So much progress!!!!!

This may possibly be my last blog entry until I return to America in 9 days…

But I have so much to share…. So you will need some time to read all that is taking place and the progress that I am making with African Empowerment Project.

My Research:

So I began looking at land in the Kigamboni area with the idea that I might build a volunteer house here in the future and land is fairly inexpensive now but it has been going up rapidly over the past few years. I have been doing a ton of walking to visit different plots, most within walking distance of the ocean. The trouble with this process is that someone will tell you that there is a great piece of land close to the main road and close to the beach which are two of my requests and we get there and after walking for and hour and a half, I discover that close is a relative term. I did find one beautiful plot with a water well already dug and a 3-minute walk to the main road and a 7-minute walk to the beach. I was really excited about this property and was preparing to have the surveyor go and check it with a GPS and check with the municipal office to validate the property boarders etc., and was looking into lawyers in Dar Es Salaam, but yet the whole time something was telling me to hold out…. As you will read in a minute, life has a way of working itself out.

I also have been doing much research in relation to the feasibility and cost of bringing 500 bicycles and 25 sewing machines to Tanzania through Peddles for Progress. Prior to leaving for Tanzania I had a lengthy conversation about what it would take for me to receive a container of bicycles and sewing machines from Peddles for Progress. I have information from the owner of P F P about shipping costs to Tanzania and am meeting with people to learn of the cost and feasibility for port and customs charges, etc., transporting the container to a base to empty, shipping cost for trucking the bicycles to their destination for distribution, storage costs and labor costs for security and distribution of the bicycles. I have most of this information gathered now and will pursue this project further when I return to the US. These bikes can serve as transport for elderly or sick people to hospitals, transport of crops from a farm, goods to sell, transport for a child to school too far away to walk, or transport of just about anything. A bicycle provides a whole new world to many people in Africa.

I have also been researching the costs of solar power for both a sewing center for the 25 sewing machines as well as for power source for a volunteer house in the future. I will continue this research as these projects progress.

This past week I went back to Mnangole village, (you say the ng in the middle of the word like we would say ng in sing without a hard g) to document the water situation there and in hopes of interviewing a few women from the village. The 10-hour ride there is the bumpiest ride I have ever experienced in my life, going over 2 foot deep potholes and boulders, as the road is under construction. Apparently the road is due to be completed this July. The locals say that this will happen just before elections occur… after the elections the work will be at a stand still till the next election, so they are hoping that it is completed on schedule. I am hoping so too!!!

When we arrive at a bus stand on the main road close to Mnangole, we were greeted by 2 motorcycle drivers arranged by Durban’s brother. Then off on a 20-minute terrifying motorcycle ride up a rough and rocky dirt and stone road to our destination. All I could think of the whole time was… What it was going to feel like if we fell, as of course we were wearing no helmets or protective gear. However, we arrived with out a scratch and only muscles as tight as bungee cords from the way I held myself in fear of falling…J

This return trip made me realize that I have really adapted to the local African way of life as using the local toilet and shower (a outhouse made of a red clay floor with a 6” hole in the middle to squat over, a bucket of water and tall grass, and coconut branch walls supported by leaning sticks) was comfortable and felt common place to me.

We were greeted by the children of the village with giggles and smiles and the words ‘picha picha”, translated “photo.” They had recalled the last time I was there, taking photos of them and letting them view each and every on of them. If you are my friend on Facebook you will see all of these photos eventually.

