After a leisurely weekend of War and Peace and My Life, on Monday morning we hit the ground running. Literally: William needed help getting his 1950-something royal army issue land rover to the repair show, it starter motor out of whack. It took five young men pushing him along the road at a run and then a sudden turn down a third hill with a quick flip of the keys to get the engine humming.
For Sam, driving to town in that car felt like a moment out of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Lacking passenger doors, we took sharp turns with one hand latched to a handle and another to a backpack. Arriving at the bus park in true style, we got into a vehicle headed for Arusha and started the 1.5 hour drive. A sign for Spices and Herbs, an Arusha Ethiopian restaurant, caught our eye on our way to our stop.
We compensated for a relaxed weekend with a jam-packed day of informational interviews. First was the famous Mr. Ringo, a Tanzanian development consultant. The last time Jake met with former Beatle, he came off as slightly distant and even discouraging - curious as to why Jake was in Tanzania in the first place. Maybe because he appreciated the return visit or the cash in tow, or maybe because Jake had misread him the first time, Mr. Ringo was much more enthused and seemed quite receptive to our plans.
Our discussion with Mr. Ringo focused on management strategies, who suggested ways in which we should carry out our focus group discussions, unify the women and men in the community, and improve our chances of success. For instance, he suggested bringing farmers participating in the loaning program to exposure visits at similar successful programs and described ways to create a sense of community ownership over the project. He also explained the importance of baseline surveys to assess the initial status of loan recipients in order to determine the success of our program.
Besides management suggestions, Mr. Ringo introduced us to a new and crucial contact: Heifer International. Just minutes after Mr. Ringo made the suggestion, we were sitting in the office of Heifer's Deputy Country Director discussing our plan. The country director was initially skeptical of our proposal during the time of ujamaa, or African socialism, Heifer International had attempted to help ujamaa villages raise livestock collectively by giving them animals raised on a central farm in southern Tanzania. The central farm failed because there was no clear division of duty.
He dove into the details of Heifer procedure, for instance the preparations and training that animal recipients receive before the cow is delivered. In Heifer, communities are organized into groups of 10-20. Half of these farmers receive training, plant fodder, build sheds, come up with a community coordination plan, and generally prepare to receive the cows. The cows and training are eventually passed on to the other half of the group.
From the country director, we were referred to another Heifer branch and Dr. Taxi, a veterinarian. The doctor described the nuts and bolts to us making the case for dairy cows versus dairy goats. Cows' gestation periods are longer and usually produce only one calf. Goats, on the other hand, can reproduce every five months and, if cared for well, have twins 60-70 percent of the time. Goats produce substantially less milk than cows, 2-3 litres per day compared with 10; however, in some markets goats' milk holds a higher value than cows' thanks to its medicinal properties (it's good for ulcers). Cows also require more hectares of land for feeding. We intend to discuss all these factors with the community to determine what species to invest in. The drastic price difference ($120-30 for goats and $600+ for cows) makes goats a more attractive option. Unfortunately, this might hinder our capacity to provide a meaningful choice to community members.
Until our meeting with the doctor, we were somewhat naive about the in-depth training required for animal husbandry. It turns out that we will have to devote substantial effort and funds to host training sessions, send farmers to a two-week livestock training institute, or come up with some combination of both educational methods. Our training plan will consist primarily of a training of trainers; those who receive the first round of training by means of our funding will be responsible for relaying information to their contemporaries in Shimbwe. We are considering integrating this training of trainers into our Grameen approach by assigning either the initial or ultimate loan in each group of five to trained trainers.
Feeding, housing and security, treatment, and breeding are the four critical issues that dictate the success of a livestock project, including milk production and longevity of animals involved. While we believe that families who are loaned animals will be responsible for feeding the livestock, milking it twice a day, and cleaning its faeces. However, the question remains: who is responsible at the central farm at Sia Primary School? We're hoping to have the government provide a vet to visit the animals once every two weeks or potentially have the local Shimbwe vet provide pro bono services and technical advice. Since our first meeting with Duma we have struggled with the question of whether to build a reinforced cement structure or to use a less durable wood frame. After yesterday's meetings, we are leaning heavily toward the latter option. Mr. Ringo suggested that poor community members might perceive an out-of-place cement structure as gaudy and serve as an inadvertent symbol of our projects' elite nature and inaccessibility. Furthermore, he said that committed thieves will find a way to penetrate a structure regardless of its material composition. This renders the question of saving costs by eliminating the need for a nightwatchman moot. Dr. Taxi of Heifer seconded Ringo's perspective, suggesting we use whatever materials are locally available.
After a long and extremely educational day, the memory of the Herbs and Spice advertisement lingered on our minds. We decided to treat ourselves to Ethiopian food - a delicacy anywhere in the world that gets better and better the closer you get to Ethiopia itself (notes from the motherland of Ethiopian fare pending our prospective visit). We didn't have to look at the menu for more than once before deciding to down the combo meat plate, a selection of ground and boned beefs, chicken, and lamb in a splendid smorgasbord of spicy red and yellow sauces. These delights were served in small dishes over a traditional flat and spongy sourdough. After guzzling two meat-loaded rolls of bread apiece, we dumped the remaining sauces onto the dough unfurled over the serving platter. These too we attacked with abandon stoked by weeks of involuntary vegetarianism.
Passed the closing hours of the Rwandan genocide tribunal, we promised to return another day and speed-walked towards the bus station to get out of Arusha before dusk. Walking along the sidewalk (a revolutionary innovation compared with Moshi), a man in a purple sweatsuit straight out of Tony Soprano's wardrobe ran towards us as we crossed a bridge. Rather than averting Sam, the athlete clenched his fists, drew his arms to his chest, and unloaded them into Sam's. With ninja-like speed and elephantesque strength, Sam caught the gentleman's double-strike with open palms and hurled him over the gleaming rail into the furiously foaming level-five rapid below. But with a ravishing flourish of Ghandi-like forgiveness and Chuck Norris-level athleticism, Sam hung one leg over the railing, caught his assailant by a bunch of purple sweatshirt over his chest, and deposited him safely on the other side of the bridge. Without acknowledging the incident, we walked onwards to the bus station avoiding salesman of safaris and illicit drugs alike.
Safely on board the bus, Jake and Sam waited for it to fill. Readers of Sam's Uganda blog may recall when a live chicken was placed directly under his legs for a three hour drive. Apparently, he can live countries but not conditions. Sam sighed when a teenager holding a clucking chicken sat adjacent to him. However, Sam was luckier than the gentleman seated left of the chicken, who spent a large part of the bus ride with a roll of chicken drool tacked to his overcoat.
