In the Doldrums (with the Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone)

Why does it rain? More to the point, why does rain fall here pretty much every day from March to May and then cease from June to September? Why do we have a long rainy season followed by a long dry season followed by a short rainy season followed by a short dry season? It’s hard for me to keep these seasons straight. Spring, summer, winter and fall are what I grew up with and sometimes in East Africa I actually miss winter. But a month (a day?!) of January in Columbus cures me of that.

Seasons here are wet or dry because we live near the equator where winds from the northern hemisphere and winds from the southern hemisphere smash headlong into each other which forces them into the sky for miles where the sun’s heat creates condensation which pours down on us as rain. This convergence of winds from north and south near the equator is called the Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ) and this Zone moves back and forth across the equator region every year over land and sea, all around the earth.

If you hit “play” at this nifty little website, you can see a demonstration of the ITCZ over the continent of Africa: http://people.cas.sc.edu/carbone/modules/mods4car/africa-itcz/index.html.

On land, this weather system produces good rain that fills rivers, helps farmers grow crops, washes the dust out of the sky and makes us all happy. Over oceans, the ITCZ becalms the water and strikes fear in the hearts of those in sailing vessels. Indeed, sailors caught at sea in the becalmed waters of the ITCZ long ago named it “the Doldrums” because, without wind, they were marooned and faced a thirsty death. Part of Samuel Coleridge’s scary poem, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” is set in the becalmed Doldrums: “Water, water everywhere, and all the boards did shrink, Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.”

Right now, the ITCZ is moving slowly toward us from the Sahara and when it reaches us, as it usually does by October and November, it brings short rains that are sometimes called “mango rains” because they produce the juicy mangoes of December. When the Zone passes over us and heads on to southern Africa we’ll have a short dry season that goes into February. In southern Africa, the Zone picks up moisture and then sweeps back up over us fully recharged for the big, boisterous rains of the long rainy season in March, April, and May. After that, as the Zone works its way north again, we'll have a long dry season until it returns with the short rains of October and November.

Farmers try hard to get their crops in at the right time for both short and long rains but, despite the nifty little graphic up there, the rains aren’t so neatly predictable. When they come a bit early, or a bit late, or don’t bring the expected amount of rain, the harvest is meager and that can mean a hungry season as people reduce their food consumption in hopes that their remaining food stocks will last until the next harvest.

During the dry season, dust is a big problem partly because the earth is dry but also because many farmers burn off their fields in preparation for planting when the rains come. Burning off is a quick and labor-saving way to clear land when you have only a hoe. It puts a lot of stuff into the atmosphere, which has its drawbacks, but it gives us brilliant sunsets.

Just now, the rain began beating down on our tin roof even though it's still September. If this keeps up it means that, after several months with hardly any rain, the dust will settle, the air will clear, and the sky will turn as brilliant a blue as I have ever seen.

Morogoro Town

The guide books call Morogoro a “sleepy town,” but that depends on one’s perspective, I suppose. To me, Morogoro seems like a modest-sized town replete with hustle and bustle that never sleeps. It’s not as large as Arusha or Dar es Salaam but it’s a growing town that boasts small traffic jams. One main road runs through the town, east and west. The road east gets you to Dar in about three hours. The road heading west will soon bring you to Erica and Nathan’s home in Mzumbe. After that, the road bends south and in another hour or so just below the Uluguru Mountains brings you to the gates of Mikumi National Park with its giraffes, elephants, zebras, wildebeests, lions, leopards, hippos, primates and birds of all kinds. Beyond Mikumi the road winds through the Ruaha River Gorge and up into the southern highlands on to Mbeya from whence you can continue west into Zambia or turn south toward Malawi.

The hustle and bustle in Morogoro comes from the shops that line the streets everywhere, selling everything under the sun. They are mostly very small stores with much of their wares piled in front on the sidewalk during the day. At night, when everything is stacked back into the shop and the iron gates swing shut, there is hardly any space left inside that little place. We don’t have a single big box store here – we have a million little box stores! This is a nice little store that I go to for household items.

The largest employer in Morogoro is an American tobacco company that raises tobacco in a western region of Tanzania called Tabora. The tobacco is brought here to be processed and then shipped elsewhere to be made into cigarettes. That habit has not caught on here and I seldom see people smoking. Otherwise, Sokoine University where Dave has an office is a major, and far less lethal, employer. Other schools and the many small businesses employ a lot of people in the area, as well.

