Day 6 Sick, and Tired of this Crap

 April 9, 2014:

Day 6 began much like the previous had ended...more time battling what I was presuming was ETEC (look it up).  Which of the many foods from previous days were to blame I hadn't a clue, or perhaps it was the local water (which was "filtered"...though I'm not sure what that exactly means).  I was getting pretty tired of it.

The benefit of waking up a number of times this morning was that I actually woke for a purpose around the time my alarm went off...so I was up and getting ready at 6:30.  I was all dressed and cleaned up for clinic by 7 and had some time to make my toast and eat it at home.  This time, however, I had some homemade bread from a local resident in town who our housemates knew, and it cost only 1600 TZS for the loaf...one dollar for home-baked bread!  It was delicious.

We walked to clinic along the same path as the previous day with nothing out of the ordinary other than my noticing a small white object in the distance up on the mountaintop that I hadn't noticed before.  It stood out because the rising sun was hitting it directly this morning, and I asked Carmelle what it was.  She remarked that it was a cross placed up there by locals.  I made it a silent mission to hike up there sometime during Holy Week, though as the cross was much higher elevation and maybe 2 miles in the distance, I instantly wondered if I'd actually be able to do that...not in my current state of dehydrated health, most likely.

This time, we arrived at the clinic and stayed there to see patients that day.  Liane, one of the BIPAI docs who had been there for 2.5 years with her husband, Jason, both of whom me at the Mbeya Hotel on the day of my arrival, brought me a binder called a "Clinic Aide"...essentially a how-to for clinic survival.  Earlier that week, Carmelle had mentioned that when she started, she said she shadowed "Once or twice" or for "one or two" before they had her see patients on her own.  I assumed that this meant one or two DAYS.  But no no, after a brief run through of the binder, and a glimpse at the EMR, I found out they meant one or two PATIENTS.  I instantly felt underprepared and overwhelmed.  

Liane and I saw one patient together, and though fast and requiring multiple steps, she made things seem easy enough...but she'd been doing this for 2 years. After the first patient, she asked if I wanted to start on my own or see another patient with her.  "Umm, let's do one more," I said. Of course, I would have preferred a few more, but that didn't seem to be an option. After the second patient, Liane found a room for me to work in, introduced me to Maggie, one of the Swahili interpreters, and I was on my own!

I cycled through the process throughout the day...grabbed a chart from the front, retreated to my room, looked through the EMR at the previous visits and last visit note's plan.  I quickly flipped through my 2-ring binder, which kept trying to open on it's own and spill all the laminated contents everywhere, searching for the right drug doses, the protocols for each kid, etc.  My patients ranged from HIV exposed infants on prophylaxis to kiddos on antiretroviral therapy with tuberculosis prophylaxis to a mother of a patient who happened to have fever and sore throat (for whom I wrote a script for amoxicillin, after hesitating on whether or not I was actually supposed to "see" patients.

Now of course, this wasn't a super-resource limited setting...as evidenced by the nice rooms, electronic medical record (EMR), and availability of more than one HIV treatment regimen.  This wasn't the Mbeya Referral Hospital Wadi.  Also, though I was seeing patients on my own, Liane, Jason, and the other doctors were there for me to sign patients out to and to correct any errors/add any additional studies or treatments as needed.  So, it wasn't as bad as dropping me in a pool and telling me to swim without some "floaties".

The day progressed, and with it the rain came. However, today, rather than the rain coming, raining for a short while heavily, and then clouds dispersing, the rain was essentially constant.  From about 11 AM to probably 3 or so the rain fell, and steadily.  No breaks with just a slight drizzle or mist.  Heavier at some times than others, yes, but constant nonetheless.  Thus, my plans to run into town during lunchtime were changed to just taking a lunch break to do some work while Maggie met with other local workers in the break room for her lunch.

The afternoon was similar to the morning, but I saw only a couple patients as I spent part of the afternoon with further encounters of the ETEC kind.  One patient, a break, and then another, and clinic was over.  I came upstairs to check some emails and do some journaling. About 4 o'clock Jason came to give us a lecture on antiretroviral therapies, first and second line treatment available in Tanzania, and their most common and most dangerous side effects.  It was most welcome (or Karibu-sana), as I needed a refresher, especially since the number of pediatric HIV patients I had cared for since Botswana could be counted on one hand.

After lecture, I called home again and was happy to see that Ali and the kids looked a bit less stressed.  Mary-Teresa looked much better, was smiling, and was letting Ali actually put her down!  I also was able to diagnose Jude with hand, foot, and mouth via telemedicine (though if you've never tried looking for erythematous blisters in a childs mouth via a Google+ hangout from Tanzania to America, I don't recommend it as the resolution kind of makes it difficult to see anything...not even taking into account trying to coordinate a phone in one hand, a flashlight in the other, and a 2 year old who is less than perfectly cooperative.

Reassured that things were going better at home, I hung up (and there was no crying this time!) and made one last pit stop before making a daring venture into town.  My goal was to buy airtime for my phone, peanut butter for my breakfast/lunch, and possibly some cipro for my intestinal issue.  Before leaving I ran into Liane and asked her if there were any additional markets in town other than the one (Azra) that we had passed on a previous day. She mentioned that there was another around the corner called Babu Kubwa.  Then she threw in, "Azra is better for food, Babu Kubwa is better for alcohol."  Good to know...

I made my way toward town with my only bearings being that I knew Deluxe diner was down the hill  and east, and that Azra was along that road.  I made my way down streets that were familiar and passed shops that I had seen before at some point in the previous few days.  I walked down the street that led to Deluxe, but didn't see Azra anywhere.  That being the case, I went around a corner and down the hill just a bit more and stumbled upon Babu Kubwa.  

This "mini-market" was just that.  About 18 X 12 feet with one center stand and foods along the surrounding walls, with so little space between I was almost certain my backpack would knock over canned goods and bottles along the wall.  Certainly this was the place for liquor, if you wanted it. They had any commercial liquor you'd see advertised in the States, along with a few more regional ones.  I looked for a few minutes at the Amarula (if you don't remember my infatuation with Amarula, see my Botswana blog), but my wallet and my stomach just didn't seem too inclined...I know, I must have been sick!

I perused the selections for a while before finally deciding just to buy some Nutella...I wasn't particularly excited about the lone jar of peanut butter they had...and since I hadn't had lunch, I grabbed a plastiki (plastic) bottle of Diet Pepsi and a Twix!  I paid the Indian man who owned the shop and was on my way back up the hill. 

 The mountain Mbeya sits on

 A view down the hill toward "town"

The road Deluxe and Azra market sit on

Convinced I had missed Azra my first time down, I retraced my steps toward Deluxe and found that somehow I had just missed the sign for the other Indian-owned market within a kilometer of Babu Kubwa.  Indeed, this place had a bit better food selection (cheeses, meats, chips, multiple jars of peanut butter, etc). I almost bought some pasta and tomato sauce (thinking about making some Pasta a la Gaborone), but when I was shown the bottle of tomato sauce (which was actually catchup), I passed and just picked out a jar of peanut butter that clearly stated it had been manufactured in the United States.

As I paid for the jar, the Indian woman (who spoke English! Hooray!) said to me: "Thank you, sir.  Sir I would like to give you a compliment."  Now, the only thing I could imagine she meant was that she wanted to compliment me on something, and the only thing she had seen me do was walk through here store and buy peanut butter.  So, I thought maybe she meant I had picked a good jar of peanut butter.  

She quickly followed her first sentence with "Do you eat?"...now, I thought his meant had I ever eaten my apparently excellent choice of peanut butter, to which I replied, "No."  She responded "Chips? You don't eat?"  

It was at this point in time that I noticed one of the Tanzanian store workers standing not 3 feet from me holding out a small bag of salt & vinegar Lays chips.  Suddently it all made sense.  She wanted to GIVE me a COMPLIMENTARY bag of chips...to go with my peanut butter?  I took it as her way of trying to elicit future business from the obvious foreigner.  I responded to her second question affirmatively, thanked her, and now had something to COMPLIMENT my late lunch.

A healthy meal indeed...Diet Pepsi, salt & vinegar potato chips, and Twix.  I walked back up the hill chomping on my chips and soda, saving the Twix for dessert.

