Today (Monday 20 August) was going to be the illustrious, esteemed, much-anticipated launch of the Kesho Leo Children’s Village building extravaganza (ie we'd actually start building Kesho). But, alas - rain. Torrents, buckets, rivers. It poured down yesterday, last night and this morning like it did in Sydney this winter (and is right now apparently, same-same!). Relentless fat, juicy droplets that soak into all in sight and echo off the roof. Mind, no noise made here could ever outdo the frogs that have started croaking in the infereji (man-made waterway) out the front. It’s a symphony, but better frogs than dogs, I say.
No work for our tools today Daz is a bit despondent – he’s been gunning towards starting the building for weeks. He’s been racing all over town, pricing and bargaining for materials, he’s been laboriously ticking off the umpteen handy-man job associated with the volunteer house-fws office so that, today, he could put them all behind him and finally, focus on building Kesho. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow – or even the day after till things wring themselves out a bit. Can’t help but wonder if we jinxed ourselves by choosing the name Kesho (tomorrow) Leo (today). Our idea was that today, we’d do the things that most put off till tomorrow. but could our clever name be working backwards on us? Surely not! Daz has headed up to the land to talk to the workers we’ve arranged. Although it is soggy and boggy, we know the men who own the 16 names we’ve taken down this week, will be there, waiting for employment. We also expect another 16 or so to rock up simply because they’ve heard the rumour that work might be meted out. It’ll be a task for Daz just to get to the land – we’ve travelled the road before in wet weather and know it’s no picnic (slip-sliding away). Hence us arranging to be here in Tanzania now, building in this non-rainy season! Global warming – gets you at every turn, doesn’t it.
But our problems are nothing
Nolasco, our village elder, who works with The World Food Program, advised this morning that our neighbours (people like Mohammedi, pictured here clearling the scrub from the bottom of our block for a small fee) will be most concerned about their maize (corn, the local staple which is used to make ‘ugali’, or as we know it, polenta, which East-Africans literally live off). The unexpected wet weather at the time has the potential to ruin the country’s maize crop unless it eases up. So let’s hope it does.
Speaking of unexpected occurrences, ever been in an earthquake? Me either, but we were in an earth tremor this morning at 6am, which was pretty alarming to a couple of non-tremored-up Aussies. I woke to the bed see-sawing and yelled this sorta garble at Daz: “Daz, there’s someone trying to saw in through the roof, it’s shaking the whole bed, the walls, the cement…” Poor, sleeping Daz, managed to make better sense of the situation. “Earth tremor!’ he answered and jumped out of bed to grab his torch (best to ensure my version wasn’t correct)! It only lasted a few seconds, but wow, you wouldn’t want to be stuck in a big one! Coolio our legendary mate advised us the week before we left that Tanzania was experiencing sizeable earthquakes (CNN put one at 6.6 on The Richter), but who knew we’d ever think about that again!
We were in Sunday Life magazine on the weekend. Did you see us? If not, no fear, Ben is going to post the piece onto our site soon. We suspected the piece must have had gone to print because we had some lovely Aussies email us to say, “G’day, read aboucha, good job, we’d love to come volunteer next year maybe”. Makes me wish even more that we were able to start building today. Anyway, there’ll be a reason…we’ll just wait and see what it is.
NEWSFLASH: JESUS GETS A UTE!
