Simple Staging Tips

If you are just listing your property for sale, or even if it’s been on the market for a while, consider the following simple tips to make your property present in its best light:

1. Paint: Freshen and Neutralize. If you have any walls painted with bold colors, consider repainting them in neutral tones. Bold colors are not widely appealing, and can distract the buyer from considering your property as a contender. If your walls are already a neutral color, go through your house with an objective eye, and retouch any areas that may be scuffed or worn. One often overlooked area for paint is your stair risers. A fresh coat of paint on your risers makes a big impression. Same goes for trim around your doors, especially near the door knobs.
   
   
2. Depersonalize: Pack away your family photos. You’d be surprised how often buyers spend time looking at your photos instead of looking at your house. Eliminate any photos or highly personal objects that draw too much attention. The idea is for the buyer to picture him/her self in the space, not to get to know your family. In general, de-cluttering your home gives the impression of increased space.
   
   
3. Bedding and Slip Covers: A little goes a long way. We get so used to our own furniture and bedding, that we may not realize that it is starting to look worn. A simple an inexpensive way to freshen your furniture is to cover couches or chairs with a simple slip cover – buy neutral colors and fabrics. Also, consider a new duvet cover for your beds. Crisp linens make a positive impression.
   
   
4. Lighting: Make sure buyers can see your house. Make sure you have ample and well-placed lamps throughout your house. Table and floor lamps offer a warmer light than overheads. Even during daytime showings, lamps make your home feel inviting.
   
   
5. Curb Appeal: First impressions are lasting. Grab a friend and ask for advice. Stand outside your house and approach the front door together. Have your friend share with you any negative impressions. Is there a rip in the screen door? Is a brick loose on your front stoop? Is there a garden bed that is overrun with weeds? Often times, we become blind to our own deferred repairs, and a fresh set of eyes can set you straight. You don’t want a buyer to be mentally starting a repair list before they have even set foot in your home.
   

Bonus Holiday Tip: Remove your Holiday decorations right after New Year’s to return your property to a more neutral state.

Market Activity Report: Through Third Quarter of 2010

The real estate market on the Outer Cape is strong and thriving! All three towns have seen huge increases in sales volume over the same period last year, and average sale prices are up. Many buyers have come off the sidelines and are entering the market. Could this be a sign that the bottom of the market is behind us?

For a snapshot market activity in each of the three towns - Provincetown, Truro and Wellfleet - see our "Third Quarter Report" entry on our Web site, click here.

Market Update: Residential Market

The temperatures and the real estate market are both heating up on the outer Cape this summer! Here’s a snapshot of the inventory and activity in each of the three towns.

For a snapshot of the inventory and activity in each of the three towns - Provincetown, Truro and Wellfleet - see our "Residential Market Update," entry on our Web site, click here.

First Half 2010 Activity Report – January 1 – June 30, 2010

Good news on the Outer Cape! The market continues to show signs of strength and recovery. Sales activity in Provincetown and Truro has more than doubled for the first 2 quarters of this year as compared with the same period last year, and volume in Wellfleet is up 50% over last year.

For more on "First Half of 2010 Activity Report," click here.

First Quarter 2010 Activity Report – January 1 – March 31, 2010

Good news on the Outer Cape! The year started off very strong in the local real estate market, compared with the same period in 2009. The number of transactions overall was up significantly and sales volume in all 3 towns was up an average of 79%.

For more on "First Quarter 2010 Activity Report," click here.

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #13

Note: For pictures associated with this blog entry, see the Atlantic Bay Sotheby's International Realty "Real Estate News Blog."

Saturday, April 10

Terri gave birth at 10:30pm at Aga Khan Hospital in Dar es Salaam on April 9th. Mom and baby are doing well and should be home Sunday the 11th. Caito and Terri are leaning towards naming their daughter, Nadia but that’s not definite yet. The baby is 7 1Ž2 lbs. The baby was due April 15th but Terri told me she was hoping to deliver early so I could meet the baby. We both got our wish.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

I sent out my last journal entry but I am sure some of you would be interested in an update of the Uwamaba Group job initiative to which so many of you gave so generously.There was a great deal of excitement today at the meeting. I think they were surprised to see how quickly it all came together. Terri and I were greeted with a great deal of passion. As each name was called there was much applause as the recipients received 100,000 Tanzanian shillings each, approximately $75 US. You would have thought we were handing out $100,000 the response was so joyful. The lone man in the group had a smile from ear to ear and thanked us enthusiastically. The women, most with tears in their eyes, as they received the money took our hands in theirs. As they quietly uttered heartfelt asante sanas they each curtsied. Terri said that is a custom here and is saved for the times of extreme gratitude. They then signed their names to a paper agreeing to reinvest 10,000 shillings each by the end of May to keep the program going and enroll others from Uwamaba’s membership. I have a great deal of faith that this program can be expanded and sustained with no further outside contributions. Any additional money that comes in, that is earmarked for Uwamaba, will be used as intended and launch other people before May. I have seen that money earmarked for any Baobab program goes exactly to the program the donor requests. My hope is upon my return that some of you would interested in getting together to brainstorm about raising money to fund some of the other worthwhile programs that Baobab has initiated, particularly the clinic breakfast program which I have run personally since my arrival. That program costs about $200 per month and pays for the uji, a cook three times a week, firewood or charcoal and transport of the supplies to the clinic kitchen 3 days a week. We feed approximately 300 people per week and as I have stated this may be the only meal of the day for many of them. If you are interested in this or any other program please email me after April 20th. Asante Sana!

Sunday, April 4

My time here is winding down and as in all things the 3 months, which looked like an eternity in January, flew by as quickly as any 3 month period in anyone’s life. I am both ready and not at all ready to return.

The last week has been extremely busy setting up the mobile HIV testing in some of the more remote villages. The logistics are complicated but I believe we have a good system in place which might need some tweaking but is solid overall. Last Tuesday was the first testing day at a remote site and unfortunately I was dealing with extreme intestinal distress and could not make the trip. Katie, our incredibly competent volunteer from Minnesota, went in my stead and did a great job. There were nurses, counselors for any people that tested positive and several of the street boys as interpreters with great cajoling skills. Terri’s husband, Caito, who is skilled in sound design, made sure that there was great music in the attempt to draw people. Baobab even had a fairly new bicycle that was raffled off. You had to be tested to enter. About 75 people were tested, a very good turnout. Overall, a very successful day with several people who tested positive on medication already. There will be a comprehensive follow up which will probably not take place until after I leave but I will be kept in the loop by email.

This last full week we will be meeting with the Uwamaba group to hand out the money to the 10 people selected for the business initiative. Both Terri and I are really excited to be able to spend more time with these interesting, ambitious people. We will also be strategizing about Baobab’s future funding and the possibilities for grant and public money. In the middle of all this Terri is still sick and is minutes away from delivering her baby. I really don’t know how she does it.
We’re now in the rainy season and there is a definite change in the weather pattern. At least two or three times a day huge, dark clouds build over the Indian Ocean rising to towering heights. They then roll into Bagamoyo accompanied by tremendous lightning and booming thunder. Then the skies open up. These bursts of rain are of short duration but the intensity and volume is something to behold. The dirt roads become muddy torrents within minutes and then as suddenly as these storms blow up, they end and the skies are sunny again with not even a hint of a breeze.

As I said, it will be hard to say goodbye as much as I’m looking forward to cooler, drier temperatures, a comfortable bed, good food, roads that don’t rattle your teeth out of your head, electricity that is on for more than 12 hours straight, I would come back next month if I could. The things that draw me back are all related to the people and the children I have been blessed to meet. Of those children I will miss Faiza, Habibu, Shobani, Neema and little Amina from the clinic, most of all but I haven’t even mentioned the countless others, as this is a community filled with beautiful children. I will never forget the resiliency of those that have been abused, neglected, infected with HIV and forgotten. Knowing the history of many of these little souls and seeing them light up and thrive, because of the people associated with Baobab, gives me hope that they will have lives filled with love and safety instead of terror no, matter how long they are in this world.

Then there are the adults. I will sorely miss my special friend Halima, the young passionate warrior who now in her later years is a foster mother beyond compare. I will miss her songs her hugs and always 3 kisses on the cheek and that she embraced me from the start. She is truly a miracle worker taking damaged, abandoned children and transforms them through the power of her love, affection and determination. These transformations are amazing to behold, no, her magic is really beyond belief. Ally and Assia the courageous founders of the Uwamaba support group, with 526 members, are people are such dignity and are inspiring in ways that are hard to believe. The stigma around HIV is so prevalent here and yet they are living their lives honestly and openly, encouraging others to do the same. I am grateful to Dr. Ayam, Rigobert and nurse Mama Mpondo who struggle to give the best health care possible in a hospital so depressing that it defies description. The street boys who have been such a joy to be around and all so incredibly giving, George, Mugin, Ema, William, Yaseeni, Pascal, Bennard and Benedictor. Young men who formed their own family when their biological families either rejected them or were ravaged by AIDS. I will never forget the woman, bed ridden with an inoperable spinal tumor giving us a gift of two eggs after visiting with her. I can still see her makeshift wheelchair, a white plastic lawn chair with bicycle wheels. The young woman with advanced TB and HIV infections stumbling after us after visiting her so she could walk us to the edge of the village.