Breakfast of champions

Along the way I stopped to purchase some airtime and subsequently added it to my phone in order to purchase some data.  Strangely, my "bundle" didn't have any listed minutes or texts as I navigated through the only menu for bundle ordering I could find...remember, I had been given a SIM card and sent out the door the day prior, told only to buy airtime on the street and with no further instruction. So I googled the network's website and found a code that I entered to buy a data "bundle". Of course, excited to have some internet connection on my phone, I scratched off the cards and entered my airtime codes right there on the street and added a 500 MB "bundle."  It turned out later that there wasn't much bundle about it.

As I finished putting in my airtime codes a man walked up to me along the road and motioned to me.  About 5 feet way, he stood there, silent, and held out his and toward me, then withdrawing it and putting it together with his other hand.  He was begging, I could clearly tell, but would not or could not say a word.  I looked at him and tried to politely say "No, I'm sorry." At first he just stood there, but after I repeated, he nodded toward me and walked away.  Honestly, I still don't know what the right thing to do in that situation would be, but just after I was a bit upset with myself that my immediate response was not one of pity and generosity but instead one of avoidance and refusal.

After this encounter, I felt less like spending time in the streets as the sun started was nearing the mountain.  I was standing outside the pharmacy (which, buy the way, will sell ANY medication to ANYONE without any prescription), but decided that I'd give my ETEC one more day before attacking it with cipro.  I continued my walk home. 

Along the path of the main road, I saw in the near distance what appeared to be a line of men standing outside one of the shop stalls.  I wondered what business or good was in such demand at 6:30 PM.  As I approached, it became clear that this wasn't a line, but a group of men crowded around a small TV in the DSTV shop watching a soccer match.  I found this rather entertaining, stood for a moment or two with them, and proceeded home.  

As I walked home taking pictures, this man along the road said to me, "What about me??" Eventually I figured out he wanted me to take his picture, so I did, and he was very happy about it.  He didn't even ask to see it!

Once I got home, I regretted my decision not to buy cipro...as ETEC raged again.  Luckily for me, Carmelle offered me a course of Cipro that she had from a previous international trip, and I graciously accepted.  I swallowed that first pill and though, "Let's bomb the hell outta those little jerks."  Now, I've broken almost every rule that I tell my patients to go by:
1) Never take another person's medications
2) Never take medication that's left over or old
3) Never treat yourself without seeing a doctor
Now, I've not broken rule #4, which is: Always finish your full course of antibiotics...and I have no intention of letting these little buggers get off easy by cutting short a three day course.

Immediately I felt better, not physiologically, but because I knew I was doing something about it.  As I hadn't had a proper meal that day, we decided to run down to Mbeya hotel and order some food to go. Now, this went much fast, as we walked in, directly told a waiter we wanted food "for carry away" and placed our order.  I downed a ginger soda while we waited to help settle my stomach (at least that's what Gigi always said), and we walked out with our food a few minutes later.

At home, I downed my chicken and noodles hungrily, again not even thinking about keeping leftovers for lunch.  As far as I was concerned, things were going straight through, so I had no concern for caloric intake.  I finished up and pulled out my computer to try to catch up on some journaling.  

As I was finishing up, Josh asked me about my phone bundle...to which I responded about how I only saw the data and didn't see how many minutes there were on the phone with it.  He came over and showed me a DIFFERENT code that he used to get to a DIFFERENT menu, which had bundles of minutes, data, and texts. Now, the disconcerting thing was that these bundles had minutes, texts, and data for CHEAPER than I had paid for my previous "bundle" of data alone.  I was rather frustrated...but knew it wasn't that big of a deal after all.  

However, not long after that, Amelia approached me and told me that the 3 $100 bills I had given her for rent earlier that day were not accepted by the bank...now, apparently, in Tanzania $100 bills from 2006 and before are not accepted...despite the fact that they 1) have a watermark, 2) have a security strip, 3) have multiple other features that prove them to be real, and 4) ARE ACCEPTED IN A FIRST WORLD COUNTRY aka THE USA.  Now I was frustrated because of but not with two of the siblings I was living with. So much for the almighty dollar...my currency wasn't current, see?? I ended the day feeling like I couldn't do much right again...

...however this time I was able to let it go a bit easier, as I knew I was getting a handle on things in Tanzania and could overcome little obstacles here and there.  It didn't make things just fine, but less frustrating and more peaceful.

I ended my day with some evening prayer, and fell asleep before I could say my daily Rosary.  After all was said and done, I was sick...and tired of this crap...however, I had already started to take action against the literal meaning of the word, and was confident I could take care of the figurative in the days to come.

Mambo, (Wadi) No. 5

Day 5: April 8, 2014

Day five started out in a way that I wouldn't have expected or wanted had I been able to plan it.  I woke up at about 3 AM with a rumbly tumbly stomach, and for the next hour was alternating between sitting in the restroom and lying in bed wondering when I was goint to have to go sitting in the restroom again.  Finally a bit after 4, I fell back asleep and stayed asleep until 6:30 AM, when my alarm woke me and I snoozed it 3 times in a row.  At 7 I decided I couldn't put off the inevitable any longer, and though I was excited to get up for my first day at the BIPAI Tanzania Clinic, I wasn't quite as thrilled to make yet another morning trip to the restroom, even if it did have a view of bright red flowers and greenery just outside the window. 

Getting ready for the morning ended up taking quite a bit longer than usual.  A combination of trying to fit in morning prayer, my extra bathroom time, and getting all situated with my computer, charger, stethoscope, etc in my backpack, I found myself finally ready to leave at about 7:40.  I grabbed the bread I had thrown in the toaster, threw some pineapple jam on it, and walked out the door.  We took the long road to clinic, as we knew that we needn't be there until about 8:30 anyway.  We walked up the hill and around the bend back down toward the clinic, cutting through on an unpaved road over a creek that led past the Cathedral.  We walked onto the grounds of Mbeya Referral Hospital through a gate on side road.  As we crossed through the hospital grounds, I noted again that they appeared much like the hospital in Gaborone: multiple small, one story buildings that resembled American school buildings made primarily out of concrete and connected by covered cement walkways.  Finally we came upon the BIPAI Clinic and went in.  First off, Carmelle showed me to where our work area for the month would be, and as I sat down I marveled at the ability to connect to a wireless network and use the internet freely!

Shortly thereafter, I was met by Liane who gave me a bunch of study materials, forms, and other documents for the month.  She then introduced me to one of the other BIPAI docs, Michelle, who wisked me off for a tour of the clinic.  This of course included seeing the work areas, clinic rooms, lab, etc.  However, it also meant being introduced to about 30 different Tanzanians who worked at the clinic, none of whose names I had any chance of remembering as with every turn a new person with a name I'd never heard of appeared.  Everyone was very kind, and I heard the phrase, "Karibu, you are most welcome here" about 15 times or so. 

After the clinic tour, I had a few minutes to check and send some emails, and then it was time to start the day.  In actuality, this was not my first day working in the clinic seeing patients as Tuesday and Friday here are days on which one of the BIPAI doctors rounds on the kiddos in the Malnutrition Ward in the hospital.  I was very eager to have an inpatient component to the month, as this was a bit lacking four years ago in Gabs.  Jason was the doctor on service for the month of April, so he came to meet us at about 9 AM and we were off to the hospital.  As we walked into Wadi 5 (aka the Malnutrition Ward), it was clear how different this experience would be from rounding in America.  In the concrete building were four separate areas in a row, separated only by a 5-6 foot dividing wall.  In each area, which I estimated to be about 15 feet by 15 feet, 6 hospital beds covered with mosquito nettings were placed, 3 on either side, separated from each other on each side by about 2 feet and by about 3.5-4 ft across from each other.  Each area had a couple of windows that were left open in order to help cool the building, but as far as I could tell no air conditioning was to be found.  All told, there were 25 kiddos in the ward waiting for our team to round.  We were met by Rajeb, the new Tanzanian intern on the service, and began to round.

