a Cruise
Sigur Ros - Starálfur

Additional team attire spotted:
Wild
Bills
Magic
Chiefs
Ravens
Saints

Dala dala themes:
Prime Cargo
Dreams
Johnson
Be Real
Hate Me Now
Black Idea
Solidarity
Master P
All Togather
Ice Ice
Prison Break
Black Street
Hard Target
Not Easy
Lucky Stars
Fantastic
Absolute Power
Best Wishes
If Only
Web Suvvy
Dad Roks
Responsibility

Also:
One day after work I received a surprise visit from two of the neighborhood's newest additions. One of them stuck around for some food and pictures, and I named him MJ because it looks like he's wearing one white glove. I'm not sure if he belongs to anyone, but I am sure that he likes eating trash.

Too quick for the camera

Next time:

Safari? Mt. Meru? Kenya again? Who knows?

Manny and Rick fly a kite. Who says white men can't jump?