What's in a name?

The name Claire comes from a Latin expression meaning "brilliant." Well, I'm not one to argue with that but naming a blog after myself seemed a BIT too conceited. Instead, I chose "African Chiku." Chiku is pronounced "CHEE-koo" and is a common name amongst African children, meaning "chatterer." This summer, I am traveling to Tanzania on a National Geographic photography trip for three weeks and we are required to maintain a blog. When naming my blog, I discovered a title that not only fits the experience but my own personality as well. Ask anyone I know and they'll claim I love to talk. What about? Anything. Nothing. Whatever, whenever and wherever. I am an African Chiku.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

AFRICA!

Traveling (June 11):
You know when you wake up from a deep sleep, in an unfamiliar setting, and you confusedly think to yourself “Where am I?” before realizing that you are in the exact same location and position you were in when you first dozed off? The flight from Houston to Amsterdam was a monumental 9 hours in which I watched Alice in Wonderland, Leap Year, Valentine’s Day, and Oliver and Company, and then, with only 57 minutes remaining, decided that I better get some rest. According to Amsterdam I should be at least partially awake because it’s 7 a.m., but according to Houston I should be a walking zombie right about now, considering it’s 1 a.m. I’m really regretting those movies now… well, maybe just two of them. I forgot how much I loved Oliver and Company. I mean, honestly, what a great movie. The fact that it is based in New York, one of my favorite cities, is just an added bonus. I also emerged myself into the phenomenon of Alice in Wonderland, which to be honest I didn’t think would be nearly as good as it was. Though my TV screen was discolored, it’s a movie that gives off such vibrant colors that I couldn’t help but love it. I love color.
At first when we boarded, I was a bit dismayed to realize I was sitting in the very last row. Not the second to last, not close to last, but the last. However, we quickly befriended the two flight attendants whom were serving us and soon felt right at home with easy access to the water and snacks. Now if only I could get some sleep…

First night in Africa (June 12): After our airplane’s landing gear touched the runway in Arusha, we finished swallowing our Malara and prepared for a true African experience as we stepped off the plane. JAMBO, Africa. JAMBO, Tanzania. JAMBO, change. In my mind, this entire trip revolves around change, the opportunity to change, and the ability to change. I might even leave this trip a different person: a person who can set up a mosquito net, a person who can actually take a decent picture, a person who can be grateful for what she has. I guess we’ll see…

