Saying Goodbye
On Friday I made my last trip to Kiuyu Mbuyuni (for now), stopping by to talk with the District Commissioner and the District Planning Officer on the way. I went with Adi from the JP5 program and was happy to see that after all the discussions and tension about his expectation that I would pay per diems, things were good between us. I had asked him to help me give updates to everyone – leadership and people in the village – about where things stand with the project.
The district commissioner was most concerned to know about job creation: how many jobs would be added within the district. I told him that we had hired one person from the mainland and were hoping to hire one from Wete, and that there were still several other jobs open, which we hope to fill from Micheweni. I asked them about ongoing communication and how they wanted to interact with the project. They suggested that the Team Leader attend the quarterly District Planning Meeting, and I assured them we would be happy to have him do that.
We then went to the village, stopping on the way so I could photograph the schools. Aside from the fact that I hadn’t been inside the school, I wanted to be more conscious of the distance from school to the village. Way too far for a 7-year old to walk comfortably (at least by my American standards). Especially when the payoff for the 2-3 km walk is a filthy, crowded classroom with overtly wrong information on the blackboard and at least 100 other students vying for one under-trained teacher’s attention.
We drove on to the village market where the men convene in the afternoons. I had brought the photographs from previous visits and the men had a good time passing them around. Adi walked into the market – a kind of covered piazza. Women aren’t normally allowed to hang out in the market, so I asked for permission to enter. A man shook his head sternly, so I stayed outside while Adi started to talk to a few of the men. Then he motioned for me to join him, but I was reluctant. Finally, when several of the men told me to go in, I went and stood in the middle to address them. I explained that even though they hadn’t seen me for a while, I wanted to assure them that we had been working to set up the project and that the first thing that would happen – and probably within a month’s time – was community engagement. That we would start a process of engaging people in conversations about what they wanted to see for Kiuyu Mbuyuni in the future and how they would prioritize the projects. Almost immediately they started arguing with each other about what needed to get done and whose fault it was that there were problems. Someone started yelling at Kivaga, the “village vice president” about illegal fishing and soon everyone was yelling. Then someone said the first thing is that we need a road. So then I explained that we weren’t going to make decisions now and that the process of engagement would involve listening not only to those who spoke the loudest but those whose voices were often unheard.
The men kept arguing and I finally walked out to play with the children who had gathered just outside the market to watch the ongoing mzungu TV show that I seem to have become for them. I asked Adi if we could go talk to the women, and so we walked over to the Dispensary and a few of the same women who had met with us before came to talk. But on the way the children were following me and we were singing and running after each other. At one point, I turned to run after some kids and slipped in the sand, falling flat on my ass. It made me laugh. There I was in this baibui, looking every bit the good Muslim lady on a crazy hot day, lying in the sand. The children thought it was hysterical although some of the parents got mad at them for laughing at me. But of course I was laughing too. I got up and continued toward the dispensary. The children started singing an antiphonal song having something to do with Pemba ng’ombe. I didn’t completely understand it, but I repeated what they sang and we went on like that dancing and singing right up to the doorway.
I gave the same speech more or less to the women. And said that I wasn’t sure whether or not I would be back after my trip home. But that regardless the project was going forward and they would be heavily involved in planning. I ended by saying that whether or not I was present, my heart was in Kiuyu Mbuyuni, whereupon Kivaga, who had come with us for the meeting with the women, said (and Adi translated) that if my heart was in KM, I should marry this old guy he patted on the shoulder. They all laughed. I said, “OK, badai…” (Badai, meaning “later” is a normal parting phrase, as in “see you later.”)
We drove back toward Chake, dropping Adi at his house on the way. I still had a last meeting at the PHL to talk about a possible implementing agreement between the Ivo di Carneri Foundation, the PHL, KPMG and Millennium Villages Project – a complicated but potentially fruitful partnership. They had several very good concerns to talk about – mostly about ensuring that the work was good, that they had the ability to monitor the team leader and a few other management, organizational and financial issues. I suggested that they write a letter to Jeff outlining what they offer in terms of expertise and experience and what they require to take on the project. We agreed, and with that my work was finished. And I was completely wiped out, having spent too much time trying to answer questions for which I didn’t have answers. Basic stuff – am I coming back soon? Is my plan approved? Is anyone waiting for something else from me? Here I have absolutely no power to make executive decisions, the stakeholders have high expectations, and I’m hot, exhausted and worried about the challenges that await me in New York. So when the wonderful Giovanna from IdC, who just arrived along with a whole group of Italians, asked, “Sei stanca?”(are you tired?), I started to cry. “Pole sana,” the Swahili answer to tears – is so ubiquitous that it has entered the lexicon of expats from all countries.
In fact, my work is done here for now. I did what I was asked to do: built relationships, hired a team leader and wrote a project plan and budget. So yesterday was a day at the beach. Literally. Misali Island. Marco and the people from the IdC had arranged for a couple of boats to take us to Misali, a protected island of extraordinary coral reefs, mangroves and white sand beaches. We went snorkeling (my first time), ate fish soup prepared by local fishermen and hiked around the island. I had my video camera with me and climbed only a little way up a tree to try to get a good shot of something and perhaps spot some monkeys. But the branch I was holding onto gave way a bit and I lost my footing, falling upright onto the coral and sand below. My left foot hit coral, right along the outer edge just in front of the heel. At first I thought I might have broken a bone, but it seems to be just bruised and a little bloody. So now I’m limping a tiny bit. Back at home Stefano, the surgeon, cleaned it off, put a bandage on and suggested that I skip running for a day.
And so, with a bit of a limp and a ton of luggage, I head for the airport for two days of meetings in Unguja: tonight I will give a talk on the MVP to a group of students from Lewis & Clark University who are visiting Zanzibar with a professor who teaches in Nairobi and is heavily involved with the Aga Khan Foundation; tomorrow I have breakfast with someone we’d like to hire for the project then attend the annual planning meeting for the Ministry of Health; Tuesday I meet with the Ministry of Finance and then off I go for a day in Dar and the flight home.