There are sights that are part of the day to day, women carrying all sorts of goods on their heads, the colorful kangas that women wear, women bent over at the waist everywhere doing household chores. They sweep with short handled brooms, do quantities of laundry by hand, work in the fields bent over at the waist with knees locked and they work in that position for hours. Then there are the young men offering inexpensive transport on their piki pikis, motorcycles which they ride without helmets. The older men of Bagamoyo with their impeccable manners and command of the English language. Most everyone you meet greeting you with habari, jambo, or shikamoo and karibu, (welcome) always. Babies carried on women’s backs securely in place, sleeping soundly. The other worldly sound of muezzins calling the faithful to prayer 5 times a day. Hiring a bajaji when it was too hot to walk and enjoying the breeze when there was no natural breeze. A trip anywhere in town is a maximum of $1.50 no matter how far. Students practicing dance or playing tribal drums at the art college. The huge Monday market with hundreds of people and everything imaginable for sale. The herds of cattle and goats walking the dirt roads of town and sauntering down the beach on the Indian Ocean. The fishermen in their dhows, with their elegant sails, evocative of ancient times. There are the beautiful African mornings when the air is still and the sun is not yet broiling, the light is soft and tinged with pink. The smell of wood smoke permeates the air as people prepare uji outside their homes over small fires. The sounds of farm animals, cows and roosters the most vocal. The first sight of school children in their uniforms making their way to class. It is all in slow motion, like a dream, it is always too hot to hurry. I will miss walking everywhere in this town without fear. I have walked alone in every neighborhood at all times of the day or night and have never once worried for my safety. I will miss watching soccer with Terri’s husband and his friends. Caito’s smile and his effort to include me have been most appreciated.

I will never forget Steve, my 15 year old friend who died so tragically on Feb. 11th. It seems like a long time ago. We talked every day and it was obvious to me that even in his terrible physical distress he welcomed my visits. We played video games but more often just sat there quietly enjoying each other’s company. He would often reach out and take my hand and I know he loved the back rubs we all gave him. I can still see him on that wild bajaji ride careening down the shoulder of the highway so nonchalant as though he made that trip every day. Our outing to the movies when he was so ill I had to carry him through the mall to the bathroom. People stared, many I’m sure found us to be a very unlikely pair but most, I feel, had a full understanding and sympathy for a dying boy. I think of him every day and the loving tribute of his funeral service, attended by 100 people. The unexpected beauty of the women’s voices on the bus ride to Steve’s grandmother’s home and those voices being joined by the voices of the women already inside the house will echo in my ears forever. The kindness showed to me by everyone there, a stranger really, having only known Steve for two weeks. I am still haunted by the explanations of Steve’s death “well, after all this is Africa or “AIDS did not kill Steve, Africa did” or “he died of Africa”. All repeated over and over like a perverted mantra. It remains just a tragedy to me, senseless but avoidable in the west.

More than anyone I’ve had the pleasure to meet I am heartsick about leaving Terri. I don’t believe I have ever admired anyone as much as I admire her. Her belief that every life is worth saving and there are no hopeless situations, even though they are all around her here, is awe inspiring. She has created an organization that is truly committed to the community, not to just one segment or group, but to all. She believes the strength of this town lies in it web of connectedness. I see the benefits of this approach and I see how the money is used and there are no administrative costs. Terri often uses her own funds if there is a shortfall through Baobab. I look on her as a sister and know we will always be part of each other’s lives. I will miss our late night strategizing and our shared joy when we feel in synch over a project. I hope I am here to see the birth of her second child. There’s not much time for that to happen, we’ll see.

I believe I chose wisely when I decided to work with Terri and Baobab. This has been an incredibly fulfilling endeavor. I have worked harder here than I ever have in my life as the conditions were so difficult at times. Sometimes the heat and humidity were so intense it was hard to breathe but every day I saw at least one thing that made it all bearable. I have a new appreciation as to how easy my life is at home and a renewed gratitude for that abundance. I have never been hungry, abused, abandoned, or lived without plumbing or electricity or with holes in the roof or crumbling walls. I hope I remember to be grateful.

This is my last journal of this remarkable adventure and I would like to acknowledge and thank from the bottom of my heart my friends and family at Atlantic Bay Sotheby’s. They have supported this journey of mine from its inception. They have offered nothing but encouragement and contributed generously to Baobab Home. So thank you, (in alphabetical order) Alan, David, Emily, Gregg, Leslie, Lincoln and Sue. I love you all. Thank you to the Provincetown Banner for printing many of my journal entries in their internet version and expanding awareness. Finally, thank you to everyone that took the time out of their busy lives to read this journal. If nothing else I hope it has increased your understanding of life in a small Tanzanian town. A special thank you to all those who contributed to the job initiative project. I have tried to send a personal email to all who contributed and if I missed you I will get one out soon as Terri and will be going over the final list of contributors in the next few days. I hope you will continue to care about Baobab Home and the people of Bagamoyo. If anyone is interested in becoming involved, or more involved, please email me after I return April 20th. The work does not end when I return and the need will remain tremendous. I will be coming back.

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #12

Note: For pictures associated with this blog entry, see the Atlantic Bay Sotheby's International Realty "Real Estate News Blog."

I’ve just finished serving breakfast, and having weighed myself at the clinic, found that I am down about 11 lbs. I’m sure at least 3 of those lbs. are water and will be replaced. The heat has played a major role in my weight loss. My appetite has diminished and I am eating much less. When I was on safari our guide commented that the people of northern Tanzania believe the people of the coast are lazy and sleep more than work. I told him that it’s amazing to me that the people of Dar and Bagamoyo have any energy to work at all. The heat and humidity are that enervating.

I am taking a few doses of cipro for the first time since I’ve been here. It’s amazing I have had few digestive problems since I arrived in January. I decided not to fool around and start the cipro before it gets any worse. I thought of how fortunate I am that I have access to western medicine and don’t have to suffer for very long. That is not the case for the vast majority of the people I have met. They must rely mostly on traditional medicine and hope for the best.

Amina was at the breakfast program with her mother again today. That is the fourth time in a month and I am curious as to what’s going on. People usually come to the clinic no more than once a month. She had a burn on her arm that was mostly healed and about 3 inches long and an inch wide. She was in great spirits and she adores her mother so I hope it was accidental. It saddens me that my mind even goes to the place of suspicion. I will miss this little girl with her big smile and her drawings of animals and flowers in my notebook. I worry about the future for this 8 year old HIV+ child.

I have spent more time at the orphanage lately and have seen such positive changes in Faiza. So shy and non-verbal when I first met her she now runs to me when I arrive and has the most infectious laugh you have ever heard. She is finally starting to signal to use the toilet and when I ask her simple questions in Swahili she responds. If I ask her “Hadija wapi?”(where is Hadija? Her little friend) She looks around the room and when she spots Hadija she smiles and points right to her. She is now 6 years old but developmentally she is 2 or 3. This poor little girl has a limited future but according to Terri can live her life at Baobab with all the love, affection and good nutrition it supplies her. You cannot imagine how sweet and gentle this child is. You may remember, Faiza was malnourished, is HIV+ and was sexually abused and has now been under Baobab’s care for about a year.

Last week I took Halima and Terri out for lunch. As much fun as Halima and I have trying to understand each other it was just great to have Terri as interpreter. I want to know so much of Halima’s life and with my limited Swahili it is impossible. Halima and I took a bajaji from her home and we met Terri at Traveller’s Lodge. Halima was wearing a beautiful purple and white kanga and was very excited to have lunch out. I know she seldom goes out to eat and I really doubt that she ever does.

What a fascinating life this 64 year old woman has had. In the late ‘70s when the ruthless dictator Idi Amin invaded Tanzania from Uganda she was outraged and determined to put her anger to use. She traveled by dalla dalla to Lake Victoria on the western side of Tanzania. The lake is shared by several countries, including Uganda on the north. She joined other young women and learned to operate a motor boat and transported guns and other weapons to the front at the northern border. She said all gun running was done under the cover of darkness and was accomplished mostly by women as men were engaged in active combat. I asked her if she was ever afraid. She said it frightens her more now when she thinks back on how dangerous it was. Then, she was involved in something she passionately believed in and she was also a lot younger and felt invincible. She said the fighting was awful and she was witness to firefights and she saw the horrible wounds suffered by bombing victims. Almost 40 years later she has occasional nightmares about the people she saw torn apart by the bombing.