Our first real, full day in Maji Ya Chai, Tanzania (June 13):
This morning, around 5 a.m. might I add, I was presented with an enormous dilemma that involved a mosquito net, a ladder more narrow than my two feet and my sudden urge to go to the bathroom. Incased by the tediously-set-up mosquito net, I tried effortlessly to get out of the net and onto the ladder without un-tucking the net too much or falling flat on my face. Key word: effortlessly. Note to self: next time go with the bottom bunk.
Anyways, since the mamas travel in from Arusha, they had not yet come at 7:30 when it was time for us to eat breakfast. However, Jacob and Sarah’s eggs were delicious and very satisfying after a day and a half of “microwave-me-and-maybe-I’ll-seem-less-processed” airplane food. Following breakfast, us girls were allowed to choose from the fabric that Erin brought in for our kengas. This is a Swahili word, possibly misspelled by the way, that is given to beautifully-designed, multi-purpose cloths used as women’s clothing. It can be a skirt or dress (if past the appropriate mid-calf length), can wrap around your neck as a scarf, and, if you get really creative, can be manipulated into a modern toga. Functional and fashionable, it’s basically a party in fabric form. I chose a fabric compiled of multiple shades of blue with a pattern that resembles something like a swan. So when I was told that I would be given an opportunity to wear it that very morning to a church service, I was ecstatic. Not only was I going to see Maji Ya Chai in the daylight, but I was also going to experience the village’s culture firsthand through my awesome new garb.
As a group, we were told that the church was just down the road. Well “just down the road” turned out to be just down the road, through the cornfield, and around the corner a whole 2 miles away. However, along the way we encountered numerous children from the neighborhood, some of which accompanied us all the way to the church. Each child was so different, but yet the same. Some were herding animals, some were playing soccer, and some were simply walking. All shared the same maturity. Seven-year old boys herded cows, goats, and donkeys sometimes up to three times their size. Nine-year olds made their own ball out of duct tape simply for entertainment. Five-year old girls carried two-year old girls on their backs so they wouldn’t have to craw in the rocky dirt. It was amazing. I’m 17 and I’ve never had a consistent job other than babysitting, but these children will probably be employed at age 10. It’s completely mind-boggling.
When we arrived at the church, we were greeted with the utmost respect. One of the first things we did was sing. Though I could not understand what the congregation was saying, or what it meant, I somehow comprehended that the more we sang, the more others began to gravitate towards the church. By the time the second hymn was completed, I turned around and once-empty pews were now filled. How interesting. The small church walls were now vibrating with melodies and harmonies of all sorts. I could practically taste the devotion and praise of these people as they shamelessly lifted their hands up and bowed their heads. But what I didn’t know is that we were also supposed to sing for them. Our group chose to sing Amazing Grace, a phenomenal song by the way, which the congregation also knew the Swahili words to. Sarah and I also sang a duet because it just so happened that we knew a Swahili song from Wesley Choir. Who knew? Well now I’m beginning to think it’s not actually Swahili judging by the awkward silence that followed… and the befuddled looks.
After returning for lunch, we roamed the village, sans cameras, and played with the children on the soccer field. Lexi, Sarah and I met a woman named Rose who actually spoke good English. She had a son, Dan, who was 11 months old and a daughter, Lela, who was 6. She told us that she wanted to learn better English and send her children to school to learn more English so they could all be able to communicate with us and others like us. It made me realize that they wanted to communicate with us as much as we wanted to communicate with them. I later returned to my claustrophobic bed quite content (and ready to sleep).

June 14:
After I woke up this morning, I crawled out of bed to get to breakfast. It was group A’s turn to cook breakfast and they made what else but eggs and pancakes. Food never tasted so good. After filling up both water bottles, I jumped into my work jeans, pulled on an over-sized t-shirt, and slapped on a backwards baseball cap. I was ready to work. I grabbed a pick-axe, and we all started walking towards the tank where we would begin to dig our ditch for the new water line, directly next to the old one. After the seemingly endless walk there, we finally arrived, work gloves on, shovels and pick-axes in hand. The soil was so nutrient-rich that it was fairly easy to tear up and we made abundant headway before lunch, fixing any leaks that sprung with Rachel’s duct tape. What a life-saver. Lunch was even more delicious than before because we were all so hungry. Directly after feasting, Mkala returned for another Swahili lesson, in which he taught us a song to keep our weary bodies awake.
Semama, ka. Semama, ka. Ruka, ruka ruka. Semama, ka.
Stand up, sit down. Stand up, sit down. Jump, jump, jump. Stand up, sit down.
And, of course, we were required to do the motions. After the lesson, we returned to digging for another 3 hours only to find that the natives who had been helping us had worked through lunch. Now we were really far. By the end, it was unbelievable how much progress we had made. Never would I have pegged our group as such hard-workers when it comes to manual labor. When we returned to the house, we were able to go back out in groups of three and take pictures of the village and the people in it. As soon as we left with our cameras, children swarmed, each crying out “pica picta” and, really, who can deny those faces? This was one of my favorite things to do: going out and taking random pictures while also interacting with the people and their culture. We returned to the house at nightfall, ate dinner, and then I was able to enjoy a nice (but cold) shower. Thankfully, Sarah was in the shower next to mine singing songs like “It’s getting hot in here,” “burning up,” and then some originals, of course. I’m convinced that this actually made the water seem slightly warmer. After my refreshing shower, I wandered out to the backyard to stargaze and finish this. There’s a reason why it’s called the “Great Outdoors.”

Letter for Lana:
Today was the first June 14th of twenty ten. Today was my first experience of Maji Ya Chai. Today was my first day to open a letter from Lana. So today I’m writing a letter for Lana.