Now, rounding in this hospital was a far cry from that in the US.  There was no pre-rounding by the interns or by us. The entire team, attending, residents, intern, nursing, and pharmacy, started rounding at the same time, spoke to each patient/parent at the same time, and made a plan all together.  Then the attending would examine the patient while the intern wrote orders and the daily note. So picture, if you will, 1 attending, 2 residents, 1 intern, a nurse, a pharmacist, and a medical officer or 2...roughly 7-8 people, standing around a hospital bed separated from 5 others by just a couple feet staring at the patient and their parent while the attending (who is 6'4", mind you, bends down to examine the patient underneath a mosquito net that is about 5 feet or so off the ground.  It was, shall we say, rather cramped. 

The patients were, as you might imagine, unlike anything I'd ever seen in the U.S. Infants and children ranging from about 6 monts of age to 3 years of age with one or two outliers of about 7-9 years, all either previously or currently SEVERELY acutely malnourished due to either HIV, disseminated tuberculosis, or most sad of all, sheer lack of availabity of food with no other underlying medical problems precipitating their illness.  These were kiddos that we all would only recognize from those late-night commercials asking for your help of "just $1 a day". The muscle wasting and thin extremites on the sickest of the kiddos was astounding.  The stunted growth made it hard to believe that each child was actually the age their chart claimed them to be.  Needless to say, there were a number of patients with conditions that we all know only to exist in books and in theory.  These children were ADORABLE, but so incredibly sick. Just to recall a couple, the most memorable to me were:

- Winfrida, a young ~12 month old with malnutrition, due only to lack of food, so severe that she came in hypothermic, hypoglycemic, and swollen so terribly from protein deficiency that she could not open her eyelids, her skin shined due to how tense it was from the edema, her socks demonstrated the severity of her swelling as her lower legs bulged out once not confined by the elastic band (think wine glass shape), and the hair on her temples had a red tinge to it due to micronutrient deficiency.   

- A two year old boy whose name escapes me at the time admitted for malnutrition but being worked up for suspected HIV infection and concern for abdominal tuberculosis.  His stomach bulged out with fluid so  much that it was difficult to see anything other than his belly while looking at him.  He had been started on treatment for presumptive TB but without any improvement after two weeks, and an abdominal ultrasound looking for abscesses, masses, or lymphadenopathy which came back with a straightforward read of "ascites (fluid in the abdomen)"...incredibly helpful, surely.  We contemplated how much longer we'd give him before trying to transfer him (ie put him on a bus to the country's capial with his caregiver to expedite the process as "ambulance" transport was extremely limited) as we had nearly exhausted the workup available at our hospital (which is limited when you consider the liver function test machine is down, no cultures are available, and one of the few radiologists in the area unexpectedly died about a week ago).

(No pictures here, sorry!  No allowed to post them publicly online!)

All told, it took us from about 9:30 until 2:15 to round on these 25 patients.  I found out after the first 12 patients that I was largely out of rounding shape...about 90 minutes in, my lower back started KILLING me...I tried to stretch, bend, etc with no relief.  There was nowhere to sit, and not anywhere that I really wanted to lean up against.  After finishing the second pod of patients I took a brief timeout to sit on a small bench in the narrow hallway that ran thru the ward.  It helped, but only for a few moments, and so I made it work for the remainder of rounds by squatting close to the floor intermittently and as we waited for the intern to finish the note on each patient.  Finally, we finished up with a young kiddo with Down Syndrome who actually was very well appearing comparatively, and rounds were finished.  It was quite the marathon, and I was happy to have a rest. 

My stomach was reminding me that I had not filled it since my toast and jelly at 7:30 AM.  Carmelle and I dropped our things off at the clinic and quickly walked down the road a ways to "Hope Sisters" restaurant. From the buffet style service line (ie a table with 10 or so large pots on it) we chose our food.  I had some seasoned brown rice with beans and chickpeas, passing on the available protein of fish as I preferred to not have to pick out bones, etc...I just wanted to eat.  After getting my heaping plateful of rice covered by the sides, we sat and I INHALED my food.  I went from amazingly hungry to incredibly full in almost no time.  We paid for our meal (mine costing just about 3500 TZS, or just under $2, with Pineapple Fanta), and headed back to clinic, where I met Simon, the procurement officer, for a trip to get a SIM card for my phone.

We traveled back into town down a side road, across a field with a path worn into it by regular pedestrians, onto a dirt road, and over a small creek spanned by a bridge that one need carefully walk over to avoid the spaces in between each plank.  We arrived at "Airtel", and after a couple minutes of conversing in Swahili, and a ten minute wait, I had my SIM card and was ready to go.  We retraced our path back to the clinc where I caught the end of a lecture on nutrition for infants of mother's with HIV.

After that, it was time to video call home FINALLY for the first time since Friday night.  Ali and the kiddos surely were a sight for sore eyes, but only made me miss home even more.  I felt guilty (justifiably) for leaving with so much going on at home, but was glad to hear that Ali had had some help over the weekend and on Monday.  Ali showed me all the rearranging of the house that had been done in preparation to get it on the market so we could move out to Katy, and it looked AWESOME.  I am greatly indebted to my father-in-law and sister-in-law for their help, and only moreso to the amazing wife who is currently handling three children under 5 at home for the next two and a half weeks.  I LOVE YOU!

About half an hour later, it was time to sign off for the night, and I said goodbye to everyone, hearing John-Paul crying again in the background as we hung up. 

A little while later, after doing a bit more work at the clinic, it was time to head home.  Navigating our way through the streets in the fading sunlight that was disappearing behind the mountains to our left, we decided to grab some dinner at pretty much the only available place within walking distance of the house: Mbeya hotel.  Our housemates were having a friend over for dinner as a farewell (she was moving back to Germany after 13 years of missionary work), so we made ourselves scarce for the evening. We walked down and grabbed a table, hoping to catch a waitresses attention as we had been warned about how long the staff could take to take your order regardless of how busy the place was. 

It took about 15 minutes, multiple attempts to waive down a waitress, and what I'm pretty sure was the result of the manager hearing us trying to flag someone down and chewing out the staff, to get our menus.  We perused the list that ranged from Indian to American to Chinese food, and I finally ordered the Szechuan beef...clearly I hadn't remembered my lack of intestinal fortitude, especially since I answered in the affirmative when the waitress asked "Very spicy??"  The food came rather quickly, and though rather very spicy, I liked it a lot and of course scarfed all of it down without so much as a thought of leftovers.  We settled our bill and headed back to the house, where the siblings and their friend were sitting on the veranda finishing dinner and talking.  We joined them, and to our surprise, Amelia asked, "Would you like your pudding now?"  I responded that I didn't know we had any pudding, but that I was certainly ready for some!  They brought Carmelle and I our own little german chocolate cakes topped with whipped cream and a cherry! They were delicious, and certainly hit the spot after my stomach had been subjected to such a spicy foray half an hour before.  Why it was called pudding, I had no clue, but I was not about to question something so yummy.

After finishing my pudding/cake, we sat and talked with everyone for about 30 minutes or so, covering topics that primarily dealt with dogs and snakes and then dangerous encounters in the jungle with black and green mambas, cobras, and the like.  We were assured that no such snakes were in Mbeya...but at that point it didn't much matter to me.  I was so sleepy that I welcomed the end our our chat, and after a quick shower there was not even an attempt at journaling as I was lucky to finish evening prayer without (permanently) nodding off to sleep. 

Dala dala bill y'all

Day Four: April 7, 2014

 

Sleeping in was fantastic.  I woke to my alarm at 8 AM and felt very rested.  I walked out into the living room to find everyone but Carmelle awake and working away, despite it being a public holiday.  I said good morning, walked back to my room to change, and had some time for morning prayer.  After that, I got dressed and had an unusual but delicious breakfast of...avocados!  I cut one open, added some salt, and sat enjoying my very simple but yummy meal, which I doubled by cutting up another.  After finishing my breakfast, I took a good chunk of the morning documenting the events of the previous day.  Carmelle entered data for her research into her computer, and Josh, Amelia, and Charisse all spent the morning on errands in town.  In addition, Amelia offered me the chance to use her internet here at the house, which to this point I didn't even know existed.  I journaled while waiting for the local internet software to load, and then sent an email home with updates and assuring Ali that I was still alive.

