Graduation

Today was the graduation ceremony for the Nyadire Teacher's College.  The strangest part was how similar it was to our graduation.  Granted, there were parts that were very different than at home, but for the most part it was what we would expect.  All the students were wearing robes and the graduation hats with the tassel.  Since graduation is an official event, it was done in English (thankfully) so I could understand it.  

The ceremony started an hour late, which is exactly on time according to African Time.  Reverend Tsiga opened with a prayer and a handful of dignitaries gave little speeches congratulating the graduates.  The audience was divided into two halves.  On one half sat the graduates facing the stage.  Interestingly, on the other half sat the families of the graduates, but they were facing the graduates.  Like every graduation, it started late, went too long and was too hot.  Nothing really notable happened until the groups starting giving presentations.  

The first group to present was the preschool.  They each stood in front of the audience and recited nursery rhymes.  Rather than face the audience, they faced the stage.  I guess that they were presenting to the dignitaries rather than the audience.

After the ECD presentation, the primary school presented a traditional dance.  The dance was the highlight of the ceremony, or at least the part that I sat through.  Luckily, we had a camera and got a video of it.

Sorry for the poor quality, this was shot with a normal camera, not a camcorder.  Also three of the Home of Hope kids are in the dance.  Tinotenda is in the white shirt, Lindiwe is in the green and Tineshe is the boy on the left side.  I am not sure why, but Lindiwe only shows up half way through the dance.

AH.  So the video is working right now.  The internet is too slow.  Im going to try and upload it again tomorrow.

Fara

So far, I have avoided the hospital.  Maybe subconsciously I have been trying to avoid the most visible  signs of the desperation of Zimbabwe or maybe I've been busy.  Either way, I could not avoid it forever.

Yesterday morning our group split up into a variety of activities.  Mary Beth took a group to register orphans for her support program, the pastors went to a conference and Natalie, Maddie and I went for a walk.  This walk was more successful then notable previous walks.  Regularly getting lost early on in my stay seems to have helped me to find my way around now.  Our walk is a story in itself.  I will defiantly write about it soon.  It is an interesting story about me, Natalie, Maddie, Fatty, Lancelot and a bag of groundnuts.  

This story is about when I got back from the walk.  We returned a little after lunch and caught up with the other groups.  After sharing the story of our walk, Mary Beth and Cathy narrated their experiences with the orphans.  Our story was interesting, theirs was traumatizing.  

Mary Beth had sent one child (a nine year old I believe) to the hospital because they had an infected eye.  After examination, the doctor informed us that the child had a tumor in his eye.  The child, Fara, was sitting in the waiting room waiting to be transfered to Harare to have the tumor removed.  Cathy and I decided that we would go to the hospital and wait with him.  

We found Fara sitting alone on a bench with a tumor in his eye.  The teachers who had helped walk him to the hospital were outside socializing.  There was not a single person comforting the nine year old.  This really struck me.  Fara had no one.  He was an orphans living with his step-parents (ya, step-parents, we are trying to figure that out too).  His school sweater was too big, which covered the large rip down the side of his pants.  

Cathy and I sat down and tried to comfort Fara, which was difficult to say the least.  How do you comfort a nine year old orphan with a tumor in his eye?

Me:  "Unonzi ani?" (What is your name?)

Fara: "Fara"

Me: "Ndinonzi Ben, anonzi Cathy.  unoda kudya here?" (My name is Ben and she is Cathy.  Do you want to eat?)

Fara didnt even respond.  He just grabbed the granola bar we were offering, clapping his hands in thanks.  He ate two granola bars in less than a minute.  

The doctor later informed us that they couldnt do anything without the stepfathers permission, so Fara was sent home.  I am going back today, but  I am guessing that the family will not be able to afford the operation.  In that case, Fara will be lucky to blind.

As we were leaving the hospital, Diane approaches the boy and offers him a little stuffed dog.  And Fara smiled and laughed a little.  This was unbelievable.  Fara was scared, hungry and confused, but stilled have room to smile.  The last memory I have of Fara is him walked away from the hospital holding his stuffed dog, smiling.  I have no idea how he managed to smile, but it was a sight to see.

In shona, Fara means happiness.

Mutoko Ruins

This  blog is a big deal.  I FINALLY figured out how to put pictures in my blog.  So, not only will this blog be heavily illustrated, but I will go back and add pictures to my other entries.  Since most of my entries regard culture, money, and little quirks that I have found in Zimbabwe that may ring a little dissonance with Western thinking, I will mix it up this time.  This blog is about history and trying to get you readers a visual idea of Zimbabwe.

