Zanzibar

I will be the first to admit that I live a pretty sweet life. I have had the chance to see and do things that most people dream about. This was reinforced ten times over when Marta and I went to Zanzibar last week. July 1 and 4 are holidays in Rwanda so Marta and I took the opportunity to take six days off at the price of two and headed off to an island adventure. Just a quick wikipedia update for all y'all... Zanzibar is an island archipelago off the coast of Tanzania (its the Zan in Tanzania) that used to be a major Arab trading port. So it has a strong Arab influence (98% of the island is Muslim) as well as a strong Indian influence from continued trade and of course continued Western influence from tourists, its main economy. So it has an amazing culture on top of perfect, and I do mean perfect beaches.

Marta and I flew in from Kilimanjaro and the first thing that we saw was water that rivaled the crayola "Turquoise" crayon. The water was so clear that you could make out the coral reefs beneath the water from the air. The airport is just south of Zanzibar City, the main city in Zanzibar, and as you fly in, you see thousands of tin roofs reflecting the heat and sun back up to the sky, like thousands of mirrors. When we landed, we were quickly ushered through the airport and into a waiting taxi that was literally from 1953. Our driver gave us an impromptu tour of the city (the Indian Embassy is the biggest and the Soviet block buildings built by the East Germans are still standing) and drove us into Stone Town, the oldest part of Zanzibar city and a World Historical Site.

It was in a word... stunning. Narrow alleys wind around tall weathered buildings that have been standing for hundreds of years. All the doors are wide, heavy wooden doors with ornate carvings and metal decorations, some rounded on the top, spiked, or flat depending on the era the building was erected and the cultural influences at the time.

We walked around Stone Town the first day, shopping and eating. After a year of brochettes and fries, it was a culinary explosion. Lobster, crab, octopus, shrimp, prawns, Italian, Indian, Japanese, Chinese... I have to stop. The best was probably the strip of street food vendors that set up shop as the sun was setting. Hundreds of people just walked up and down the line of street vendors eating Zanzibar Pizza, roasted crab, octopus skewers, or spiced tuna. We ate only briefly at the street food since we also wanted beer (what can I say... a year of Primus and Mutzig leaves one hungry for choices) and since Zanzibar is Muslim, alcohol is not allowed on the streets. After an meal which actually left me satisfied for the first time in a year, Marta and I went back to the hotel and crashed. Oh and side note, our room was cleverly separated from our bathroom by a shower curtain. Ingenious. And completely not-soundproof.

The second day, as much as we wanted to stay in Stone Town, we were also anxious for the beach. So after breakfast, we arranged a shuttle and took off for the Northwest beaches, specifically Kendwa beach about an hour north of Stone Town and a world away. At low tide, the beach stretches around the tip of the island for several kilometers with turqouise water on one side and jungle (and hotels) on the other. The sand is so soft that it felt like walking on flour and was almost white, with minute pieces of red (Marta and I still cant figure out where the red came from). There isnt too much to say about the next two days... We laid on the beach, drank beer, ate sea food, and made friends with the bartenders at the bar down the beach because they were nicer and cheaper and just generally had a completely lazy and indulgent time.

On the third morning, July 4, we went snorkeling. We went with a tour and ended up with a French Canadian couple, a Swedish couple, two friends from Norway, and a girl from England/ Australia. It took about three hours to reach the private island that we snorkeled off of (couldnt actually go on the island. That would have cost $300). So we all laid on the top level of the dhow (traditional fishing boat) and watched the island pass slowly by. When we got to the island everyone just jumped in and snorkeled around except for yours truly. I jumped in and pretty much swallowed a bunch of water, got water in my mask, and started thrashing around like a wounded seal (oh there are sharks in Zanzibar by the way). So finally I got it together, swam back to the boat, and practiced a little. Its not hard, but its unnatural and I apparently do not take naturally to swim sports. But after about ten minutes holding onto the boat and a new mask, i was good to go. I still swallowed a lot of water and i was afraid to dive under the water, but it was amazing nonetheless. We were swimming just feet above coral reefs with big violet and yellow fish, long thin silver fish, urchins, and star fish and at one point i looked up and i was swimming through a school of black and white striped fish. Every time I turned, they would turn and surround me again, swimming around and in front of me. After snorkeling, we went to a beach just across the channel from the island and had bbq fish, coconut rice, and fresh pineapple and oranges on the beach. It was a pretty idyllic day. Other than being spied on by a 13 year old boy when I was popping a squat. That wasnt as much fun.

After we got back, we reverted back to the previous pattern of beers and beach chairs until it got dark. We decided to walk down the beach a little to a place that had a band the night before and play some board games. In the middle of our second game, Kilimanjaro, a Masai warrior came and sat next to us and then started playing. Apparently he used to play all the time. All I can say is this... never get into a betting game against a Masai warrior playing Jenga.

