Keratu and the Brickmakers . . .

On nearly the last day in Tanzania, we visited a brick-making business in the Iraqw community of Keratu. We were told these Cushitic people came from Ethiopia in the 14th Century, but academics debate exactly how long these people have been in Sub-Saharan Africa, perhaps as long as from 2,000 BC. I did find that the Cushitic language is part of a family of languages spoken in the Horn of Africa, Egypt, Tanzania, Kenya, Sudan, and Egypt. So these people have deep roots in eastern Africa.

Our host Saita led us on a tour through the large open-air factory, held by some 70 families.

The brickmakers demonstrated how to pound the red clay soil into a powder that was then mixed with water, fired in large kilns, and sold at roughly 7 bricks for $1.00. These bricks can only be made during the dry season, for dry weather is needed to cure the bricks.

The young men worked hard with few tools; they were strong and very thin. Yet they greeted us with big smiles.

Our host invited us to his home, a short walk from the factory where we met his wife and children, were dressed in kangas, and treated to a lunch of rice and beans called macondi. This is the closest recipe I can find that matches this delicious beans and rice dish we shared, though this version is called Wali Maharage. If you are feeling adventurous, here are some additional recipes (and a little history) from Tanzania.

Saita made a speech, saying he could only share his home and his music with us. He brought out what I later learned was a lute, a two-stringed gourd with a kind of drum pulled over the top. The family then sang and danced for us; the music was lively, punctuated by calls, clicks, and whistles. We were thrilled to join the fun, for music is central to the Iraqw community.

My only regret is that I was not able to take as careful notes as I would have liked to remember this very full day. But I can say Naas, which means, "Thank you!" The music remains!

Saita plays his two-stringed gourd

Read more about the Iraqw people of Tanzania here! Many issues remain controversial for these traditional rural people struggling to retain their culture while adapting to modernism.

Maasai Women welcome us . . .

Maasai Women welcome song

One of the most moving experiences of the trip to Tanzania was our welcome to a Maasai village. Apparently, someone had forgotten to tell someone that we were coming, so when we did arrive, the Maasai men, wrapped in red robes, took us to their corral to admire the cattle. We then returned to the village to find the women streaming out of their houses into a formal line, to sing this welcome song.

I never learned the words, but I was overwhelmed by the sheer exuberance of this welcome, this music which so warmly invited us to share a bit of the Maasai culture.

Together, we women brought straw for thatching the roof of this round Maasai home. Rain intervened, so we were put to work, hands on, for plastering the walls with a mix of dirt and cow dung.

Later we sat inside the headman's house for some discussion of serious matters, as three elders attempted to explain the complexity of their culture and their resistance to change. The afternoon ended with more songs, dancing, and an impromptu market of elaborate beadwork. I've carried these memories home, having found much more to research, yet grateful for these experiences.

In search of the rare, the elusive . . . Red Colobus Monkey

Before joining up with our safari, we stopped in old Stone Town for four days, got to sleep under mosquito netting, and saw the Red Colobus Monkey. 

Pretty cute, huh? This little red monkey is an endangered species found only in Zanzibar, in the Jozoni Forest, about a half hour's ride down from Stone Town. 

There, we saw families of these monkeys just ambling from tree to tree as we walked below them along the ground. The monkeys stopped to check us out, pausing long enough for heartfelt glances. Then they scampered down on the forest floor, across a field, and up palm trees. Typically these little monkeys live to about age 20 and in social groups of about 30. The group we saw had about 8 monkeys, including babies.

Apparently the Swahili name for the Red Colobus is "poison monkey." Partly because of their 'bad smell,' people believe the monkeys kill the trees they eat, and they're never kept as pets.

Don't you wonder what they're thinking?

If you'd like to jump over to my writing blog, there's an African poem there . . .

Jambo from Stone Town . . .

Beach near Old Town, Stone Town, Zanzibar

We began our sojourn to Africa with a four-day stay in Stone Town, Zanzibar. Somewhat jetlagged, the first words we heard on landing in Stone Town, Zanzibar, were "Jambo!" (hello), and "Jambo, Bwana," (hello, mister). We were blown away by outright, warm friendliness from everyone we met. We heard this tune everywhere --  "Jambo, Bwana," echoing down the streets, sung passionately by a young man climbing a coconut tree on a spice farm, and sung again most hauntingly by a woman at dusk, as we watched the sun fall into the sea. 

Written back in the 1980s by a group called Them Mushrooms, the song has become an anthem for Tanzania and Kenya. Here it is, in all its You-Tube glory:

We have our own "jambo" stories now.

I've always loved languages and thought perhaps Swahili might have feminine and masculine endings, for example, "Jambo" for males and "Jamba" for females. Everytime I asked if this were true, the folks around me burst into laughter. I learned later than "jamba" means fart.