Translation: Daz, who the locals are now calling ‘Jesus’ – you can see why in the attached pic (remarkable resemblance!) – has found himself (and us, if he decides to share) the world’s most fantastic ute. We love-love-love it. Brother Frank said, "What's that heap of junk doing in my driveway? Get it out!", then said, "How much? Oh, what's wrong with it? Oh, leaf springs, bald tyres, cracked windscreen, anything else? Hmm, no big deal, what else? Oh ...but itd' be petrol. No? Diesel? Oh..." and grumped off. JEALOUS AS! Well, that's our take on it anyway! In our minds, he couldn't not be jealous - we paid 14 million Tanzanian Shillings which is about USD14,000, just under what we'd allowed in the budget and got a ute in sensational nick. Later on, Brother Frank said to me, "They're bloody hard to find - pick-ups [utes] - you know?" I said, "The dealer who sold it said everytime he gets one he sells it the day he gets it". "Well, he's not lying." While this mightn't sound like - it's high praise from Frank. To get Frank's nod on the ute means we might just have done as well as we think we have! But truly, it's absolutely the cleanest, unpranged, neatest Hilux diesel ute you've ever seen. Pure white. Bench seat in front. 4wd. Manual. Long-wheel-base. Leafsprings (easier to fix than the alternate 'coil springs'). Beautiful suspension (unheard of here!). 1995 model (brilliant - anything after '97 draws higher tax). It has been in Arusha for just 3 years (before that it was from Dubai where the roads are world-class). YES, IT'S SERIOUS THE WORLD'S GREATEST UTE!!!!
AND WE ALSO SIGNED CONTRACTS ON THE LAND (not without a hitch or three!)
Well we knew we’d always get this “utopia” block. We’ve been negotiating for it since we first saw it in April and have even had our architect do his designs according to this block… it didn't take long to agree to a good price (after we got over the hurdle of the owner wanting a tractor instead of cash!). Then just as we needed it, my family members from Mum and Dad’s side pulled together to raise the $11,000AUD for purchasing it…so we were all set to go. It was just a matter of exchanging the contracts, which were being drawn up, once I arrived. I was never worried that things would go sour and we’d miss out, which was probably a little pompous of me, but truly, I felt this block was meant to be ours so I didn't stress about us not yet technically owning it.
Anyway, finally last week we headed out to the block with the owner and his extended family (men only, apparently women aren’t needed in these type of negotiations. Strange to find myself there, talking shop with 20 or so men, me the only girl…). We marched out the boundaries on foot, with the owner pointing out each individual sisal plant which made up the border. Of course, we already knew the borders – Daz had survyed the block and drawn them up for our lawyer to create the contract of sale from, way back in April – but nonetheless, these things follow a certain procedure… so tramp, tramp, tramping through the corn, the potatoes and the okra, we went. An hour or so later, after cutting hedges, placing rocks (where sisal trees should have been), we agreed we had adequately set the borders and were ready for the contract signing. But hang on, no, our owner’s witness is tired and would rather go home right now. Maybe we could sign tomorrow, but actually he wont be around, so the owner will need to find another witness please. Okay, thankyoubye. [walks off]. Daz and my eyeballs bulge and we glance across to Brother Frank, who is all suppressed smirks and raised eyebrows.
The word for ‘problem’ in kiswahili is ‘shida’, so this is my version of the conversation that then took place:
You’ll be relieved to know that “Hamna Shida” means ‘no problem’. So at the end of the conversation that apparently talked of many problems, there was actually “no problem”.
We soon found out, from Brother Frank, who was downplaying the owner’s dramas, that the "problem-no-problem" revolved around the owner promising to get another witness and that in fact, he would have both his sons act as witnesses (One is the eldest son from his first wife, the other, the eldest son of his second wife). Of course, though, the problematic bit was that this could not be arranged for today.
We hastily convinced the owner to commit to a meeting at Brother Frank’s school the following day bringing with him, both of his sons. “No problem”.
That meeting was true African style. Suddenly we had an extra three African guests who introduced themselves as district/village chiefs. Frank nodded to me, that yes, this was the case.
My version of their ensuing conversation was:
Nolasco left my un-PC words entirely out of his translation and instead launched into the fact that FWS was here as a not-for-profit organisation, to help the local community and should be assisted to do so.
This time “HAMNA SHIDA” meant “Okay, we wont charge you 10% of the land sale to go ahead with your work”.
Finally, hamna shida really did mean no problem!
Hands shook and money was exchanged (huge thanks to the donating Delsleys!). And another huge thank you to Brother Frank and Nolasco for their tireless efforts in helping us make headway with our Kesho Leo!
If the rain turns itself off, we begin building tomorrow!
I'll let you know how we go...