Dinner of rice and brown beans was served to us by Durban’s sister in-law Zamda. I went to bed quite early after a long day of travel yet heard Zamda sweeping and continuing to prepare food for the next day till at least 10:30 PM. Then she was awake again at 5:30 to go gather water, cook breakfast (cooked pumpkin in coconut milk), supervise 2 of the children in dressing in their school uniforms, and cleaning their faces, legs and arms with a cup of water from the bucket. (This crude shower takes place in the back yard directly over the tomato plant so as to feed the plant at the same time that it cleans their bodies.) Then she prepared for the 1-hour walk to the farm. The 9-year-old Atibu, and 12-year-old Ashlafu left at 5:30 am for the farm today to chase the birds from the corn, millet, and beans, lest they eat all their crops. (I wonder of scarecrows would work in Africa?) They came home at 11 in order to attend school in the afternoon. There is not room in the school for all the children in the village to attend at the same time so they each go ½ days. Their mother, however, has much more than a ½ day’s work in store. She leaves for the farm in the morning; harvest the beans, corn, millet, pumpkin, peanuts, cashews and cinnamon. She dries the beans in the sun and bags them to bring home, washes the clothes and hangs over the tops of the bushes to dry, sometimes preparing the beans at the farm and carrying them on her head, back to their home for dinner. She returns home around 6 pm and finishes dinner preparation, then cleaning pots and pans with ash and sand, and dishes with only water, then sweeping, the dirt outside the house and the clay floors inside the house, and around 10 pm or so she finally lays down to sleep again to gain rest for her next 17 hour day. I have spend a total of 7 days at this woman’s house and have never seen her rest except to sit for a moment to eat dinner after all others have been fed. (I was curious for a very long time about this African ritual of sweeping the dirt in front of their homes. It seemed so futile to me as my thinking was dirt was dirt and would still be dirt even after you sweep it. I sweep my floors to remove the dirt but what is this sweeping dirt about? Then one day as I was reflecting on this thought I remembered back to the days when I was 8 or 9 and my girlfriends and I would go into the woods and find a big tree that’s leaves created shelter for us to “ build a play house" for ourselves. We would take pine branches and sweep the dirt, sweeping away all the debris of branches, dead leaves and needles and pinecones, and then would run home and grab blankets and a few snacks and miscellaneous items to make a house for ourselves under this tree. We took pride in how clean and neat the dirt floor of our home looked and would sit and eat our snack of crackers and peanut butter and marvel at what a beautiful home we had created! It was then I understood what this sweeping dirt was all about… pride and dignity.)

So, I had an amazing opportunity while I was there in Mnangole to share my hopes and dreams for them. I had asked Saidi, Durban's brother, the chairman of the village and the owner of the home we were staying in, if he could arrange for me to interview a few women about the water situation in Mnangole and he was happy to coordinate this. He took my request one step further and came to me with an idea. The mayor of the region was coming to the Village to speak to the people about what he is doing for them… (basically bragging about things he has done for them in the past, no hope for positive change in the future.) However, this, he thought was a perfect opportunity for me to speak to a few of the villager who would already be gathered together, about my plans to bring them clean accessible water. A child was sent to the house as a messenger to alert me to go to the town meeting place, (a large empty space under a few mango trees) as there were some people waiting there for me. To my surprise, when I approached the meeting space there were around 100 people gathered on the ground waiting to hear of my plans and prepared to answer my questions. First I greeted them and thanked them for staying to speak with me. My translator, Durban, was of course, there with me! My Kiswahili is coming along… but it is not that good yet! Then I told the women how much I respect and admire how very hard they work. Then I proceeded to ask them questions about the water situation they are faced with on a daily basis with no end in sight. Their voices were filled with passion and heart ache as they described what it feels like to feed your family contaminated drinking water and the labor involved in gathering this substandard water, even to wash your clothes in. “We share our drinking glass with the animals” one man yelled in desperation! But, they said, they have no choice so this is how they to live. They shared many thoughts about the water and then I asked them about the hospital situation and what there thoughts were about bringing sewing machines and bicycles to the village. I expressed concern for the fact that they already work at the farm so many hours in a day, I wondered if the use of sewing machines for income opportunity would be a feasible for the people of this village. The response from that question was filled with… I might even go as far as to say, hostility, as I think it was as if I had handed them pot of gold and then said, “oh, never mind, I guess you can’t really use this” and pulled it way from them. They made it clear that they would find a way to make good use of sewing machines.

I explained to them that they need to work with me on these projects, I need their ideas, insight and support to be successful. I explained to them that I am not rich, that I am not an expert on any of the things I am about to pursue, and that I don’t pretend to understand their hardships, culture and way of life, but that with their help we can find hope for some of the unfortunate situations in Mnangole.

As the conversation between us progressed I was filled with feeling of humility and excitement, as there were frequent outburst of clapping by the entire group. Some of the elder men of the village spoke for extended periods of time expressing gratitude and vowed to stand by my side, support me, and work with me as we set out on this long, difficult but achievable journey. They said they would build a home for me when I am there and they said we will ‘walk together like ants.‘

In the midst of this conversation the elder men began to raise their hands in prayer. 95 percent of this village is Islamic so I thought that it must be time for prayer but they are stuck here in this meeting, so they must pray here. I was not sure what to do or how to react to this, so I was just quite, took a little video of this outburst of prayer and then I just sat in reverent silence till they were finished. It wasn’t till a few days later that Durban remembered to tell me that they were praying to God for blessings on me and my work! These words sent chills up my spine….