 

After journaling all morning and waiting for the rest of the crew to come back for lunch (which apparently is usually taken at about 2-3 PM), Carmelle and I finally made our way out for lunch as the others opted out to continue errands.  We ventured down into town and among the various shops and businesses.  The area in which we walked was a bit more developed than what we saw the previous day.  After about ten minutes walking and three or four turns here and there (not too far from the main road), we arrived at "Deluxe", a restaurant that was recommended by our housemates.  We perused the brief Swahili menu, and after confirming what everything meant, ordered some "Pilau Nyama" or brown rice with meat, as well as a Passion Fruit Fanta.  The food arrived just minutes later, with a hefty helping of seasoned rice with chunks of meat, really flavorful beans, chili sauce, some vegetables, and a small banana, which I assumed was dessert.  We hungrily scarfed down some food on the small patio facing the cloud covered mountain to the north.  With a little extra chili sauce, the food was rather delicious, and the Fanta a bit sweeter and less tart than a pineapple soda.  The whole large plate of food was 3000 TZS (or about $1.85).  With the two drinks added in, we both got out of there with full bellies for under $5 USD.  I dominated my food and was very full.  

 

Then we made the brief walk up the hillside to the dalla-dalla station by the hotel and bank.  Our destination was Mjenga, an area we were told had many shops and markets.  Carmelle meant to find some fabrics for home, whereas I went along for fun and in the hopes of finding a few groceries (bread, peanut butter, and snacks for the next few days or so).  We jumped on the van for 500 TZS (about 30 cents) apiece and arrived at our stop in about 8 minutes, after waiting almost as long for the owner to fill up the van to his satisfaction (ie filled more than safely).  Along the way, he leaned half his body out the side window attempting to find (ie call out to and recruit) even more passengers.  It was incredibly dangerous on his part, I thought at least.  We passed some furniture stores, a petrol station, and multiple market areas before finally coming to a station where multiple dalla's stopped.  We jumped out and made our way through the bustling markets, passing furniture stands, little kiosks with everything from phone cards to Fanta's to stuffed animals, and even a metal/aluminum cutting shop.  

 

As we made our way down one of the main roads looking for fabric, we passed a couple food stands, a truck with loud blaring music, a group of older locals sitting outside in chairs in what appeared to be a religious gathering, and some grain selling stands.  Unable to find any fabric, we walked back, and as we approached the elder congregation and music-blaring truck, I was about to comment that I thought they must have been a religious group.  No sooner had I thought this when I noticed writing on the truck windshield that said something like "Gospel Mission", and two seconds later LOUD music blared a song that consisted of two or three words followed by "Hallelujah!" over and over again.  That answered my question.

 

We backtracked a bit and went down a narrow alley (a bit sketchy, in my view) that we had skipped over previously. Down a few stalls and past some muddy road and puddles we found a fabric stand, where Carmel bought 6 meters of purple fabric after trying to obtain a price for less.  We left and proceeded a bit farther down, locating another fabric store next to a stand that seemed to be one for hardware (I saw wiring, light bulbs, and the like).  As a rooster crowed not ten feet away, Carmelle bought a smaller swatch of blue cloth and was done searching for her fabric.  

 

Now it was my turn.  We crossed the busy street, almost being run over by a motorcycle trying to speed past the paused traffic on the shoulder, which of course doubles as a pedestrian walkway.  We arrived safely all the same at the "Elegante" Supermarket.  This really was the size of a small convenience store.  Among the items were cookies, bread, candies, chips, and the like.  No fruit, no real milk, etc.  I was happy to finally have the chance to buy ANYTHING.  I ended up passing on most supplies as anything beyond mere staples were SO expensive.  A box of American cereal: $7.  A jar of peanut butter: $8. A chocolate bar: $3.  I scoffed at this, especially considering the advice Carmelle gave me that the prices for the more luxury goods might be cheaper in town.  Instead, I just bought a loaf of bread and some cookies and decided to finish shopping later in the week.

 

Then we set to flagging down a dalladalla, which took longer than anticipated.  We walked back to the station we arrived at and were told we had to walk further down away from town on the other side of the road to the opposite direction station.  As we did, we kept trying to just flag down a dalla going our direction.  After three or four with men leaning out the window looking for passengers passed us by, we caught one and jumped on.  After that, it was a quick 5 minute nonstop ride to our "Bank" stop by Mbeya Hotel.  We jumped off and Carmelle offered again to draw some shillings for me from the ATM, which I gladly accepted.  We arranged that i would send her a check in the states to pay her back, and in moments I went from depending on her for all payments to borrowing and having 200,000 TZS ( about $125) in my wallet.  It felt amazing to just have the ability to buy things myself, and so after we arrived back at the house and found it locked an empty, of course I had to spend a bit of it.  We walked back to Mbeya hotel and sat down with the Expats who made hobbies of cursing and throwing darts while drinking local beer.  After a few minutes, I had ordered my Castle Lager and paid for it BY MYSELF.  A few minutes later Carmelle decided to try back for the house again.  I stayed behind and watch the expats play darts for a bit, finishing my Castle and then, of course, grabbing a Guinness Foreign Extra Stout.  I was tempted to take the bottle back to the house, but after being told I would owe another 1000 shillings (or 33% more) to take the bottle (which the businesses keep for the refund), I stayed and hung out with the expats a bit more, watching some play volleyball and others curse about their frustrating forays into mutliple dart games.  After my two 500 mL bottles, I felt just fine and dandy.  I was happy to have a bit of control over my finances back, and marveled that finally I could kill some time if needed by hanging out somewhere and just buying a small menu item to justify my presence.  It was one less frustration on my list.  

 

I finished my bottle, walked back to the house, and arrived to find the siblings making dinner.  As Carmelle and I had already eaten, we just nibbled on some toast with jam and small biscuit cookies, spending time with the other housemates and chatting.  After a small dinner and some coffee, I was content that my holiday was well spent catching up, resting, exploring a bit, and finally getting a bit more of a hold on this east African town.  It was time for a shower, where my progress in not making a huge puddle on the floor was clear, then a short bit of talking as the siblings locked up the house and we all retired.  I finished up a couple moments of journaling, and now it's time for evening prayer and however much reading I can take before sleep comes...which will likely be almost none...tomorrow is my first day at the Baylor/Tanzania Pediatric HIV clinic!

Maybe the stupidest thing I have ever done

DAY THREE: April 6, 2014

 

Holy moly...quite the day. Ups and downs, peaks and valleys, and things I never expected to feel or hear so soon, much less on the first full day here.

 

I woke up multiple times and rolled over noticing the light still on from when I zonked out the night prior. Finally getting up to turn it off, I noticed it was 5:38 AM.climbed back in bed. Ten minutes later, I was up and dressing for 6:45 Mass...if I was up, I might as well try to make it back for the crater trip. After dressing, I walked to the door to try to leave, but realized I didn't have my own key. After finding one, borrowing it, and leaving a note saying I had, I was about to make my way or when Amelia walked down the hall and let me out sleepily...And it was a good thing as there were three locks, a locked gate, and several keys I actually would have needed to escape.

 

I walked quickly to the Cathedral and made it in plenty of time, amazingly, praying the Rosary along the way. I arrived and found a seat in the relatively empty church. It would be about twenty minutes until the crowds of Tanzanians arrived...and Mass actually started at about 7. No worries, I thought, surely I would still make it back by 8:30 to the house.

 

To try to sum up the experience at Mass briefly is challenging...my mind traveled everywhere, from doubt yo guilt to joy to fear to peace and back again, in and out almost seamlessly. I was amazed by the beautiful voices and harmonies of the choir, whilst clueless as to the content of the songs. I knew the content, I heard the joy and faith, but the message was a blur. At the very least, I was blessed to be in the Catholic Church and so had some guidance as to prayers abd structure. The reverence of the congregation and pastors was certainly beyond most American churches, and I ate that up.However I still found myself frustrated not knowing the readings, the sermon, the little added nuances, and the hymns, which certainly demonstrated the importance of music to the culture. This was a SIX FORTYFIVE AM MASS...and it had more music than any in the U.S..

