jessie boylan

http://www.ipsnews.net/africa/nota.asp?idnews=49659

Running away from home; Mara girls escaping FGM
MUSOMA, Tanzania
01.12.09

In the darkest corner of the room, under the clamour of 12 women’s voices, sits Ghati Chacha, she can barely be heard. Her newest born suckles on one of her breasts as she tries to speak about how she refused female circumcision.

“I refused because (the previous) President Mkapa had banned circumcision in Tanzania,” she said. After this, however, Chacha was forced to marry an 80-year-old man because, according to the local customs of the Kurya tribe in the Mara district of northern Tanzania, she was no longer suitable for a man of her own age.

“I was forced to be married by my father,” she said. “I tried to refuse but my father ordered me to leave home. He was paid only 12 cows for my marriage.”

It is made obvious that Chacha is the only one in the room who is uncircumcised and her story gets cut off as the other women in the room shout to be heard.

“The young men laugh at each other if they marry an uncircumcised woman,” said Mondesta Mugaya, a 65-year-old woman, who used to perform circumcision in Kitarmanka Village in the Musoma rural district.

“And the uncircumcised girls are still considered to be children,” she said. “At traditional ceremonies uncircumcised women aren’t allowed to be there.

“I don’t believe in circumcision for girls anymore, but without it girls sleep around a lot.”

Female Genital Mutilation is seriously dangerous; it is usually performed without anaesthesia on girls anywhere from infancy and up. The conditions are often unhygienic and the tools can be razor blades, knives or even teeth, (one woman told me).

The procedure can cause severe bleeding and problems urinating, and later, potential childbirth difficulties and newborn deaths. According to the World Health Organisation an estimated 100 to 140 million girls and women worldwide are currently living with the consequences of FGM. And in Africa, about three million girls are at risk for FGM annually.

–

In Mama Regina’s office at the Catholic Diocese of Musoma Bhoke Mwita* is smiling. She’s sitting on a wooden chair swinging her legs and fiddling with her mobile phone. In 2004 she and her two children found refuge here.

“My husband died in 2003,” she said, “and I was supposed to be inherited by my husband’s brother, but I refused. I said I needed time to think about it. Then I ran away.”

It was Mama Regina Andrew who, not long after she had started an FGM campaign with the diocese, found Mwita in her village seeking help. As the assistant for the Women in Development (WID) program Mama Regina has helped 36 girls escape from FGM, and another 90 women from problems like domestic abuse and forced marriage.

“It is one of the biggest ceremonies in Kurya tradition,” said Mama Regina. “Some 95 percent of girls are still being circumcised in the Tarime District.

“The law is against FGM, but we don’t know how the government is dealing with these issues,” she said.

The tradition is deeply embedded in some cultures, such as the Kuryas’, and according to the Diocese it has only been in the past 10 years perceptions have started to change.

Mama Regina and some Sisters regularly visit villages to hold public meetings and events, they also initiate working groups to provide information about women and children’s rights, particularly the effects of FGM.

“It wasn’t an easy task,” she said, “because women are seen as not the same as men, not as important. The women do a lot of work, at home, in the farm, with the children, but it is the men who are the beneficiaries.”

“You see; girls are seen as income generating for the family,” said Mama Regina. “Parents don’t see the reason to send girls to school because they won’t receive the dowry when the girl is married. They think it will make the family poor.” (Perhaps because they may marry in a non-traditional way outside of the village, where cows bare no relevance or because they want their money or cows or damn dowry if they please it.)

–

Mwita was 18 when she was circumcised and tells me about the ceremony.

“First they set the date, where around 100 girls will be circumcised together. You don’t sleep the day before while they are preparing you. There is a lot of celebration, drumming and food. On the day you’re not allowed to eat or drink because maybe you’ll urinate or something during the process.

“Everyone is singing, trying to make you happy. You reach the special place and all the girls are sitting on kangas (cotton material commonly used for skirts) lined up. Everyone from the community is there, men, boys, women, and children. The older women collect money from the community before they start.

“So you wait your turn.

“When it was my turn, I felt extreme pain, but you’re not allowed to cry. If you do, they will beat you and leave you there.

“I bled a lot and fell down, but didn’t cry.

“It takes three to six weeks to heal, and after the circumcision you are considered a real woman who is ready to be married.”

“After circumcision I actually felt less of woman,” said Mwita, “because the system has been disturbed, I didn’t feel like a woman at all.