Beck
No work for our tools today Daz is a bit despondent – he’s been gunning towards starting the building for weeks. He’s been racing all over town, pricing and bargaining for materials, he’s been laboriously ticking off the umpteen handy-man job associated with the volunteer house-fws office so that, today, he could put them all behind him and finally, focus on building Kesho. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow – or even the day after till things wring themselves out a bit. Can’t help but wonder if we jinxed ourselves by choosing the name Kesho (tomorrow) Leo (today). Our idea was that today, we’d do the things that most put off till tomorrow. but could our clever name be working backwards on us? Surely not! Daz has headed up to the land to talk to the workers we’ve arranged. Although it is soggy and boggy, we know the men who own the 16 names we’ve taken down this week, will be there, waiting for employment. We also expect another 16 or so to rock up simply because they’ve heard the rumour that work might be meted out. It’ll be a task for Daz just to get to the land – we’ve travelled the road before in wet weather and know it’s no picnic (slip-sliding away). Hence us arranging to be here in Tanzania now, building in this non-rainy season! Global warming – gets you at every turn, doesn’t it. 
But our problems are nothingNolasco, our village elder, who works with The World Food Program, advised this morning that our neighbours (people like Mohammedi, pictured here clearling the scrub from the bottom of our block for a small fee) will be most concerned about their maize (corn, the local staple which is used to make ‘ugali’, or as we know it, polenta, which East-Africans literally live off). The unexpected wet weather at the time has the potential to ruin the country’s maize crop unless it eases up. So let’s hope it does.
Speaking of unexpected occurrences, ever been in an earthquake? Me either, but we were in an earth tremor this morning at 6am, which was pretty alarming to a couple of non-tremored-up Aussies. I woke to the bed see-sawing and yelled this sorta garble at Daz: “Daz, there’s someone trying to saw in through the roof, it’s shaking the whole bed, the walls, the cement…” Poor, sleeping Daz, managed to make better sense of the situation. “Earth tremor!’ he answered and jumped out of bed to grab his torch (best to ensure my version wasn’t correct)! It only lasted a few seconds, but wow, you wouldn’t want to be stuck in a big one! Coolio our legendary mate advised us the week before we left that Tanzania was experiencing sizeable earthquakes (CNN put one at 6.6 on The Richter), but who knew we’d ever think about that again!
We were in Sunday Life magazine on the weekend. Did you see us? If not, no fear, Ben is going to post the piece onto our site soon. We suspected the piece must have had gone to print because we had some lovely Aussies email us to say, “G’day, read aboucha, good job, we’d love to come volunteer next year maybe”. Makes me wish even more that we were able to start building today. Anyway, there’ll be a reason…we’ll just wait and see what it is.
NEWSFLASH: JESUS GETS A UTE!Translation: Daz, who the locals are now calling ‘Jesus’ – you can see why in the attached pic (remarkable resemblance!) – has found himself (and us, if he decides to share) the world’s most fantastic ute. We love-love-love it. Brother Frank said, "What's that heap of junk doing in my driveway? Get it out!", then said, "How much? Oh, what's wrong with it? Oh, leaf springs, bald tyres, cracked windscreen, anything else? Hmm, no big deal, what else? Oh ...but itd' be petrol. No? Diesel? Oh..." and grumped off. JEALOUS AS! Well, that's our take on it anyway! In our minds, he couldn't not be jealous - we paid 14 million Tanzanian Shillings which is about USD14,000, just under what we'd allowed in the budget and got a ute in sensational nick. Later on, Brother Frank said to me, "They're bloody hard to find - pick-ups [utes] - you know?" I said, "The dealer who sold it said everytime he gets one he sells it the day he gets it". "Well, he's not lying." While this mightn't sound like - it's high praise from Frank. To get Frank's nod on the ute means we might just have done as well as we think we have! But truly, it's absolutely the cleanest, unpranged, neatest Hilux diesel ute you've ever seen. Pure white. Bench seat in front. 4wd. Manual. Long-wheel-base. Leafsprings (easier to fix than the alternate 'coil springs'). Beautiful suspension (unheard of here!). 1995 model (brilliant - anything after '97 draws higher tax). It has been in Arusha for just 3 years (before that it was from Dubai where the roads are world-class). YES, IT'S SERIOUS THE WORLD'S GREATEST UTE!!!!
