The times (tables) are a changing..

When returning to my home village of Wrington (Somerset, UK), I might discover a couple of things have changed, a new bus stop perhaps or a different shade of cream on a house in Broad Street. That's fine by me, I like Wrington the way it is. I thought I liked Buswelu the way it was; sleepy, peaceful, on the fringe of the gorgeous Tanzanian countryside. Two and a half years later the changes are everywhere. New houses where formerly little plots of farm land sat, more shops and stalls selling a plethora of fruits and veg for reasonable prices (I'm still having nightmares about regularly paying £1.09 for an avocado in Sainsbury's) and cars and motorbikes roaming the vastly improved dirt roads. This is economic growth in action, but you're not here for a discussion on trickle-down economics.

The place has changed and continues to do so, for better or worse. The locals have retained their infectious, affable nature. Some things never do change, especially the continued cries of "Good morning Madam", cue my frustrated reply of "It's 4 in the afternoon and do I look like a Madam!?". The children of the Upendo family are as loveable as ever and they are growing up fast. The boys are becoming men, the girls turning into divas, although perhaps that's just Edina and maybe she's always been a diva...the important thing is that 2 years since I was last here they remain happy, healthy and looked after.

Whilst Upendo and its mission is adapting to the needs of the community (I'll leave the bosses to fill you in on the details in due course), it has been more than satisfying to know the kids are doing well and as charming as ever. It will be at least a couple of years before I have the pleasure of returning to this beautiful place, they'll be more changes no doubt, but I'll take solace in knowing that some things will never change.

And I said: What about, breakfast at Latifa's?

Here is the second of Andrew's Michael Winner tribute pieces... Enjoy. Perhaps the most startlingly obvious example of David Cameron’s “Broken Britain” is the immense social problem of eating out for breakfast. Only two types of people seem to be able to do this on a regular basis; the first can be found enjoying Eggs Benedict in The Ritz, and the second a Sausage and Egg McMuffin, and the third may found eating alternative food in an alternative place, where they arrived on an alternative bike with no gears and wearing so much tweed that they look like the lovechild of Chris Hoy and the editor of Fox and Hound magazine.

Mama Latifa’s cafe in Buswelu Centre falls into none of these categories, and I decided to test this radical social experiment one fine morning. I ordered the Black Pudding and Applewood smoked bacon, and Geraldine asked for the same. Unfortunately there was a problem with their supplier (chap called Mohammed I think), so I settled for the Chapattis and Beans with a side of Chilli and sat back to take in the decoration on the wall, which consisted of a poster for an extremely overcrowded Saudi holiday resort. I asked the waitress if she had ever been, and ordered a Mocha with Baileys. “Mecca?” she replied... “No, MOCHA” I said, speaking clearly. Again there seemed to be a problem with this chap Mohammed, and I had to settle for a Chai Rangi (tea with no milk).

The Chapattis were brought by the head-waitress (Latifa, aged 3). When they arrived were bursting with flavour, and although I would have traded it for something stronger, the Chai was undoubtedly the best in Buswelu. Over breakfast, we were engaged in conversation by Innocent, a charming Tanzanian man who was fascinated by what we were doing in Buswelu. When I told him we were here volunteering at a Children's home, he wanted to know more about the charity: “How is it possible”, he asked, “to run a project like that without the guidance of God's messengers?” “Upendo”, I replied, “Is a non-Prophet organisation...”

Finally, the time came to leave, and I asked for the bill. The waitress told me it had already been paid, “What is the explanation of this?” I enquired. “It's Innocent”, she replied... “I'm sure it is, but who paid the bill?” I never got to the bottom of this mystery, but satisfied with the morning's feed, I thanked Mama Latifa and went in search of a brandy.

From Andrew Phillips-Tile and Error: Grout Expectations

 

As the saying goes: Pay a man to tile your 12 toilets and showers, and you might get a half decent job done, but tile them yourself, and you’ll either become an expert or Upendo’s greatest cock-up since Chris bought return flights to Tasmania. Many of you will already have dismissed tiling as easy, and attributed any difficulty on my part to the fact that I’m undoubtedly a well meaning but hapless skinny jeans wearing excuse for a man. But like many things (with the notable exceptions of buying guns, contracting malaria, and beating rabid dogs), tiling is generally an easier affair in Britain than it is in Tanzania.

For a start: walls in Britain tend to be flat. I had never fully appreciated the significance of this fact until I set the first of 1,400 tiles onto a wall that looked like it had been plastered by Salvador Dali. Secondly, as any reluctant modern handyman will tell you: Youtube is the first line of defence in 21st century DIY. Some readers will be surprised to discover that the website which has wasted more man-hours than Anne Robinson’s surgeon can be used for anything other than watching dogs drive, cats play pianos and chubby Korean men ride imaginary horses, but it would usually be my first port of call before attempting anything which cannot be solved by BluTak alone. Here however, Youtube is no more an option than applying to Changing Rooms, and even if I had the spare 8 hours required to load a 3 minute video, the chances of the power remaining on during that time are about as likely as Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen not being arrested for homosexuality as soon as he landed.