“If girls die during the circumcision, which happens a lot, then they won’t be buried at home. They will get thrown into the bushes and eaten by hyenas. It’s considered a curse, a spell (to not survive circumcision), so all their belongings have to be removed from the house, in order to get rid of the curse.”

–

Mama Regina Andrew

Mama Regina believes that for the Kurya FGM will take many years to stop. “It’s a kind of religion,” she said. But this belief doesn’t stop her and the Diocese from fighting for girls and women’s rights in the Mara region.

“We started the big FGM refugee camp just out of town here as a place for the girls to get counselled, as well as somewhere for them to run to when they escape from their communities,” she said.

“When the girls go back to their communities they say ‘Thank you for this tradition, because I fled, and now I’m educated’. The families see them speaking with confidence, without fear and this helps them realise the importance of stopping FGM.

“I believe that it will take time to change, but one day soon it will be a shame to be circumcised.”

According to Mama Regina when Mwita arrived at the diocese she was very thin, very nervous and softly spoken. Now, said Mama Regina, she has gained a lot of confidence, strength, and weight, and is completing secondary school.

Through the WID program, Mwita herself now runs micro-finance programs for women in villages to start businesses such as farming, bakeries and clothing shops. She also speaks at public forums and educates about the effects of FGM.

“When I go back to my village,” said Mwita, “people respect me and they are cautious about what they say to me. But it is like bringing Western values in, and I am aware of the difference.

“Life is different for me now, it’s better to be here (in town) than in the village. Now I am strong, unafraid, and can fight for my rights.”

*Not her real name

contaminated stream leading from the NMGM to the Tigithe River

Once Upon a Water Source
30.11.09 – Musoma>Tanzania

She’s tending to her shamba, her farm, the farm is still here, but…a little discoloured in places, some banana trees and pineapple plants have wilted, some are fruiting, but she can’t eat them, or rather, she won’t eat them.

Susanna Solomon, 55, is slim and shy mother of 12 from Nyangoto village, situated in the rural Tarime district on the eastern side of Lake Victoria. She has been farming here for a long time and continues to do so even though she can’t use her produce.

“I was farming rice before,” she said, “but I can’t anymore because of the chemicals.”

The area we’re talking about was contaminated by a leakage from Barrick Gold’s North Mara Mine in May this year.

In large sections the grass has completely died, and plants and some vegetation have off-coloured stalks. The stream running from the mine site (just 100 or so meters away) has a green moss covering it, there is no sign of insects, tadpoles or frogs, and some crystallised plants stick out of the water, as if frozen or covered by salt.

“I was advised not to eat the vegetables I’m growing,” she said, “because you can be affected. I am still cultivating the land because otherwise I will lose it; so I am just here to hold the land.

“I am still waiting for compensation, but they haven’t said anything about (it).”

Monitoring by Barrick at the time of the seepage detected pH levels of 4.8 in the Tigithe River, which is far too acidic for fish to live in, and far under Tanzanian drinking water standards.

According to the local community the contamination has caused surrounding crops and animals and fish to perish. Many villagers have also complained of health problems, such as skin irritations and stomach pains as a result of drinking and bathing in the water.

Although some 700-1000 heads of cattle have allegedly died since the incident occurred, no one was able to back the statement up with evidence. Barrick claim that the accident happened only as a result of villagers stealing the PVC lining from the leach ponds on several occasions, to use as roofing for houses and shops. However, in the areas I visited, the lining was not evident.

Walking along the path to the river are many people, mostly women and children going to collect water from the Tigithe; from upstream though.

“We have always collected water from here, we live nearby,” says Esther Dustin, amongst 5 other women from the area. “Most people depend on the river for everything; for bathing, washing, drinking, and for cattle.
“We have been complaining about the water sine 2005, but this year was the worse. We have to use the water, because there is no other source, the Mara River is too far from here.”

–

Many villagers have visited health centres in the region complaining of skin irritations due to bathing in the Tigithe River, the results of their tests have yet to materialise.

Chacha Ochibhota is young, he’s 21 years old, he has a skin pigmentation covering his face, his eyes are bloodshot, he speaks quietly and moves slowly. His medical examination states that on the 1st of July, he claimed to ‘have used acidic water, contaminated by the mining project – sustaining burns on the face…’ Referring him to the Tarime District Hospital for further investigations.

“I started feeling the problems in May this year,” he said. “I have a farm near the Tigithe River. When it was hot and sweaty I would bath in the water and wash my face and body to cool down.

