Into the Bush
Good morning!
This here is Charmaine, sending you an update from the center. For the past two weeks, our boys have been on home visits; some near, some far. It’s interesting to see where they all come from, some as far as Dar-es-Salaam, a 12 hour busride, and others much nearer, in Moshi and Arusha. I myself was invited to accompany one of our boys, Habibu, on his home visit...and I will try explain how that went.
We caught the 7 o’clock bus out of Arusha, and we were off. I was not sure of our exact destination. I had heard everything from Kondoa to Kiteto to Dodoma. The situation was sad; one of the mama’s from the family we were going to had died, so we decided to travel there and extend our sympathies and condolences, as well as visit the family.
Arriving in Kondoa around 3 PM, Habibu appeared to be lost. After much conversation with a few local mama’s, we discovered that we were very far from our destination. Someone called a few pikipiki’s, and we were off! Unfortunately...it is monsoon season, and soon we felt the first sprinkles hit us. These sprinkles turned into large droplets, and soon a torrent of rain was coming down on our heads. The pikipiki drivers decided it was unsafe to continue for the time being, so we dashed into a little shelter to wait out the storm. Everytime it seemed to subside, a large clap of thunder would sound, and there came the rain again. Sana sana rain. Eventually it calmed down, and we were off again.
Arriving at the family home, Habibu was greeted among exclamations of happiness and glee. “Habibu, my kaka, my kaka!” My bags were quickly taken inside, and I was ordered to sit. Because the mama had died, all the extended family had come to bury her, and there were many people everywhere. We were the honoured guests, and I, being the first mzungu to ever visit the village, was treated like royalty.
This was village Africa...the Africa of the storybooks. The Africa of huts, of no power, no running water. You walked for hours from one kijiji to the next kijiji. There was one market, approximately a 40 minute walk from the home. The land was flat, and barren. Trees spotted the landscape- mango trees, papaya trees; trees of every variety. The barabara ran straight through the middle of it all, and a few times a day a bus, a lorry, and even the odd car would pass through. There was one primary school: 700 children, and 5 teachers. One secondary school- a tiny, two room building, with one or two teachers. This was the Africa that I hadn’t seen before, and I was captivated. We wandered around, soaking it all in.
Approaching the village well, I felt as if I had stepped back a century or two. Men, women, and children were there with their buckets, filling them with water for the day, as well as socializing. Throughout the entire trip, I felt as if I had stepped back in time, but I constantly had to remind myself: This is today. It’s 2011, and this is today.
All five days of the trip were filled with adventure and fun, and it was amazing. I was privileged to see the Africa that most people do not get to see, and it was an great experience. One of the things that still confused me away was: How did a child of 9 or 10 years old get from Kinyasi to Arusha, a 10 hour bus ride? One morning I asked Habibu, and with a few drawings in the sand, plus background knowledge I already knew, I finally pieced it all together.
His father had died while he was still young, so it left him, his brother, and his mother. When one of his auntie’s got sick, his mama had to go stay with her in the hospital. Unable to take Habibu along, she took what money she had, and put him on a bus to Arusha, and prayed that someone would find him, and take care of him. Habibu lived the street life in Arusha for one year before someone took him to CCF, where he is with us today. His mama is extremely grateful for it, and thanked me and the rest of the supporters of Sunrise of Life for giving her child the opportunity to learn and study.
Before we left early Sunday morning, the babu tried to convince me to stay an entire month. “This is your home!” I thanked him, and he made me promise that this would not be the last time to his village. “This is your home, this is your village- you are welcome any time!” With that, we were off- back to Maji ya Chai to begin Christmas preparations and celebrations.
On that note- if you are interested and/or willing to donate in this season, you can follow the link at the top of the page, or visit our website at http://www.sunriseoflife.com/! Thank-you, from all of us here the Sunrise of Life-Tupendane Support for Street Children Centre!
-Charmaine
This here is Charmaine, sending you an update from the center. For the past two weeks, our boys have been on home visits; some near, some far. It’s interesting to see where they all come from, some as far as Dar-es-Salaam, a 12 hour busride, and others much nearer, in Moshi and Arusha. I myself was invited to accompany one of our boys, Habibu, on his home visit...and I will try explain how that went.
We caught the 7 o’clock bus out of Arusha, and we were off. I was not sure of our exact destination. I had heard everything from Kondoa to Kiteto to Dodoma. The situation was sad; one of the mama’s from the family we were going to had died, so we decided to travel there and extend our sympathies and condolences, as well as visit the family.
Arriving in Kondoa around 3 PM, Habibu appeared to be lost. After much conversation with a few local mama’s, we discovered that we were very far from our destination. Someone called a few pikipiki’s, and we were off! Unfortunately...it is monsoon season, and soon we felt the first sprinkles hit us. These sprinkles turned into large droplets, and soon a torrent of rain was coming down on our heads. The pikipiki drivers decided it was unsafe to continue for the time being, so we dashed into a little shelter to wait out the storm. Everytime it seemed to subside, a large clap of thunder would sound, and there came the rain again. Sana sana rain. Eventually it calmed down, and we were off again.
Arriving at the family home, Habibu was greeted among exclamations of happiness and glee. “Habibu, my kaka, my kaka!” My bags were quickly taken inside, and I was ordered to sit. Because the mama had died, all the extended family had come to bury her, and there were many people everywhere. We were the honoured guests, and I, being the first mzungu to ever visit the village, was treated like royalty.
This was village Africa...the Africa of the storybooks. The Africa of huts, of no power, no running water. You walked for hours from one kijiji to the next kijiji. There was one market, approximately a 40 minute walk from the home. The land was flat, and barren. Trees spotted the landscape- mango trees, papaya trees; trees of every variety. The barabara ran straight through the middle of it all, and a few times a day a bus, a lorry, and even the odd car would pass through. There was one primary school: 700 children, and 5 teachers. One secondary school- a tiny, two room building, with one or two teachers. This was the Africa that I hadn’t seen before, and I was captivated. We wandered around, soaking it all in.
Approaching the village well, I felt as if I had stepped back a century or two. Men, women, and children were there with their buckets, filling them with water for the day, as well as socializing. Throughout the entire trip, I felt as if I had stepped back in time, but I constantly had to remind myself: This is today. It’s 2011, and this is today.
All five days of the trip were filled with adventure and fun, and it was amazing. I was privileged to see the Africa that most people do not get to see, and it was an great experience. One of the things that still confused me away was: How did a child of 9 or 10 years old get from Kinyasi to Arusha, a 10 hour bus ride? One morning I asked Habibu, and with a few drawings in the sand, plus background knowledge I already knew, I finally pieced it all together.
His father had died while he was still young, so it left him, his brother, and his mother. When one of his auntie’s got sick, his mama had to go stay with her in the hospital. Unable to take Habibu along, she took what money she had, and put him on a bus to Arusha, and prayed that someone would find him, and take care of him. Habibu lived the street life in Arusha for one year before someone took him to CCF, where he is with us today. His mama is extremely grateful for it, and thanked me and the rest of the supporters of Sunrise of Life for giving her child the opportunity to learn and study.
Before we left early Sunday morning, the babu tried to convince me to stay an entire month. “This is your home!” I thanked him, and he made me promise that this would not be the last time to his village. “This is your home, this is your village- you are welcome any time!” With that, we were off- back to Maji ya Chai to begin Christmas preparations and celebrations.
On that note- if you are interested and/or willing to donate in this season, you can follow the link at the top of the page, or visit our website at http://www.sunriseoflife.com/! Thank-you, from all of us here the Sunrise of Life-Tupendane Support for Street Children Centre!
-Charmaine
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