She has one living child, a 42 year old son who is a fisherman. She has lost 3 other children, one in childbirth and two to malaria. I believe those losses are what drive her to be a foster mother, and what a foster mother she is! The 3 children in her care now are thriving. You may all remember the story of little Habibu, 9 years old, rejected by his mother who believed he was possessed by an evil spirit. Habibu’s younger brother, Shobani, 5, is a victim of malnutrition as is Habibu. They are very small for their ages and have developmental problems. There is also Neema a beautiful little girl who’s parents and aunts and uncles have died of AIDS. I will be sending current photos of these children (in a separate email) that I took last week in Halima’s home so you can see what love, affection and good food have done for these children. According to Terri the change is astounding. Even I have seen a huge difference in these children in the short time I have been here. Halima showers these children with affection, washes them, feeds them, clothes them and sings with them songs she makes up about them. These songs never fail to get the children up and dancing as Halima accompanies her songs with hand clapping and encourages them to join in. Babobab Home pays Halima a stipend each month to support her foster work and she told me that no amount of money could equal the joy she receives from Neema, Shobani and Habibu.

Last Thursday Halima said she had something for me. She presented me with a hat and bag that she wove by hand. I offered to pay her as I know how much work goes into each piece and she waved it off. She then proceeded to kiss me loudly on each cheek, twice on the right, in very European fashion. Each kiss was accompanied by a loud “mwa”. She then held my face in her lands and looked into my eyes and said I was her dear rafiki, friend, and said to me “nina penda u”, I love you. I will miss her greatly when I depart.

Today is Terri’s birthday and I want to do something to celebrate it. She is a remarkable human being. I hope one day that some of you can see for yourself what she accomplishes with so little. She does everything with a sense of joy and purpose and never stops thinking of ways to expand as she is well aware of the desperation of so many here. Her goal is to make people self sufficient after the initial help of Baobab ends. There are so many success stories from the 8 street boys to the babies at the orphanage, the home building, to Ally and Assia and the people of Uwambaba. Now, with the expanded HIV testing program in the villages that we have implemented I don’t see how she continues to move forward. She’s due to deliver her second child in two weeks and has not slowed down a bit. Add the countless emails she answers and writes to secure more funding and I doubt that you will find too many others like her. The most amazing aspect of this for me is, this is her life. This is not a 3 month volunteer stint. She doesn’t get to return to an easy western life and I truly doubt she would even want to. She and her wonderful husband, Caito, live so simply and by US standards they would be considered poor. Her home is chaotic and doubles as the second room of the pre-school building across the street. There are children, neighbors, the street boys and volunteers in her home constantly. We value our privacy at home. Privacy is a foreign word here. We have grown very close these past months and we will miss each other sorely when I return home but we both know I will return. There are so many projects we have worked on together and I want to see how they have impacted the people we have met.

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #11

Note: For pictures associated with this blog entry, see the Atlantic Bay Sotheby's International Realty "Real Estate News Blog."

Hi Everyone!

This is something a little different than the journal I’ve been posting. Yesterday, Terri and I met at the Uwamaba office, the local AIDS support group. We had set up a meeting with the 10 people picked by the group for small business funding of $75 per person. There was a great deal of excitement amongst the 9 women and 1 man selected. Each person had a modest business plan and budget. If these people are successful they will set aside a portion of their profits to launch others in the group into their own businesses.

Since my last email referring to this enterprise, $250 has come to Baobab Home earmarked for this endeavor. These donations were unsolicited. Only $500 more is needed to start these good people on their way to greater self sufficiency. I am hoping with all the people that have been reading my emails that we can raise that amount and more. If we raise more it will go to the HIV mobile testing in the more remote villages that we start on the 30th. These are two very important pieces in the fight against HIV/AIDS and the stigma surrounding it here. Donations can be made on line through Pay Pal on the Baobab web site www.tzkids.org or by snail mail. The address in NJ is also on the web site. Please make sure you earmark whatever you send with a note referring to the Uwamaba group. Thank you The following are the names of the people chosen and a brief description of what their business plans look like. I will attach photos in a separate email so you can place a name with a face. Thanks again!

Ken

1.Mwayadna Muhela

She is a single mother with 3 children. Her husband left her when she tested positive even though it’s most likely he infected her. This is a common story amongst the 9 women. She wants to be able to sell cooked fish to the workers near her home as there is no local vendor.

2. Teresia Valande

She already sells soda and juices from her home and wants to increase her inventory and realize savings by buying in bulk. She is a single mother with 2 children.

3. Mary Mzamu

She makes uji from scratch, buying the 5 grains and grinding and combining them herself. She would like to expand her client base. Baobab would be interested in buying directly from Mary for the breakfast program at the clinic.

4. Subira Faranga

She had 4 children but 3 have died. She cooks in a handmade food stand which she would like to repair and expand. She would also like to be able to buy supplies of wood and charcoal in bulk to maximize profits.

5.Halima Magenge

She now buys batik cloth that she sells door to door. She wants to buy more cloth to make enough money to invest in a small shop as she finds the many miles she walks every day selling door to door a struggle.

6. Katarina Bundara

She now travels 5 hrs one way 3 days a week to sell her cooked fish in a remote village. She said there is a market for her fish locally if she had the money to build a small vending stand and be able to pay the small licensing fee.

7. Mwinyimbegu Mnyamisi

He sells raw fish in Dar once a week but even though the profit is good he wants to be able to make the trip 3 times a week to make enough money to keep his 2 children in secondary school.

8. Mariamu Hashimu

She needs money to finish her half built stand in which she already has a decent business selling doughnuts. She would like to expand her business and buy cloth to sell for women’s kangas, the colorful wrap-arounds that all the women wear.

9. Rehema Digale

She lives in one room with her 2 small children. Her husband left her. She already sells cooked cassava and other cooked vegetables and would like to expand her business and also buy wood and charcoal in bulk.

10. Ashura Rajabu

She would like to buy chicken and cook it at home and sell it to local workers in her bustling neighborhood. She supports 2 daughters. Her 2 young sons died of AIDS.

Can You Still Get a 5% Mortgage??

There's still time to get a 5% mortgage -- but the window is closing.

On April 1, the government will stop buying mortgage-related debt, which will send interest rates slowly higher. Since November 2008 the Federal Reserve has snapped up $1.25 trillion worth of mortgage-backed securities -- essentially, people's mortgages bundled together and sold to investors.

The program has kept interest rates artificially low over the past year, with the price of a 30-year fixed-rate loan ranging between 4.93% and 5.09%, according to mortgage giant Freddie Mac.

That's about 0.4 percentage points lower than these loans would have been without the government's intervention, according to Jay Brinkmann, chief economist for the Mortgage Bankers Association.

But when the Fed stops buying and cedes the playing field to private investors, they will almost surely demand better return for their risk.

"Rates are going to be higher than they are now," said Brinkmann.

How much higher is the question.

"It's really hard to tell right now," said Amy Crews Cutts, Freddie Mac's deputy chief economist. "The Fed said it will taper off [purchases] gradually. Each week they buy less than the week before."

So far, though, the tapering has failed to spawn higher rates. Last week, the 30-year was just 4.96%.

Still, all of the experts agree that mortgage rates will climb. The good news is that none of them think the increase will be very large.

Their projections are for a gradual run up to between 5.5% and 6% by December. Brinkman's projection is a rise to 5.8%; Cutts is to 5.75%.

That will add only about $70 to the monthly payment on a $150,000 note. That's still very reasonable and should not discourage many consumers.

Homebuyers may even find themselves paying less every month as housing markets continue to experience price declines.

Excerpted from CNNMoney.com

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #10

It's been very busy with all Terri has taken on and there hasn't been time to even gather my thoughts. This is my last entry until I return from safari on March 18th.

We were invited to speak to the Bagamoyo HIV support group 3 days ago. Terri and I and George, one of the former street boys, took a bajaji to their office. It was about a 20 minute ride to a section of town I hadn't seen yet. It seems our driver was a bit confused also in this older section of town as he had to phone his office for directions. The roads got narrower and dustier and the sun was beating down unmercifully. The twists and turns of the road had all of us confused and I'm sure I could not have found my way back to any area I would recognize.

When we arrived, 15 minutes late, we were greeted by Assia and her husband Ally (I had mistakenly referred to him as Bennard in a previous post and also in a photograph). The building was cinder block, solid and unpainted with a rusty tin roof. The office itself was cramped and stuffy and packed with about 30 people. There were posters on the walls, many with the swahili word for AIDS, ukimwi. The group was comprised of mostly adult women 20 -50 years of age and approx. 10 men all a bit older. The women were beautifully attired in their multi-colored kangas and the men wore trousers and collared shirts. The room was stifling and everyone was sweating profusely as there was no fan and only one small window. Terri and I were escorted to a small table with 2 chairs while most of the members sat on the dirt floor. We had worked on a short presentation which included a prevention discussion and our planned visits to more remote villages to test willing residents. As I spoke and Terri translated I looked out into the room and was surprised how emotional it was for me.