Recently, the first mission team arrived in Zimbabwe and my stay has drastically cha

nged.  No longer I am the lone murungu (white person) in Nyadire, which prompted one individual to make me an honorary member of the Shumba (lion) totem.  Instead, I am here with 13 others, watching as they try and adjust to a totally different lifestyle.  In many ways its awesome, but I am finding that the true Zimbabwean culture is being hid behind their incredible hospitality.  There is no thrown-in-the-pool moment and I miss that.  Anyway, several people have been pestering me to include them in our blog, so.... STEPHANIE....NATALIE...MADDIE.....  happy?

Today, we took an excursion to see the Mutoko (moo-toe-ko) Ruins.  The ruins are 

the remains of an old civil

ization (14th century) that built their houses from rocks.  No mortar or anything.   They just relied on gravity.  In our schools, there is almost no education in African history, so many people assume that not much noteworthy has happened in Africa.  That is not even a little bit true.  Zimbabwe is named after these amazing stone structures which are found in several locations around the country.   The name Zimbabwe actually means house of stone in Shona.  While the structures are cool, they were defiantly not the best part of the excursion.  

After the ruins, we kept climbing.  We kept to the path as we explored the immediate area around the ruins...

.for a while.  Being more adventurous, Maddie and I decided to forge a new trail.  Which meant climb.  Literally climb.  We had found a HUGE boulder that stuck out of the side of the mounta

in and we just new the view would be unreal.  So we climbed boulder after boulder.  Then a tree. Then more boulder.  This climb was partially vertical and mostly dangerous.  But, the view was unre

al.  I really did not want to take a picture because I knew that there was no real way to communicate the beauty of the view.  This is only a sliver of what we saw, but is pretty common for Zimbabwe.  Note the amazing contrast between the flat country side and the mountains.  Once again, even in geography, Zimbabwe is a land of extremes.  Also, if you look carefully, you can see several huts.  

After finishing our climb, we climbed in the Land Rovers and raced to see the rock paintings.  We once again embarked on a climb.  Only this climb as a slightly steeper angle and eventually  found ourselves in a cave with probably 50 different paintings.   Once again, I have no good picture worthy of representing this view.  Instead, I have almost a hundred small pictures, but I hope this one picture will do.The dye used for the painting is a mix of animal blood with different clays and minerals.  Many of the painting were obviously painted using fingers and I just a chance to run my fingers along the same paths as the artist who created the paintings.  That was a truly awesome moment.  Seven centuries ago, an artist found himself in the same cave on the same mountain in the middle of Zimbabwe and traced the same finger strokes that I did.  For me, that rose goose-bumps.  It also made me think, "Woah, I am actually in Africa". 

Hopefully you guys enjoyed the pictures and got some visualization of Zimbabwe.  I am going into Harare on Wednesday or Thursdays, so I will try and take pictures and post them.  Until then, thanks for reading as always....

Ben

Environment Implications of a Dividing Worlds

As the world globalizes, we are beginning to realize several faults with our new small world.  The first is, the world is not equal.   Not even a little bit.  There are rich countries, like the USA and Europe, there are developing countries like China, India, Brazil, and there are terribly poor countries like the Sudan and Bangladesh.  Zimbabwe would fall into the category of poor countries.

The second issue that is plaguing our globalizing world is the Need for Green.  We are realizing that our way of life is killing the world.  As you have hopefully noticed, in the last year or so, there is a growing sense of urgency to clean up our act and try and make our way of life environmentally sustainable.  Businesses are promoting green products, grocery stores trying to use less bags, ect...  While we are a long way away from having that happen, I am glad that we are starting to realize that issues like the environment are CRUCIAL and cannot be ignored any longer.  What people haven't realized though, is that the rich countries are not the only ones killing the world.  Poverty and environmental degradation often go hand in hand.

We are killing the world because we have the money to care, but we don't.  The poor countries are killing the world because they cannot afford to save it.  Most people here do not seem to notice the implications of individual actions towards the environment.  For example (and everyone here does this), after finishing a coke or candy bar, people here just throw the can/wrapper on the ground.  EVERYONE.  I have noticed more litter here than most places at home.  And the first problem is education.  Its not that people do not care, its that people do not know.  Since we are struggling with the repercussions of our offenses against the environment, when we see someone litter so blatantly its shocking.  However, in Zimbabwe, people have no idea what the implications are of littering.  Already, goats are dying from eating the litter on the ground.