“It felt different, when I tasted the water, it didn’t taste normal, it was a salty taste, and it was the feeling of rubbing salt in wounds…

“I was referred to the district hospital, but because I had no money, I didn’t go.

“For me,” said Chacha, “I need only treatment, so I can do work. Now I can only lie in bed, or do soft work…”

–

The community state that Barrick are not compensating people fairly, if at all – and Barrick state that they are compensating people “handsomely”.

Gerhard Hermann, the Production manager for NMGM Ltd. says “We compensate them for their land, for crops on their land and also for any structures.

“We pay as if their entire property was planted with bananas (even if it’s not), we call that the ‘full banana concept’.”

No sick or displaced person appears to be taking direct action against Barrick.

“No one has laid any charges against us as far as I’m aware,” said Hermann. “(Because)…they have to have a case, and the fact that they’re not doing anything, makes you question if they really have a case or not.”

Barrick were not able to replace the lining completely until August this year; due to manufacturer delays, meaning that between May and August acidic liquid was soaking into the earth and leaking out into the environment unstopped.

“This is where we want to dig a trench, so if we ever have breach of the liners again we can pick up the seepage in a nice deep liner here and then pump it back into the ponds,” said Hermann

contaminated shambas

Currently, the water flowing from directly below the containment pond is at a pH level of about 4-4.5. Tanzanian drinking water standards are between 6.5 and 7.5.

According to Barrick, 10 meters downstream from where polluted water enters the river, the pH is back up to normal because of dilution.

Barrick claim to be operating on a zero-discharge policy, meaning that no water from the waste or leach ponds will enter into this environment. This process was explained to me while standing next to the leach pond looking up at the massive wall of the waste dump containing Potentially Acid Forming (PAF) material (sulphuric acid).

“Basically what it is, is an impervious layer, right at the bottom of high dense polyethylene plastic, 1mm thick, dense plastic, which the acid cannot penetrate through, we have a drainage system on top of that, and on top of that a waste dump.

“So any water percolating through the waste dump can only report to one place and that’s the pond, when it hits that liner, it can’t go anywhere else, the only place water from there can go from there is into the drainage pipe, and the only place those drainage pipes go to is a lined leach pond…once it reaches the leach-pond it is also completely contained.”

Unless of course something breaches it, which is what is said to have happened.

destroyed PVC lining for the ponds

—

“They are trying to put the blame on the community,” said Chacha Wambura, the executive director of Foundation HELP, an NGO based 100 km away in the town of Musoma. Wambura has been working to expose environmental issues around the NMGM and running awareness-raising and capacity building campaigns for the national community.

“People are not cooperating because they want justice to be done.

“The community can be aggressive, but the company (and the government) are not trying to alleviate problems.

“The government are backing Barrick 100 percent, without knowing it they are fueling their own graves; because this water flows into the Mara River, and discharges into Lake Victoria, and so many animals and humans will be affected by that.”

Mara River

N Mara Gold mine, Pit

Once upon a gold mine…
Musoma>Tanzania
29.11.09

Up in the mountains, surrounded by green grassy valleys and fields of maize, cassava and banana plantations, between scattered villages and townships, past herds of goats and cows, amongst flowing rivers and natural springs, on top of displaced peoples land, lies a gold mine.

The gold mine has some problems.

Gold exploration began here in 1993 after some foreign engineers discovered local artisans chipping away at some rock, “aha! They’ve struck gold! – We must buy this land!” they (may have) said.

And so they bought the land, or leased it, and evicted all of those – the Kurya’s (the local tribe) – who had been digging there long before the foreigners arrived on the scene.

local/s mining, NMara

The mine began production in 2002 and since then the lease has changed hands three times, and is now in the possession of Barrick Gold.

Barrick’s North Mara Gold Mine has been under constant attack for their performance socially, culturally and environmentally since they took over the lease in 2006; so much so, as they were nearly shut down earlier this year – due to a major acid leakage in May which caused abnormal pH levels in the local Tigithe River, of which some 6000 households rely on for all their domestic needs.

Community and company relations have never been warm here in the Tarime district, where the mine is located.

“When it started there were good relations,” said Daud Itembe, the chairman for the Matonga Village Council, “people were hoping that the mine would help development. After East Africa Gold Mines passed the lease to Placedon, the hope of citizens started to leave…

“Services that EAGM had started began to stop. And after Placedon passed (the lease) on to Barrick, the situation got worse. Barrick has not provided one single service to the local community. We see the mine as being useless, no one is benefiting from it.”