 

As Mass went on, I just lost myself thinking of how much I didnt understand, how long Mass was taking, whether I would be able to get into the house without a key if they had already left. I was already planning out how terribly the test of the day was going to be. I would be locked out in my church clothes in Tanzania during rainy season with no cash and no way to get any money or a key. Then after the homily the crowds lined up to the front of the church as if for Communion...but it was the collection. And EVERYONE was going up...and I had ZERO MONEY...the lone white guy in the whole building who everyone probably thought had more money than I could possibly need walked up to the front of the Church with NOTHING, bowed toward the altar, and walked away...I was PETRIFIED and embarrassed... what was I doing here, why did I come across the world to be totally proven incapable of doing anything right. Sure, I knew it was ridiculous to think, but still I thought it.

 

Finally, the Eucharistic prayer started, and I was home...the language didn't matter, my empty wallet didn't matter, my frustration was gone. I knew this, and Christ was there...as He had been the whole time, but visible at the altar and tangible, bringing what unites us all despite culture, language, socio-economic status...that is, Himself. He brought peace, and though the problems of the day hadn't gone completely, my mind stopped racing and it was okay. What a loving God is ours to come tangibly each day in the Mass to be present tangibly for us weak humans sometimes unable to sense His presence unless truly visible and tangible...and to physically unite himself to us!!

 

After receiving our Lord in the Eucharist, I felt much better...peaceful, calm, and ready for the rest of the day.  Unfortunately, one thing stood in my way...ANNOUNCEMENTS.  Seriously, I have no idea what the woman that went up to the ambo just before the final blessing was saying, but she had a stack of papers that she kept going through, announcing or stating something in very LOUD, emphatic Swahili.  Each time I thought she was finished, she just flipped through the papers and found another announcements.  Finally after about 5 minutes of this, I decided to stem my frustration by reading my Office that I had brought with me.  After going through the readings for the day, I thought she would be finished...WRONG.  It must have been at least ten minutes worth of talking by this woman.  I was wearing out, and I actually appreciated the brevity of American Mass announcements and that they usually only hold you hostage for about 2-3 minutes in the usual non-liturgical fashion.

 

In any case, finally Mass ended with one last song, and as I filed out I looked down at my watch to see that is was 8:45 AM!  Two hours after the original start time, 15 minutes after the scheduled next Mass time (which explained the large crowd waiting just outside the Church when I left), and seemingly an eternity from when I had been walking in the dim light of dawn towards the Cathedral.  I quickly navigated through the crowds and made my way back to the house.  

 

I was thrilled to hear the voices of the other housemates as I walked up through the gate and into the house.  Certainly, I felt bad that they had waited for me (orginally planning to leave at 8), but was glad to have a chance to do something for the day (and also glad to not be locked out of the house as I had worried before.  I was welcomed with friendly hello's and quickly changed.  One of the housemates told me not to worry about cash for the day as she'd cover it and I could pay her back, and the tension of the previous days just continued to fade.  We packed up the 4X4, dinged up, faded yellow truck and headed out.

 

Now, I will say it's not the safest mode of transport in the world, but the view from the back of a truck is the best way to see the sights around Mbeya and the surrounding region.  (However, John-Paul, Jude and Mary-Teresa, as far as you are concerned, Daddy rode in the cabin of the truck with his seatbelt on THE ENTIRE TRIP).  We navigated thru the area of town quickly and soon were in an area that I couldn't recognize and likely will never be able to pick out or get to on my own. Turning down this road and that, we were in the middle of "the market" which to me resembled just an assembly of open, worn down buildings that looked in many ways like everything else with the exception of people bustling about and offering their foods, fruits, and fabrics, among other very random things.  It was amazing though, to look around and see the poor conditions of the buildings in one glance, and look up at the green mountainside, as beautiful as could be, in another. It was hard to make sense of it all.

 

At the market, we stopped only for a short while to buy a bit of breakfast.  In a building with no front wall and cement walls (much like every other "stall" you might call them) sat a woman cooking flatbread and fried whole potatoes (fritters).  This was our breakfast.  A flatbread for 100TZS, a fritter for 300TZS, and a little spice on top.  Hungry as always, it looked amazing...and for 400TZS total, it was hard to fathom that my breakfast cost the equivalent of a quarter...and it felt almost wrong to pay so little.  Even so, I was being paid for by another's dime, so I didn't feel the ability to pay more than requested.  We hopped back in our truck with our amazingly cheap breakfast, and I scarfed it down with my half liter of water that I brought from home.  

 

After picking up another two friends coming along to the crater, we headed down towards what I considered to be the more developed area of town, meaning it had a couple of gas stations and a few "grocery stores" which appeared to be what you and I would just call a convenience store mixed in with other larger, true buildings in which this business and that held their office space.  We fueled up the truck and headed out of town, the buildings becoming more sparse and scattered neighborhoods of shops and homes taking their place along the main road.  Sitting out along the ground on the road were clothes, shoes, fruit, furniture all for sale, and countless people milling through shopping or just sitting waiting for business.  Even more chaotic were the "dalla dalla"s (known as *** combi's in Gabs) sprawled in every which place on the side of the road and randomly stopping and going, picking up any passenger willing to pay a coin or two.

 

We passed through a small town called Uloye along the way, and then even the Coca-Cola and Pepsi covered make-shift shops started to disappear.  Suddenly we could see in full view the amazingly beautful countryside which we could only partially capture before.  Around us stood mountains covered in green vegetation, farmland covered with cabbage, sunflower seeds, wheat, maize.  It was incredibly to take in, especially considering the contrasting images from the city moments before.  We made our way closer and into the mountains.  In every direction we took in the countryside: green covered-hills upon which patches upon which the most fertile, dark soil I've seen interspersed with patches of cabbage, corn, carrots, and who knows what else; clouds of every shape and size above us dolloped into the blue sky above; children and people along the road, waving and yelling happily or turning and staring at the uzungu (foreigners) in the back of the truck, respectively; cows grazing in fields, on hills, or just right next to the road; women carrying buckets, baskets, and the like on their heads as they walked the road to the next town; locals washing HUGE bags of carrots in a stream down below over which the road ran) then another small village would pop up with concrete slab buildings topped with either shiny, new tin roofs (or for the less fortunate, rusted, beat up, holey, or even nonexistent roofs) and another crop of people staring and waving, plus or minus another small market.  The scenes repeated more times than I could count, but as we wound up and down hillsides and valleys, they never became even the slightest bit repetitive.  Each scene, though similar or nearly identical to the one before, was ever novel and breathtaking, fascinating, or a combination of the two.  

 

After what seemed like an hour that slipped by like nothing, we arrived at the entrance to the park, a tall, green mountain/hill to our left as we entered.  A tiny booth/entrance area "guarded" the entrance, and as the locals yelled out something I couldn't understand, we came to a stop and Amelia jumped out to sign us into the park and pay our entrance fees.  This was no small matter, it seemed, as for five or ten minutes she sat in their, reportedly going back and forth on what was a reasonable price to pay.  Apparently the locals wanted an entrance fee that surpassed that of what was typically paid for Mount Kilimanjaro.  No matter, as Amelia knew better and talked them down a bit.  As that process took place, the rest of us waved and exchanged greetings with four small children on the other side of the entrance road who thought we were the most interesting thing they'd seen in some time.  They waved and said hello, walked away for a minute, then came back again as if the game were brand new.  

 

As Amelia returned, we waved goodbye and entered the park area.  The road was less well defined, but thanks to the driving skills of Josh, Amelia's brother, the drive was an afterthought to us passengers.  The markets and buildings from before on the main road were replaced quickly by larger, more open hills of farmland. The homes were more likely to be made of wood than concrete, the people were farther between, and the vegetation now included beautiful flowers, shrubs, grass covered embankments on either side at times, and banana trees taller than me (by far...reaching 15-20 feet by my estimate at times).  We drove along on roads that spanned from well made to covered with potholes an foot deep cracks.  Conveniently enough, some of these came along one side of the road whereas the other side of the road was feet from steep drop to a valley about 100 feet below....thank God that Josh knew how to drive...I was rather nervous as we went through those brief spots...if only I knew it was only foreshadowing.

 

After what we all remarked was something along the lines of driving through "Jurassic Park", we asked around and were given directions to the area from which one could hike up to the crater.  As we entered, the road became just a path created by previous cars, and the vegetation became more dense around and overhead.  With tall trees overhaning, flies zooming across the open truck bed, birds cawing, and huge bushes and banana trees, we entered what more truly resembled a jungle.  We descended even further into the area, down a path covered in dirt and stones down which we slipped and slid as much as drove.  Given it hadn't rained yet that day, we were justifiably concerned about whether or not we would make it out and up that road should rains come.  Eventually the road leveled out, but a recently felled tree blocked our path just a few hundred meters from where the hiking path began. We reversed (after having to use a few branches under a back tire to get better traction as the back wheels got stuck in mud) and parked, making the rest of the trip on the road on foot.  