Dear Lanista,
I’m sure you’re preparing for your visit to Syria tomorrow and my blog won’t be posted until you leave, but thank goodness Syria is less savage than Tanzania and actually gives you frequent access to the internet (and hot showers…but that’s another story). I just want you to be able to look at this post, even if you’re a million miles away, and realize that your letters, though you thought they were overbearing and absurd, brought me great joy. Early in the morning, before leaving for the African version of garden hours (or “jungle hours,” as I like to call them), Jacob slipped on his “moist” shoes. Then, of course, a conversation was set in motion. Moist. What a disgusting word. Naturally, we proceeded to discuss other unsettling words. By the end, we had covered moist, supple, and lube. Well, we headed off to work, and I honestly gave no more thought to the conversation until around 1:30 when I was sitting in a Swahili lesson and realized I had not yet opened your letter. I literally laughed out loud. Not in the “LOL” sort of way, but actual, hard-core laughter. When I showed Mrs. Hartman your letter of WORDS THAT SHOULD NEVER BE USED, and the list included those words mentioned above, she asked me if that was what had sparked the earlier conversation. The crazy thing was that it hadn’t. I read your letter a good four and a half hours after the coinciding discussion. Wow. I am still amazed by this. Half way across the world and we still are sharing the same thoughts… this makes me unbelievably happy. I won’t see your face for an entire span of almost 2 months (other than July 13, of course), but yet I am seeing you everywhere.

-I think I’m getting a blister from shoveling.
-Aw, I’m sorry.
-You should be; it’s your fault.
-(Blank stare)
-So why didn’t I pack Lana in my suitcase?

Always with you,
Clairista

Day 3 (June 15):
Last night, I slept the best I’ve slept in a while. Well, at least since I’ve been here. I slept the entire night, not having to deal with my claustrophobic mosquito net, difficultly narrow ladder, or dark path to the bathroom. I slept like a rock. On the other hand, I felt like a rock. Digging yesterday made me unbelievably sore. However, today was not nearly as difficult, and we were able to only work an hour after lunch and our Swahili lesson with Mkala because we had made such progress the day before. Hallelujah! When we returned, I practically rushed to the shower. Even though the water is cold, there is nothing that compares to the feeling of cleanliness after a hard (and dirty) day of work. When I was in the shower, though, I heard drumming. Not the drumming of the water and not the drumming of my heart after such weary work but actual drumming. Native women came to our house yesterday and performed a type of drumming ceremony for us, part of which I obliviously enjoyed from the shower. Once I got outside, I loved watching them and seeing how much they enjoyed what they were doing, though surrounded by 13 trigger-happy kids (we’re talking cameras, of course). After the drummers, we were in for another treat. Towards the end of our trip we will be staying with a man and woman who own a school organization called UAACC, and they sent some of their students over last night for dinner because they want us to get to know them before coming. We broke the ice easily as Cameron and Lexi taught them a cheer, which they loved. As we sat down for dinner, I realized each one was so different. They told us all about their families, schools, and passions and spoke English fairly well, making effortless communication possible. I loved showing them my collage and explaining why each thing was important to me, and they loved learning about it. After they left, we were given free time to blog and pick out our daily hot shots and, well, here I am. Lala selama rafiki (Goodnight friend).

Friday, June 11, 2010

Me in a nutshell (or in a jpeg)

The Morning of...

I just enjoyed my last luxurious shower that I'll have in the next three weeks, and I'm leaving for terminal E in about 30 minutes. It's here. Africa is here. Through all the shopping, packing, and meetings, I somehow convinced myself that it was all a dream. However, it's the morning of departure, and I've realized it's actually happening. I'm going to Tanzania for three weeks. Wow. I'm so fortunate to have this opportunity. I'm so fortunate to have parents who are allowing me to venture out to another continent. I'm so fortunate to have a great group of people journeying with me. I'm so fortunate period. Though I'll probably end up exhausted in my sleeping bag with a huge mosquito net surrounding me at the end of the day, that's what makes it a great experience.