8 Feb
Inquiring Minds
The current unit of inquiry in Anders’s class is land use, so what better way to study the issue than to embark on a two-night camping trip to West Kilimanjaro?
A poplular part of the ISM curriculum is the Outdoor Pursuits program, where the school integrates camping into the world famous surrounding landscape. Each class takes one major outdoor trip per year, culminating in the summit of Kilimanjaro during the high school years. It’s one of the things that I think is so unique to ISM. C’mon, how many kids get to climb Kilimanjaro in high school?
Always open to chaperoning opportunities, particularly camping in Africa, I signed on as official photographer. We loaded the ISM truck/cattle car in Moshi and met the Arusha campus P5-6 students and teachers at a private farm where we set up camp for seventy people. I volunteered to keep Anders’s teacher Cindy company in her mostly dust-free 4WD, as opposed to riding in the truck. (See previous post “Field Trip”) Hey, someone had to do it.
Only an hour plus away from campus, the setting was magnificent. Fields of bright yellow blooming hemp carpeted the hills, snow-capped Kili towering in the background. Pinch me I thought; I can’t believe I’m here.
Once vehicles were unloaded and tents erected, we set off for an “icebreaker” swim in a nearby river. The hike down was steep through a jungle-like canopy of lush green foliage. The water turned out to be a great equalizer, bringing the kids together in one of those activities where no one cares which campus you’re from.
Back at camp, dinner prep was in full force. Menu planning at an International school is all-accommodating meaning, there’s always a vegetarian option and never pork without beef. (and vice versa) Chicken and vegetable curry was on the menu, but somehow the curry didn’t get packed. Thankfully, Cindy had driven God-knows-where during the swim to fetch some, along with ingredients to make a stew in her native South African potjie. After dishing up the “chicken” (I never knew chickens had so many bones) curry to campers, I was grateful the adults had a different option. Delicious!
Surprisingly, campers went to sleep without much resistance while the adults sat on the veranda sipping red wine that someone wisely packed along. ‘ Twas a lovely way to end the day.
The week before the trip, students were divided into study groups, each with a different focus on land use. Anders was assigned to tourism; others included forestry, avocado farming, and a lumber mill. Each group had prepared questions to ask their hosts in an attempt to understand the impact of that particular industry on the land.
I drove with an Arusha teacher Natalie, in her old Land Rover, a ‘la Indiana Jones with four girls in the back seat. As we drove the bumpy, dusty, brown road in the African bush, I really felt like I was in a movie. Something about a teacher at a girls school driving a Land Rover to amazing places learning new things, fixing their own flat tires, and navigating their way through the bush without getting lost. (which we did) As far as I was concerned, the screenplay was just waiting to be written.
Our group posed questions to a blonde, Robert Redford-esque fellow named Peter who owned eleven thousand acres of bush. As he saw it, his job was to preserve wildlife and promote tourism. The kids did a great job of engaging him in a dialogue about the issues related to owning land in Tanzania and using it to protect wildlife, sometimes at the misunderstanding of locals. Words like “impact” and “sustainability” were used heavily by both the students and Peter. The added bonus for this study group was we got to take a short game drive around the park where we visited the man-made watering hole designed to attract animals.
We arrived back at camp later than expected. Poor Cindy was stooped over the barbeque grilling burgers and hot dogs for seventy, using salad tongs in place of a proper spatula. She was covered with soot. Again, the adults were spared the institutional meat selections and instead partook in Cindy’s homemade sausages for which she is famous. Three cheers for teachers!
And then, the highlight of the trip…what campout would be complete without a talent show and marshmallow roast?
The wind picked up and rain was in the air. After securing umpteen rain flies and tucking campers into their tents, I joined the folks on the veranda for an adult beverage. This time, I was exhausted. I could hardly get up from my camp chair and walk to my tent. Once I was inside, the rain came down together with a whipping wind. I fell asleep to the sound of rain falling on my tent and the mysterious smell of something frying in the air. I was camping in Africa. It was another very good day.
I stumbled out of my tent the next morning in search of coffee. Next to the French press was a huge pot filled with gorgeous pancakes. Apparently, the polio-stricken school cook had been up all night preparing them for the seventy of us. He never went to bed! Natalie rightfully gathered the troops and organized a student-led, Swahili thank you combined with a rousing Hip Hip Hooray. I think the cook blushed.
Time to break camp, in a light rain no less. Imagine fifty-eight kids disassembling twenty-five tents, stuffing sleeping bags, and haphazardly shoving stuff into their backpacks. Some know what they’re doing; many don’t have a clue. Some are working hard; some are hardly working. Some are voicing their sadness at leaving and returning to the boarding house. The Lost and Found section swells with random things like underwear, water bottles, clipboards, wet clothes, single shoes. Litter is picked up, diesel engines start, trucks are loaded.
Field Study 2010 is over. Everybody’s dirty. It’s time to go home.
5 Feb
Field Study
I’ve just returned from chaperoning Anders’s class Field Study trip to West Kilimanjaro. We’re both about as dirty as this dishwater but, it was well worth the sacrifice.