After the jenga game, we made our way back to Kendwa rocks which was having its monthly full moon party, which draws people literally from around the island and from Dar. There was an acrobat squad and two djs and apparently a bbq buffet, which we were too late for (45 minutes after it opened, picked clean). Marta and I made friends with a middle aged south african couple that wanted us to stay with them for World Cup (the own a couple hotels) and were very intent on seeing us married so promised to fix us up with eligible footballers. Crap I just realized we left without getting their number. Stupid Linnea!

Unfortunately, we had to leave the next morning so we didnt stay too late at the full moon party. Late enough to regret it the next day but also early enough to make it through the day without hating life. You've been there. So the next day we left Kendwa and got a shuttle back into Zanzibar town. When we got the airport, the line was really long and completely stopped. We were waiting as they came along grabbing people out of line for flights that were literally leaving and rushing them through security (probably not the most secure airport in the world, now that I think about it). All of a sudden, a man came up to me asked me if I was on flight 712 to Dar (I was on 423 which left an hour later by the way) and grabbed my ticket. He started yelling at Marta (she was in the other line so we could cover our bases) to get over to where we were. Then he disappeared into a small office as we stood around completely confused and came out about ten minutes later with handwritten boarding passes for the new flight that looked like movie tickets and told us to hurry hurry, being quite annoyed that we were holding up the plane, and rushing us through security (no worries though we still had to pay the five dollar fee for intercountry travel). We ran out onto the tarmac and were hurried up the ramp by an impatient ground squad, chastised for being late (please keep in mind we were waiting for a different flight that was not scheduled to leave for another hour and a half) and then pushed into our seats. During this jostling, Marta dropped her passport in the plane, which was exactly the same color as the passport, so after we landed in Dar, Marta and I were literally on our hands and knees pawing the floor, looking for her passport. Which we found with very little help from the flight crew. One of them asked me "Why did you drop the passport in the middle when you were seated in the front?" Right... because we meant to do that.

So after that flight, we sat in the Dar es Salaam airport (it smells like bathroom FYI) and then were on our way to Kilimanjaro again. We spent the night in Moshi which seems like a pretty happening town at the base of Kili and the jump off point for people hiking the mountain. Unfortunately, we had neither the time nor money to do so, but at least I have seen it now! Finally, after spending the night in Moshi (there are no flights from Zanzibar to Rwanda on the same day using the airline we chose so we ended up with an overnight layover. It was cool though and Im glad we did) we were back on the flight to Rwanda and back at work by noon. Although I did have to shower because by then I hadnt showered for umm I think four days. I counted the ocean as a wash. My hair however did not.

The sacrifices I make...

I just wanted to relay the events of my weekend in case there were still people out there who thought that I am really sacrificing a lot by roughing it in Africa. On Saturday morning, I woke up early and went for a 7-8 mile run (not sure exactly). Rather than make me tired, it gave me all sorts of energy so I baked some zucchini bread, called some friends to come over, and then made pancakes, eggs, toast and coffee for a breakfast brunch. After that, we decided the only way to continue the day was to lay out by a pool all day. Which we did, while eating pizza and drinking beer. While there, we came up with the brilliant idea of going to a bar that has a big screen tv and convincing them to play a movie of our choice while we laid on the lawn and ate food. We went to bed pretty early because Sunday we decided we wanted to go hiking, so we went to Mount Kabuye, the mountain I climbed a few months ago, and hiked up to the top. After the five hour hike, we rolled back into town and then ate ourselves silly on Indian food.

All in all, it was a great, exhausting, relaxing, food-filled, over-active weekend. I expect more of the same in the run-up to coming home. I will let you know how that works out!

Random thoughts while the internet is down

My time here is quickly coming to a close. By the end of July, I will be finished at PSF and traveling home. So of course, this is a time of reflection as I think back on my last year. In so many ways it doesn’t seem like any time at all and in other ways, I feel as though I have been here forever. When I think back on being here, the things that I have done, the people I have met, I feel like I just got here. There are still so many people that I know, but just on the surface, people who I would like to get to know better. There are people that I meet and want to become better friends with, there are places that I want to visit or revisit. When I think of these things, I feel as though I have just touched down in Rwanda.

But when I think about family and friends at home, that is when I feel I have been away forever. Friends that are celebrating their wedding anniversaries, announcing births or engagements… missing these milestones is when I feel I have been gone far longer than a year. In no way do I want these things for myself, at least not yet (sorry Mom), but to miss them when other people are celebrating, it makes me think that I have been gone for so much, missed so much. So I have mixed feelings about coming home. I am excited to see family and friends, but I will miss this place dearly, miss the family and friends that I have made here.