 

Finally we reached a clearing in the jungle where the sky was visible above.  After looking around a few moments, we started up the path towards the crater, which began as a densely covered route which made me glad I'd worn jeans and not shorts).

 

Now when I say hiking path, I don't mean to convey a clearly marked, smoothed out, easy walking path.  Nor was this just a steep hill.  This was the most intense hiking I've done (now granted, know that this means nothing, and many people might not blink an eye at it...but for me, it was the worst).  The path quickly began to climb.  First, it was just walking carefully, using roots for footholds and choosing your steps with care.  Vegetation intermittenly impeded your view, and ducking below branches became the norm pretty quickly.  However, the hike continued, with obvious and hidden tree stumps, moist stones, less steady footing, using tree roots as footholds as well as handholds, and narrowing pathways...up and over trees, through short tunnels of tree branches and stumps in which the only light entering was from the openings on the sides.  Honestly, had I not had people in front guiding, I never would have chosen this as a "hiking path".  Navigating was difficult, and the hiking even harder.  I was becoming progressively more tired, short of breath, and beginning to feel a bit light-headed.  Now, keep in mind that I was climbing up on little food, minimal breakfast, 500 mL of water for the day, taking malarone (which the bottle nicely warns "May cause dizziness, take with food"), in elevation of probably well over a mile (as Mbeya is 5000 ft and we drove UP to the park, and within 48 hours of arriving in a time zone 8 hours ahead of my home...with rain threatening...I'd call that suboptimal conditions.  It seemed like every time I thought maybe we'd be getting close to the top, we kept going and the path kept getting harder. I was more tired, my legs less steady, and my mind racing with thoughts of how dumb I was being.  Finally, the final gauntlet.  We CLIMBED up a steep area, using roots as steps and trying not to slip; then once on top, another few hundred meters of walking along less steep but NARROW path.  Literally, at times I looked down to realize my path was 2-3 feet across with either steep slopes down (ie sliding or falling to certain injury or worse) on both sides or one slope down and an up slope on the other that narrowed the path even further.  It was PETRIFYING.  I had no choice but continue on though, and as the rain above started to fall we arrived at the lookout point at the crater.  

 

Indeed, the foggy haze-covered view of the lake-filled crater below was beautiful...in retrospect I wish I had appreciated it more at the time.  I snapped a few pictures but couldn't think of much else but "HOW IN THE WORLD ARE WE GETTING DOWN NOW THAT IT'S RAINING!?!?!" I had one more picture taken of me by Carmel on her camera (in case I slipped and died and was never found), and said half-jokingly "Let's be sure that's not the last picture of me ever taken." Then it was time to head back down the mountain...hopefully at a safe pace and on the path we had come up rather than one of the many alternatives that terrified me on the way up.  

 

The climb down was less trying physically, but with the rain falling harder and harder, and my fatigue setting in, I was truly hoping I wouldn't end up sliding or falling down the side of the path at some point.  At some point in time I became the last person in the group, and everyone just kept going faster than I was comfortable with.  At times I saw no one ahead of me, and even for just the few seconds that lasted it was terrifying.  What if slipped and fell, what if they didn't notice for a few minutes and had trouble finding me in the rain, or couldn't?  It was painful.  I alternated between trying to slowly navigate the most dangerous pathways and speed up to a few steps of jogging/running on the ever - wetter ground below me where I was fairly certain I wouldn't fall (to my death at least).  It was almost like running provided surer footing at times, but then a dip in the path or stones seen ahead made us slow down.  Finally having made it past the most treacherous points, I eased up a little.  Sure, I still thought I might fall, but it'd be minor.  As we continued down, I hesitated on a step, providing just enough lack of friction to allow me to slip to my butt, covering it in mud.  I laughed and got back up.  We continued down, grabbing roots and stones to provide support on the steeper slopes, and grasping branches on the sides on the less steep areas.  Though the stems and branches were rather weak, grabbing a few of them provided just enough hold for a brief moment before they broke to allow you to readjust your foot or regain your balance. I was grabbing hold of things and leaning my hand on areas without even looking...it was all about making it down...I would put my hand into something wet or gooey and just reflexively grab some branches or leaves to wipe it off.  With about 1/3 of the path still ahead of us, I took another hesitant step without branches in my hands and paid the price, slipping and landing on my back with a THUD.  That one hurt for a moment, but I was fine and just happy to be close to the bottom.  As we made our way through the level, vegetation-covered path at the bottom near the clearing, I was thrilled to be done with, in my opinion, was the DUMBEST thing I've done...but it was fun once I knew I had made it down.

 

Back at the truck, we found the bed covered in rainwater and stuck in a bit of mud.  All of us but Josh stood (yes stood) gripping a handrail in the bed as we started driving back up the hill of the forest path.  My feet, wet before, were soaked by the sloshing water that gradually made it's way out of the back of the truck with the tailgate down.  We came upon the path which we "slid" down in the car earlier.  As Josh navigated back and forth along the path, we became more confident that the rain hadn't made things too terrible on the path, and only came upon one spot where the truck lost traction.  Three or four attempts later, though, Josh overcame the best that slippery gravel trail had to offer, and the rest of the drive out was glorious.  We stood in the truck, deathgrip on the handrail, dodging tree branches by bobbing our heads as we trekked along at probably 15 mph.  Once back on the park road, we picked up speed and let the air dry our soaked clothes as well as the bed of the truck.  We marveled yet again at the surrounding vegetation, laughed at two cows that ran across the road, and finally stopped at the now deserted entrance booth off the main highway.  Dry enough, we took the mattresses that had been in the cabin for protection from the rain and sat down again, exhausted but happy.

 

At this point, we decided to make our way to a waterfall about 15 miles down the highway further from Mbeya. We sat and enjoyed the view, but noticed that rain clouds that seemed off the the west of our destination were moving closer and closer.  We stopped at a market to buy some avocados (which the woman selling wanted money to take a PICTURE of, even though we were buying) and other small items and jumped back in the truck.  As we did, we noticed the rain clouds just behind us, and started driving off, thinking we'd outdrive it.

 

Then it was picnic time.  Previously planned (unbeknownst to me) for a picnic at the crater, Amelia pulled out a bag from the cabin that contained pears, biscuits (cookies), and coffee.  It was quite the experience to me, sitting in the bed of a truck drinking strong coffee, snacking, talking, and having a picnic.  We passed food up to those in the cabin, and enjoyed the lunch as we sped back toward Mbeya.  Along the way we picked up some bananas from a roadside stand quickly, and also bought a bag of carrots (and by bought, I mean people along the road with bags of carrots shouted out to us, we stopped, they walked up, exchanged the bag for a paltry sum, and we drove off). The produce was incredibly cheap: a huge bag of fresh, (unintentionally) organic carrots (probably 2-3 pounds easily) for 1000TZS (or 60 cents); three avocados bigger than any you'd see in the US for the same price.  Again, almost guiltingly cheap.

 

As we grabbed our bag of carrots, the rain let us know we had not won the race.  The clouds above us had swarmed from every direction it seemed, and soon our picnic was over and I was crouched in a ball with my arms beneath my bent knees and my head tucked down.  The rain became harder, colder, and painful at times.  The cold wind rushing through the back of the truckbed didn't make it any better, and so we all crunched in toward the front of the bed to take some shelter from the driving precipitation.  Finally after about 10 minutes the rain ceased, the sun broke out, and we were drying for the second time that day.  I crawled my way back to the back of the bed and stretched out, enjoying the now sunny wind that was dryig me off.

 

It was another joy to see all of the streets of Mbeya as we retraced our path home, and before I knew it we had passed Mbeya hotel and were at our gate!  We all took our soaked shoes and socks off, leaving them at the door, and came inside.  Carmel was gracious enough to allow me to shower first despite my protestations.  My mud-covered back and trip in the windy portion of the bed of the truck apparently garnered a combination of pity and sympathy.  I showered, and despite ever trying to not make a huge puddle in the curtainless tub, I enjoyed it immensely.  I dried, put on fresh clothes, and felt AMAZING.