This night we told Zamda that we would cook chicken sauce and coconut rice for the family, so we went and got 2 live chickens from the neighbor, went to the one local store in the village to purchase rice, and to another neighbors to buy a coconut. Durban called to a young boy, a relative of some kind, and handed him one of the chickens. Off the young boy went and in 10 minutes returned holding, in one hand, the body of the chicken by it’s neck and in the other hand, the chicken’s head. Meanwhile Durban had revived the fire with coals remaining from morning and had placed a pot of water strategically on the stones over the firewood in preparation for cooking he chicken. I was disgusted and concerned when I saw him place the chicken feathers and all, in the water. My concern was more than I could keep silent so I asked, “feathers too??” With a big grin he replied ”hahaha, no Beth. This makes it easier to remove the feathers!” Thank God!... But then after the chicken had been in the water for a bit he removed the pot and he handed the head to his niece, Niyadu. Then as naturally as if she was handed a piece of candy and she would know to remove the wrapper, she went over to coals and place the chicken head directly on the coals, and then this 4 your old proceeded to use a stick to rotate the head over the coals till it was cooked enough for her snacking pleasure. Please be sure to look at the photos of Niyadu eating all but the beak of this snack of chicken head.

The next day we went on the 1-hour walk to the farm where I was able to observe the ritual of Zamda’s day as described earlier. We sat and watched her slave away while we snacked on fresh beans picked and boiled moments before. We were handed a huge straw basket of bean pods that we proceeded to open, strip of the beans with our teeth and discard of the pod. Then we ate the freshly harvested peanuts that we watched Durban’s cousin dig for us in the neighboring farm and Zamda boiled for us in her makeshift kitchen on the farm.

Upon return from the farm in late afternoon I was prepared to go to the water hole for the documentation of the gathering of water (my purpose in coming back to Mnangole) I was surprised to discover that because of the rain season, there is another source of water that is only a 15-minute walk to what they called the ‘lake.’ I had planned to go back to the water hole that I had seen a few months ago, the 1.5-hour walk to the contaminated water hole. But this lake, a 15 minute walk from the village, is where they get water during the few months of rain season so I must roll with it and see what I find here. ’ My thoughts at this time were …perhaps the need for accessible water is not so great here after all. Following my first visit to the ‘lake’ I was proven so very wrong. They were gathering filthy water from a swamp shared with all of the wild animals of the bush. Mostly women and young girls arrived to the “lake” with buckets atop of their heads. There were a few men that arrived with bicycles to gather water but the only young boys I saw there were those who had been hired for 10 cents to help bring water to our home. Many searched the filthy swamp for the ‘clean” water. While searching, one older woman yelled to these women, “It all has animal feces in it so what are you searching for?” Using scoops made of half of a plastic oil container with the handle still intact, tied to a long stick. They dipped the scoops into the water and transferred the swamp water into their buckets. I was able to get heart wrenching and yet somehow beautiful photos of this process. I was told by Durban that I looked like a real journalist that day! hahaha...When I returned to the mud hut I called ‘home’ for the week, and showered with this swamp water, I felt dirty and sadden that this disgusting water is what they use to “clean” their bodies and dishes with each and every day. Following my shower I sat with Niyadu, the 4 year old who’s home I was staying in. She hopped off my lap, grabbed a cup and went over to the bucket that her mother had just carried on her head from the swamp, scooped up a cup full and satisfied her thirst with this animal feces infested water. I think that is enough said about that… I hope your heart hurts as much as mine does each time I think about this situation. We need to make a change here in Mnangole

So the next day we stopped at the local store and bought up all the bottled water they had in preparation for the 1.5-hour trip by foot to Durban’s grandfather’s village. We stopped at another village along the way to buy sugar and tea, as Mnangole did not have these items in the small shop there. When we arrived, we were greeted by this 120-year-old man with a smile and he recalled that he had met me before. His memory is still good and apparently his eyesight as well as he had met me 3 months ago. Durban explained to him why I was there and he beckoned me to his side, held my hand and prayed asking for blessing on me and my work. Such an amazingly chilling and spiritual experience. On the way home we stopped for more water, and ate the cashews Durban’s friend gifted to us when we arrived in his grandfather’s village, and delicious ______ fruit that we purchased from an elderly man on the side of the road.