I will miss the perfect weather, the gorgeous hills, the reserved but incredibly strong people, the generosity that they show us everyday. I won’t miss the stares, the cat calls, the cockroaches. I will miss the peacefulness and relaxation that comes with living simply, I will miss having time to cook meals and bake, run long distances and practice yoga. I won’t miss the boredom when these options are exhausted or the sense of being cheated that comes with negotiating transportation. I will miss the ease of travel and the opportunity to see incredible things, things that are just an hour away for me, but a lifetime away for other people. I will miss the sense that I am living an incredible adventure, even though for the most part it is as routine as the most average life in the US. I won’t miss feeling like everything here is just a little bit harder, takes a little bit longer, and requires a little more patience than anywhere else. Or maybe I will miss that. Because that reminds me how lucky I am, how lucky we all are, that our lives are so simple, so convenient. Maybe having to work a little bit harder for something, or having to wait a few more minutes for something, makes us harder working, kinder, more patient people. Maybe out of everything, the littlest daily challenges are what I will miss most. Maybe not… either way, I know I won’t miss the cockroaches.

Cold War Part Deux

I just wanted to relate what happened last weekend, as it was one of the most bizarre moments of my life.

Lake Kivu separates most of Rwanda from DR Congo. There are a couple main “resort” towns along the lake, one of them being Gisenyi which we have been to several times, and one is called Kibuye. Marta, my roommate, and I had never been to Kibuye so we decided it was time to go as we are both leaving soon. So Marta organized a weekend adventure for us. And since if one person goes on vacation, we all go, there ended up being 14 of us. One of the guys that went, James, organized a boat ride for us on the lake to visit various islands. The boat was essentially a large covered rowboat, although it did have an outboard motor. It also leaked heavily and had an official bailer. For someone vaguely afraid of drowning, it was not the most comforting site to sit next to the bailer, ankle deep in water. Anyway, we were touring around the lake when we came to a small island and there standing on the beach, was a man with flowing locks wearing nothing but a speedo and waving us down. Turns out the island is populated by a group of ten to twelve Russian men, all middle age, most a little overweight, and most wearing bathing suits that left very little to the imagination. There was also a monkey wearing a diaper. Upon our arrival, there was much merriment among the Russian men and invitations to drink Russian vodka with them. Being the well-mannered people we are, we of course took them up on the invitation, and let me tell you, real Russian vodka is delicious. NOTHING like what you get in the US, although I assume the effect is much the same since after we had all shared the vodka, we took part in “Cold War Part II” which was an extended dive competition between America and Russia. I’m not sure that anyone won. Except maybe the monkey because he kept stealing people’s beers when they weren’t looking. It is amazing how much alcohol a monkey can drink.

Pictures from Nyungwe

As promised, here are some pictures from Nyungwe National Forest, the largest remaining tract of protected rainforest in Eastern and Northern Africa, which is sad because it is really pretty small, about 1000km2. Regardless of the biting ants, poisonous snakes, and excruciatingly steep hikes, its an amazing place and worth the pain (although in the middle of our 10k hike I did wonder what would happen if one of us just collapsed in exhaustion...)





Unfortunately I tried to post more pictures but it just isnt happening. So here is the good old facebook link and I hope that at least some of you will be able to see it...

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2026550&id=48101028&l=96d4e32172

Apologies for being terrible

Hello all... after recently reading my friends blog I realized that I am a terrible blogger and decided in the last ten minutes of the day to give a quick update. It just seems that after ten months, nothing exciting really happens anymore. But of course thats not true and I will briefly update on the goings on in my life.

First, as some of you know, I will be attending Johns Hopkins in the fall to get my Phd in Population Family and Reproductive Health. So that means that I will be definitively leaving Rwanda on July 31, spending two weeks at home, and then moving to Baltimore. For all of you who worried that Rwanda might be dangerous, I think it has nothing on Baltimore. :) I guess Im just drawn to a place with t little thrill.

Second, the main update is the load of people who have been coming through in recent weeks. After my visit to Uganda, my friend Philip came down to visit. The weekend after that, my friend Angela who works at our sister site in Lusaka came up for a weekend just to see how the different projects work. While she was here we went camping in Nyungwe national forest. I really should (and will) provide pictures of that because it was stunning. After Angela, Cait, a friend from Emory came through for two weeks, and now my friend Thomas, who worked at CARE with me is here for a couple weeks. So although no one is specifically here to see me, its still pretty great to see all of these familiar faces.

Third, umm third... My lovely mother and aunt are coming to visit in the end of July and I am so excited for them to see Africa in all its varied wonderfulness (is that a word?). They are going to Kenya for a week, then coming here for a week, and then we will have four days in Ethiopia for a quick and dirty tour. I wont lie, I spend a lot of my time day dreaming about the food. So I am very much looking forward to that.