Eventually, when I thought the battle almost won, I began to tile the floors – only to discover the difficulty of tiling a Rhomboid room with tiles that somebody (evidently with no imagination) created in some kind of shape with four right angles and sides of equal length. Absurd.

Last, but by no means least is the difficulty of dealing with a Tanzanian tradesman who's legacy to plumbing makes Lance Armstrong's to cycling look healthy. After laying the pipework in the showers, he cemented over them with an almost Himalayan zeal, in the process overtaking John Wayne as the world's biggest cowboy.

Add to all of this the presence of Betty and Gladys, two young local girls who see tiling as as much of a spectator sport as premiership football. Unfortunately I don't tile best under pressure, and although I don't mind the odd smattering of applause; a Mexican wave seems too far.

Hope you have enjoyed this, if not I will be mortar-fied...

Token girls' (semi-) serious update!

So I was going to do a blog about how great it was to have arrived back Upendo... However, I’ve procrastinated so much that I’m actually leaving in 3 days, so it’s now more of a general summary of my 3rd visit! Obviously I loved seeing all the kids again and they seemed excited too. Well, apart from Edina who ignored me for at least 2 hours before acknowledging my existence. It’s all part of her charm, I suppose! It’s also great to see that their English has significantly improved again. Although they have developed the ability of using sarcasm now - not sure how I feel about that! Joice and Ema both seem very settled now that they are living back with their families. Fortunately they are still very much involved with Upendo though.

We’re making very good progress at site. I’m clearly not capable of the hardcore manual labour, so Kat and I have been allocated the role of interior designers. Despite Eric finding the mere suggestion that I could be trusted to paint absolutely hilarious, I'm actually quite proud of our artistic masterpiece!

Chris and I have also been helping out at Under Umbrella City, which is Joshua’s primary school. After a somewhat rocky start, we are actually being very productive and hopefully making a positive contribution to their school. For entertainment purposes, I will just clarify that by ‘rocky start’ I mean that I was left alone, completely unprepared, to teach a class of about 50 4 year olds that couldn’t speak a word of English. To make it even more agonizing, it was only their second day of school ever, so half of them were crying. The other half nearly joined in when I mistakenly picked up the cane thinking it was a prop that I could use to point to numbers on the wall! As a result, we have decided that it would be more beneficial to teach the older children who can speak some basic English! We have also been helping the teachers develop their English and giving them some advice on teaching techniques. Needless to say, alternatives to the cane have been suggested and were actually quite well received. I actually have a lot of respect for the Headmistress there. She has a very difficult job and unfortunately her dreams for the school exceed her budget. I also like her because she shows her appreciation by giving me a random meal like boiled eggs, biscuits and cold, black and sugarless coffee!

I’m all wali maharage and konyagi’d out for now, but a 4th visit to Upendo is definitely on the cards!

When the alarm clock rings at upendo

21st Century Man - Chris Dunning

Leaving for a foreign land brings the thrill of the unexpected, and I could never have predicted the routine I would fall so seamlessly into at Upendo Children’s Home. Let me begin with Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays: After some toast with Marmite and a sturdy brew I head to the site of the new home, I feel like a true manly man reconnecting with my working class roots (two generations removed). The work that has been done on the new home is incredible but there’s still plenty to do, and I slip into my guise as builder/landscape gardener/earth mover extraordinaire and get down to work. Occasionally Ipod shuffle busts out some Aretha Franklin or Supremes and like any good labourer I start wagging my finger and demanding some R-E-S-P-E-C-T, but this is only temporary and before I know it I am loading the wheelbarrow and hoping all my manual labour is at the very least improving the size of my biceps. By the end of the day I find my body and face covered in dirt, and my hands in blisters: I know a hard day’s work has been done.

Wednesdays and Fridays tend to start somewhere closer to my comfort zone with English lessons for the Tanzanian workers at Upendo: Erici, Priska and Joyce. We get down to business with some two-way language and cultural exchange; perhaps the biggest surprise to Erici is the existence of Wali Mayai, or Egg Fried Rice as we know it. Now, in Tanzania you’ll find a shack on every corner selling a Chipsi Mayai (Chips Omelette): mixing chips and eggs is acceptable and rightly so - it’s delicious. But mix rice and eggs and WOAH, hold onto your goat, you’ve just blown someone’s mind.

