Morogoro

Morogoro is a beautiful town. About three hours’ drive West of Dar es Salaam, it lies at the base of the Uluguru mountain. The mountain itself is rich and green, and most of the produce in Morogoro comes from the many farms which are wrapped improbably around the mountain’s contours. I’ve been here for a week now, and I can say that the town is much bigger and livelier than I expected it to be. Here you can go to the disco any day of the week and dance the night away to Tanzania’s own bongo flava (a Swahili musical genre blending pop, hip hop and traditional melodies), or to lingala, which comes from Congo and is very popular all throughout East Africa. There’s even a hotel with a pool, where we spent a lazy Sunday afternoon swimming and chatting. It’s a small town, but people are very active and engaged in all sorts of activities. There’s a big Swahili school here, agriculture, livestock rearing and many little shops, cafes and bars.

While I’m here, I’m working with a small community-based organization called Parakuiyo Pastoralists Indigenous Community Development Organization. This organization is only two years old, and was formed in response to the marginalization of pastoralists in government policy and developmental projects in Tanzania. Their current program is a land rights project, which aims to inform pastoralists about their rights in regards to land use and ownership, and to help resolve land conflicts in a more constructive manner. There have been many conflicts in the region between pastorlists and agriculturalists competing for the same resources – conflicts in which people on both sides have lost their lives. Hopefully this project will help foster a better relationship both between pastoralists and the government and police force, and pastoralists and the farming communities with whom they sometimes clash. Since I’m here for such a short time I won’t have accomplished that much by the time I leave, but I’ve at least been helping to develop a project proposal on political participation and good governance, and a monitoring and evaluation system.

Another of Parakuiyo’s projects is a high school for pastoralist children. The school serves the entire Morogoro region, which occupies 72,939 square kilometers. Parakuiyo helped the community to engage in fundraising activities to build the school, and helped convince community members about the value of education. Maasai children are often kept home from school for a variety of reasons. The boys are frequently needed at home to take care of the livestock. Indeed, anyone traveling through Maasailand for any length of time can’t help but notice the many young boys watching cattle or sheep, staring warily at strangers passing through. The girls are often kept at home to help with domestic chores, like fetching water or firewood, particularly in areas where the environment is very degraded and these resources are scarce. Girls are also sometimes married off quite early, and forced to drop out of school. Sometimes parents simply can’t afford the tuition. Parakuyo secondary school is remarkable because attendance, the bane of many a school in pastoralist areas, is not an issue here. Through Parakuiyo’s efforts and the efforts of the headmaster, the community has really rallied around the school. Tuition is lowered for low-income families, and now it’s becoming the norm for children in these parts to attend the school. The fact that the community managed to fundraise the bulk of the funds for construction probably helps, as it’s a project that they can take pride in and feel that it belongs to them. The school only opened in January 2007, and already they have 158 students, 78 of whom are girls. They’re expecting at least 80 more students to enroll for the next year.

Though attendance and enthusiasm are high at Parakuyo, the school is desperately lacking in facilities. Though, like most secondary schools in Tanzania, it is a boarding school, none of the dormitories have been finished yet because of lack of funds. Students are forced to sleep on mattresses on the floor of rooms that are used for classes during the day. When we visited, the mattresses had been hung over the rafters, exposing the uneven concrete floor beneath. There is no kitchen, only a small shelter for cooking, and no storage area. There is no laboratory. There are only five teachers for the whole school, only one of whom is female, and none of whom are qualified to teach science. Transportation is also a problem, since the area is remote and the roads in bad condition, particularly during the rainy season. It had been raining on the day we visited the school, and considering how much trouble our taxi had getting into the village, and how muddy our additional half-hour walk was, I could just imagine what a nightmare it might be to bring in supplies or get a sick student to a medical centre.

In a way, it’s discouraging to think that as much as this community has struggled, and as many minds have been changed about the value of education, there are still so many challenges to overcome. There’s just no money for so many of the facilities that are desperately needed. But at least these kids have the opportunity to get a high school education – that’s something that many Maasai children can’t even dream of.

There are only three employees at Parakuiyo, and I’ve mostly been working with Jacob, the office secretary. He’s been very welcoming, helping me to get settled here and become familiar with the town. On Saturday, the two of us went on a fantastic five-hour hike on the mountain. It was really neat because the mountain is actually inhabited by farmers almost all the way to the peak, although from afar you can’t tell that anyone lives there at all. As we walked along, we passed all sorts of homes, some made of mud and sticks, some of brick, and fields and fields of produce of all sorts. Bananas were the most popular crop, but there were also cabbages, carrots, tomatoes, beets, and herbs – even lettuce. The path was a bit crazy at times, just a tiny narrow footpath over a steep incline. Inevitably, at one point I slipped off the path (the edge of the path was full of plants, but when I stepped onto a section that I thought was the path it was just a hole with plants covering it like an old-school trap), and ended up with half of my body hanging over some hapless farmer’s onion patch! I just got some scrapes, but of course when we came back down everyone was very apologetic about it, which was a little embarrassing.

We stopped at a house near the top, which had been built by German missionaries in 1911. Though it was in a gorgeous location overlooking the town, and I’m sure could be turned into quite a profitable tourist attraction or lodge, it had been severely neglected over the years. Vines were overtaking the outside and a tiny old man was living inside. I’m not sure if he was squatting or if he was renting the place or what. It was all a bit surreal. We bought some beautiful fresh bananas and carrots from some farmers who were preparing their wares for transportation to the town. On our way down we were passed by two of those same farmers, who were the vegetable transporters I suppose. They were both balancing enormous bags stuffed full of carrots on their heads. Those things had to weigh at least twenty pounds! They must really have amazing strength and balance to have brought those carrots on their heads all the way down those steep, twisting paths.

It’s going to be pretty sad to leave Morogoro in a couple of days – I’ve made some good connections here and can see myself returning in the future. But next time I’ll definitely have to beef up on my Swahili before venturing into the communities again! On Wednesday I return to Dar es Salaam, and then on Thursday I’ll be flying out to Cape Town. I’m traveling with a Maasai woman, Sophia. She’s being sponsored by Indigenous Information Network to attend the Power of Movements conference. I’m pretty sure it’s her first time flying, and she only speaks Maa and Swahili, so it might be quite an adventure. And it’ll be interesting to see how people react to her in South Africa, since she’s always in traditional dress. I hope that she doesn’t get too intimidated, but from what I’ve observed about her so far I think she’ll have a good laugh about it.