According to the local council there was an agreement that 1 percent of production revenue would go to the local municipality, however, they have yet to receive this money. Currently the North Mara mine is not making a cash-profit.

“The villagers provide (a lot of land) for the (tailings) dam, and the waste flows to the residential areas. They have asked to be compensated but nothing has happened. There has been no discussion between villagers and company to organise the 1 percent of revenue.” Said Itembe.

a part of nyangoto village lies at the bottom of the mine - the community refuses to move

“Barrick is here for business, not for good relations between them and the community.” said Lucas Cornel, the Village Executive Officer, in their council offices, which appears to double as a barn, the walls and floors are cracked and a donkey clops in, followed by a local citizen.

“They were brought here by the government and not by the community, they’re here for profit and nothing else,” said Cornel.

Despite some efforts by Barrick to implement a strategic plan with the community, according to the council, nothing is happening. “The community refuse to collaborate, they see (Barrick) as being a liar. We are tired,” said Cornel.

Walking around the base at one end of the mine, dodging puddles and mud, I talk to a local miner who comes here with his two young boys every day looking for gold. He is wearing gumboots, and I am envious because it has been raining heavily on and off all day.

“I’m looking for food,” Mogubo Mirumbe says sarcastically. “I’m looking for gold stones, for survival. “I don’t have any other income, no farm; it was taken by the mine in 2002. After that I have come here every day.

N Mara tailings

“I was given ‘tomato money’ for my farm- not enough. Here I earn between 1000 and 2000 Tsh per day (between US 75c and $1.5), depending on what I find. There are about 6-10 stones in a bag, which sells for 20,000 Tsh (in town).

“With my money from selling gold I bought 200 cattle, I have only 9 left, I think they died because of drinking this water,” he said pointing to a stream that flows out from the mine pits, (which I am later told by Barrick are natural springs situated under the mine uncontaminated by any waste).

In the last three years the North Mara Gold Mine has experienced regular intruders stealing and damaging goods like diesel, scrap metal, piping, and high-quality plastic lining from ponds from the site, adding to the tense relations.

security 4wd after some beatings

These incidents often result in security, police and community clashes, with the community wielding machetes and rocks, and the police armed with tear gas and live ammunition. Occasionally there are fatalities.

Every day there are hundreds of trespassers on the mine site, rummaging for gold. The security and police have been accused of accepting bribes to allow them to continue their work, or simply don’t care. Sometimes they step up their response and then conflict occurs.

When I visited the mine I did indeed see people scattered all over the site with buckets, tools and bags searching for bounty. A group of young girls who are sitting in hand dug holes start to run away as we arrive, however, noticing that we’re not security, they continue with their work.

We walk up onto the top of a rock pile and look down into the valley below. “Two things you need to see here,” says Gerhard Hermann, the South African Production Manager for Barrick Tanzania, “the first is the illegal mining, and the second is, see the guy sitting next to the hole of water, that’s actually an FFU (Field Force Unit) police officer, so you can make your own deductions as to what’s happening there.”

According to Hermann the amount of work required to farm compared with the amount of work required for mining gold is vastly different. Plus what people make from selling gold is much higher than profits made from agriculture. This is what draws people here, he said.

“How do you even discourage them from coming here in the first place?” said Teweli Teweli, the PR and Communications Officer for Barrick Gold Tanzania. “This is where the government comes in. This is where they have to invest in the community, to give them alternatives…”

In contrast, unsurprisingly, to what the community has said about Barrick’s performance, Hermann states that community relations were good until December the 11th 2008 when US$25 million worth of equipment was damaged during an on-site break in. After that Barrick cut off all ties with the community and pulled out from any social service programs they were running.

They say that only recently they have looked at re-engaging with the community, but the pace is slow and uneasy.

“We’re in touch with the local councillors, chairmen, and executive officers,” said Teweli, “some of them have come out in local media, trying to discourage the community from vandalising any mining infrastructure, because one way or another it comes back and hurts the community itself, but of course a lot more needs to be done.

“There’s only so much we can do as a company; we need the other two players to come in, the local community and the government and have a coordinated approach as to how we address these issues.”

The government do not appear to be engaging or mediating the tense relations between company and community, and unfortunately were unavailable/unreachable, (or on safari), to comment for this article.

