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.