The Aga Khan Hospital and Clinic in Morogoro is a good place for medical care and pharmaceuticals. The Aga Khan is the title of the head of the Ismaili branch of the Muslim faith. Succession to that title is hereditary in an independently wealthy family and the current Aga Khan is a kind of “Bill Gates,” pouring money into medical care, economic development, and education in East Africa and other areas. An Aga Khan hospital or school is going to have high standards and be open and welcoming to all faiths so it’s not uncommon for Christian parents to send their children to an Aga Khan school. This is the Aga Khan Health Centre where Dave went when he had a high fever a few weeks after we arrived. It wasn't malaria they said and prescribed some antibiotics. The next day he started feeling better.

About thirty to forty percent of the population in Tanzania is Muslim with an equal or slightly higher percentage that is Christian. There is a small but significant percentage that is Hindu, mostly descendants of people who came here from India in the last several hundred years. There isn’t significant religious tension to speak of so far, thankfully. Across sub-Saharan Africa, there is a history of religious tolerance and understanding between Christians and Muslims that goes back centuries. More recently, zealous groups on either side have set out to “convert” the other and this can create serious problems. Much of this on the Christian side has been encouraged and funded by independent religious groups in the United States that view Islam as evil. I find this regrettable and am encouraged by the fact that mainline denominations, including my own Mennonite Church USA, with a long and tested history of working in Africa and other areas, have laid aside divisive tactics like this and try to work together with everyone around common interests.

Nathan Arrives

Erica came out here in June to begin a teaching assignment at Mzumbe Secondary School near Morogoro. Nathan stayed in DC for some weeks where he was working with Thrive DC and training someone to take over his job. After spending time with his family in PA and his sister and brother-in-law in Amsterdam, he flew into Dar es Salaam last week. Dave and I had to be in Dar to get our resident visas then so we picked him up at the airport that morning and drove straight to Mzumbe where Erica was one happy person!

Mzumbe town is about a twenty minute drive from Morogoro on a road that runs beside the spectacular Uluguru Mountains. The Secondary School there is a boarding school for high achieving boys from all over Tanzania and Erica and Nathan live in a house near the school. Their front porch looks out over the mountains and there are scenic trails between them and the mountains that are good for walking or running. Here they are on their porch:

Here are the mountains on the road to Mzumbe:

For weeks we’ve been saying, “when Nathan gets here….” or, “wouldn’t Nathan like that,” so it’s great to finally have him around. He was on EMU’s soccer team and so has something in common with people here who all love the sport. Another thing he’ll soon have in common is Swahili because he’s embarking on a crash course in the language and is picking it up with amazing facility.

Nathan is from Johnstown, PA, a town that I don’t know much about except that it had a Great Flood once upon a time that is still harrowing to read about. But, after learning to know him and his family over the past few years, I do know that Johnstown turns out wonderful and fine people and I would love to see more of his family here in Tanzania.

It is really nice and almost unbelievable to have Erica and Nathan nearby and be able to see them often. Now we have to figure out how to get other family members and friends to come and live here. How about it, a certain someone in Blacksburg, VA? What do we have to do to persuade you that this is also a good place to do ground-breaking research in developmental psychology?!

Remember the record-breaking twenty-seven people in one dalla-dalla that I rode in several weeks ago? That record was shattered when Nathan and Erica took a dalla-dalla this weekend. Their first ride together boasted thirty passengers with the conductor hanging from the open side door as they went flying along the Morogoro to Mzumbe road. My twenty-seven passenger load looks paltry by comparison. Perhaps I’ll never see a new record but, when I’m in the next dalla-dalla that is already jammed full and then stops to take on yet more passengers, I won’t complain. I’ll keep my eyes on the prize: thirty-one or bust.

Mosquito Zapper

Mosquitoes are more than just a nuisance here in Morogoro. Some carry malaria so whenever I see one I hunt it down and kill it with our high tech mosquito killer. I went out looking for a conventional fly swatter soon after we got here but didn’t see any so I told a shop keeper what I was looking for. I didn’t know the Swahili word for it so I said that I wanted something to kill mosquitoes and made a swatting motion with my hand. “Oh, we have those,” she said, and pulled down something hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a tennis racket with a Harry Potter-like lightning streak through the strings. Do you want it with regular batteries or rechargeable ones, she asked. I didn’t want a tennis racket, not even a rechargeable one, but I looked closely at the printed material on the wrapping and it clearly said that it killed mosquitoes.

