There Will Be Blood

Thank you for being here... My apologies for a delay in posting. I had some slight health issues to attend to this past week (possibly related to Africa) but I'm okay! I'm thrilled to be here, thankful for life and will share any helpful news for you on the topic once I understand the details myself. However, I am here ;) you are here - let's get started!

The few days before I began working at my placement in Arusha, I took some time to explore the town and grow comfortable with finding my way around. This was a wonderful opportunity to understand the culture and lifestyle as well as the Tanzanian law and how things are run. It's difficult to find a proper formality to what the laws are because we have to understand what is more socially acceptable for them and also the open awareness of corruption. Please understand that I chose Tanzania for this first mission because it has a history of being peaceful and I do believe it is, but as with many African countries, there is, indeed, corruption.
I enjoyed a nice lunch in town one day with another volunteer and we decided to walk home, but in the process of doing so, a dala dala backed straight into us. (If you don't know what a dala dala is, please refer to my last post). The traffic in Arusha is horrendous! There are no lane dividers painted on the road and if there are they are very hard to see; no one pays any attention to them. There are cars, buses, bicycles, motorbikes, dogs, goats, people. It is acceptable to pass the person in front of you for whatever reason they deem necessary, so you almost always see a car/bus coming at you head on before it scarcely squeezes its way back into traffic; Matrix style; you think I'm kidding, eh? The volunteers always said that out of all the ways for one of us to go in Africa, it'd probably be from getting hit in traffic. This dala dala driver either did not pay attention or simply did not care who was behind him and hit the gas in reverse, too hard. I jumped out of the way, as did my friend and a couple other locals. He drove off into the intersection to go about his way, laughing. We stood there in shock and I realized that a police officer standing nearby had seen it all.

Several people started shouting and complaining and I realized this would not go unsettled. The tall, robust officer dressed in his crisp white uniform and hat slowly made his way over to that dala dala; I could see the tension in his body like a cat ready to pounce. In fact, I could feel it. "Okay. How do they deal with this here?" I thought. "Warning; ticket?" He banged on the window as the driver realized he'd been caught. After an eyeing down like I have never seen before, the officer yanked, and I mean yanked the driver out of that vehicle. He pulled him into the center of the intersection and after very few words exchanged in Swahili, he beat him. I've never seen anything like it. Slapping and punching him in the head. The driver was down on his knees begging the officer to stop.

"Mzungu!" said the officer pointing over to us. Mzungu means "white person" and you will hear this about fifty times a day walking down the street (it is not derogatory, rather, it's friendly). "You almost hit them!" he shouted in Swahili. Then the officer motioned for me and the other locals to come over and join the scolding.

"Acha. Acha. Hapana, hapana asante" I told the officer (Stop. Stop. No, no, thank you). I wanted no part of it. But that is how things are dealt with there - the physical aggression is seen as much more acceptable and warranted. And so I understood it when I would later hear the teachers at school telling the children they will beat them if they misbehave. Those children see instances like that of the officer every day, often in their homes, and so they know it means business.

The next day, my final day before beginning at placement, a couple of volunteers and I rented motorbikes to travel to the town of Moshi ("Smoke" in Swahili).
The ride was, in a word, beautiful. The land is so vast and open; green hills stretching for miles, baobab trees, mountains, goats, children herding animals, women walking along the side of the road carrying food and supplies...

Heaven on earth. And midway into our journey...

We were stopped by the police.

"Identification, please" he says. Well, I'd been instructed never to take my passport or ID out with me because if I lose it in the country, it will be very difficult to get home. No problem, the driver has got his.... Well... no, he was sure he had it, but accidentally left it back at the volunteer house. Admittedly not a smart move. "Where are you going? What's in your bags?" the officer questioned. I can't explain it, but you can just feel that they want something else from you. Money? Who knows. It's an awful feeling. "Well... now you are to be punished," he said. "I will punish you. Get off the bike."

Alright... after everything I'd seen with the dala dala driver, you can only imagine what was going through my head. I think I had about 95 talks with God in a matter of 30 seconds. I'm in a country where my own laws mean nothing and I mean it when I say that you just instinctively feel there are ulterior motives. The other volunteer kept trying to explain the situation and asked to be let go. "No" the officer said. "Well, what is the punishment?" we asked. He just stared. Realistically, the punishment was whatever he felt like and that is a terrible feeling. You feel no justice to anything.

After my 95 talks with God in 30 seconds and putting my heart back into my chest, I went back to the truth of the situation and tried to reason with myself that this should not be a big issue. "We're volunteering," I said and allowed the other to explain where he'd been volunteering for the past few months, etc. We finally saw a change in the officers eyes and he eventually let us go.

The truth is, this officer just more than likely wanted money. "They've taken money from us before," another volunteer explained, and that's where corruption comes in. After stepping away from the situation, I know he would not have physically harmed us because the fact is, they know we're there to volunteer and are also helping their economy. I do not think this is a bad man and I do believe the Tanzanian police are good in their country, but you just have to realize that it's accepted, they will take advantage of you and take your money. Granted, I'm sure things like this and that of the beating have happened here in the U.S., but I can confidently say this particular type of corruption happens all the time over there. Must be honest, maybe the most scared I've ever been.

More photos of the journey to Moshi...


A raw appreciation for one another and the earth.


This beautiful boy flagged us down on the way back. Children are always waving with excitement and hope, but I'm thankful we could stop for this child. "Pesa??" he asked (Money?). "Hapana. Pole sana" I told him (No, I'm very sorry). "Pen? Pen?!" he said in Swahili, staring into my backpack. "Yes, take this pen" I told him. "There!!" he pointed to another I didn't even know I had. "Yes, please take." I gave him whatever I had. "Book?" he asked in Swahili. "No books... pole sana." I said with regret. Again, he begged, "..books??" "No, I don't have any"... although I wish more than anything I had.

I'd never seen someone longing for something so bad... but, it would not be the first time on this trip I'd see a longing in someone's eyes so deep, so immense... the next time I saw it, I will explain for you later... It's.. it's hard. I gave him whatever I had on me at that moment and knew it would not be enough to sustain... but if it's at least a piece of life, a piece of hope, a piece of will for him... then yeah, I'll start there. We'll start there. And one may think, well where the hell does that "piece of hope" or "piece of life" get you?

I will show you... I will show you in posts to come... of real life heroes; angels on earth. Those who make every waking moment more meaningful, poignant; important. You will see... we will see... I'm with you the whole way.

Thanks for being here...

Special thanks to Gino Pennacchio.