A Month in Review: Africa

 Paul and I have been traveling for a little over a month, and mostly in Africa. I thought it would be good to go back and write a reflection about that month and the parts of Africa we visited. What I realized most is that Africa is an extremely diverse place, both in ecosystems and people. Each country and often city/region has it's own character and it is silly to lump things into one big pile. That is not my intention here, but instead I will attempt to reflect on what I saw when I was in Kenya, Tanzania, Zanzibar, Malawi, Zambia, and Zimbabwe and try to organize my thoughts and feelings about my time there.

1. The phrase to remember is TIA. This was first introduced to us in Kenya by a fellow tour member. It stands for This Is Africa. It means that there are lots of things that may not make sense (at least not to you anyways), and it's Africa, so you just have to deal with it and go with the flow. For example, our first kettle in our first hotel had European plugs. But the walls had British plugs. Why was this? TIA is the best answer. Half the meals you order at a restaurant are not the same ones that arrive, but they took do long to get there that you eat it anyways. TIA. You're on a tight schedule and you ask how long it will take to get something done (laundry, a meal, etc.) they say 10 minutes but it really takes an hour. TIA. You see where I'm going with this?

2. You can't feed or help everyone. Africa is a gigantic continent, with many many people. If you have traveled to Africa, then you have more money than most people will make in many many years (maybe even a lifetime). Our first day on the truck we stopped for lunch in the middle of nowhere. A Masai tribesman appeared suddenly with his wives and children and watched at a close and uncomfortable distance as we ate our lunch. At the end, he stole some food from our rubbish bin to feed to his goats. It was confusing but only the first of many "eating while people watched" experiences. Several other lunch stops (again in the middle of nowhere) found us surrounded in minutes by entire villages (never mind where they came from) watching us eat. It felt uncomfortable and made me guilty. But what should we have done? Give them all our food? This is a difficult question, and one I'm not sure of the answer to. Once or twice we only had a few people watching us eat. At the end of the meal we'd offer anything left (bread, meat, fruit, cheese). But an entire village and only a few scraps? Our cook just told us there were too many and we'd cause more problems by giving away the food than we'd solve. And should these people be relying on overland trucks for their food, are we causing a terrible dependency? Or is it our job as people that have more to offer it to those that have less? I still don't know the answer to these questions.

On our tour of a Malawian village, we learned about the wells that were installed by the Canadian government. Before the wells, the villagers had been constantly sick from drinking from the lake. That is one way to help people. We also visited a school (the children were on holiday) and met the principal. He explained classrooms had between 100-200 students each and that they were really lacking supplies. He asked for donations of actual goods or cash donations. We gave what we could but we had been told not to bring anything except our cameras and a hat and we weren't prepared. Next up was the health clinic which treated its patients for free. Their aim was to decrease malaria by giving out nets and treating people the moment it was contracted, decrease HIV/aids through awareness and then medication, and to deliver healthy babies. The entire health clinic was run by 2 nurses and several helpers and paid for by UNICEF. Of course they were still in need of new things, like beds and sheets, but overall they had what they needed. Again they asked for donations which we didn't have nearly enough of. I felt overwhelmed. There are so many people in Africa and so many things that could be done to make their lives easier, but I don't have that kind of money. Maybe it boils down to help who you can, when you can, where you can, I definitely believe in donating to organizations that I know can make a bigger difference than I can. This brings me to my next points..,

 

3. Westerners (or maybe just all travelers?) are see as cash cows. As I mentioned before, just the fact that we are able to pay for a plane ride to arrive in Africa makes us rich by their standards. I found that when in Africa, people wanted one things from us: money. The children learned to say, "hello, give me money" before anything else. The Masai children charged you $1 for a picture. You were targeted at all times if you stepped off the truck by people selling figurines, necklaces, bracelets, and more. It didn't matter if you were just running off to a toilet and didn't have money. You are a cash cow. If you looked lost, someone would appear to give you directions, then ask for money. One of our fellow tour participants tried to explain to some of the self-appointed guides on our town tour in Malawi that the trip we were on was a budget one (lots of camping) and that in her country she is middle class and took years to save up for this trip. She was trying to change his idea that she had money coming out of her ears and could just throw it out the window. She had a budget and had to stick to it. I'm not sure if her guide understood this, but I can see it from both sides. Unemployment is high and people, struggle to make even a meager living. We have enough money to travel to another continent. Either way, it can be stressful when you are always being asked to buy something, and surrounded by people begging for money. You want to help, but feel helpless. 