“The community always put pressure on the Minister of Energy and Minerals to deal with the issue, but they don’t do anything. This is why the people use force, to show Barrick and the government that they are tired,” said Daud Itembe.

“We feel like we have no say as to what happens, that there is no way our voice can be heard; it is just between the central government and the company.”

leach pond

23.11.09 – 03.12.09
1. after the masaii mara i travelled back south to tanzania – not far south of the kenyan border on the eastern side of Lake Victoria, the North Mara, the Mara region of northern Tanzania. I travelled in a mini bus of 12 seats that had about 30 people – i have been in crowded buses before, but this was insane. they then tried to fit a man who had busted his leg and was bleading, on top of a rusty suitcase, and his small boy who was wearing an oversized suit – i dont know what happened, but it didn’t work. so – i arrived in Musoma, a town on the shores of Lake Victoria, i got taken to a hotel, the most expensive in town, of $25 a night – more than i had spent anywhere, but i really wanted a clean bathroom, to myself; I know, greedy, but i needed it. I met with my fixer, rhobinson, who had been organised through the TZ institute of information and… something – he was great, very humble, but active, a journalist himself, and he owned a motorbike – on which we were to travel hours and hours on dirt, dusty or wet roads interviewing people for a week. he organised the schedule, tomorrow we would start with the community affected by Barrick Gold’s North Mara mine – about 2-3 hours away on this motorbike of 60km an hour, sometimes 80..

2. we left around 9 after i struggled to find internet that worked so i could read my editors comments/wishes/focus for the articles. the article is yet to be published, as my editor is covering the copenhagen climate conference: http://www.ips.org/TV/copenhagen/ – so hopefully after then they will be put online. I am still waiting for 5 more stories to go up. so i will publish the drafts; unapproved by the critical CAPITAL LETTERS of my editor. whom i love and respect for teaching me much about writing and journalism. and although my time brief doing this; has pushed me to continue. i hope.

so. on the bike.

3. through the police blocks – where are you going? ‘to tarime’ – why? ‘i am looking, researching’ ‘im a tourist’ – haha, put the helmet on her, for saftey ma’am.

4. it’s really green here, it’s really been raining, and will, on and off for the next week. the landscapes dotted with rounded huts with pointy roofs. thatched, mud, villages, so normal now, i love these glimpses, flickering by on the back of a motorbike. slow and quickly. this boy, he’s little, a baby really, picks up a bucket, throws it on the ground. these girls, they hop. they laugh and chase each other. these boys push a tire along the ground, yelling something at the same time. these women carry water on their heads, babies on their backs. this old man does nothing, these young men lean against the side of their shop, chewing a piece of grass, turning their gaze as we pass. these goats block the road, they don’t notice the horn, these cows block the road, they don’t notice the horn.

5. the peaceful hum, splatter, purr of the motorcycle , the wind snaps at my face, i hide behind rhobinson, to hide from people’s gaze as well as to hide from the wind.

rhobinson the trusty fixer and journalist, and our helper in nyamongo village, waiting for the rain to stop

6. upon arriving in Nyangomo village, Rhobinson had arranged for another man to help us – visiting people who had complained of skin diseases due to bathing in the Tigithe River after it was contaminated in early May – after lining was removed, but, a scandal. ongoing – he organised us to meet local councillors and chairmen, and to talk with local small-scale miners who visit the site every day to earn about $1.5 per day off gold sales. locals use mercury to extract the gold, using their bare hands and home-made equipment, often grinders are contained within homes at the base of the mine, refusing to move.

7. so we visited the contaminated area, we visited areas where water was discharging from the mine (which i was later to learn is from natural springs (uncontaminated..?) that sit underneath the mine). we were too late to travel back to musoma, and more people to visit the next day, so we stayed in a cheap guesthouse in the village centre, that smelt like petrol and had drunken people yelling into the wee-hours, but i was so tired i fell asleep amongst it all underneath the hole-full mosquito net.
Rhobinson tells me a story which i can’t understand/comprehend, about a woman who is beaten, abused from a young age, who goes on to move about across tanzania continuing to be beaten and abused by those who she comes across – i ask him about stories to cover women’s issues in the Mara district, and this is what he tells me – Female Genital Mutilation is still huge here, abuse is huge, education for girls is still so low… AIDS, the list goes on. So i fall asleep thinking about corruption, abuse, tradition, poverty, FGM, aids; i feel kind of numbed, numbed by everything – as if to say “oh, you have such a terrible life.. okay, who else can we talk to?” – im not sure this is how i really feel, but it feels a little how i feel – as if the lives have piled up and i am no longer actually seeing them on the same level, one by one, a reality by a reality. there are so many – and each person has one to tell.