AND WE ALSO SIGNED CONTRACTS ON THE LAND (not without a hitch or three!)
Well we knew we’d always get this “utopia” block. We’ve been negotiating for it since we first saw it in April and have even had our architect do his designs according to this block… it didn't take long to agree to a good price (after we got over the hurdle of the owner wanting a tractor instead of cash!). Then just as we needed it, my family members from Mum and Dad’s side pulled together to raise the $11,000AUD for purchasing it…so we were all set to go. It was just a matter of exchanging the contracts, which were being drawn up, once I arrived. I was never worried that things would go sour and we’d miss out, which was probably a little pompous of me, but truly, I felt this block was meant to be ours so I didn't stress about us not yet technically owning it.
Anyway, finally last week we headed out to the block with the owner and his extended family (men only, apparently women aren’t needed in these type of negotiations. Strange to find myself there, talking shop with 20 or so men, me the only girl…). We marched out the boundaries on foot, with the owner pointing out each individual sisal plant which made up the border. Of course, we already knew the borders – Daz had survyed the block and drawn them up for our lawyer to create the contract of sale from, way back in April – but nonetheless, these things follow a certain procedure… so tramp, tramp, tramping through the corn, the potatoes and the okra, we went. An hour or so later, after cutting hedges, placing rocks (where sisal trees should have been), we agreed we had adequately set the borders and were ready for the contract signing. But hang on, no, our owner’s witness is tired and would rather go home right now. Maybe we could sign tomorrow, but actually he wont be around, so the owner will need to find another witness please. Okay, thankyoubye. [walks off]. Daz and my eyeballs bulge and we glance across to Brother Frank, who is all suppressed smirks and raised eyebrows.
The word for ‘problem’ in kiswahili is ‘shida’, so this is my version of the conversation that then took place:
"Eoifjeoifej SHIDA oiejoeijfwijfeowi SHIDA oweijfoiewjwfoiejfw SHIDA woeuoiewjoiwj SHIDA aoudioejwofij shida… aouoijoijfoiejw …. HAMNA SHIDA".
You’ll be relieved to know that “Hamna Shida” means ‘no problem’. So at the end of the conversation that apparently talked of many problems, there was actually “no problem”.
We soon found out, from Brother Frank, who was downplaying the owner’s dramas, that the "problem-no-problem" revolved around the owner promising to get another witness and that in fact, he would have both his sons act as witnesses (One is the eldest son from his first wife, the other, the eldest son of his second wife). Of course, though, the problematic bit was that this could not be arranged for today.
We hastily convinced the owner to commit to a meeting at Brother Frank’s school the following day bringing with him, both of his sons. “No problem”.
That meeting was true African style. Suddenly we had an extra three African guests who introduced themselves as district/village chiefs. Frank nodded to me, that yes, this was the case.
My version of their ensuing conversation was:
"Eoifjeoifej 10 per cent oiejoeijfwijfeowi Eoifjeoifej 10 per cent eoifej 10 per cent wifjeoifej 10 per cent oiejoeijfwijfeowi… HAMNA SHIDA."Now I mightn't be fluent in Kiswahili, but I pretty quickly got the gist of this chat and promptly begged to differ that rocking up and asking for 10 per cent of the sale price was not a problem. In my book, yes, problem.
Nolasco left my un-PC words entirely out of his translation and instead launched into the fact that FWS was here as a not-for-profit organisation, to help the local community and should be assisted to do so.
This time “HAMNA SHIDA” meant “Okay, we wont charge you 10% of the land sale to go ahead with your work”.
Finally, hamna shida really did mean no problem!
Hands shook and money was exchanged (huge thanks to the donating Delsleys!). And another huge thank you to Brother Frank and Nolasco for their tireless efforts in helping us make headway with our Kesho Leo!
If the rain turns itself off, we begin building tomorrow!
I'll let you know how we go...
Beck
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