It was my birthday recently and I was totally spoilt. Thank
you so much for all the messages and well wishes. I was hell bent on spending
the weekend in the bush, camping. But, the rains appeared and it’s also been a
bit cool at night so with words like mud, malaria, messy and moody flying
around I was whisked off instead to Diani Beach, south of Mombasa. Now I don’t
want to make anyone jealous…but it was damn close to paradise in my mind. Two
nights of heavenly beach, pool and prosecco. I spent the actual day kicking
back, eating ice-cream and sipping on bubbles. Thanks to my now very poor but
lovely boyfriend I revelled in luxury. I’m still dying to get into the bush but
given the weather it might not be for a while. The Tanzanian winter (it’s still
in the high 20’s Celsius, sorry!) has taken root and rain and cold is all I’ll
get for now.
I mentioned that I am working on the foundations for a large
funding proposal which would bring benefits to three different projects, and
very many people. I went to visit one such
project last week and I am still buzzing from my day out. It was one of those
great yet productive adventures. The pick –up truck that I have been driving
recently had just been in for a service (front suspension buggered, all shock
absorbers gone, horn not working among various other rittle rattles that I had
acquired from recent other adventures) and I headed off early in the morning.
Just over two and a half hours later I got stuck. I was travelling on a 25km
stretch on the roughest road you can dream of which in parts had subsided and
so had essentially disappeared. I thought I was a dab hand at four wheel drive
and know exactly how to get myself out of a muddy situation. Seems I’m an
absolute amateur. A couple of local guys were passing and without even asking
got straight behind the truck and started pushing. Then others appeared and
soon I had a group of six or seven and two women with babies bobbing on their
backs on the case. I don’t want to even think about the skid marks that flew up
at them when I revved, they did well to avoid them. I think they were probably
thinking this Mzungu hasn’t a notion what she’s doing but we’re experts here so
let’s get on with it! It took the full revs and loads of pushing to get me out.
The men sent me off, all business like and it was the women that created a fuss
- put their hands out and asked for money. Needless to say, for every Tanzanian
that shows openness to you, gives you hope, another snaps it right back and
reminds you of the divisions.
Typically, Murphy was on my back that day and I got stuck
twice more. (honestly, you should have seen the so called road). The boys had by
then hitched a lift with a large truck and got out each time again to help me
out. They were fantastic and I hope that the project is successful because they
will most likely benefit.
The purpose of all this was to sit in on a meeting with the
board of a health centre. Part of a needs analysis exercise (establishing the
actual specific needs of the community and therefore justifying the
application) I sat in amongst leaders and chiefs of villages as well as local
villagers to hear about the water requirements and needs in the area. There are
eight villages and none of them have a water source except during the rainy
season when two or three can access water from a mountain source. I kid you
not, this place (although wet at the moment) is mostly dry to the core with not
a spec of water to be seen. It has a red earthy colour soil which twirls up
dust and gets into everything and everywhere. The health centre is also in desperate
need as it only has water from the mountain source when it isn’t dry or from the
collection of rain water. People often travel for long distances to get to the
health centre in the hope of getting water there. There is always a clatter of
women with their hands and arms stuck in washing buckets when I arrive. It’s
like a day out I often think. The women get to chat and gossip and catch up.
Although the day washing and 10km walk home kind of takes the edge of it I’m
sure.
Back to the meeting. After about three hours I had listened
in on the issues, the possibilities and the challenges ahead and was quietly
optimistic. The board agreed to bring the session to the villages and approach
the elders so as to talk directly to people on the ground and establish the
facts behind the lack of water. Several more meetings and focus groups will
therefore now take place where villagers can take part in the discussion and
explain how not having water impacts on them. The key thing in all this though
will be getting agreement from the people to take ownership of any borehole or
water source that is established. They will have to agree to setting up some
sort of a system which will collect funds for maintenance. Without this the
project isn’t worth my time, or theirs. Statistically water project failures
are almost always due to lack of good financial management. I may not be invited
to attend the meetings because to have me there could signal that the money
already exists and the project is in the bag. I could also be a hindrance for
people to share their true opinions. There is a cultural habit of saying yes to
everything the white person says or asks and this could be a factor here.
It was a truly refreshing day out. That local people are now
taking part with enthusiasm in this needs assessment process is encouraging.
They will hopefully become owners and guardians of their most precious and
needed resource eventually. Stay tuned for the output of the village meetings!
Oh, I was led out an alternative way to the main route by
Fr. A so as to avoid getting stuck again. My wellies are now finally getting
back to their original colour!