The second problem is with the infrastructure.  At least in Nyadire, there are no alternatives to throwing the trash on the ground.  There are no real garbage services (at least not here, I'm not sure about the cities).  So people either throw their trash on the grounds or burn it.  Everyone has a trash hole behind their house in which they burn the days trash.  Everything.  Plastic wrappers, coke cans, paper, ect....  This is not only a little dangerous towards peoples health, its terrible for the environment.  

The third and fourth problems are an ineffective government and individual poverty.  When the electricity is out, the only way to cook food is my fire.  Fires need firewood.  And to get firewood trees need to be cut down.  So treecutting is a decent business here.  However, there are no regulations to how many trees you can cut down, where you can cut trees, or how many trees you have to replant.  I mean, there are laws, but the fines are so minimal they are essentially a small tax on the business and do not discourage people from cutting down trees willy-nilly.  Most individuals cannot really be blamed though.  If you are making $100 a month, you would not stop cutting down trees for the sake of the environment.  Feeding yourself and your family comes first.  So I understand.  However, something needs to be done.  A bunch of department heads here understand the need to save the trees and went to the police stations last week to report some treecutters who had decimated the area around their houses and were now infringing on Nyadire property.  The police would not come.  Why?  The world cup was on.

I am going to abruptly end the post with that story because that is as Zimbabwe as you can get.  If there is one story to sum up my stay in Zimbabwe, that is it.  The law stopped because soccer was on.

Of Banks and Men

Sorry.  That title is terrible, but it beat Bankwars:  The Interest Rate Strikes Back.  This article is about banks and people, so the title is a little fitting and we are all just going to have to live with it.  I'm really just picking up from the last entry about investment, so I would advise you to read that first.

Yesterday, Chiimba asked me if I wanted to go to the bank in Mutoko with him.  Being an economics major, the idea of going to a bank in Zimbabwe actually excited me, so off we went.  Mutoko is the closest town to Nyadire and is only a 15 or 20 minute drive (I think, I keep falling asleep in the car).  We finally arrive at a little strip mall that has a couple banks, a couple general stores and an internet cafe.

While waiting in line, Chiimba started complaining that bank charged too much for his account.  As an economics major, my first reaction was a loud "WHAT?".  He then explained that the bank charged $20/month for having an account and that he wanted to switch banks because the one across the street charged $10 less a month.

Thats not how banks work.  At least, not in the US.

In the US, banks provide an interest rate as an incentive to put money into their accounts.  They then invest that money into different types of loans.  The money that the banks makes is the return off of the loans.

So why do the banks in Zimbabwe work differently?

I have several different theories.

First.  Defiantly in the rural area, with a low wage rate, individuals are not saving much.  Most of their incomes go to necessary purchases.  With a low saving rate, banks have little funds available to turn around and invest.  Secondly, according to my research, Zimbabwe has still have a high interest rate, so the loans are expensive.  With little disposable income (I am redefining this term to include the income available to an individual after taxes and buying all necessary item, like food) individuals would be unable to pay back loans if they did take them out.  Therefore, banks in Zimbabwe are unable to operate in the ways banks normally operate.  Without the profits from loans, banks must use charges on saving accounts to create a profit.  

Weird.

Ok.  The power is out again and we are using the generator, but we decided to close early so I have to go.  Thanks for reading,

Ben

The Dark Continent

Anyone who has ever tried to build a time machine has never been to Africa.

My first real moment of dissonance occurred in the middle of my flight to Zimbabwe.  I left Pittsburgh early in the morning and by nighttime I was approaching the coast of France.  Towns up and down the coast lit up the European coastline and welcomed the plane from its journey over the Atlantic.  After refueling in Rome, the plane headed South for Ethiopia.  Like France, the lights of towns on the Italian coast clearly defined the boundary between land and the Mediterranean Sea.  I was playing particularly close attention to the land below me as we entered Egypt, but to my dismay, there were no signs that we had entered Africa.  Not a single light on the Egyptian coast.  Or anywhere in Egypt for that matter.  Or even most of Africa.  The African coast just meshed with the darkness of the Mediterranean Sea.  