4. Pictures of People and Towns. You may have noticed that aside from one or two photos, my blog is not crawling with natives' pictures or their villages. We did drive a lot, and got a good taste on what Africa looks like in the cities, towns, and small villages. Their houses ranged from small round mud huts with grass roofs to concrete square buildings with corrugated metal roofs. Some houses were also made out of brick, with varying roofs.

 I saw hundreds and hundreds of kilometers of houses and only took a few pictures. Why is that, you ask? Taking pictures of other people's homes felt invasive. What if someone just showed up in my neighborhood and started driving around, snapping pictures. I wouldn't feel too happy about that, so I didn't think it was fair to think of myself as different or more special. I just took it in and took pictures with my mind as a memory, with only a few real photos taken when there were no people in sight, or in the busier towns when I was on foot like everyone else, not looking down (literally) from the truck with my big camera. Take for example, this small town in Kande Beach below. This is a typical town, but I was on foot and felt a bit more comfortable snapping these.

My dearth of photos of people was also possibly quite noticeable. Women balancing everything imaginable on their heads (buckets, gigantic bags, entire saplings), men sitting on the side of the road watching the cars go by on their improvised bleacher seats, children running next to the truck screaming hello and waving their hands. These are just some of a multitude of images I keep in my mind. Like the pictures of villages, taking pictures of other people (out of the truck) seemed invasive. To make it worse, in Tanzania they believed that you were stealing a part of their soul when you took one. I cannot be responsible for stealing someone's soul, even if it's only they who believe that. You might argue that for photography's sake, I could take some beautiful pictures of these beautiful people. I just felt more comfortable not hiding behind a lens of a very expensive camera. The only real exception for this was in southern Tanzania where a whole group of children appeared out of nowhere while we changed the popped tire on our truck. They asked to have their photos taken and were so excited to see themselves in the camera. I have a few of those photos as well, but I am wary of posting these online. You can see in the above pictures on of our trip participants with a girl sharing the picture. She is ecstatic to see this photo of herself. In Malawi, Zambia and Zimbabwe it was a bit different as you are not stealing anyone's soul and in general people love to have their pictures taken. Still, these are tricky moral questions, and I'll have to have a good long think about them as I continue my trip.

5. It's all about the small moments. Both Paul and I have been camping before and so we were not too daunted by the idea of camping for 27 days through Africa. I can say, however, now that we are in Brazil sleeping on beds, we are infinitely more comfortable. But camping is a unique way to see a lot and spend little, so camping it was. We had lots of interesting experiences, from freezing cold showers that were also filled with mosquitoes, geckos and ants, to getting locked in toilets, and everything in between. Some of of these experiences you might just have to have been there for them to make sense. But since this blog is as much for me as it is for my readers, allow me to indulge a bit.

Southern Tanzania: Paul and I and 2 other participants are on dish duty after a long day of driving, we are staying in a hotel for the night but still eating from the truck because our meals are included. After dinner we get to work scrubbing at the dishes in the dark, Paul with his headlamp on and all of us crouched down working as the washing tubs are on the ground. I'm singing a song or two to keep us occupied and (maybe?) entertained during this boring job. Suddenly, Paul loses his balance and does a back roll through the hedge behind him. As Paul's feet disappear over his head, I am first worried and then hysterical with laughter. He has popped up on the other side of the hedge with only a few small scratches and walks back over like nothing happened. I can't breathe, I'm laughing so hard my back hurts and I'm shaking. He just shrugs and says that he tucked and rolled. It's definitely one of those, 'you had to be there moments', but a moment I never want to forget.