When I returned 'home' to Saidi's home I wanted to get video documentation of more of the village so I took a quick shower and headed out before dark. I was able to record a family friend building his home. Actually it was not he alone building the house; it was a family affair. While the father was constructing the frame with sticks from local trees, making double layers of framing about 3 inches apart. The children were gathering and carrying the red clay from the front yard to the inside of what was to be a room some day soon. The women were inside the framing adding water to the clay and forming balls, and placing the balls of clay between the layers of stick frame to make the out side and interior walls of the home. So fascinating to watch! Then I moved on to the rest of the village recording children playing an African form of jump rope, children playing with toy people and ‘doll furniture’ they had made from the clay in their yard. I captured a snippet of the village, the homes, the people and the way of life in Mnangole. I hope that this video will be useful in helping to promote my cause back in America!

While walking around the village following my interview with the village I was approached by many people with ailments, and health issues, looking desperately for any assistance I could give them. We were able to use the ibuprofen as well as the hydrogen peroxide and triple anti-biotic ointment and Band-Aids I had brought with me to treat many nasty wounds and lessen their pain. One woman had the nastiest toes I have ever seen. They were twice the size of her other toes as she had stepped on a stick and some of it remained in her foot for a week. The lesion was deep and wide. We attempted to clean and treat the injury as best we could, gave her some ibuprofen and advised her to go to the doctors the following day. But the hospital is a mile walk from Mnangole and she was not able to walk that far. We treated another young girl who had an open wound from a burn on her ankle. They were so grateful for any health care we could provide. But we are not doctors and Durban finally turned many people away, explaining to them that we do not have the supplies or the expertise to treat the edema, lump in the neck, eyesight problems, and many other ailments that needed professional medical attention. I think after Mnangole gets a water well, they must to get a hospital and sustainable source of funding to allow the people of Mnangole the healthcare they deserve.

Following these experiences my heart was aching to bring volunteers here to Mnangole and build a volunteer house for them to live in but Mnangole does not have the facilities appropriate to bring people from the western world. There is no safe drinking water and too far from the hospital for emergency health care and little to no transport for these things.

The next day I was up at 6 to catch the only dala dala that comes though town at 7:30 AM. We packed, said our goodbyes to our hosts, and were met at the bus stand by many villagers coming to greet us farewell. I was fortunate enough to get the front seat of the dala dala next to the driver. Sitting in the back of this van about the size of a 15-passenger van, holding upwards of 32 people, is a Closter phobic experience to say the least. I had luxury seating today for this 20 minute ride down the rocky road to the main road. It was this perspective from the front seat that allowed me to notice for the first time the beautiful ocean side village of Mchinga. My transport the other 3 times I passed this village I was in the back of a crowded dala dala where the only thing I could see for 20 minutes was the ass and the arm pit of the people pressed up against me, or on the piki piki, (motorcycle) where I was looking down toward the ground to prepare myself for the boulders and ditches in the road that could quite possible throw me (unprotected) from this vehicle at any moment. As we drove through Mchinga I noticed a few small shops selling basic food items, phone cards, bottled water, and a few local restaurants. Mind you local restaurant in Tanzania means “Mama Africa” cooking rice and beans over a fire and serving you with a broken plate on top of a make shift table of scrap wood and logs. Not McDonald’s, but a restaurant, non the less. I also observed that there were newly placed electric (as we call them telephone) poles. This is when I began to think that perhaps there was a chance that volunteers could come to Mchinga and if I had a vehicle, then I could transport them to Mnangole. Here volunteers would have the opportunity to help in so many ways, have the “real” African experience, and yet have a safe and healthy experience as well. ‘But, oh, no hospital’, I thought. Just as the thought entered my mind we arrived at the main road, 3 minutes from the village of Mchinga. Then we took a right on the main road and were immediately at the bus stand we were dropped at to catch the big bus back to Kigamboni. There in front of the bus stand was the dispensary, (small clinic like hospital similar to the one I went to when treated for Malaria). And a half hour drive south brings you to the city of Lindi where there is a hospital, banks, and even cold drinks, and some of the other amenities of the western world. So perhaps some day, AEP will have a volunteer house in Mchinga. Though I have a lot on my plate right now with plans for a water well and then a hospital, I have to dream big!!!!