 

A new man, I spent a few minutes recounting the events of the day with my housemates, then slipped away for what I thought would be a one hour nap, setting my alarm for quarter after six.  I found out 2.5 hours later that my alarm clock alarm doesn't work anymore, so I stumbled out into the living room at quarter to 8.  The rest of the group had just ordered our chicken dinner, as we had planned earlier, and two left to pick it up from town.  Carmel, Amelia, and I sat talking about things in general, principally comparing notes from residency and medicine in america vs Africa.  As we did, the electricity credits for the house ran out, but we just sat and talked after asking Josh and Cherisse to pick up more from in town.  Certainly if it were as simple as that, navigating this city couldn't be too terrible once you learned it, I thought.

 

Finally, dinner arrived at the house, and we sat and ate delicious Indian-spiced chicken with "masala chips" (fries with indian spices) at the table all together.  It was a great way to relax, finish the evening, and fill our bellies before bed.  After talking a while after dinner, we carried our plates to the kitchen, too exhausted to do the dishes that night.  In less than a few moments the house was dark and we were all in our bedrooms ready to sleep.  Having gotten a head start, I decided to do some photo transferring off of my phone and blogging about the day.  At midnight, I cut myself off for the day and called it a night, glad to have survived the stupidest thing I've ever done, and glad for the experience knowing that I wouldn't end up as a "Lost American Hiker" story on CNN after all.

Mbeya wins round one...

DAY TWO:

The second day was something else...woke up, showered, and grabbed a taxi to the airport...even in daylight, I would have opted to not walk...as pavement is OPTIONAL in Dar apparently. In any case, we arrived uneventfully and I was checked in and at the gate in no time. I read morning prayer at the terminal, trying to kill some time as check-in was much faster than elsewhere and I had an hour to wait.  After a bit of reading, I walked around and bought a Serengeti beer and an orange Fanta at the airport restaurant.  After finishing my beer, I walked to the gate and sat down again, noting that it was almost boarding time. An announcment in a thick accent came over the speakers "boarding flight for (indistinct)" and a large group lined up.  I closed my drink, threw it in the backpack, and lined up.  Then I noticed that the screen above the gate said "Arusha" and that it was actually gate 5 (I was going to Mbeya out of gate 7, after all), so I sat back down. Another ten or fifteen minutes went by, and my boarding time had passed by 5 minutes. Suddenly over the speakers I heard, "Last call for passenger CHRISTOPHAH NEUMAHN"...I jumped up and ran over to gate 5, realizing that they had decided to board my flight at a different gate...the lady taking tickets seem unusually upset...why was it my fault that they boarded the plane through gate 5 which was labeled with a different flight destination?!?!  In any case, I ran through gate 5, down to gate 7, and out onto the tarmac to my plane, asking the flight attendant if it was the plane to Mbeya (there were two planes on the tarmac and I did not want to end up in Arusha).  The crew was so rushed to go that they just told me to take a seat at the front of the plane, not caring which one my ticket said.  I sat down and we were off in no time.  I watched the city disappear below, caught my first ever glimpse of the Indian Ocean, and then turned my attention to my Rosary and my book as the scenery became more constant.  I had just enough time to finish my Rosary, one chapter of Jesus of Nazareth: Holy Week, and my complimentary Tanzania cashews when the flight began it's landing.  Below I noticed so many shiny tin roofs below, something I had not seen before: the first indication of a new adventure and a new culture.

 

Stepping out onto the tarmac, I took in the green mountains and countryside around.  Our bags were quickly unloaded and I walked out of the terminal in minutes.  I was told that there would be a shuttle to Mbeya Hotel, where Liane and Jason were to meet me.  I couldn't see the shuttle at first, and throngs of taxi drivers kept asking to drive to the city.  I asked one, who told me he could drive for what I heard to be "Six thousand" TZS.  That seemed too good to be true (and turned out not to be), but I agreed.

 

Not long after, we were zooming down the highway, dodging other cars, vans "dalla dallas", and motorcycles. We passed multiple concrete "shopping strips", which were really just cement stalls for tiny shops, all of the outside walls of which were plastered with painted Coca-Cola and Pepsi ads, with a local beer ad thrown in for good measure.  Of note, it seemed the advertisement paint was the only paint on the whole structure.  We went up and down hills, countryside passing by with older women hoeing land on the sides of hills, random traffic stops, and finally into the city proper.  I told my driver I needed to change money as I had no shillings, and he said he would take care of it.  He stopped at a small little open front shop in the city, where I changed for 60,000 shillings from the man who pulled a large stack of bills from the back of his shop.  Next we drove thru different roads and around a few corners, through a turnabout and quickly arriving at Mbeya Hotel.  I asked again to confirm the price, which had ballooned to 50,000 shillings (I think the price probably would have related to how much money I had changed regardless).  In any case, I knew that was excessive, but paid anyway to avoid getting into an argument with a local on day one.  We unloaded my bags, he gave me his number for any future rides (which I wrote down while thinking "No chance in hell you cheat"), and looked around.  I made the mistake of not walking around too much looking for Liane.  I assumed I'd meet them at the front of the hotel, and when I didn't see them I waited just outside the gate hoping they'd arrive.  (In reality, I think they were already there.)  I waited a few minutes, then doubt crept in as to where I was actually supposed to meet them.  I did the only thing I knew would help me confirm where I was to be...which was to trudge up the hill to the Hotel that I knew had free wifi in their restaurant.  I lugged my bags up there, asked for the restaurant at the front gate while trying to explain in English why I was carrying bags but not staying at their hotel.  Long story short, they kindly let me into the restaurant to cool off, allowed me to use the Wifi.  I checked my email, confirmed my destination was Mbeya Hotel, and told the staff I needed to leave as I was meeting someone but was in the wronng place.  They kindly obliged and declined my attempt to pay my last shillings for the internet, "It's free!".

 

I walked back down the hill, arrived again at Mbeya, this time looking around a bit since I knew I was where I should be.  A young woman walked up and asked if I was Chris, and indeed it was Liane, thankfully!  I sat down on the outside patio at a table where Jason and two of their friends, Pat and Tom, a retired couple from Maine now working as Peace Corps Volunteers, sat waiting for me.  We introduced ourselves and sat talking in the nice weather.  We enjoyed a couple drinks, Kilimanjaro and Safari beers (really all the same essentially), and talked about their work, my work, and my trip.  After maybe an hour we threw my stuff in their car and drove to the house.  Having lived at Baylor One in Botswana, I was ready for nice but humble lodging.

 

We drove up, and I almost couldn't believe my eyes.  The house was much larger than I expected, and I first noticed the brightly colored vegetation in the yard and the covered patio/veranda at the front of the house.  It was incredibly welcoming, and I met Amelia, who opened the gate up for us and welcomed us in.  After a brief tour, showing me my room, and talking a few minutes, I settled in.  Jason and Liane mentioned that a group would be back at the Hotel about 5 PM for volleyball before heading out back to their house.  After they left, I unpacked and settled in a bit, then decided I would head off to find my way around the town and get some cash.

 

I walked down the mountainside road (the back way) towards the clinic, using my phone GPS to guide me.  It was spotted with different houses with some amount of farmland each, and a rather peaceful walk.  Chickens ran across the road here and there, and I remarked at the bright flowers on the tall trees surrounding the road.  After about 15 minutes I reached the road that separated the Cathedral and the Hospital, and walked down it.  It was more lively, with a couple shops and people selling goodson the street.  I passed through and around the corner to the Cathedral, where I thought perhaps a 5 PM Mass was going on. I was a bit late, and didn't think I'd made it in time for Mass, but walked in and sat in a back pew for a few moments.  After a short while, realizing that I had indeed not arrived at Mass (it was Saturday 5 PM Benediction), I left and made my way toward the hospital and clinic.  As in Gabs, the front of the hospital was littered with vendors selling fruits, sodas, and the like, accompanied by multiple combi's stopping and picking up passengers quicker than any American would.  I made my way through the crowds and to the front of the clinic, which I could just see through the closed gate as it was of course closed on Saturday.