After English lessons I head to Under Umbrella, a local school for 4-7 year olds. I didn’t quite know what I had signed up for but it certainly wasn’t comforting a dozen or so wailing children on their first ever day of school. My days as a labourer seemed a million miles away and I yearned for the toil and graft of the site. Now into their third week at school, the crying has stopped and the staples of Simon Says, and Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes are usually only briefly interrupted by a chicken wandering into the classroom. ‘This Is Africa’ I remind myself...

In memoriam of the late great Michael Winner, Andrew has been commissioned to fill the void left by the nation’s greatest restaurant critic in the style of ‘’Winner’s dinners”. Food on the Hoof - Maritina’s Cafe

As a child, the Goat had always been my second favourite animal. Back home in Yorkshire however, my appreciation had extended no further than their excellent dairy products, and commendable ability to eat everything within sight.  Today however, I was looking forward to turning the tables on this tenacious eating machine, and Maritina’s Cafe at Buswelu Corner seemed like the place to go.

James was first through the door, and almost immediately exclaimed ‘Duck!’, years of training at the hands of Yorkshire’s many “Duck or Grouse” signs saw me hit the floor. Finding myself staring at a pair of webbed feet however, I realised there had been a fowl-up. With some confusion, our feathered friend greeted us and showed us to our seats. I decided a joke might help break the ice (Q. How do you turn a duck into a soul singer? A. Put it in the oven till its Bill Withers...), but I’d picked my audience poorly and he waddled off to a box in the corner from which some singularly hostile stares were broadcast. Apparently the phrase “customer is king” has not yet reached Buswelu.

The Sous-Chef came to take our order, and I plumped for the ‘Wali Mbuzi’ (Rice and Goat), and Geraldine ordered the same. The speed of service was excellent, and it was not long before I found myself face to face with a steaming bowl of goat (No really, I think there might have been some face in there). A tedious fad with which all those familiar with Masterchef will be aware of is the “deconstructed” dish (for example: a deconstructed Lemon Meringue Pie might consist of a Lemon and a pile of sugar). This dish suffered from the opposite problem; the goat was not deconstructed enough – to the point that I found a fully working knee joint submerged in the murky depths of my bowl. Nevertheless the overall effect was good, and the unhusked rice complimented the copious amounts of cartilage well.

I left satisfied, but unable to shake a slight feeling of cannibalistic guilt as I digested my fellow beard-wearer.

*EDITOR’S NOTE: Please insert your own Goat/Nanny/Kid/Africa puns, as several had to be censored from this piece.*

My experience with Upendo was incredible!!

Volunteering for Upendo Children’s Home is by far the best thing I have ever done. It was a privilege to become part of such a special family. As a lone, female, first-time traveller I was initially quite nervous about volunteering. If anyone else is in the same boat, don’t be put off and miss out on a fantastic opportunity. The Upendo staff were happy to discuss any concerns, no matter how trivial, and ensured I felt happy and prepared before I left. I was met at the airport by Carly and really quickly settled in and felt at home. While in Tanzania I always felt safe. Upendo is situated in a small/un-touristy village where you are never far from a friendly face. As it was term time while I was with Upendo I spent the days volunteering at the nursery and primary school and then taught the kids after school. It was great to see how the kids progressed over the two months, particularly in English. The weekends were spent at VETA, the local college, playing football, frisbee, rounders and other games with the Upendo children and loads of kids from the village. I spent half my time living at Baba’s house as the volunteer house needed a new roof. I therefore became really close to all of the Upendo family and developed an even greater appreciation of all the hard work Prisca and Joicy do. These girls just don’t stop cooking and cleaning! My experience with Upendo was incredible and one I would recommend to anyone, I hope to return again.

Tanya Compton September-October 2012

Waterworks and the Old Upendo Place

Hello everyone. I hope this finds you all well! I have been with the kids now for 7 weeks; time is flying and I've got to know them and their personalities really well.

They're all doing very well at school and from our lessons its been great to see them progress and really understand and improve ready for their exams, the first of which is on Monday!

The site is looking more impressive all the time with all the plumbing now in place. There is only the small problem of connecting of our plumbing to the local water system stopping Upendo Childrens Home from having working taps and showers! This little job is planned for Monday so not too long!

The volunteer house is a sad sight at the moment and all who have stayed there before would be shocked by its current bare walls and roofless state! Me and Tanya are currently living at Babas and sharing beds with the kids which is great when Masalu isn't kicking me in the head in his sleep.

That said, living with the kids is great as it means they're talking in English all the time and reading every night instead of watching TV!

Prisca and Joice are working as incredibly hard as usual with two more mouths to feed and Baby Carlin is starting to talk which is a fantastic mix of Swahili and English.

Eric and Prisca's English lessons are making good progress and they've really come on in the past few weeks especially as Swahili has been banned around them by all parties!

Anyway, Tanya and I are having an amazing time and we will keep you all updated with the progressions at site!!

Love Chris