The stigma around HIV/AIDS in Tanzania is pervasive and the courage shown by these people, most of whom walked great distances just to meet us, was beyond belief. I found myself choked up on several occasions as people spoke of being ostracized by society in general and many who were shunned by their families and friends. Yet, here they were telling me how important it was to be open with anyone they met, to be honest with themselves and everyone they knew. It brought back painful memories of the early years of the AIDS epidemic in the US when health care workers refused to enter the hospital rooms of anyone with AIDS.

After we wrapped up our presentation there were questions and comments. One man, whose name I wish I had written down, explained why there were so few men in attendance in response to my question. He was about 65, very nicely dressed with a kind face. His eyes betrayed a weary sadness. He spoke perfect English with a British accent. A vestige of colonialism I'm sure because many of the older men of Bagamoyo have a command of the English language. He told me the men of Tanzania are in denial and will not accept responsibility for their role in the spread of HIV. He also said the government should make testing mandatory for all citizens. Pregnant women must consent to an HIV test and may be denied admission to the hospital to deliver their babies if they don't comply. Angrily, he said that even if a woman tests positive husbands or boyfriends do not have to be tested or even named. He then said no amount of prevention education will make a difference until men change their selfish ways.

It was obvious to me that this man commanded the great respect of all in attendance. He then spoke to the group in Swahili translating what he told me. There was much nodding of heads as flies buzzed around the room and everyone looked wilted but attentive. When he finished people applauded and he turned to me and said "thank you for allowing me to speak the truth". I want to impress upon all of you reading this how bold and fearless this man is to speak the truth openly.

Because so many of these people have lost jobs or been denied employment due to their HIV status we inquired as to how much it might cost in start up money for a member to open their own business. After some internal discussion the president of the association said about $75. Terri and I quickly brainstormed and came up with a plan to sponsor 10 of their most entrepreneurial members who must present a solid business plan and if they are successful they must then agree to re-invest some of their profits in other support group members to get them started in self employment. This was greeted with tremendous enthusiasm and many assante sanas. When I return from safari the group will have chosen 10 members and we will get their photos, bios and business plans and go about trying to raise the $750 to jump start this program. We decided to gift the money and not treat this as a micro loan as these are not really people who are allowed to participate fully in Bagamoyo society. They are already under tremendous pressure and having a debt would be extremely stressful.

As the meeting broke up people lingered to shake our hands and thank us personally. I am still amazed that a group like this even exists and the fact that there are 525 members is even more astounding. Actually, make that 527 as Terri and I were voted in as honorary members as the meeting ended.

Terri was greeted by an elderly woman as we left. She asked Terri if she had a few minutes to spend with the woman's daughter who was very ill. Terri knew this woman and her daughter and she readily agreed. They lived near the support group office so we followed the woman down some narrow paths. She had a very bad limp and walking was obviously uncomfortable for her. As we walked the landscape changed and I felt like we had been transported back in time to an Africa of the distant past.

The houses were all mud and stick construction and all had palm frond roofs. Upon closer inspection many of the homes had walls that were crumbling and holes in their roofs. There is no electricity, no plumbing, no well. There were no screens anywhere and I saw no evidence of mosquito nets. Terri said this is the poorest part of Bagamoyo and is rife with disease - malaria, TB and HIV. We arrived at the woman's 10X10 foot house which looked like it might fall down in a stiff breeze. The walls were crumbling and it seemed only part of the roof was intact. Insects of all types were crawling in and out of the dwelling. Slumped against the front wall of the house was the woman's 28 year old daughter. She barely had the energy to lift her head and greet us. She is suffering from advanced HIV and TB infections. She was in a dirty, torn kanga and spoke so softly Terri had to lean in closely to understand her. I have tears in my eyes as I am writing this. I can't remember a more pathetic scene. I honestly don't know how Terri finds the strength to do this day in day out. All the joy of the previous 2 hours vanished.

The daughter's husband left her after she tested positive for HIV. Ironically, he was the one who infected her. Her two year old son died last year of HIV but miraculously her 5 year old daughter is negative. As Terri continued to speak to her the mother hobbled into the house and came back out carrying a small stool. I'm sure, other than the bed, it is the only piece of furniture they own. She placed it next to me, gently pulled my arm and gestured for me to sit. I could not accept this offer. I smiled at her thanked her but then said hapana, no I can't. I then gestured for her to please sit on the stool. She hesitated but smiled and thanked me and gratefully sat.

I stood there lost in my own thoughts. All this sadness, all this misery it is all too much to bear sometimes. It seems incomprehensible. We have all seen this misery on our tvs in our movies but to be here to see it, to smell it, to feel it with your whole being takes your breath away.

An hour passed and it was time to find our way back home. The sun had drifted below the palm trees and the shadows were filling the little courtyard. Terri looked drained and I didn't think I could muster the energy to even get back to the support group. We said our difficult goodbyes. We trudged back down the dirt path and after a minute heard something behind us. We turned at the same time because the sound was strange, a labored, foot dragging sound. It was the young woman breathlessly trying to catch up to us. We stopped and the effort on this young woman's face was heartbreaking. It had taken every bit of energy for her to catch up to us. She leaned on Terri, and in gasping breaths said it was impolite to not walk us to the edge of the village. At this gesture Terri broke down and I couldn't even look at the young woman I am so ashamed to admit. Where does this come from? Why, in this woman's grave condition, did she feel the need to be hospitable and do the socially correct thing? Why did she care about us? There are no answers to any of my questions. The only thing that ever comes to mind for me is, this is all the accident of birth. She was born in the wrong place at the wrong time. What I continue to struggle with is, why?

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #9

Ken Russo is spending three months this winter volunteering at The Baobab Home, an orphanage in Bagamoyo, Tanzania that provides care for children with HIV/AIDS. He is documenting his fascinating experiences and sends us periodic updates from his journal. Here is his latest entry. Read about his whole journey starting back at the end of January …

Tuesday, March 2
Terri and I returned late last night from an incredible trip to Nairobi, Kenya. The flight was about an hour, fifteen minutes. We flew over Zanzibar and there were stunning views of snow covered Mt. Kilimanjaro later in the flight. We were visiting relatives of my stepmother and father who have lived in Nairobi for 20 years, Peter, his wife Helga and their two teen aged children Christopher and Hannah. The children were born in Kenya. The second we arrived we were both thrilled by the cool temperature with little humidity. After a month of oppressive weather we were both energized.

After arrival we met the driver of the cab that Helga had sent for us. After leaving the airport it became clear that this was going to be the cab ride from hell. We had originally booked a morning flight which Kenya Airways canceled. We were re-booked on the late afternoon flight that Helga warned would put us in Nairobi at the worst possible time for commuting. She was right. The 12 mile trip to their home took 4 hours! It did give us time to get to know our driver, Hamuel. He arrived in Nairobi after leaving his family’s farm when he was 22. He had no money and was barefoot when he arrived. He slept outside and looked for work for weeks. He now has his cab license and a second job. He and his wife saved enough to buy a 2 room house and are putting their children through school. He said they are raising their children to be independent and well educated. I don’t know when he learned to speak English but he speaks it fluently.

As we approached Peter and Helga’s neighborhood the landscape changed dramatically. We left the crowded urban streets of Nairobi and entered an area that I can only describe as Greenwich, CT. We were stopped by guards at the gate and entered the Spring Valley area. Well maintained roads, mature trees and plantings everywhere with beautiful homes behind high walls, some of the walls with razor wire on top. There were dogs behind most of the gates and small guardhouses at the entrance to most of the driveways. I felt like we had left Africa and entered suburbia, albeit a very secure suburbia.

We drove down the long brick driveway to the house and arrived at a metal gate which a guard opened as he welcomed us to the property. The two story house is comfortable and filled with interesting African art. We were met at the door by Jacinta, the housekeeper and after bringing our bags in she drove us to meet Peter and Helga at a birthday party they were attending in the neighborhood. Many of Helga’s colleagues were there as were many people working in HIV and malaria research. We were welcomed warmly and walked down the long backyard hill to the tent where the party was winding down. The adjacent property is one of the United Nation’s world headquarters. The food was delicious, the conversation smart and passionate and with the full moon and cool weather we were extremely content.

The next day found us at Nairobi’s International School’s food festival. It was held on the campus of this most extraordinary school with its excellent academics, plus world class arts and athletic facilities. This includes an Olympic size pool and a 500 seat theater for performing arts. The grounds are manicured and there are towering shade trees many in full bloom. There are students from all over the world who will all probably go on to universities in Europe or the US.