While at the time it seemed like a strange introduction from the continent, I now see it as the perfect introduction.  The lack of suffiecient infrastructure proves to be amazingly restrictive for Zimbabwe and even Africa as a whole.  Roads are inadequate in quantity and quality.   Electricity cannot be relied on and therefore never really expected.  If the power is out for more than a day, water stops running and may not start again until a couple days after the power comes back.  Zimbabwe is currently producing a little over 1000 megawatts even though, according to the paper, the need is around 2000 megawatts.  Zimbabwe's questionable political and economic future has throughly discouraged foreign investors, which has made it essentially impossible for Zimbabwe to acquire the money needed to upgrade its infrastructure (and most importantly its electricity production capabilities).  US-driven sanctions have further restrict Zimbabwe's access to cash.  The sanctions exist to punish Zimbabwe for its controversial land reforms in 1990s.  However, they hurt the lives of individuals who are already struggling to survive.  The newest imposition on Zimbabwean well-being is the ongoing debate with the international watchdog, the Kimberly Process.  The KP was created to protect human rights, and particularly prevent the sale of blood diamonds.  At the urging of the US and many European nations, the KP has restricted the sale of Zimbabwean diamonds (and industry that Zimbabweans are only starting to realize its massive potential).  While Zimbabwe does not sell blood diamonds, there are reported human rights abuses of mine workers.  While these abuses certainly need to stop, the scope of the KPs authority is in question.  But regardless of your personal beliefs of the legitimacy of these sanctions and restrictions, it is sure that they have held Zimbabwe back and prevented them from gaining basic amenities, like constant electricity and water.  Is that really fair?

Amusingly, in the time that it took to write this, the power cut out half a dozen times and we are now getting enough electricity to half-light a lightbulb (yet a mac works, they are incredibly power-efficient).

Zimbabwe, and Africa will not be able to modernize any further unless the developed world drops its sanctions and investors start, well, investing.  

Candy Money

I meant to post this yesterday, but thanks to a power cut, I was unable to.  So from my drafts folder, here is Candy Money.

Yesterday, after I finished resolving some Visa issues, I went out to eat at a neat little deli in downtown Harare.  It was kind of like going to Market District and eating in their deli, if that gives you a sense of the setup.  Much to everyones dismay, they were out of Sadza.  You would not believe how big of an inconvenience everyone perceives this as.  Imagine going to McDonalds and being told they are out of Coke, Big Macs and fries.  That is what a deli without Sadza is like in Zimbabwe.  So I reconsidered my meal and order macaroni and pork.  The whole meal came out to $6.78 (which is $4 more than it would have been if I had ordered Sadza).  I stand in line for honestly 20 minutes and pay with a ten.

Im going to back up a little bit.  As of a couple years ago, Zimbabwe was using the Zimbabwean dollar, which was experiencing what economists call hyper-inflation.  Hyper-inflation is the Dr. Doom of economic problems in a world without superheros.  In the morning bread could cost $2.  And hour later, $3, by night, $10.  We scream at the thought of inflation in the double digits.  Zimbabwe maxed out at 6,500,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000% inflation.  Inflation so big that I couldn't type it without my blog autochanging my font size. 

To deal with it, the Zimbabwean treasury had the great idea of just printing bills in larger and larger denominations.  The largest bill I have is for ten trillion Zimbabwean dollars.  Great idea, right?  Anyways, sometime in 2009, they realized that their strategy was not actually dealing with the problem, so they abandoned the Zimbabwean dollar and started using US dollars and South African Rands.

So, back to the story, I walk up to the cashier and pay with a ten.  For change, I get 3 dollars, an apple and a lollipop.  Apparently, Zimbabwe does not believe in coins.  So, when you are owed changed, they start adding things to your purchase to make it a round number.  If they owe you 50 cents, you may get an apple.  A couple cents, you get a lollipop.  

To tell you the truth, I like this.  Imagine if every time you would normally get a couple cents of change, you get a lollipop instead.  Much better.  But still really weird.  Everytime you buy something, it involves a little negotiating.  Maybe trading the apple and lollipop for a coke, or trying to get an extra piece of candy.  it is truly a strange experience.

Well, Walter is here to take over for me, so I am going to go eat.  Thanks for reading,

Ben

Kids, Questions, and Culture

Last week, during another random power cut, Chiimba and I went down to the primary school to watch the world cup.  For the big event, the school decided to turn on the generator, so the school was one of the only places in Nyadire to have power.  Therefore, a good deal of Nyadire was there.  The game was pretty uneventful until a couple dozen primary-aged kids decided to join us in watching the game.