Does it ever?!! It’s the greatest invention since sliced bread and much more fun. Turn it on, press the red button, swing that “tennis racket” at any insect and when it makes contact in mid-air, “ZAP!” You don’t have to wait for the insect to land on the wall. It’s not even a contest. Hear a buzzing around your head? Zap! See a mosquito in the wash room? Zap! See one lurking over the sink? Zap! Is a mosquito on the bedroom wall? Put the tennis racket over that beast and Zap!

I’ve been much bitten by mosquitoes but never had malaria so when I’m here long term I don’t take preventive meds for it. The risk of malaria is fairly low and the side effects of the medication can be problematic. Doxycycline, for example, makes one prone to sunburn. Side effects of other meds range from vivid dreams to mild nausea. When I’m here short term, though, I’ll take doxycycline and put up with the minor inconvenience.

We have a malaria test kit at our house and a dose of the meds, if needed. The test kit is cool except for the part where you have to prick a finger to draw a smidgen of blood. That’s when I want to call in the nurse. Dave had malaria when we lived in Congo back in the late 70s, and it was scary when his temperature shot way up but he felt cold and wanted blankets piled on top of him. At least he could stay in bed. The administration at the boarding school where we taught then made their students come to class every day, even when they had malaria. As a lowly teacher, I couldn’t do anything about it except let my feverish students keep their heads down on their desks and not give them work to do in class.

Malaria is worst in low-lying areas but we are about 2,000 feet above sea level so it isn’t the problem here that it is along the coast. In most of sub-Saharan Africa the land rises quickly as you leave the coast so the inland climate generally is cooler and less malaria-ridden than coastal areas. That’s one reason, much as I love the ocean, I’m glad we live in Morogoro and not in coastal Dar.

Morogoro Metro Line

We don’t really have a metro but the transportation system gets us around well enough. We live just several kilometers from the center of town and can walk there easily. It’s a pleasant walk, downhill all the way. I’m starting to know my way around the various shops and where in the market to pick up rice, potatoes, or any vegetables or fruit the wakulima didn’t bring this week. Coming back with things to carry is a little arduous so sometimes I’ll call Eric or James, taxi drivers we’ve gotten to know, and get a ride back with them or just walk up the hill where the view is beautiful all the way back home as this picture that I took walking home today shows.

An alternative would be the ubiquitous piki pikis, motorcycles that offer rides on the back. I’ve never ridden one and plan to keep it that way. I hope that I never see anyone I know on one, either :) Piki piki drivers are, in my opinion, too willing to take risks in order to get somewhere fast. They scoot between lines of traffic and act as if they own the road. Some women passengers ride them “sidesaddle,” which is heart-stopping to me, even clutching a baby in their arms.

In town, walking or taking a taxi is an option but when I leave town and head for, say Mzumbe, I’ll take a dalla dalla. They are small VW style buses that carry people between towns. There’s a crowded and somewhat chaotic dalla dalla stand in Morogoro where you can get a ride to any town within one hundred kilometers or so.

The dalla dalla capacity, in terms of actual seats, is about 20, depending on whether four are crowded in the front seat with the driver. But there is a small “aisle” on one side of the little bus and so people get packed in there standing up and end up virtually in the laps of everyone sitting around them. As precious as seats are under these circumstances, people will give them up to older people or to women with children.

There’s always a “conductor” on the dalla dalla who stands inside the door, manages the crowd, and collects fares en route. Conductors are young men with a kind of pizzazz that often includes “hip” clothing like low slung pants and they and the driver will pack in new passengers as we roll along the road until it’s completely amazing. The dalla dalla “packin’em in” record, when I was on board, is 27 people. I’m sure that record can be broken. Every time I get on one, I wonder hopefully if this is the day we sail on to 28, a cause for celebration. It doesn’t seem humanly possible because, when we had 27, the conductor had to put much of his body out the open window in the side door but I think this could be achieved if small children were added to the pack.

The last time that I rode back into Morogoro from Mzumbe, I was sitting in the very back of the dalla dalla, which is a good place because it’s far from the “packin’em in” aisle. Beside me was a skinny young man sitting next to the back window and when we pulled into the dalla dalla stand, he just folded up his limbs in a mysterious way and exited right out that little back window before I knew what was happening.

