My Last Night in Kiganza Village

On my last night in Kiganza Village, before returning to the U.S. to finish my studies, we bought an assortment of sodas from our neighbor Saidi and gave them to our friends who came to wish me a safe journey. Drew captured a video of the kids sitting on a bench enjoying their drinks.


We all sat around outside for a while after everyone had finished their drinks. The kids had such a sugar high going that they could barely contain their excitement. I was able to film a few other clips but this is the only one that I have on hand right now. The clip is kind of dark and it's hard to make out their faces, but they all crowded around and started counting for me and got a kick out of it when I played it back to them. Usually the sight of a camera instills fear but not when you have 20 ounces of soda running through your veins.

misc pictures

These are just some miscellanious pictures i figured i might as well post. This first one is a view of the valley where goseso/kiganza village is located. I realize it probably doesnt look like much, but when i took this picture it struck me that i was looking at a the boundaries of my travels over the next year or so. Most villagers don't stray too far from the land in this picture over their entire life, and i tend to stickwith the villagers.
Here is a picture of the first goseso classroom, or its roof, anyway. i really like the tree on the right hand side.
i love this picture, its currently the wallpaper for my computer. believe it or not, it didnt end up raining.

Collecting Honey

About a year ago, some 30-odd beehives were placed all around GOSESO’s forest. On a recent walk, Ashahadu, the head of our forest conservation efforts and resident jack of all trades noticed that a bunch of the hives had been colonized and looked ready for harvesting, and thus a date was set for the next night and a crew was assembled to gather the first batch of goseso honey.

The Crew:

Kamata and Hamza: The front line technicians. They did all the work. They smoked the hives, cut out the honeycomb, cleaned it off, and tossed in the bucket, and then replaced the hive (hives are hung from trees, to avoid animals/bugs from messing things up). At one point Kamata was 15 feet up in a tree, sitting on a hive like it was a saddle, pulling out honeycomb with one hand and swatting bees with the other. It was quite a sight. Both Kamata and Hamza were stung dozens of times, and they had the swollen hands to prove it, though neither seemed to concerned about their wounds.

Salvatory: Meek, hard-working GOSESO employee. He works with Ashahadu in our forest conservation program, planting indigenous trees, setting up nurseries, etc. He was dragged along to be a porter of sorts, to haul the bucket of honeycomb from one hive to the next. He was an interesting choice as a helper, giving that he is absolutely terrified of bees. He tended to hide in grass/behind a tree a good 20-30 feet from the hives, constantly double checking that his pants were tucked into his socks and that his two coats were properly sealed off. Obviously, Salvatory’s phobia provided endless amusement throughout the night.

Ashahadu: The brains of the operation. He knew the methods, he knew which hives were ready, and he could lead us to them in the dark. And as proof that he was the brains, he shouted instructions to Kamata and Hamza from a safe distance throughout the night, lead the way in laughing at their misfortunes, and was not stung once.

Drew: The useless foreign observer. Though I was dead weight, I like to think I provided emotional support. My credibility was somewhat improved by getting stung 4 times in efforts to get a better view of the action. While nothing near to battle scars of Kamata and Hamza, it was at least enough to gain me entrance into the club and be one of the guys. Additionally, my running commentary on “this isn’t how they do it in America” added a nice cross-cultural flavor to the outing.

The Harvest:

I knew I was in for an adventure when it became clear that an acceptable form of gauging a hives vitality was to throw rocks at it. Hamza used this highly refined technique to verify Ashahadu’s claims, and his frantic, laughter-filled retreats from the hives did so convincingly. The actual extraction of honey is done by the same basic process that exists everywhere; bundles of lighted-grass are used to somewhat pacify the bees, the end of the beehive is pried off, and a brave person, Hamza or Kamata, saws off the honeycomb with a kitchen knife we borrowed from Alexi, the cook. The honeycomb is then swatted with a leafy branch, to remove any lingering bees, and then tossed in the collection bucket.

While the process was interesting, and the product is obviously delicious, the best part of the experience was the unique “vibe” of the night; it felt exactly like I was a teenager again, and my friends and I were bored and finding novel ways to pointlessly hurt ourselves, and finding our own and especially others pain hilarious. Kamata and Hamza were a constant soundtrack of shrieks, moans, and Mungu yangu’s (my God), always capped off by their own laughter. The rest of us were pretty much continuously laughing at their misfortunes and at their especially creative yells or swears.

After a hive had been cleared out, we would all gather around the honey-bucket and sample the harvest. I expect it was this light at the end of the stinger filled tunnel that allowed such a good-humored response to so many bee stings, and gave the night its festive atmosphere.