In the mean-time, life continues on as normal. Which I guess is an important lesson... no matter where you go, people are pretty much the same.

Uganda revistited

This is now the third time I have tried to write this entry. So we will see if I ever actually get around to finishing it...

Last week was the Genocide Memorial week. On the advice of many of my colleagues, I decided to take leave that week and go up to Uganda, not because it is dangerous or anything, just that it is a very sad, very intense time for a lot of people and a lot of people would themselves like to leave. So my friend Leigh and I went up to Lake Bunyoni in southern Uganda for a couple days. We stayed on an island in the middle of the lake in a place without electricity, running water, internet, and cell phone reception and I LOVED IT. It is so easy to get caught up in the sense of immediacy and importance that we have developed as a result of telecommunications. But when you can get away from it, really get away from it, you realize that actually you dont matter all that much and it is ok to take a break. Life will go on without being able to get in immediate and contact. So it was so relaxing to just break off contact with everyone and go hiking around the island, go canoeing (although we kept going in circles which started make me a little sick after a while) and eat a lot of delicious food.

We were there from Saturday until Tuesday morning. On Tuesday I hopped a bus to Kampala, which was one of the more frustrating bus trips of my time here. The driver told us we were leaving "now, now" when we bought our tickets (stupid stupid stupid. I should know better by now) and we ended up sitting in the bus for two hours waiting for it to fill up. Of course the driver left it running the whole time even though there was no heater or air conditioner, flooding the bus with exhaust and inducing an awesome asthmatic cough that I have yet to get rid of, a week later. The driver then proceeded to treat the bus trip as his own personal shopping expedition, stopping at various fruit vendors along the way, judging produce and haggling prices for up to half an hour each time. My favorite may have been when he sent a boy scurrying back and forth between the bus and his fruit stand four or five times to bring different assortments of oranges to him. Ugh...

Anyway after about ten hours (it should only take six) we got into Kampala and I made it to a hostel. Stayed in Kampala for a day and a half but its pretty mundane for most people. I watched two movies back to back and ate thai food. Standard I think for most people but VERY exciting for me. And I had a series of late night conversations with random other expats coming through the hostel about the various state of affairs in the world, economy, gay marriage, stem cell research, the nature of good and evil, legalization of drugs, climate change... I mean you know, those standard light-hearted conversations you normally have with strangers.

On Wednesday night I met up with my friend Lacey, who I lived with in Gulu almost two years ago, and this was really when the trip got going. First, because it was really nice to see an old friend and share our experiences about living and working abroad and second, because Gulu was in a time of rapid change when we were there two years ago and we were both very curious to see what has happened. So bright and early Thursday morning we got a bus to Gulu.

The most amazing part of the trip to Uganda was revisiting Gulu. After two years away, I really had no idea what to expect. Although the peace talks have continued, and there has not been much, if any, reported rebel action in the area, the increasing activity in DR Congo was reason to worry. I thought that perhaps the resettlement process, wherein people were returning home, had been disrupted and that people would still be living in the camps. But as we grew closer to Gulu, there were definite indications otherwise. Many of the camps that had crowded the road the previous year have been abandoned and the store fronts that were previously dirty and crumbling were newly painted. Bars had pool tables and semi-permanent attachments built on to allow for people to linger and enjoy themselves. Sure maybe in a society with rampant alcoholism, encouraging more drinking isn’t the best idea. But, in a place where people have not had any real form of recreation or entertainment in twenty years, the pool tables are a great sign.

Even Gulu itself has changed, although not with signs as significant as abandoned camps. Rather, there are more banks, three or four stories high, and the boundaries of the town have expanded. Rapidly. Perhaps most encouraging, and certainly for Lacey and I, most comforting (quite literally), is the improvements in the roads. Two years ago, the roads were practically impassable. Even in a 4x4 LandCruiser, we would be tossed around in the car like dolls. Some smaller cars would not even take us to For God (where the center is) because they would bottom out their cars too often. This time however, the roads were much improved. Almost completely level with very few potholes or divots. Although that might seem like a relatively insignificant improvement, it actually means quite a bit. The road from Gulu continues to southern Sudan, to Juba. It is the main means of keeping communication and trade open between two very poor regions of the world. Goods can be more easily transported to an area in need of food and basic commodities and people can travel more safely between regions. The poor condition of the roads two years ago was viewed by many people as a physical manifestation of the poor regard that the Ugandan government had of both northern Uganda and southern Sudan. The improvement in the roads can then be regarded as an indication that the government is increasingly interested in improving the lives of northern Ugandans and improving relations with southern Sudan (it also probably has something to do with presidential elections next year. In the traditional anti-Musevini north, it would do him well to woo voters). Whatever the reasons for improvement, there is no doubt that things are getting better and to be able to witness it was extremely uplifting.