Stories to follow.
29 Jan
A River Rages Through It-Day 8
Morning light and still raining. David confirmed I hadn’t been dreaming in Italian. He also shared my concern about how we’d leave the camp and ultimately get back to Moshi. At this point, it had officially been pouring for twelve hours.
From the dining room, we could see the brown river below us moving at breakneck speed. The proprietor assured us that when the river ran as it was currently, we could simply walk with our gear across the (rickety) footbridge and meet our driver on the other side. Just as I started to imagine the logistics involved to do so, Simon arrived on schedule. How did he get here?
As we left camp, we unexpectedly came upon a herd of about twenty bull elephants. Males live separately from the matriarchal clan, either alone, or in bachelor herds. So far, we’d only seen females with calves, so this was something new. They surrounded our car and eventually ambled together towards a common destination . We could practically reach out the windows and touch them. Simon commented it was the largest bull herd he’d ever seen.
It seemed to me that we were driving away from the river, but my sense of direction is abysmal. I didn’t realize we were even close until I heard Simon calmly say, “Hold on.” With 20/20 hindsight, it was probably a good thing Simon didn’t consult me as to whether he should drive through the river. Instead, he just did it. I think I held my breath for the duration and looked wide-eyed at David as if to say, “Can you believe this?” I didn’t know where to focus; deep water raged all around us. I fumbled for my camera. The low gear of the engine whined. Then, just as quickly as it began, it ended as we climbed out of the riverbed onto the muddy bank. What a thrill!
It wasn’t just the river that was running; the dirt roads leading out to the main thoroughfare were flooded beyond their normal boundaries. Huge puddles the size of small lakes covered the road and encroached upon the Maasai bomas. Small children stood in the mud barefoot and barely dressed calling out for “chakula” (food) from the steady stream of retreating safari vehicles.
Next destination: Arusha. The final stop was the Snake Park at Meserani just outside the city. It felt a little strange to go from observing African animals in the wide open of the Serengeti to now visiting a very run-down zoo. (although, these were the types of animals I’d prefer not to see in the wild) Our park guide was quite knowledgeable about the various indigenous snakes inside the dirty glass display cases. Faded, curled photocopies of Ripley’s Believe it or Not-like photographs were taped to the glass, including one of a man in South America who had been swallowed whole by a python. (Half his body was inside the python, half out) This particularly appealed to a certain ten year-old, and thoroughly disgusted the mother. Along with snakes, the park housed crocodiles at varying stages of development, also not so appealing to the mother.
Sadly, it had to end sometime. We headed back home to Moshi, trying to absorb all we’d seen in the past week. Tanzania is fortunate to be home to some of the most beautiful places on the planet. And we were even more fortunate to have seen them.
27 Jan
The Year of the Pachyderm-Day 7
New Years Day! No customary cold, grey drizzle, or college football. Instead, a game drive through the now-familiar Tarangire National Park which at this time of year, has the largest concentration of elephants in Tanzania.
After a week of traveling in various national parks, including staying at a myriad of lodging establishments, Lena and I awarded the main entrance to Tarangire National Park the dubious distinction, “Best Women’s Restroom” in Tanzania. These kinds of things become noticeable when you’ve been on the road, especially in a developing country. After a while, you enter each one thinking it can’t possibly be worse than the last stop and behold, it is. Then you come upon a place like the award winner and you realize wow, I’m not gagging and you breathe a sigh of relief. These atypical places are a wonderful surprise and are like, well, a breath of fresh air. If you’re in the area and are in a position to choose, wait it out for this one. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.
January 1, 2010 was a stifling hot day in Tarangire. The kind of hot where it feels like you can’t quite catch your breath, as if you’re trying to breathe inside an oven. There was no breeze, no atmospheric movement at all. No wonder we found elephants wherever there was water or mud. I seriously wanted to join them.
Besides herds and herds of elephants, we saw two lionesses and a leopard, our first cat sighting in Tarangire. The heat finally triumphed over any desire to find more animals and we requested to check in early at Tarangire River Camp. The dusty drive was in the same place where we’d driven aimlessly in the dark in August. (see previous entries “Lost and Found Pts 1,2”) This time, our guide Simon knew where he was going and crossed a wide, dried up riverbed to reach the camp. I wondered how/if the camp was accessible when the river was running, noticing a rickety footbridge stretched the width of the evaporated river. It looked like it hadn’t rained in years.
Rolling out of the car dusty, thirsty, and yes, a wee bit cranky, we settled in to the very comfortable tent where the heat followed us. The air was so thick and stagnant; I wanted a nap but could hardly breathe.
Around dinnertime, thunder and lightening gave warning to ensuing heavy rains. We went to bed snug in our comfortable beds, the crash of rain around us. I was thankful for a reprieve from the heat. It poured all night long but unfortunately, it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the voice of the Italian child in a nearby tent who talked without interruption for what seemed like hours. Lying awake, it did give me the opportunity to wonder what the river would look like in the morning.