8. after the end of the next day i return exhausted to Musoma – try to write something but end up drinking amarula watching the soccer on my comfortable hotel bed – thinking of how to retell these stories…

9. the next day rhobinson takes me to a village about an hour out of Musoma to talk with women who are the victims of abuse and of FGM -  didn’t really know what to expect – nor had i prepared my questions or research about the issues. but going on the little time we had i jumped on the back of the bike and listened to rhobinson brief me along the way – yelling over the top of the motorbike engine – actually i tried not to talk on the back there, because when i did he would slow down to about 50km an hour and i knew we would never reach the village.

10. the women; about 8 of them, were gathered around at the edge of the house in the Kitarmanka village, along a dirt track somewhere in the musoma rural district- sitting on a woven mat, they brought chairs out for us as we arrived – and so; i didn’t know where to start, who they were or what i was asking them, but rhobinson just said “they will tell you their story one by one” – and so i pressed record and started taking notes.

Justine Mahunda

Justine Mahunda: I was born here in 1964, I was married in 1984, to a man named Mahunda Sendi. He paid 25 cows and 15 goats for my dowry. When I got married I already had one child who was born in 1983; I moved with her to my new husband’s home. My husband was so much older than me, he could have been my father! I was forced to marry him by my family, because of tradition; the responsibility is of the parents, he offered a good price for me.
He was always abusive because ; he had 5 wives – so he kept some wives and got rid of the others…
We had three children together, and in 1988 he chased me away from the family?
Why?
Because he had found a new wife, I was already the third wife for him.
I went to the elders – who, according to tradition, the husband must provide land, he did, but never provided and money or support for me, I lived with my children alone with nothing since 1989. He had a lot of cattle but gave me nothing.
My husband died in 1989. He was killed by somebody called Jumaa Nyansambo, who was my new boyfriend – who is now in jail for the murder.
(the story is a bit muddled and hard to follow…)
We were/are always in conflict; it is a normal style of living for us here.
That day; the day he killed my ex-husband… he came with a knife to my home, and cut me here (she points) and here on my head (she shows) – then my son came to protect me and Jumaa took an axe and cut the son with the axe in the waist and the cut his arm in three pieces! he then cut his shoulder as well and took the knife again and cut my son twice on his head. My sons name was Sergere Mahunda, age 23. We took him immediately to Musoma hospital, it was late at night – he passed away the next morning.
Jumaa ran away to the neighbours house and tried to kill himself – They took him to the hospital too, where he was arrested and taken to jail.
He never attends court, but I hope one day he will be tried; although, it is not neccessary now, what else can be done?
Accordng to tradition… it is normal for women to be beaten..
But does the community accept that it’s normal? Do people agree with it?
There are two types of conflict; one is the kind when people are always in conflict, so it’s normal, the other is when a man beats his wife almost to death, then it is a problem, then they can get divorced.
He could be me if I had done something wrong, or even if I hadn’t, it was just normal> this is just the way the man behaves… It is very difficult to find a man that does not beat his wife..
But people accept it in the community? As ‘normal?’
We get beaten inside the house, so people don’t see.
Are things changing?
Now people are starting to change their minds about this; if people complain to the community, but if a woman is quiet she is only doing this to obey the marriage – to complain is to abuse the marriage. If a wife was beaten by her real husband it is accepted, but not if he is not her real husband…
By law it is illegal, but if a woman takes her husband to court then she won’t be accepted back into the family. Traditionally women are supposed to take her husband to their parents to fix the problems, and it worked, but now most people take them to the police or to a court of local leaders – it is starting to change now and women will be accepted back into the family.
–
she went on to talk about alcohol as the main cause of problems between husband and wife, and she told me that she used to drink a lot, and accepted that she was beaten for drinking. I asked the women in the gathering who had been to school, only some 3 out of 8 or 9 had finished standard 6, which would be.. primary school? – some finished at age 14 or 15, others at age 20. And i asked if at school if there was much education around domestic abuse – they simply shook their heads and said that they were taught how to cook, etc..