The festival was held in a large field with tents and tables and chairs and there was food from at least 50 countries. The huge crowd was in great spirits and the mood was festive. We were accompanied by Peter, Helga and Helga’s delightful parents visiting from Germany, Hans and Margarete.

We headed to the US Embassy after the fair for a swim in their large pool. We were waved through two sets of gates and were in the pool shortly after. It was great to swim and the pool was plenty big enough for lap swimming. We returned home refreshed and ready for dinner.

We left Spring Valley for Mediterraneo, an Italian restaurant in Nairobi proper. This restaurant is popular with expats and the food was excellent. Helga’s parents regaled us with some incredibly harrowing tales of life under soviet rule in East Germany including the time they were caught trying to cross the border into West Germany.

On Sunday we had a leisurely breakfast in their sunny dining room with everything your heart desired on the table with all manner of local fruits, homemade jams, bagels, cereals etc. The conversation centered on Terri and Baobab.

Later that afternoon Peter and Helga took all of us to the very British, Mugaitha Club. It must have been what colonial Africa was like for Europeans. It was elegant, complete with white glove service. The grounds and buildings were impeccable and the patrons were well dressed, everyone engaged in quiet conversation.

We enjoyed a delicious, light supper on Sunday evening prepared by Helga and served on the patio undisturbed by insects or humidity. There was much fun as the children joined us. They are well mannered, very bright and extremely charming.

It was hard to leave Monday morning but we said our thank yous and goodbyes and purchased 3 jars of Jacinta’s delicious homemade jam. Peter and Helga were the consummate hosts and we couldn’t have had a nicer time. Helga’s parents were a joy and I hope to see them again. I look forward to seeing them all this summer in Marion as they own a home that has been in Peter’s family for generations.

The return trip to Jomo Kenyatta Airport took less than an hour. Kenya Airways, again, canceled our 1:30 flight and we didn’t leave until 5pm. In the interim Terri had to endure an interview with the airport doctor as she is 7 months pregnant and the airline wanted to confirm that she was fit for travel. The interview cost 600 Kenyan shillings, about $8.00 Traffic was a nightmare in Dar and the ride back with Terri’s husband took 3 hours to cover 50 miles.

We are back in the humid soup that is Bagamoyo with much planned over the next few weeks.

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #8

Ken Russo is spending three months this winter volunteering at The Baobab Home, an orphanage in Bagamoyo, Tanzania that provides care for children with HIV/AIDS. He is documenting his fascinating experiences and sends us periodic updates from his journal. Here is his latest entry. Read about his whole journey starting back at the end of January …

Tuesday, February 23
I brought the boys home to Halima after pre-school along with the 2 pineapples I purchased at the stand near her house for a little less than a dollar. I entered her courtyard and called out hodi, to alert the family I was coming in. The response is always karibu, welcome. Halima introduced me to her kaka (brother) and we all sat to share the pineapple. All the produce is locally grown and organic. The flavors are rich and intense. What a difference between the produce here and at home. It’s also seasonal and when the particular season is over there is no importing of produce. We are now at the end of mango and pineapple season much to my dismay. We were sitting in Halima’s backyard under the coconut palms when Halima pointed out to me the people scavenging in the dump behind her property. She shook her head and saidpole sana, very sorry that people are forced to live this way.

I left Halima’s and headed down the congested main road to the barber’s. The street is paved and very busy with every imaginable vehicle, motorized and not. The town’s only bank and gas station are on this road and also the bus terminal. There concrete V-shaped ditches on both sides of the street. They are about 4 feet deep. They are some sort of drainage ditch not for sewage but probably they are important in the rainy season which starts in April. They could easily swallow a car or a bus and you have to be alert so you don’t fall in yourself. There are little wooden bridges everywhere that cross the ditches to the many shops on the other side.

I arrived at the barber’s and the a/c was invigorating. It is the first time I’ve encountered a/c in Bagamoyo. There are 3 chairs and 3 barbers who were hanging out listening to reggae. It’s a clean, well lit space; a very pleasant atmosphere. I said “Nataka kukota nywele” (I’d like a haircut) and then added “fupi sana” (very short). The barber, a large man in a purple shirt and white beret, smiled and asked in English “Do you have money to pay?” That’s the first time I’ve been asked that. I laughed and said of course and he invited me to sit. He cut my hair, washed my head with shampoo and hot water. That was my first experience with hot water in a month. He then put a dab of some sort of hair product on my head. It was definitely overkill but it all felt great and for $1.40 you can beat the price. I think I’ll mention all this to Gordon, my barber in Provincetown.

I’m writing from the restaurant at the Millennium Hotel right on the beach. The sun is setting and the ocean is rough. The water is, a not very refreshing, 88 degrees. The water here is not the tropical blue you might expect but more of a brownish gray. The water is clean but color is due to a river which empties into the ocean not far from Bagamoyo. Very few adults swim here but the beach is always busy with people strolling and children splashing in the shallows. There are a few men hawking wooden carvings. They do not approach anyone but stand at a respectful distance waiting for a nod or shake of the head from their prospective customers.


Wednesday, February 24
It was very busy at the clinic today and we ran out of uji earlier than usual. Katie and I walked the 2 miles back to our respective guest houses and we realized it was a mistake. We both felt like we were suffering from heat exhaustion. It was the hottest day we have experienced and probably the most humid. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of a breeze. We were feeling nauseous. I was looking forward to a cool shower and then sitting under the powerful fan in my room. The shower was great but the power was out so I was hot and sweaty again in a few minutes. I prayed that the electricity came back on before I went to bed.

Terri and I are meeting with local representative of the Red Cross late this afternoon to discuss HIV testing in the villages. We’re both looking forward to this meeting and believe it’s a critical piece in curbing transmission of the virus.

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #7

Ken Russo is spending three months this winter volunteering at The Baobab Home, an orphanage in Bagamoyo, Tanzania that provides care for children with HIV/AIDS. He is documenting his fascinating experiences and sends us periodic updates from his journal. Here is his latest entry. Read about his whole journey starting back at the end of January …

Friday, February 19
The trip to Dar was quick and uneventful. We hired a taxi and Terri’s favorite driver, Bwana Chu Chu. He’s a very good natured, large man with the patience of Job. It seems that nothing fazes him.

We arrived right on time for our meeting with Thomas Kipilingi. Thomas is about 35, well dressed and incredibly articulate. His command of the English language is impressive. Thomas has spent the last 9 years working with Rwandan refugees and has spent many hours in the camps. His office is on the top floor of a 3 story, glass building. It was also air conditioned. There are few high rises in Dar, most no more than 3 or 4 stories. He explained the grant process in detail and Terri and I felt that we made a very good impression. We will start writing our proposal when we return to Bagamoyo

Dar es Salaam is a sprawling city of approximately 4 million people located south of Bagamoyo on the Indian Ocean. It is chaotic and colorful with residents selling everything everywhere. The streets are mostly dirt with a few of the main roads paved. There are few traffic lights yet somehow getting around is no more problematic than driving in any major western city. There is mass transit, mostly buses which are always packed. Even here the roads are shared with goats, chickens and cattle. Here, as in Bagamoyo women balance large bundles or buckets of water on their head. There is a peninsula that juts out into a bay and it is here you will find large homes in gated neighborhoods sometimes with armed guards. This is also where you will see luxury shops and high end restaurants with US pricing. We had lunch at the Africafe, very upscale and very air conditioned.


Sunday, February 21
Terri and I took a ride to the center of town looking for a friend of hers. The Baobab Home jeep is perfect for the torn up dirt streets of Bagamoyo. It is a beat up, high clearance vehicle with a few dents and real safari charm. We found Terri’s friend who is a member of a nomadic tribe. She didn’t recognize him at first as it was the first time she had seen him in western dress. His tribe is very similar to the Maasai with the same ideas as to what is beautiful. Like the Maasai his two front lower teeth had been extracted, he had large holes in his earlobes and there is a distinct space between his two front upper teeth. Terri says at a young age reeds and then small pieces of wood are forced between those teeth to create a gap. He was reserved but friendly and he and Terri had a conversation in Swahili. His native language is tribal.

The “downtown” area of Bagamoyo is dusty with a low profile as most buildings are a single story. Most are unpainted cinder block with several older, traditional mud and stick dwellings. Dirt floors are the norm and kitchens are usually self contained and separate from the main dwellings. This makes perfect sense as the homes are already hot and almost everyone uses smoky charcoal or wood to cook. I think the only kitchen I’ve actually seen within a main dwelling is at Terri’s home.