For longer distances, big buses are a good option. They usually sell only as many tickets as there are seats and the seats are assigned and relatively comfortable. The Abood Bus Company runs a line between here and Dar and various other places. If you’re on a long bus trip and need to use the bathroom anytime, you are truly on your own. (David Sedaris’ stadium pal might come in handy then). Dar is only three or four hours away, so that’s doable for me. When I rode here from Dar on the Abood bus and struck up a conversation with my seatmate Joel, it turned out that he works in Morogoro and knows Dave! So it’s a small world, even here.

Our House

Here are some pictures of our house and the view around us. There is a second story on the right side of the house and a flat rooftop above that with a rather spectacular view of the Uluguru Mountains. We are planning to eat up there sometimes. When the sky is clear there is also a wonderful view of the night sky from the rooftop, including the Southern Cross, my favorite constellation after the Big Dipper.

Someone asked me what a typical day was like. I wish there were typical days! Every day is unexpected and different and, for someone like me who thrives on routine and familiar pathways, it can seem daunting sometimes. This will change ere the mango rains arrive, I expect. Things have to settle down sometime – that’s the hope that I steadfastly cling to.

But then, I did make bread so the house is officially christened and found enough major ingredients to make granola that was not half bad. The wakulima (cultivators) who bring their vegetables and fruit to our front door are pleasantly persuasive in selling their produce so we have more than enough food. Since our house isn’t finished, we have fundi (workmen) around most days, painting, putting in screens, lights and windows.

And, it turns out that the young woman who helps in the house has a sewing machine so she’s going to sew curtains and anything else we need. The sewing machines here are treadle types that don’t use electricity so that job can actually get done since there is an energy crisis here. There had been an on-line schedule of the “load shedding” when various regions have their electricity cut off but in the past days the schedule has pretty much been tossed and electricity goes out randomly. Dave is getting us set up with a battery backup system for lights and laptops so we’ll be able to keep humming along but it’s a real hardship for shops and businesses all over the country.

And what about the mango rains? The short rains that fall in October and November are sometimes called mango rains because they bring sweet mangoes in abundance in December (just in time for the Christmas stockings!) Right now, we are in the coolest and driest season of the year which runs from June until September. “It’s so cold,” people say, shivering in sweaters and coats. “It’s our winter, you know,” they’ll add by way of explanation. Sure, it’s just freezing out there in the morning when the temperature is down to a frigid 65 degrees! By noon it’s up in the 70s and the sun is shining brightly so I’m still a skeptic on this alleged “winter” in East Africa!

Settling In

On Monday we got the keys to our new home in Morogoro. We’d been living out of suitcases in a hotel since arriving so Monday was a great day!  We’re pretty much settled in now – our clothes are unpacked and hung up but it won’t really be home until I make some bread in the oven. It’s a nice house; sunlit, roomy and airy, generously surrounded by all manner of tropical flora. There are banana trees, papaya trees and coconut, palm, and jackfruit trees. There are flame trees and a jacaranda-looking viney thing and other trees whose names I don’t yet know.  Every now and then we hear the plunk, plunk on the roof of falling coconuts or the occasional jack fruit. This morning, two monkeys chased each other around the trees in the back yard, much as the squirrels used to do in our back yard in Columbus.

I love the night sounds here. At dusk, there’s an instant chorus of soothing cicada-like sounds and gentle chirps of other creatures. I loved similar night sounds in Ohio, too, but they heralded the beginning of the end of summer so they carried their own measure of grief!!  Here, I can listen happily, knowing that the only change of season ahead is from dry to rainy. 

Dave is getting settled into his work, too. He’s working with Sokoine University and the Tanzanian Ministry of Agriculture on USAID’s Feed the Future initiative that aims to improve crop yields and help train the next generation of agricultural scientists here. Sokoine is Tanzania’s agricultural university and Dave’s been working with researchers there for a number of years on another project, assessing the impact of rainfall changes on small farmers on Mt. Kilimanjaro.  Morogoro is a kind of “bread basket” for Tanzania and, so far, has not been affected by the drought further north in East Africa.

I’ve added some maps at the side that narrow in on Morogoro. We’re not that far away!  And looking at the maps reminds me of a surprise on our flight here. Normally, we’ve flown south from Amsterdam over Libya and on to East Africa. But the airspace over Libya is closed to commercial aircraft now so we flew east from Amsterdam and then turned south over the Greek Isles and across the Mediterranean to Egypt.  It was a cloudless day and the view of the Islands with their green hills, rocky outcroppings, and twisting coastlines was simply awe-inspiring. We flew south across North Africa with the Nile River just to our left – a tiny line in the sand below and the only major river in the world to flow north to its estuary.