The morning before we left Mnangole, I met the man who I believe is the beginning of the answer to the prayers of the elders of Mnangole and Durban’s grandfather. Durban’s cousin, one generation removed, came to the door to speak with Durban. He had been the Chairman of the village 10 years ago and he had begun the process of bringing a water well to Mnangole. The is a very educated man who lived in Iran and Iraq, for 10 years and lived in London for a few years as well. He is the only person I met in Mnangole who speaks fairly good English and he wants to help! He told of his futile work with the government trying to bring water to his village. They said that they could not take the chance that there was no water to be found there as Mnangole sits high on a hill but that if they were able to get someone to survey and they found water then perhaps they could bring them a water well. Abdala was able to get a sponsor, a friend from Jordan, to pay for the surveying of the land for water in Mnangole. After $3,000 of work they found water in 3 different places around 120 meters deep. But then the government again did not come through as they said it was too costly to did a well that deep.... So I am his hope and he vowed to help us every step of the way.

First, I must say, though this is a generalization, that African style is that you say that you will meet someone at a certain time and you show up a few hours later, or not at all. In America we call in 'Island time'... in African they themselves admittedly call it 'African time." Abdala dances to the beat of a different drum than many Tanzanians. He came with us on the 10-hour drive back to Dar Es Salaam. He then came to the house to visit the very next day and talk to me about details. While with us he arranged for he and Durban to meet the next day with a drilling company to get details on the cost to drill a well in Mnangole. They were told by this company that the surveyor must go back and confirm that there is still water in the sites they found water and that this surveyor would have to be present at the drilling and accountable if they dig 120 meters and they don’t find water. Then 2 days later Abdala came again to say that he has spoken with the surveying company and they guarantee their findings for 10 years and they would in fact be there when they drill.

This man also thinks outside of the box. He talked about the idea of using the sewing machines to start a school uniform business and set up a market place in Lindi, the local city to sell their wares. I expressed concern for how the village would be able to sustain the maintenance and repair of the pump and generator for the well. After a little thought he shared an idea. I had told him about my hope to bring bicycles to Mnangole and with this in mind he said that they could go to a local Masai village and trade bikes for cows. They would have someone raise the cows for milk and meat and the proceeds would go to pay for the cowhands and the rest would be put in a savings account only for the maintenance and repair of the well. He talked about charging the people a nominal fee for the water and the naïve 'Mzungu' that I am told him I want sure that was a good idea because I was afraid those that could not afford to buy water would go back to the swamp or contaminated water hole for their water. He said it was necessary as the villagers who now use about 60 liters of water a day would begin to use 200 or 300 liters because it is free and easy to obtain. Then he shared a system of ‘donations’ based on ability to pay, similar to a Western taxing system. As I told them in the village meeting, they know best! I told Abdala that timing for the well will depend on funding and that my job now is to go back to the US and raise the funds for the well initially and other projects in the future. He understood, and is as hopeful as I am that this will not take long. I told him, it could take months, even a year or so but that WE would bring clean accessible water to Mnangole some day! He was soooo very grateful as this has been his vision for many years and I believe he will be my biggest supporter, advocate, and confidant as I begin this process. He has a building, (mud hut, but non-the less, a place) to store the bicycles for distribution and knows many people in the beach village of Mchinga and will begin research for me if there is inexpensive land there suitable for a volunteer house. And his son is an educated man who lives in Dar Es Salaam and has a laptop so that is the answer to may communication dilemma!

Lastly about the well; I was hoping to utilize the innovative idea of a ‘Play Pump’ a merry go round, utilizing the energy from children’s play to pump water for the well, but for a few reasons it will not be feasible to use. So now I am hoping to research a wind mill to power the pump for the well in Mnangole.

Some facts, observations, and reflections:

Most of the people in Mnangole have little or no money as they farm and store all that they eat. They literally live hand to mouth in the most basic of the term. If they are lucky enough to raise more crops than they need for their family, they are able to barter for other luxury items such as rice, chickens, transport to visit a family member or the hospital, clothes (most importantly school uniforms), kerosene for lanterns, etc.

Children if they are lucky enough to have kerosene, do their homework by kerosene lantern.

Toothbrushes are stuck between the stalks of the grass walls of the kitchen of Saidi and Zamda’s home, but I’m not sure you can call them brushes, as there are no bristles left on these brushes.

I wonder… are there other crops that they can grow in these villages in order to provide a more well rounded diet for them

I have begun a collection of toy car photos as they fascinate me. I am so impressed with the imagination of these children to create toys from whatever is available to them.