Let me descibe the seating arrangement at this point in time.  The TV was sitting in the front of the classroom and someone had placed 4 rows of benches behind it.  Personal space is a distinctly American idea by the way.  Every-time you get comfortable, another person walks in and sits next to you on the already over-occupied bench.  Luckily for me, one of the kids went and found an actual chair for me.  "No thanks, I am fine" is another foreign concept for Zimbabweans, by the way.  As people kept showing up, students kept bringing in more and more benches.  Soon, 6 rows of benches surrounded the tv and 5 rows of kids surrounded me.

I really don't think they noticed that a game was on.

While African Survival Tip #1 is pay attention while you explore, Africa Survival Tip #2 is just as important.  Do not be the only white kid in a rural Zimbabwean primary school.  Thanks to this experience, I have the phone numbers and addresses of a large portion of the primary school (If you want a pen pal, let me know!).  Every kid wanted to say hello to me personally.  In Zimbabwe, there is no such thing as a group hello.  No "Hey, how are you guys doing".  If you meet five people in a group, you owe 5 greets.  If you meet 30 kids, you owe 30 greetings. 

Kimberly, this is why a bunch of kids now say "Whats up" and pound the rock.

After a several long minutes of aggravation, I realized that I was not going to be able to watch any of the game and turned my total attention to the curious primary students.  Kids are truly an awesome insight into culture.  They lack a fundamental understanding of anything outside of Zimbabwe and have no problems asking whatever questions come to their curious minds.  I got some really humorous questions.

Kid: "What is America's stable food?"

Me: "French Fries"

Kid: "What?"

Me: "Sorry, Chips"

Most Zimbabweans do not distinguish the differences between England and America.  At least not a cultural difference, that is.  The Chiimbas nicely served me a 'taste of back home' after my first week....fish and chips.  And vinegar for my chips.  I laughed as I told them I have never had fish and chips.  And ketchup goes on chips, not vinegar.

For the kids, the question made perfect sense.  Most meals in Zimbabwe include Sadza (kind of a corn porridge), so why wouldn't I have a stable food back food?

I laughed and then explained to them that America does not have a staple food.  We may find ourselves eating too many burgers and fries, but they are not really a staple food.  However, America is unique in the fact that we are so diverse.  How many of us when asked "What do you want to eat tonight" answer "Chinese food", "Italian food" or "Indian".  As weird as it is, our exposure to such a diversity of food is American cuisine.  I have a fascination with Greek food, my sister loves Chinese food, my brother is addicted to Indian food and my mother would gladly go to Aladdins anytime.  This diversity when it comes to food is truly America.  Without being somewhere that totally contrasts life back home its hard to see, but America has a definite distinct culture.  

I have often heard people say that there is no real America culture, however they are wrong.  America has its own, unique culture.  It is the little things you take for granted that defines our culture.  American culture is baseball games, cookouts, picnics, tossing a baseball with your son.  Culture is cartoons on a saturday morning, Andy Warhol, pickup football, and more than anything, our diversity.  Only after going oversees to somewhere that I think we can agree is nothing like the US, do I see that America has a vivid and living culture.  While we may not be perfect, we are pretty accepting of other people and add their experiences, values and beliefs to our big mixing pot.

Go to New York City, New Orleans, San Francisco, or even to John Melloncamps small town and you will find a whole new mix of people and a whole new 'America'.  This diversity of culture as you travel around the US is something that is hard to find anywhere else on the globe and something we should be proud of this.  

Take a minute and think about the little experiences that you treasure. 

That is America.

We, as Americans, have only been around a little over 200 years, yet we have accomplished so much.  If there were not 'real' America culture, I would have gladly eaten the fish and chips and thought nothing of it.  But it rung a dissonance.  Since our British past, we have evolved and formed our own identity. That is why we put ketchup on our fries and not vinegar.  We have expressed ourselves through our art, songs and actions.  So often we get caught up with evils in our pasts.  We think back and remember 9/11, Columbine, or JFKs assignation.  What about the good?  How about remembering how we came together after 9/11?  Or maybe think back and remember the musical explosion in the 60s (Thats the empty spot between 1959 and 1970 for all you old hippies).  I mean we landed on the moon a couple decades ago, how about we remember that instead?  Think about how we fought for democracy 200 years ago only 70 odd years ago we defended the world from on onslaught of totalitarianism.  Let us for one day remember what makes America beautiful.

Lets embrace what it means to be American, for it is beautiful and something to be proud of. 

Happy Fourth of July everyone,

Ben