It started to rain heavily and we moved inside – one of the older women of the group told me her story, which was strange, also horrible, but i didn’t understand it entirely.. beaten by police? who stole her 15 cows..? also married to an old man, who was rich (with cows) and had 4 wives – she had stomach problems, ovary problems and could give birth, so was kicked out of the house. She contracted TB and couldn’t work anymore – she still lives with her mother.. the story trailed off as I was totally lost and not sure if I could ‘use’ the story for anything.. – We began to talk about FGM and this went on until dark, we were all crammed, now there was about 15 or so of us in this bare dark blue room in this house – talking about FGM, the traditions, the horrors; the mindsets – then i clicked each of them -
and the story is to come in the next couple of posts..

kitarmanka women

11. the following days were spent trying to chase government officials for quotes; going back out the North Mara mine and interviewing Barrick and doing a mine tour – then trying to complete the FGM story and start another story on girls and education. I ran out of time and wanted to leave, to go, to go to cairo and be settled again for a little while – i don’t know why i needed to rush so fast, but i had this plan in my mind and i followed it.

well. after dar i travelled quickly to nairobi to meet up with some friends to go to the masaai mara. to finally see some, animals, lions, leopards and the like – and squeal with glee and childish happiness at seeing these animals in africa in the wild where they choose to live and sleep. although it is very voyueristic , i enjoyed it nevertheless.

the road to the border was completely flooded, no one could cross – until a few bigheaded 4wd’ers decided to attempt – they succeeded, then i left my local bus and jumped in a pink 4wd, we crossed, later down the long dirt road my local bus passed us – i rejoined it at the border to much laughter of the passengers..to continue to nairobi.

so the masaai was amazing, strange and surreal to spend hours on treeless flats looking for something trying to kill or hunt something – but very exciting, and driven by a friend who had lived there for three years, allowed us free drinks and tip-offs to where the wild things are.

not too much writing these days, just transiting, interviewing, looking, seeing thinking, being, thinking about writing, but not much happened.

more photos from the past 5 months here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=163386&id=664642717&l=79f8ffc7e7

dar es salaam was a week spent researching, writing, interviewing, photographing people in and out of town about issues around energy use in Tanzania, specifically charcoal – you can read the article here: http://www.ipsnews.net/africa/nota.asp?idnews=49344

household charcoal use, Tabata Changombe

Tabata Changombe, dar es salaam

charcoal retailers Tabata hood

“Environmentally, charcoal use has a severe impact, accounting for a large part of deforestation in developing countries. According to the Tanzanian Traditional Energy and Development Organisation, TaTEDO, some 300 hectares of forest are cleared each day in Tanzania, for timber, to clear space for agriculture or grazing livestock and for the production of charcoal. One hundred million tonnes of charcoal are produced annually in Tanzania, resulting in nine million tonnes of CO2 emitted into the atmosphere.”

Jumaa, charcoal retailer, Tabata

i liked dar – a sweaty, hot coastal city on the indian ocean, a huge muslim influence due to the slave-trade and product trade – the muezzin, the call to prayer came back to my ears – it was comforting. the noise and business helped me move forward.

outer dar, family

this family lived among the tallest palm trees i have ever seen. the women, not pictured, said the area was turning to a desert because of all the deforestation due to charocal production – but people have to live, and charcoal is another income. – alternatives needed.. government corruption? tradition? routine? corruption..

family, outer dar

recently circumcised, and very silent, boys

goodbye niassa

as i now have warm feet and am still for a while i can go back on the past couple of months a little bit perhaps.

11.11.09
1. everything is turning to salt - to dust, to fish. everything smells of fish. – i have been watching these streets come alive this morning, these dirt roads grow light today – and i am still waiting – i wish i had more money and i pay the man to drive me to the border. i am not ready for patience now, it rained, i am not ready for travel now. – i have been slow for the past 3 months and now i am moving, i want to be moving – through the in between and out the other side.

2. vamos vamos – lets go, per favor, por que estoy, los todos, que? why are we waiting, from 5am, i am here, it is 8am now – the millions of eyes setting on this young white woman, sitting on her bag waiting for a non-existent mini bus to take her 5 hours north on a dirt road to an artificial border to cross into another country, tanzania – from mozambique.

3. i think of this dust embedded in everything - this town has tarmac, asphalt, and the rain has dampened the uncovered earth, but the smell and the taste of dust and all of its histories, its bare-footed steps, or boot-footed steps – lodged in my nostrils.