I don’t mean to get overly introspective or dramatic, but digging into the fresh honeycomb was one of those moments that I know I will remember fondly for long time. We all stood around the bucket, stuffing our mouths with big chunks of warm, dripping honeycomb, enjoying its raw, “complex” flavor (it really did have a lot of unidentified flavors in it, which leads one to wonder exactly what was them, especially since they were gone after cooking and filtering the honey the next day) and still laughing at the recent stings. To top it all off, the smoke in the air provided that wonderful “camping” smell to everything (I realize this only applied to me, as open fires were an everyday event for everyone else). The ironic thing is, after gorging of honey after visiting 8 separate hives, spread over 4 hours, by the end of the night the last thing you want to see, smell or taste is honey. Fortunately, the next day it’s as appealing as ever.

p.s. I apologize for not getting any good pictures; we were worried that the flash might anger the bees, so I left my camera at home. Next time (Ashahadu says August is the best month) I will take pictures. All i have is a picture of one of our "native" bee hives, and a picture of Ashahadu and Salvatory sorting through the wax and honey.

Not Just Child's Play

Throughout our demonstration farm we have small clusters of seedlings which we nurse until they are healthy enough to be transported for planting at one of the neighboring schools. What you see here is a planting bed which is used to protect the seedlings from overexposure to sunlight.
One day while walking through the neighborhood we came upon children playing in a bed of soil. When we asked them what they were doing they said they were, "playing GOSESO." If children are the future then the future looks bright in Kiganza Village.

We have been pretty bad bloggers recently. Things have been pretty busy around here, and i guess all the work cut into our blogging time. But I promise to try harder from now on.
Here are a few pictures i took of the neighborhood boys, playing with discarded junk. They were having a ball, pulling each other all over the place on a broken plastic container and some metal-thing. I don't think any real toys could have made them any happier than they were with these improvised ones. Although i guess playing with scrap metal does have its downside (no one was hurt while i was watching, at least).

Prof. Paturzo's visit to Kiganza Village

Over the past six months or so we've been working closely with a man named Paul Paturzo. Paul is an established architect and professor in the city of Boston and has been trying to help us partner up with some of the local universities in the Boston area. Forming partnerships and obtaining grants proved difficult so Paul decided to take time out of his busy schedule and offered to visit the site and draft a master plan of GOSESO's future campus. The first few days of Paul's visit were more difficult than we expected. Although we had previously done a survey of GOSESO's land, none of the existing structures appeared on the map. This meant that we needed to do a lot of measuring and somehow start the process of obtaining a topographical map. This is a picture of Paul sketching in the location of classrooms on top of the future construction site. What a beautiful view!
Everyday we all would spend at least a few hours up on GOSESO land and then we would take the information gathered back to the house to work on some drawings. As you can see we weren't as organized as we'd hope to be. After spending a few hours in the sun, we all decided it was time to take a breather. We sat with the rangers in the gazebo and started to explain what it was that we were doing. Paul pulled out some drawings to show the rangers what we had been working on, which they all enjoyed immensely. While we were resting Paul had the opportunity to make a friend. It may look like the baboon enjoys Paul more than he enjoys it but I assure you feelings were mutual.

This is Paul a few days before leaving Kiganza Village. Before he left we wanted to make sure he got a small taste of Tanzanian living. Look how happy he looks while hand washing his clothes. Who said work has to be boring.

COFFEE!

One day Drew was walking through a nearby village and smelled the sweet aroma of freshly roasted coffee. He followed the smell for a while and came upon this man (pictured above) happily roasting coffee in an earthen cooking pot. Although you are unable to see it, I assure you he is smiling. Drew was able to purchase enough for us to try it out. It was amazing! Over the previous months we had gotten used to drinking Africafe, a powder "substitute" for coffee. The only way it resembled coffee was in the color it made when you dissolved it in hot water. Needless to say this was a step up.

We quickly realized that by walking a few extra kilometers to a different village up north, we were able to cut out the middle man and buy the raw beans in bulk. Not only were they cheaper but we were able to ensure the quality of the product. What savvy businessmen we are! We read online about how to properly roast coffee and we found out that it's fairly easy.

All you do is throw it into a pot over a flame and stir constantly until you hear two distinct sets of pops, similar to the sound popcorn makes when it pops. I don't mean to suggest that there isn't technique involved, because there clearly is. I mean look at me. The key is to use a fluid motion when stirring while maintaining a flexible wrist with the other. Look at that form.

After the beans turn brown and we had heard the second pop, we took them out to let them cool. After they were done cooling, we ground it all up and it was ready to brew.

Pretty simple, huh. It makes it that much more enjoyable to drink when you take part in the whole process.