We then went to check in with a woman, Assia, who was deathly ill with AIDS 2 years ago. Baobab had made sure she started HIV drug treatment and her health quickly improved, surprising everyone. Terri saw that she received job training and it was discovered she was entrepreneurial and her life improved immeasurably. Baobab built Assia a small home as they have for 8 other families in crisis. The houses are modest affairs but are life altering for the families. She married Bennard last year. He is also HIV+ and doing well on therapy. They are a most amazing couple. They have become Bagamoyo’s first public AIDS activists, determined to overcome the stigma the disease still carries here. Bennard has started an informal support group with monthly meetings for a membership approaching 500. He wears a t-shirt with the AIDS red ribbon and a slogan in Swahili, We Care. They travel to remote villages at their own expense and bring with them instant result, HIV test kits paid for by Baobab. They say, at times, they have met great resistance but have always found at least 5 people in each place willing to be tested. They are the most inspiring and determined people I have met here. They are also gracious and welcoming. Their home is clean and tidy with everything in its place. Bennard said he would like to call a special meeting of his support group in our honor. Terri and I may take him up on his offer as we would like to meet these courageous people and see if there is any way we can help. As we left they each took both my hands in theirs and said several times, Asante sana (thank you so much)

On Sunday Caroline, the Danish volunteer and Mugin and Ima, 2 former street boys and I traveled to Baobab’s shomba (farm). It’s a 15 minute drive from the current Baobab Home and a world away. As I mentioned in an earlier email within a few months all of Baobab’s operations will be moved there. Presently there are 3 buildings, the new expanded orphanage, an open air covered dining room and a small, traditional round building with a thatch roof which will be the office. There are 3 buildings yet to be built, a kitchen, a dormitory for the HIV camp (more on that in another email) and a home for Terri, Caito their son and a child on the way this April. The goal here is to expand services and become more self sufficient, growing their own crops and purchasing dairy cows. A by product of the cows will be bio fuel, reducing or eliminating the use of expensive propane or charcoal. As I mentioned previously the farm is sited on 15 acres and is situated perfectly to catch the strong breeze off the ocean. There are banana and orange trees along with mangoes. All the buildings were constructed using private donations and volunteer labor.

We came out to harvest a 1⁄4 acre of cassava, a starchy root similar to a potato. The leaves are edible and are often cooked with coconut juice. The smaller plants are pulled out by hand but even those are challenging. Caroline picked leaves while the rest of us pulled plants using hoes on the larger trees. It was hard, hot work but it felt great to be working outside in that strong breeze. The boys had much fun at my expense watching me handling the panga (machete). After 4 hours we had cleared the field and had quite a haul of cassava and leaves. We delivered everything to Baobab where the house mothers will prepare it. Needless to say I slept very well that night.

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #6

Ken Russo is spending three months this winter volunteering at The Baobab Home, an orphanage in Bagamoyo, Tanzania that provides care for children with HIV/AIDS. He is documenting his fascinating experiences and sends us periodic updates from his journal. Here is his latest entry. Read about his whole journey starting back at the end of January …

This is a quote from a book I just finshed, "The Crocodile that Ate the Sun" about the ongoing tragedy in Zimbabwe. The author writes for National Geographic. I believe in light of Steve's death it is timely.

"In Africa, you do not view death from the auditorium of life, as a spectator, but from the edge of the stage, waiting only for your cue. You feel perishable, temporary, transient. You feel mortal. Maybe that is why you seem to live more vividly in Africa. The drama of life there is amplified by its constant proximity to death. That's what infuses it with tension. It is the essence of its tragedy too. People love harder there. Love is the way that life forgets that it is terminal. Love is life's alibi in the face of death." -Peter Godwin


Tuesday, February 16
It’s been 3 days since Steve’s funeral and I find going to Terri’s a little empty right now. I miss the greeting I received. No matter how poorly he was feeling I always got a huge smile and an invitation to play a computer game with him or watch a movie. His bed is empty and the painting he gave Terri and Caito is on the wall. It’s a traditional village scene with a large, hopeful sun with bright yellow rays emanating from it. He was not able to finish the painting he started for me and there is something unbearably sad about that.

Yesterday was clinic and there was a steady flow of HIV positive people into the courtyard where people sit on benches waiting to be called. Many of the women have walked miles to the clinic as they cannot afford even public transportation. They are all beautifully dressed in long colorful dresses and equally colorful scarves and headdresses. Several carry babies on their backs and some arrive with older children. One small girl was helping gather bowls after people had their fill of uji. Her name is Amina and she’s 8 years old. She was dressed in an ironed, pale pink dress and she had a pink book bag. Her smile was absolutely captivating. After helping she came to me and smiled and with my limited Swahili and well thumbed phrase book we engaged in what we both found to be a fun conversation. I gave her my pen and notebook and she started to draw maua (flowers) and many different animals such as tembo (elephant) and twiga (giraffe). I gave her my pen and several sheets of paper which she thanked me for and placed in her book bag. A name was called and she moved quickly to catch up with her mother who was approaching the nurse’s desk. I fully expected to see her mother get on the scale as everyone does before their check ups. It wasn’t her mother that stepped on the scale, it was Amina.

Terri and I have been working on public funding for Baobab as there is no possibility of expansion depending solely on private donations. We will be traveling to Dar yet again this Thursday to meet with the representative of an organization with available grant money. The organization, Rapid Funding Envelope, was recommended by Alison Ellis and I would like to thank her publicly in this forum for her assistance. Terri and I are both excited by the possibility and we are keeping our fingers crossed. We also have many other errands to run there so it will be a full day.

I have been wanting to make mention of the characters who are either in residence or spend time at Francescos or in William’s restaurant on the premises. First there is Ramone a 50ish Spanish national who claims to be an eye doctor. I’m a bit skeptical as I mentioned several diseases of the eye to him and nothing seemed to register and his English is good. It seems that he and his Tanzanian wife have run a few Ponzi schemes with some of the locals. According to Terri they have bilked the people of Bagamoyo out of thousands of dollars. His wife has been convicted and is now serving time in the local prison. Ramone is free at least for the time being. Then there is Sophia an Italian living here with her Tanzanian boyfriend and their child. They argue publicly constantly in Italian, Swahili and English. There is Bebeto the former manager of Francescos who is suing his former employer and Francesco has filed a counter suit yet Bebeto is here every day and evening. Bebeto’s wife runs the concession stand but she hasn’t spoken to Bebeto in months. There is William the cook who is pining away for Caroline, a Danish volunteer, who is blissfully unaware of his angst. The funniest part is he keeps asking me for advice and I’m just the one to ask with my vast experience of the opposite sex. Then there is Francesco himself who is 80 years old, walks around town with no shirt on (which is highly offensive to most of the women especially Muslim women) and when I asked him how much Swahili he speaks after spending at least 6 months a year here for 20 years he answered “not a word, it is a boring language” This is a man who speaks three other languages fluently. He is incredibly narcissistic and talks incessantly about his vast wealth while he pays his help a dollar or two a day. There is no escaping him and I may have to starting eating in my room to escaped him.

After dropping the boys off at Halima’s she invited me to spend some time with her. Her home consists of two, small cinder block buildings, one for sleeping for 7 people the other is an open 2 room building with a dirt floor. There are large window openings and no screens. She invited me to sit next to her on a board sitting on 2 cinder blocks. She then sliced a small watermelon and gave me the first slice. It was very sweet, warm and messy. She divided the rest among the children. She is so affectionate with the children and they adore her.

Halima weaves thin reeds into beautiful floor mats. She works on the ground, hunched over her work in what looks like a very uncomfortable position. She never complains and she seems to only take delight in everything she sees. I have grown quite fond of her. We went out to her shaded back yard where she unrolled one of her large mats. She lay back and invited me to rest next to her. We lay there together not speaking but both enjoying the shade, the breeze and the company. Sadly, Halima’s yard abuts a new garbage dump which looms over her yard and is only about 50 ft from her property line. She continues to fight the town wanting the dump closed but I fear she is fighting a losing battle. She worries about the health of the children. She is unconcerned for herself because she says she is ancient and by Tanzanian standards she very well may be ancient. The average life span is less than 50 years. Halima is 64.

One of the little boys Halima foster cares is the sweetest most loving child I have ever seen. I attribute this solely to Halima’s care. According to Terri, Habibu was malnourished when they found him and was developmentally challenged due to malnourishment and neglect. His family shunned him as they believed he was possessed by an evil spirit. They believed this because he is mentally much slower than children his age.When Terri went to his home to evaluate the situation she found him alone, in a dark corner, emaciated and naked. No adults in the home would go near him. He was 4 years old. When Terri approached him she said he howled in fear like a trapped animal. It is hard to imagine that scene when I am with Habibu today. He runs to me on school days and never lets go of my hand on the walk to school. He greets me in Swahili and right before we leave Halima makes sure every button is fastened and his shoes are tied and then she lifts him in the air, hugs and kisses him. She then holds his face in her hands and says baadaye, see you later followed by Ninapenda u Habibu, I love you Habibu.

