Thoughts While Biking

October 17, 2008

So I wasn't originally going to include this entry- I write a lot things that I don't include because I don't think they will be interesting to people but I have time at the Internet so it comes before the flower farm pics- out of order, but whatever.

To get to the party, I decided that my transport to town is so horrible that it would be worth it to ride 30K to Josh's village which is further away from town then mine and take his public transport in because his is much quicker. That is how bad my transport is: It is worth it for me to expend energy going further from town. His village is along the main road into Njombe, mine is not- so that is the big difference.

Before I get into it though, I want to mention something. At COS (Close of Service Conference- which I am still two years away from but know enough people who are closing to have some information) they tell you not to refer to your site as a "village" to other Americans because they have no concept of what an African village is. Do you? I like to use the word because Tanzanians use it and the village is pretty much what I pictured it would be- but maybe you are picturing something else. So thought I might attempt to describe where I live. It is big- I am not talking about a few measly huts- there are a lot of them. With a primary school of almost one thousand children, this is not a small place. However, the village is probably more than half made up of primary aged children. Most of the houses are about three rooms- two bedrooms and a sitting room. This houses about six people. They cook outside or in a separate hut and the choo (hole in the ground) is separate from the house as well. Almost all the house (except mine and about five others) are made of mud with a thatched roof. Mine is cement with a tin roof- however, my choo is like the others and is removed from the house. You can buy almost nothing in the village. There are a few dukas (shops) but they are really just someone selling tomatoes, beans and matches out of their living room. We have four fundis that I know about- this is like a jack of all trades- they made my furniture, they repair the homes, basically they are fix-it people. There are a few women who sew clothes. There is one bar. (I really hope you are not picturing Bridgeport Brewery or Rennie's in Eugene or even some hole in the wall place you might find around 6th and Hawthorne- don't picture these places.) This is some one's living room where men sit around and do nothing drinking pombe (locally made liquor) and they occasionally they have a few beers ordered from town. There is one TV in my village, no one has running water, some people have electricity which on a good week works for one night, we own two cars one of which is usually broken down. Are you picturing my village? Probably not, but I am going to keep calling it that.

Anyways, I decide to ride my bike. Village mornings are a beautiful time. Tanzanians are all awake by 5.30 AM. I like this time because it is getting light- the sun is red, the roosters are crowing, the mist is rising out of the valleys, there is a coolness in the air. Primary school children run around doing chores. Women head to the farms with a baby strapped to their back, a jembe (hoe) over their shoulder, and a bucket of water on their head. It is a peaceful time. Seeing Tanzania by bike is different than I have seen it before. My villagers shout out greetings as I ride passed and I am happy I have a bike. Then once I am through my village the biking gets tough. Tanzania would be a mountain bikers paradise, but for Brie: the girl whose favorite activity is to sit on the couch, eat ice cream and watch movies; This is work. I feel really Lance Armstrong-esque and like I am totally hardcore until I almost wreck in the gravel and scare myself. The roads are rough by bike and I actually get off on downhills to walk the bike as they are so sharp down with such rough gravel and dust that I am afraid of wrecking. Josh wrecked about a year ago on one of these roads, broke his collarbone and had to be medically evacuated for a month to have surgery in South Africa. As much as I would like to see South Africa, I am really not one for pain and I really want to see my friends and go to the farm. So I take it slow. The uphills are so extreme that I have to get off and walk those too- so at one point I wonder if it is even worth it to have the bike.

On one of those walking uphills, as I am panting, I take a moment to appreciate. The eucalyptus trees reaching up to the blue sky with leaves twinkling and I realize that I am alone. On a main road (or as main as they get here) I am alone- there are no cars, no people- then I see monkeys, so I am not all the way alone. There is something magical/special about where I am and I remember how difficult it is to be alone in nature in America. Americans love when confronted with over-population to blame it on Africans- "Oh, if they would just stop having babies... blah blah blah." Which I must admit is partly true- they do have a lot of kids. But since Americans are the ones reading this, I would like to inform you how little resources these kids take up compared to you. I will use myself as an example. In Tanzania, I live off two 5 gallon buckets of water a day- 10 gallons. This accounts for all my drinking water, cooking, bathing, dish washing, house mopping and I don't use it all so that once a week I have saved up enough to wash some clothes. Water is a worldwide problem that Americans just don't seem to get. In Tanzania, I wash fruit is some water and then pour it into a bucket to then bathe in. I wash dishes in a bucket and then use the water again in my garden. When I think of America, where I ran the laundry machine, the dishwasher and took showers that easily used up this 10 gallons, I feel ashamed that I took this for granted. I know Americans will never live like Africans, but it should be a challenge to us to think about our waste. There is nowhere in Tanzania that water is safe to drink without boiling it, even in Dar es Salaam. So next time you turn on the faucet, feel a bit thankful that you could drink that water straight (I know, you think it will taste bad) and not die, which is more than most of the world can say. Think for a minute about all the resources you are using- can you cut any of them out? Global warming is affecting places like Tanzania first- but they are not the ones using the resources. They are harvesting rain water off their roof, you are letting the water run while you brush your teeth. I think we can change our lifestyle a lot in the states. I know I plan to when I return. I bike and bike and walk and walk and I feel grateful that I have experienced what it is like to take a warm shower for minutes on end, but I am equally grateful to be sweating up hills looking forward to a bath in a bucket that is only a quarter full. I am glad I know this life. I am glad that I have a shared experience of going without like most of our neighbors on the other side of the planet.