People travel in large groups in the back of a large dump truck type vehicles, to and from church rallies, funerals, weddings, football games, and other important gatherings, often singing or cheering so that when they pass by where you live you can here them coming from far off in the distance. I recently heard a truck load of military men pridefully chanting and singing as they passed.

‘Football’, American soccer, carries with it a deep sense of pride here in Tanzania. Even the most poor of families find money for batteries to listen to important ‘football’ games on old transistor radios. As I was writing this blog tonight I heard a truck load of ‘football’ players chanting and singing and yelling ‘FIRE” as they passed… (a common term used to express excitement, much like an American yelling ‘woo hoo!” in a crowd after a touch down!) This ‘football’ team had clearly won their game tonight.

I think that I have become accustomed to the way of life here so that many things seem so commonplace, that I don’t think to share pieces of the culture that my readers might find interesting. Not only have I become accustomed, but I am actually a part of it in many ways. I can recall while visiting the small city of Pedernales, Ecuador a few yearsa ago, that I was fascinated with the woman living across from the restaurant we were eating at, washing her clothes by hand in a bucket, right outside her home. I even took a photo of her, the green tourist that I was. Perhaps now I could be the subject of a tourist’s photo collection, as many days of the week you will find me in the front yard washing clothes in a bucket. I’m not sure the electric washing machine at my home in Essex Jct., Vermont can clean my clothes as well as I can by hand. If you come by my home this summer and find me in the front yard washing clothes in a bucket or basin you will know why.

When I first arrive in Tanzania I would here kissing sounds (like the sound you make when you call to a cat or dog) while walking along the streets... I would look around wondering who was calling their cat or dog but see nothing. It took me a long while to realize that people... mostly men...use this sound to get the attention of a friend down the road or across the street...or to call a cab, motorcycle or bijaji (3 wheeled vehicle for transporting 2 or three people). The thing that amazes me about this way of calling to someone is that if a cab is driving 40 miles an hour down the road with his window down and you make this sound.... they hear it and turn around to get you!

I LOVE the way the women breast-feed openly and without shame in this country. Such a difference in our cultures in this way. Though most American are not ashamed to wear shirts that show cleavage (some more than we care to see), yet we hide ourselves and cover our breast in public when nursing or some even refuse to breast-feed in public at all. In Tanzania most women are very modest and cover most of their body, only exposing the top of their neck and head, their arms (most covering their shoulders) and will not wear skirts above their calves, yet they openly expose their entire breast to nurse their baby in public. It is such a common part of their culture that no one pays any attention to it. It is a natural necessity and they are not ashamed of it. It's a beautiful thing.

My health:

Following my recovery from Malaria I began to have joint pains in my hands, wrists, feet and ankles which were rather mild during the day, but that would wake me in the early morning.When I got up in the morning I would feel as if I was not going to have use of my hands and feet but within 10 minutes of moving around the pain would lessen and I could function normally. It seemed to be much worse on nights after I had walked many miles in a day, or done a weeks worth of hand wash on a particular day. This coupled with a mild fever and many headaches made me think I must have Malaria again as joint pain, headaches and fever are 3 of the major symptoms… yet I did not feel the fatigue and flue like symptoms typical of Malaria…. But off to the dispensary I went again to be sure. The Malaria test came back negative so they tested me for a UTI yet I had none of the symptoms of a UTI. After discussion with an American friend here, we realized that it must be that when they don’t know how to diagnose an ailment, they default to treating a UTI! J Then the doctor tested me for Typhoid Fever even though I had had the appropriate vaccinations at home for that… but … no Typhoid…. So I was sent home with meds for a UTI and told to drink plenty of juice and water and eat 3 good meals each day and get rest.Baffled by this I got on my computer and did some research and my self-diagnosis is that I may have Chikungunya Virus. It is contracted from a mosquito bite, monkeys can be host for it (which we have in our yard) and it shows up in the form of joint pain in the hands, wrist, ankles, and feet, fever, headaches, and other symptoms. It is not something that is usually treated as it has to run its course and that over exertion can exasperate the symptoms…. So Dr. Beth says that this is what I have. Most of the symptoms have gone away other then come slight joint pain.

So, I believe for now, I will end this blog entry and go to bed. Sorry this entry was so very long but there was so much to share. I will attempt to add more photos and when I return to the states I will continue this blog with more updates as to the status of African Empowerment Project’s progress. Thanks so much for reading and hope you will continue to follow as we move forward making a difference in the lives of the beautiful people of Tanzania.