 

I made my way back toward Mbeya hotel with plans to get cash along the way.  I stopped at the first ATM, noted that it didn't take American Express, and left, hoping that another would...three or four ATMS later, I came to realize my American Express card was useless in Mbeya.  Unfortunately, all the banks were closed until Tuesday, and my Visa PIN wasn't yet activated as I didn't request it enough in advance...ie I had no way of getting shillings.  I had some USD left, but wasn't sure who would take them or where.  I was so frustrtated, as I walked all the way back the Mbeya hotel ATM first, then trekked back along the main road nearly back to the Cathedral trying other ATMS...no luck.

 

I decided I'd go and try to hang out at Mbeya Hotel with the others for a while.  When I got there though, I was exhasted, and really just watched the expats playing volleyball and darts for a while before deciding to try to get some dinner and send Ali an email from the Hillside Restaurant, where I knew I could at least use my Visa credit card as I had seen a sign on the door earlier that day.

 

I walked up the hill as the sunlight started to fade and arrived at the hotel.  I asked for the bar, as the website stated that the bar had wifi as well, and I really had a hankering for another Safari/Kilimanjaro/Serengeti with dinner...it had been a long afternoon of travel and frustration and walking.  A worker escorted me there, and as I sat I asked if I could pay with credit.

- "You pay with cash or you sign."

- " So credit is okay?"

- "Yes, is okay."

- "Great."

 

I ordered myself a water and some food to start, waiting on the beer for the time being.  As I tried to log into the Wifi, the waitress approached me again and said "You have room here".  I responded in the negative. "Oh, then you pay by cash." I was frustrated again by my luck but no surprised.  I didn't want to break my $100 bills (and didn't even know if they'd take it or if they had change), so i said "Okay then, I'll take just the water" knowing I could cover that with my 10,000 Shillings leftover after getting ripped by my taxi.

 

A few minutes later, another waiter approached and said, "Sir you already ordered." I interpreted this as "It's too late to change your order."  I responded that I had American dollars but no shillings and thought I could pay credit. The man accepted my offer for dollars and rehanded me a menu.  I ordered the same food again, and again tried to log into wifi to message home.  As I realized the Wifi was not close enough to the table i sat at to pick up, I also realized that I had taken my $300 out of my wallet for safe keeping at home...

 

...now I was really nervous.  I called the waiter over.

"I'm very sorry, but I left my US dollars at home a few blocks away accidentally. Can I leave my credit card here [as collateral] and run to get them?"

He looked a bit puzzled, talked to the other staff, and then told me that I could pay at the front desk of the hotel with my credit card after eating.  Relieved, I said okay, apologized, and thanked him for the help.  About 20 minutes later, maybe longer, my food finally arrived.  It was my first food since my cereal bars earlier that morning, and I was hungry.  The whole ordeal in this quiet, empty, dark hotel bar kind of ruined the enjoyment of the just mediocre Butter Chicken, but I scarfed down as much of it as I was comfortable eating.  I was in no mood to spend any more money, so I passed on the beer and just asked for my check.  We walked down to the desk, paid for the meal, and finally I left at about 9:30 or so, exhausted physically and emotionally. In my haste, I forgot to even attempt to use the wifi again before leaving.

 

I walked home down the hill in the dark, my phone light the only thing showing me where to step.  Finally arriving home after a couple minutes walk, I walked in and was just glad to be home. I showered for the first time in the house, in our bathroom that had a tub/shower but no curtain...which made tryig not to make a mess challenging.  It will take some learning, but at least there wasn't a HUGE puddle of water on the floor since I combined minimal water use with lower flow/pressure to minimize the mess.  I considered it quite the success for a first go around.

 

After dressing for the night, I walked out and got to spend some time with the housemates and other friends of theirs who had recently arrived for a volunteer/Peace Corps kinda trip.  There was food and snacks, and had I realized that perhaps I could have avoided the fiasco at the hotel.  In any case, I sat and talked for a while, wondering about if Ali would worry since I had no way to contact her.  Telling Carmel, the other visiting resident from UT Southwestern, about the ordeal of the evening, she offered to help me out by letting me use her phone data.  I sent a quick message to Ali and thanked her with probably the sincerest thanks I have had in a while.  After that, I watched a few rounds of the game the group was playing and then headed to bed, hoping perhaps to make 6:45 AM Mass and the planned trip to "The Crater" that Carmel and Amelia had told me of earlier that day.  I lied down in bed with plans to read a bit, but fell asleep almost instantaneously.

 

Botswana hear another story??

So, here we go again...I am sitting at the Dar Airport waiting for my flight to Mbeya with a Serengeti Lager in my hand and an orange Fanta on deck. It's been almost four years since Gabs, Vincent, and my second trip abroad. Hopefully I will be able to document this one in a semi entertaining fashion. And with the added technology of the last four years, there is no telling how much you'll get to see as close to real time as possible!

The trip over wasn't too eventful, so hopefully that means brevity. I started off hugging and kissing the kiddos and wife goodbye. I made sure to get a good "squudge" out of the boys, but a piece of my heart broke off and stayed there in Houston as I could hear John-Paul  crying as they went around one corner and I went around another. It was much easier four years ago when he was clueless and two months old, and not the eldest of three.

I tried to make the best of my wait for the flight. I toasted my trip at a restaurant near my gate, but realized quickly that my "one beer" turned out to be a 25 ounce Hopadillo IPA...somehow I still haven't learned that if you don't ask, the bartender will give you the largest size...even if she is a sweet elderly black lady named Beverly who goes out of her way to make sure she doesn't steal tips from waitresses as she turns away impatient customers who approach the bar from their tables. Regardless, I set to ignoring the muted SportsCenter on TV and sent a few emails I was behind on. I finished my drink and walked to the gate, satisfied that I had tied up a few loose ends before leaving the country.

Then I saw a missed call from the office manager at my new job in Katy. Apparently the three previous emails I sent trying to respond to hers went to her spam folder. So, not wanting to leave the country on bad terms, I called back...And there is nothing quite like having a phone conversation with your soon to be kinda boss right after a 25 ounce, 7%ABV IPA while the boarding call for your flight is booming overhead and you are trying to decide how long the conversation can last before interrupting to say you've absolutely got to hang up...

...It ended cordially, and spontaneously, in the tunnel between the gate and the plane, just for the record...it was a miracle.

The flight over was, to sum it up and avoid boredom, a mixture of eating, wine, The Hobbit, more wine, Red 2, and Amarula, followed by some sleeping despite my crumpled up legs. Amsterdam met us as the day started and we landed approaching the rising sun.

 

The Amsterdam airport was like  friggin Mall...shops everywhere, nearly half stereotypical Dutch stuff...cheeses, tulips, wooden shoes, and the like. It was bright and bustling, and after a much needed pit stop in the airport restroom (Thank God for the toilet cleaner ala Bucee's!) and grabbing a drink, it was time to board again for Dar. After 8 hours mostly awake on flight one, flight two was a trip in and out of wakefulness as I finished the end of one movie and slept through probably 3 more, waking only for the food..

Finally we landed in Dar, night falling again...and I was glad to be off the plane as I had just about watched or slept thru every movie I was willing to...I needed to get out and stretch my legs.

...and waiting in the line for ny visa at the Tanzanian airport gave me plenty of opportunity for that. It was rather intimidating....two uniformed officers standing about ten yards from the passport check, asking for your passport, then cash, and then taking both behind a counter where you hoped your name would be called sooner rather than later (though towards the end, having voluntarily handed over my passport to someone I didnt know, I was willing to settle for later, which sounded amazing compared to not at all.). Finally, twenty minutes, fingerprint scanning, and a photo later, I whisked thru passport check and grabbed my bags, glad nobody already had because certainly no one asked me for proof that they were mine.

 
Quickly I found my taxi driver from the hotel, and another visitor from London and I shared the cab for the 3 minute drive. Though a short ride, I gladly paid for it, as walking thru the uneven, dark, and seemingly sketchy half kilometer would have given me nightmares...After checking into the hotel I didn't need the AM flight to keep me from leaving my safe room with local TV and a mosquito net. I had all the entertainment I had needed for the day. I called home on the surprisingly good wifi, and was content to lull myself to sleep.