So there we are, camping out in tents on the Serengheti. A young man comes around at 5:30 am with hot water, softly calling, "Jambo. Good morning." Allen reared up in his cot still asleep and called back quite clearly, "Jamba!"

Camping out like that meant we heard animals at night, sometimes the low cough of a lion or a mysterious large animal pawing the grasses outside the tent. So one morning, I won't say who was responsible, but a 'jamba' popped out into the morning. In the next tent, one of our friends said, "Did you hear that lion?"

Tune in tomorrow for more about Stone Town and the rare, nearly extinct Red Colobus Monkey.

Leopards and Cheetahs don't share . . .

She was sleepy. She was grouchy. She had supper stashed in her tree.

Our jeep had just stopped. Ombeni explained that the leopard, like the cheetah, didn't like to share her food. In fact, a leopard commonly drags her kill (this time, a Thomson's gazelle), into a tree to hide it from other predators. She can run as fast as 40 mph to catch her prey. Apparently, it's quite difficult to see leopards in the wild as we did on our first day in the Serengeti, for these animals are silent and nocturnal, and they hunt by stealth. No wonder she was grouchy. We interrupted her nap.

Later, we spotted two cheetahs resting in the grasslands near a herd of wildabeest, just enjoying the sun. Notice her uptipped ears. She doesn't miss much as she lolls lazily on the ground. Those black tear marks on her face actually help her see long distances (just as footballers put black marks under their eyes to avoid sun glare).

The cheetah uses speed to bring down her prey and can reach 70-75 mph during her short chase. Smaller than the leopard, the cheetah may not keep her catch as more aggressive lions and hyenas will chase her away. The cheetah doesn't share willingly.

Poor baby.

About the ostrich . . .

Female Ostrich

We saw a bit more of a love story than we anticipated as we crossed the bottom of the Ngorongoro Crater.

A small herd of ostriches crossed the road in front of our jeeps, but two females appeared to be fighting over a very cute male in full mating regalia.

But first, notice her fluffed out plumage and her thick, very strong legs. These birds can weigh between 150 to 300 pounds and can run up to 40 mph. Normally, they won't attack humans; they're vegetarian. But just one of her kicks could disembowel or kill someone who cornered her.

Male Ostrich

Wikipedia notes that normally ostriches live alone or in pairs, but during mating season, these large birds tend to gather into groups of 5 to 50, typically with other animals that graze, especially zebras. I still cannot quite get over seeing these graceful yet clumsy birds casually strolling among a herd of zebras.

The male's brilliant pink neck and legs contrast sharply with his dark feathers. When he is ready to mate, he performs a sort of a dance with his large wings to attract a female.

Later in the day, we saw such a dance on the far crest of a hill. He danced and drew closer. She hesitated, finally bowing her head in submission. Though the actual mating took just a minute, we felt we were seeing something very private, but we can't anthropomorphize nature. For afterwards, he shook himself (as did she), and they each casually wandered off in different directions.

Before Africa, I would have connected ostriches to the very large ostrich egg and that old story that ostriches bury their heads in sand. They do eat sand and/or gravel to help them digest, and they do lie down on the ground to hide from predators, stretching their necks and heads flat on the ground. From a distance, all we might see is a funny hill that blends into the tall grassses.

They cannot fly, but I would hate to discover an ostrich nest and then see the mother bearing down on me at 40 mph, flapping its wings. Best to leave that adventure for someone else. Leave the nest be.

To the Victor . . .

Ah, the sensitive and lovely warthog . . .

Ngorongoro Crater, Tanzania

As we entered the very large Ngorongoro Crater, we were treated to another amazing diversity of animals. Roughly 25,000 animals live in this natural conservation area, untroubled by day visitors -- or by the lions who rested in the long grasses on this hot afternoon. As we descended to the base of this volcanic crater, we had a sense of awe for we had just learned this area has been home to some form of humans for the last three million years. 

The warthog in all its beauty!

Who could not find a warthog lovely for its almost anachronistic face alone? That formidable looking warthog, really a wild pig, delights in feeding on the grasslands of the Ngorongoro, also snacking on fungus, insects, eggs, or any carrion that's laying about. Its tusks can give predators a nasty twist; its ears flicker constantly, as does its little fly-whip tail.

We watched as this particular warthog engineered his own comfort (see video below) by using those nasty tusks to carve a mud hole just a little larger. 

Unpreturbed by nearby "safari jeeps," he settled down, perhaps bothered by that very same complaint of the omnivorous spotted hyena! Actually, I learned from Wikipedia that the warthog's thin skin (who knew?), makes him very sensitive to changes in temperature. That mud bath cools him down.

At rest in self-made mud bath!