4. the missionaries were nice - except the one who wanted my money immediately, as if i were to run away, she knew i wasn’t one of them. – but the hunters, the south african hunters who couldn’t get the internet to work. “that’s why we’re better off sticking to rifles, john..” he said, with a picture of himself, smiling, posing next to a dead hippo. rifle in hand.  -
“here’s some banana cake and south african biscuits for your journey,” said the lovely missionary, with endless blonde kids living across the kitchen window. “do you know when you’ll arrive?” – we laugh.

5. i miss the lake.

back home from david's funeral

6. i look forward to not being looked at anymore - my obvious imperfection, the colour of my skin, the impermenance of my presence. ‘what are you waiting for? what are you looking at?’ i want to ask.  but i already know the reason.

7. i have watched these streets grow busy this morning, the sacks carried have multiplied – the voices, yelling, the laughs, the volume has multiplied. the music, out of a rustic wooden shack-shop, blasting. – the stalls have opened their eye-lids. – i could still be asleep. how much to fill this car? $137? fuck. i feel broke. no pin number for my credit card, no credit card facilities…? – i’ll wait.

8. why is coke more available than water?

9. i’m smelling the bush. the trees, the sounds;  i can even smell the sounds. – i’ll miss the endless greetings – the repetition of days, a comfort of routine – i hoped for, received.
now to more stories – articles, problems, goals, lies, hopes – to pollution, to charcoal, to..lives on the fringes.

10. the earth that cracks in the october heat - the build up before it melts, melds together, and the sky rumbles and cracks, breaks, angrily, and pours to layer the surface, oils wth accidents, waiting to kill another 16 people off a cliff. – he was on that bus, mickey, shaheeb, i didn’t know – later he said he saw people get chopped off as they hit the truck, and fell off the cliff, caught by trees. dragged his bag uphill, and onwards. alive. those behind him?

11. another child carries a child.

12. i’m grateful for the women, who act like a mother, like mama rebecca, looks after me – she has strong arms, she led me through fields, through crowds, through sand.
this one here in the bus station, finds me this car, but it doesn’t leave. let us move forward, 7 more passengers, but i can’t wait till tomorrow my visa is up today, and the mozambicans like my money.

13. it’s night now. 5 hours of waiting at the market i gave in and paid to move to the border. 3000 Meticais – $103 – to get me to the border – relatively pain-free. covered in dust i check out of mozambique – im sweaty, grumpy and smelly. – the border post, a few straw thatched huts, open walls, with a table in each one, and books that belong in museums, an immigration official whose had too many ‘sodas’ for the day.
i cross the river, the demarcation to TZ – and the immigration post is a little more advanced with a concrete building, and new looking desks – outside three men sit, wave me over – switch, portugese with kswahilli now – a language i want to learn. Then after my stamp, for 12 days, ‘transit’ – not working.. I gave him $40, but he doesn’t have change – “$10, for sodas?” he says.  – you bastard. I’m leaving.

14. I notice in the book – everyone elses purpose for travelling, was ‘peasant’ – peasant, peasant, peasant – mine, … ‘artist’ –

15. later – deals – motorbike to songea – 130 kms? 3 hours? Okay – it’s getting dark, lets go, please. – I have too much stuff for this motorbike, it’s way overloaded. The sky – blue-grey – clouds, skys flashing and cracking, forests green fresh, wet, and paranoia – crashing, dirt roads, too fast, too much stuff, no one else around – leopards, bush, forest, foreigner. – I walk over piles of dirt along the road, the mud, we can’t pass together – I get back on. We continue – through villages, the glimpses of lives lit up by household fires – the only light – the shops, always selling the same thing.

16. It’s dark, we have a puncture, we’re just outside a village, we walk it back, my white face illuminated by the moon, by the lightdark setting – pushing this motorbike through the village, I must look eerie – who is this white person, what is ‘he?’ doing – this woman, this stuff, this night –

lucy and her family, southern tanzania $1.50 guest house

17. We stop at a resthouse – my driver knows him, a teacher also – Mr. Makarana and his wife lucy, welcome us for 2000 tz shillings ($1.5) with some fish and maize and a warm bucket shower lit by candle-light – other lights powered by a noisy generator – the maize mill too – I sleep. Layla salaama.

18. next day – we get another puncture – I give up and flag a 4wd – its comfortable, dry, it starts to pelt down, rain heavily – I leave my motorbike drive – im sorry, im going. Good luck. The roads are so wet, I would never have made it on the bike. Eventually we reach songea, but I have to wait till tomorrow for a bus to dar. this is transiting.

$1.50 guesthouse shoebox room, they stared through the window at this whiteface