Kande Beach, Malawi: I stumble out of tent to the toilets in the morning before a lazy breakfast. As I go in, the cleaner motions to one of the stalls, but I (for some reason?) go into the other one. After I lock the door I realize I have done something wrong. The lock has been broken and was pushed all the way into the wall locking me in. Instead of asking the cleaner for help, I think I can get myself out of it. Ha. The doors are too big for me to climb over or under, and the tents too far away to yell for help. 45 minutes of ant watching in the stall (what else could I do?) and another camping participants comes in.

"Jacq!" I scream out excitedly with my head popping over the door, "Can you go and get Paul and tell him to bring his screwdriver? I'm locked in!" After a squeal of surprise from her, and let's be honest who wouldn't be surprised, she runs off to find Paul for me. My knight in shining armor arrives with his screwdriver and I begin the lengthy process of removing the lock mechanism. I do eventually make it out and remember to never use that stall again. Is this an instance of TIA? Probably.

Northern Zambia, south Luangwa National Park: 

From Paul: It was night time after a game drive in the wildlife park, and Liz and I have both decided to take a shower. We aren't allowed to walk alone in the park after dark as the animals wander through freely so timing our showers at the same time is a good choice. So we say our goodbyes, and Liz gets in the shower. There is no roof divider between the men's and woman's so we can yell back and forth. Liz squeals as she finds several geckos running across the wall. I decide to use the loo first and I check the cubicle to be sure there are no little critters. There were 2 geckos that ran off into the darkness. I'm alright with geckos, it was snakes I was looking for really. So then I sat down, finished my business, and reached for the toilet roll which was in a little wooden box. As I pulled the paper out, it moved a little bit, then stuck. So I pulled on it a little harder. Then I got the fright of my life when a little frog came barreling out of the toilet paper and landed between my feet. I couldn't see very well so really all I could see was a dark shape launching itself from the toilet paper and a splatting sound between feet. I screamed so loudly that Liz could hear me on the other side and yelled back to check if I was ok. Remember the frogs, they're going to make another appearance...

Back to Liz: It's early in the morning and Paul and I have to pack lunches, eat breakfast, pack up our tent and we're on dish duty. We decide to split tasks to make things slightly quicker. I'm making sandwiches and he's dropping the tent. After a few minutes Paul comes over to me to ask for help: there are frogs and termites on the tent! I finish up the sandwiches and go over with him. He's moved the tent, but the whole bottom is covered in termite tunnels. This is the least of our worries. Clinging to the top of the tent are 2 small harmless looking frogs. We try to use the broom handle to encourage them to come down. All they do is hop around the top of the tent. After a few minutes Paul finally manages to get one on the broom. He takes it down to the ground and shakes it lightly, but it won't let go. He shakes it more firmly, but still it holds on with its arms flying around. I use a leaf to encourage it off and it hops away. One down one to go. The second frog is more determined and hops around and around the tent as I begin to laugh hysterically. We'll never get packed up and ready at this rate! Finally I decide to try to get it on a leaf instead of a broomstick. As I sidle the leaf up to the frog, it jumps straight at my face instead (Chloe, if you're reading this, I know you would have been beyond terrified and I can see why!). I let out a small yelp. Okay, maybe more like a scream, as the frog narrowly misses my face and hops away safely on the ground. At that point I am laughing so hard I can't breath and I'm holding my stomach, my face is hurting from smiling so much. Frog and all, it's small moments like that I'll never forget. 

And we're thankful for...

So that's the wrap up. A month in Africa has surely made us grateful for: washing machines, attached bathrooms, clean drinking water, lack of street sellers, reliable hot water and water pressure, flushing toilets, toilet paper in stalls, clean toilets, our health, trustworthy food, the NHS (for food), no mosquitoes with malaria in the UK, shade and I'm sure loads of other things I can't think of at the moment. But seriously, washing machines. Washing clothes by hand is time consuming and never gets them quite as clean as we'd like.