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #5

Ken Russo is spending three months this winter volunteering at The Baobab Home, an orphanage in Bagamoyo, Tanzania that provides care for children with HIV/AIDS. He is documenting his fascinating experiences and sends us periodic updates from his journal. Here is his latest entry. Read about his whole journey starting back at the end of January …

Thursday, February 11 and Friday, February 12
Yesterday was very slow at the clinic and we had a lot of uji left over. We decided to visit a few wards of the hospital and offer breakfast. The conditions inside the wards were deplorable. Desperately ill people lying on filthy sheets if they were lucky enough to have sheets. Most were lying on the sagging, plastic mattresses with no pillows. The smells were overpowering and all surfaces were covered in grime. Mangy, starving cats roamed the wards at will looking for scraps or even insects. There were no fans and no mosquito netting. The maternity ward was especially squalid with one nurse for 25 mothers and their babies.

You cannot imagine the gratitude expressed by the patients for a simple bowl of porridge. The hospital serves no food so the people depend on loved ones to feed them. As we handed food out the patients would touch our hands and thank us, several people said bless you in Swahili.

After the hospital I walked over to Traveller’s Lodge to eat lunch and to re-group. The lodge is a tranquil oasis that I escape to once or twice a week for its serenity and good food. I must admit it was strange to sit there after the hospital experience. The raised patio has a thatched roof at least 30 feet high which contains several fans. The patio looks out over the dense landscaping. You can hear the ocean just beyond the “jungle” in front of you.

While I am writing this Terri called to tell me Steve died at 10:15 this morning, 2:15am east coast time. He was 15. I must stop writing now.

Friday, February 12
Yesterday seems like a bad dream. I was at the clinic when Terri called and she asked me to arrange transport of Steve’s body. If not for the kindness of Dr. Ayam and her affection for Steve and the assistance of physician assistant, Rigobert I would have been lost. They were patient, compassionate and so helpful. They quickly arranged for an ambulance (no small task in Tanzania) and Rigobert , recognizing my obvious distress, rode with me in the back. Mama Ponda one of the HIV clinic nurses rode in the front with the driver.

It was a somber scene at Terri’s house where Steve has been living for the past 8 months. Terri was in tears and the street boys were milling about asking how they could help.

The street boys are 8 teenagers who were living on the streets of Bagamoyo fending for themselves with no families to care for them and if they did have families the boys were often subjected to physical abuse. Terri took them in several years ago and Baobab found them housing and sponsors to pay for schooling. They are amongst the sweetest, most thoughtful group of kids I have ever met. They live together as a family of brothers in a 3 room apartment paid for by Baobab. They are all progressing in school and they are always asking how they can help. They all loved Steve and their grief was evident in their eyes. 3 of the boys put on rubber gloves and got ready to transport Steve. I first went in and sat with Steve whose body was covered in a white sheet. I uncovered his face. He looked so peaceful all the pain and fear had left his face. After all his suffering he looked like a little boy, fast asleep. The boys carried Steve to the ambulance, several of them in tears. They had all been so good with Steve when he was ill, rubbing his back, fetching whatever he needed, bathing him. I rode in the back of the ambulance with Steve and Rigobert. 3 of the boys followed in Terri’s jeep. We arrived at the hospital morgue and the boys carried Steve in and gently placed him in the stainless steel drawer.

We went back to Terri’s and sat on the porch not speaking for several hours as is the tradition here. Then people started to depart.

I went to eat and check my email at the internet café. As I was sitting there a text came in from Rigobert. It said: “Brother Ken, you don’t need to think a lot about Stive (sp), we loved him but God loved him most. I know it’s painful but the boy is resting and it’s the way it’s supposed to be. We are together in this painful moment. Let’s pray for him. Thanks for the spirit of helping you showed to our young brother Stive” I just sat there with tears flowing down my face. He said one other thing that haunts me, “My friend remember, this is Africa” It is either a statement of resignation or a cry for help to the western world. I believe it is probably both. The people here know that Steve died because of the geography of his birth. They know if he was born in the west he would be alive and thriving right now. But because “this is Africa” he is dead at 15 his tiny body in a stainless steel drawer in a refrigerated morgue in this stifling African town.

Saturday, February 13
Steve’s funeral was yesterday in the hills outside of Dar es Salaam. Baobab rented a 30 seat bus and it was packed with employees and friends. Halima sat next to me and pointed to things on the road and told me their names in Swahili. She then had me repeat what she said which always got a smile from her. The road to Dar was packed and it took a little over 2 hours to get there. About 1⁄2 hour before we arrived everyone on the bus started singing traditional hymns for the dead. It was so sudden and the voices were so beautiful, in harmony with the pitch rising and falling, that I was incredibly moved. Terri said the words spoke of the loss of a child and the chorus was “we will be together again”.

We parked at the bottom of a steep hill and as we walked through a cool, wooded area the people continued to sing and more fervently as we approached Steve’s grandmother’s house. Their voices were greeted by the voices of the women mourners inside the home and as we got nearer all the voices blended and we were surrounded by a wall of angelic sound tinged with sadness. We paid our respects to Steve’s distraught grandmother who took both of my hands and thanked me in English for being a friend to her grandson. The women inside continued to sing many songs as other women prepared the meal for at least 100 people. The men sat separately which confused several people as this was a Christian service. Perhaps it was out of respect to the many Muslims there. I was greeted warmly by many people several of whom spoke to me in English. A man came by with a basin and a pitcher of water. It is the custom to wash your right hand or both hands before you eat but you may only eat with your right. It was a bit of a challenge being left handed but I was able to eat without making too big of a mess. The food was delicious, if a little heavy on starch.

After everyone ate, the minister, in a white robe, came out along with all the women in the house and gave his sermon in a strong, clear voice. More singing and then they brought a table outside with a lace cloth on it and several men brought out Steve’s coffin and placed in on the table. There was a simple, hand painted cross with Steve’s name and dates of birth 6/6/1994 and death 2/11/2010. The men opened the coffin and pulled the sheet away from Steve’s face. Oddly, there was cotton in Steve’s mouth and nostrils. No one seemed to know why. The minister then directed everyone to file past to say kwa heri, goodbye. So many people in tears.

The whole congregation walked in silence 1⁄4 mile to the cemetery. The grave had been freshly dug that morning by 3 of the street boys who spent the previous night with Steve’s grandmother. It took them 5 hours. They placed the coffin in the grave and then Steve’s grandmother threw a handful of dirt in the grave as the minister said “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” in Swahili. The cross was pushed into the ground at the head of the grave. Working in shifts several men quickly filled the grave, sweating heavily with the effort. It was nearing sunset and everyone was exhausted with the emotion of the day. Terri was in tears for much of the day as was her husband, Caito. Halima held my hand as we walked back to the bus.

The ride back was filled with quiet recollection of Steve and more than once when people on the bus and at the funeral spoke of his death they said “Africa killed Steve not AIDS” My Swahili teacher told me that’s a common response to an early or unexpected death in Tanzania. I understand completely.

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #4

Ken Russo is spending three months this winter volunteering at The Baobab Home, an orphanage in Bagamoyo, Tanzania that provides care for children with HIV/AIDS. He is documenting his fascinating experiences and sends us periodic updates from his journal. Here is his latest entry. Read about his whole journey starting back at the end of January …

Monday, February 8
Yesterday was a free day but I checked in at Terri’s to see Steve. He looked remarkably better now that the oxygen was flowing properly. It took Terri 3 days to get the right parts for the oxygen tank and apparatus and then, missing the key that starts the oxygen flowing, she had to track down a technician and a key here in Bagamoyo at the local hospital.

Terri told me that the previous evening her son and 2 of his young friends took turns massaging Steve’s back. She had tears in her eyes recounting that sweet story.

Steve’s grandmother visited on Saturday and even though she was crying throughout her visit Steve seemed curiously detached. I suspect he feels abandoned by his grandmother as she had not been to visit in weeks. I sat with Steve for a while massaging his back. When I stopped momentarily he patted his back for me to continue.

Sunday afternoon I walked through the decaying but picturesque old town section of Bagamoyo. The name means “leave your heart”. Bagamoyo was a major slave trading port with slaves being transported for sale in Arab countries. Many of the buildings were actually prison cells and were the last thing the unfortunate people would ever see of Africa before being packed into the sweltering, stinking holds of the slave trader’s ships.

Tanzania was a German colony before being taken over by the British. Several buildings at the beach clinic are from the colonial period.

Today William was not in the kitchen as he was seeking relief for a bad toothache. He had little success getting treatment and will probably have to make his way to Dar es Salaam for proper care. That’s if he can afford it as dental is not part of the free health care provided to all Tanzanians. They gave him antibiotics and said to come back in a week. I have given him advil for the pain but I don’t think it’s making a dent in his discomfort..

After a quiet morning at the clinic I spent several hours with Caroline a 19 year old volunteer from Denmark. Such a poised and charming young woman who speaks unaccented English. She is teaching English and also working with Baobab’s infants. We went to the produce market and I purchased a pineapple for $1 and a bunch of bananas for 30 cents. The market is packed with local organic produce and is filled with women shoppers in colorful, traditional clothing. It’s a visual feast. We talked about trying to find a way to take the street boys that Baobab has educated to a national park about 2 hours north of Bagamoyo. If we can work out the details it would be an excursion the boys have never taken. They have never seen the amazing wildlife that Africa is famous for world wide.

Tuesday, February 9
Watched a movie on my lap top last night called “The White Maasai” based on a true story about a Swiss woman marrying a Maasai man and living with his people. The culture clash was extreme and ultimately she took her daughter back to Switzerland and never saw her husband again.

There are many Maasai in Bagamoyo. They are generally employed as guards or night watchmen. They wear their traditional garb and have such regal bearing. They are extremely polite and reserved. The men have their 2 front lower teeth extracted (I have yet to find the reason why) and they have ritual scarring on their faces.

I take back what I said about the heat and humidity not being overly oppressive. The first four days there was a strong, steady breeze now the air is still. It’s been this way for the last 5 days. It feels like you’re swimming when you walk and your clothes are sopping wet by 9am. The locals must feel the heat also as they all carry handkerchiefs to mop their brows.

After dropping Shobani and Habibu at pre-school Terri phoned. It seems the oxygen machine stopped working and Steve had a rough night. He woke up demanding to be taken to his grandmother so she could take him to the witch doctor. This is what the locals call healers. Terri said he has been to this traditional healer before. He cuts Steve’s arms with unsterilized razor blades and rubs the open cuts with a mixture of herbs. I’m sure there is value in this if only because Steve truly believes in the efficacy of the treatment. But we all know AIDS is a different matter altogether. When the previous president of South Africa, Thabo Mbeki, made a speech telling those with HIV to reject western medicine and seek only traditional care the death toll skyrocketed.

In the early afternoon I took Steve to the clinic here in town. Steve was petulant and uncooperative. The doctor wanted to admit him to administer oxygen until Terri returns from Dar tonight. Steve flatly refused. He is frightened and angry and I get it completely. They gave me meds for his urinary infection and his mood brightened considerably as soon as we got back to Terri’s. I spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies with him and he seemed happy to have the company.

Ken's Journey to Tanzania: Journal Entry #3

Ken Russo is spending three months this winter volunteering at The Baobab Home, an orphanage in Bagamoyo, Tanzania that provides care for children with HIV/AIDS. He is documenting his fascinating experiences and sends us periodic updates from his journal.
Here is his latest entry. Read about his whole journey starting back at the end of January …

Wednesday, February 3

Total chaos at the clinic breakfast this morning! The children, their mothers and a few male prisoners all waiting for uji, the mixed grain porridge, Our cook at the clinic who prepares the uji was a little behind this morning. It took him a while to get the wood fire going in the clinic kitchen. It is straight out of medieval times. A huge vat of porridge that he stirs with a giant wooden spoon and the smoke is so dense you can’t spend more than a few minutes with the cook. He is incredibly good natured and helpful but has no sense of time. I carried the heavy bucket 100 yards to the clinic and Katie, the other volunteer, carried the huge basket of plastic cups. We were immediately surrounded by children and their mothers and we were ladling furiously and working up a sweat in the humid 90 degree weather. In all the chaos no one forgot to say Asante, thank you. Several mothers helped distribute the uji and we quickly ran out the first batch and returned to the kitchen for the second batch. The pace was much slower and I spoke to one of the manacled prisoner. He was in an orange jump suit with a white tag sewn to the front. The tag had the date of his incarceration and of his release. I asked him why he was serving 3 years and he said in broken English “trouble with wife” which was incredibly disturbing. I then spotted Halima (I wrote about her in my previous email) She literally ran over to greet me with a huge smile and a burst of rapid fire Swahili that left me looking at her with a stunned expression. She realized I understood nothing and started laughing which of course got me laughing. I told her pole, pole (slowly, slowly) and I figured out that her 3 foster sons were excited that I will be escorting them to pre-school and that Terri had called her to say I would be at the clinic and she was looking forward to seeing me. She was there escorting a sick friend. There is such joy and kindness in this woman. People are drawn to her as they were at the clinic. I am drawn to her also and there is something else that just occurred to me, she reminds me of my own grandmother.

I took Katie to lunch after the clinic to the nicest hotel in Bagamoyo, The Traveller’s Lodge; yes they spell it with two Ls. It was a nice chance to relax and have a healthy lunch, talk about our hectic morning and get out our emails. The Australian manager, Nicholas, had kindly invited us to use the wireless connection at the hotel for no charge. A very generous offer in Bagamoyo. I sent an email to my HIV doc in Boston inquiring as to whether he knows if it’s possible to somehow get Steve to the US for treatment. He will not live long with what the Tanzanian medical system has to offer. Each day I spend with this beautiful child reveals another layer of his personality, his intelligence and his off beat sense of humor. Today I joked with him and asked him to please climb up Terri’s coconut tree to get me a coconut as I was very hungry. He looked at me and with a huge grin he gestured for me to climb the tree and get one for him to drink because he was thirsty. We both started laughing and he reached out to hold my hand and we just sat quietly enjoying the moment.

I will be sending a separate email with photos to everyone. Unfortunately I don’t know how to re-size my pics and the camera only lets me choose large or small format. A lot of you are not getting the photos because your mailboxes are too small. Sorry about that.

Thursday, February 4
The day started with a great deal of promise and ended with uncertainty. I walked to Halima’s to pick up her 3 foster sons, Shaboni, Habibu and Arthumani. These little guys are break your heart cute. Halima greeted me in her usual open arms fashion. There was picture taking, a lot of smiles and Asantes (thank yous). It was already hot and humid at 8am with no breeze and we had a mile walk on a very busy road. The boys stayed close as the road is intimidating and I delivered them safely to the school yard. Of course there is no getting away easily from a group of school children here as they always come running over to practice their English.

On to have 6 more passport photos taken for my volunteer visa. It was $100 for the tourist visa at the airport and $120 for the volunteer visa. It’s a real scam. After the photographer positioned me for the pics she gave me a sly smile, walked away, came back and handed me a comb. The second I started laughing so did she.

When I delivered the photos to Terri it was obvious Steve was struggling to breathe and he was crying in pain. Terri called a taxi and we were off to the Ocean Road Cancer Institute in Dar es Salaam, about 1 1⁄2 hours away. An x-ray showed a marked deterioration in his lung capacity and his respiration rate was about 60/minute. We met with the oncologist, Trish Scanlon from Canada a woman of great determination and compassion. She said it appears that Steve has systemic KS (Kaposi sarcoma) and his prognosis is very poor. He was so weak I had to carry him back to the car. Pain meds helped as did an ice cream cone. We are working on finding portable oxygen to be administered at home. His blood oxygen level is 73% and should be 95-99%.
I’m so glad I’m here for Terri as Steve is like a son to her and I can see the toll this is taking. Early to bed as there is a 5am wake up call and back to Dar with Steve for an 8am lymph node biopsy.

Friday, February 5
A storm blew in last night around 10pm. For one hour the skies opened up. The rain on the tin roof was deafening and soothing at the same time. It was accompanied by continuous lightning and booming thunder. The lightning lit up the blue mbu (mosquito) net over my bed. The temperature dropped by at least 10 degrees and it was the first time since I arrived that I pulled the sheet over me.

We were on our way to Dar, watching the sun rise over the verdant landscape. Closer to Dar traffic was at standstill and we had a firm 8am appointment at the hospital. We still had 3 or 4 miles to go so Terri, Steve and I jumped out of the cab and flagged down a bejudgee, a 3 wheeled, enclosed motorcycle with a seat for 3 behind the driver. They are ubiquitous in the city. The next 20 minutes we flew down the unpaved, badly rutted shoulder of the road in a mad cap, white knuckled ride where it felt like the vehicle was going to tip over at any moment. The young driver was honking wildly and we were weaving back and forth between the shoulder and the road. Steve was between the 2 terrified adults and slept through the whole ordeal. We were shaky but laughing when we exited the cab and grateful to be back on solid ground. We carried Steve in. He was terrified but stoic and he did very well. The results of the biopsy are due next week. If it’s KS he will not be subjected to anymore poking and prodding and we will move on to palliative care. If it’s lymphoma a decision has to be made around a course of chemotherapy and unless Steve was insistent Terri and I do not want to see him go through it.

We are finally delivering on a week old promise to see Avatar and he is subdued but excited nonetheless. Again, he has so much gratitude for such a small thing.