The Baobab Home

Grow Up All Over Again at Our Orphanage!

November 12, 2012

Some of the Baobab Kids picking Cow Peas! Come on over and help….karibu! (welcome in Swahili!) Cow Peas and coconut sauce for dinner tonight….

Bagamoyo Beach

August 8, 2012

By Jenn Pae

I’ll never forget the pure joy and excitement from the kids at The Baobab Home when we spent the afternoon at a beach in Bagamoyo.  We arrived at the beach on pikipiki (motorcycle) right behind the van full of children.  They piled out of the car looking so wonderful in their button up shirts and dresses.  We walked along the beach and found a section to put down our things and change the kids into their bathing suits, some in just their underwear.  Once they were ready, they ran to the water.  Immediately, a few were intimidated by the waves.  I could hear Octa and Adam crying, but they quickly got over their fears and were in the water in no time.  Enjoy the following short video, you’ll see why it’s such a treat to join them at the beach.

 

Let Your Moyo Guide Your Mikono

August 6, 2012

By Linda Leu

The word yoga means “yoke” or “union”, and the practice of yoga is intended to help individuals understand the union or connection between ourselves, the divine, and all living beings; and to align the intentions of the heart with the actions of the body.  Practicing yoga helps us understand that God is in our hearts and also in all those around us.  When we understand this, it seems inevitable that we let our hearts guide our hands in service to those around us.

I had the amazing opportunity to teach a series of yoga classes at Bibi Halima’s, to the women that are served by Baobab Home at the CTC.  These women are HIV+ themselves, and/or they care for children who are HIV+.  In one class, Terri Place, the Executive Director of Baobab Home translated and joined us in the practice.  This was incredibly humbling for me, as Terri, Bibi Halima, and many of the women in the class show on a daily basis, what it means to live with hearts wide open in service, to constantly care for others as self.  This is the practice of yoga in its purest form.

It was a great honor to have the opportunity to show these incredible women and the beautiful children some yoga poses, and to provide a space to encourage self-care.  Life makes persistent demands on their energy and their love, and far too often, there is little left for themselves.  I am so grateful for their beauty and strength and all that I learned in sharing the practice with them.  Namaste.

Bringing Yoga to Bagamoyo

By Jenn Pae

  

It all began with an idea in the Bay Area in California.  In preparation, Katie and Linda quickly began collecting donated yoga pants to bring to Bagamoyo, Tanzania.  We didn’t really know what to expect, and in many ways, that’s the beauty of what transpires.

 

In the late afternoon, we brought the donated yoga pants to Bibi Halima, an inspiring and fierce community leader, so we could practice yoga in her backyard.  She handed out the yoga pants to the women that came to join us and they quickly changed into them.  Many of them had huge smiles and a few even modeled their pants for us.

 

We didn’t need any yoga mats for our afternoon sessions.  Instead, we were surrounded by kids, ducks, and coconut trees.  Some of the kids looked on in wonder, including Habibu and Shabani who are foster kids staying with Bibi Halima.  They had huge smiles on their faces the entire time and would laugh occasionally.  Many of the women would also laugh as they tried to sit in the chair pose or stand as a tree.  Everyone was having a wonderful time.

 

We found out later that another Bibi (grandmother) that participated in all of the yoga sessions is still practicing her yoga poses at home.  It looks like we made a lasting impression, and it’s not just because of the tie-dye yoga pants.

 

A big thank you to Katie, Terri, George, and Ema for helping to translate and make this all possible.  It’s hard to forget the image of the circle of women in Warrior pose during sunset.  It’s one that will always stay with us.

Steven Tito Academy

August 1, 2012

By Jenn Pae

July was a month of exciting developments for the Baobab Home.  The Steven Tito Academy opened on the farm!  Named in memory of Steven Tito, a Baobab child who passed away in 2010 due to HIV/AIDS, this primary school will serve local students beginning with a small first grade class.  Although we missed the opening celebration, we had the pleasure to witness the students planting ginger around the flag pole built in memory of Ginger Nieman and Barbara Sabo.  The kids took turns getting water from the faucet near the school and carrying it together to water the plants.

  

In addition to learning about English and math, the students are also learning about agriculture and gardening.  It’s definitely an added benefit the school is located on a farm.  There so many possibilities with the open land that is being shared with the cows, goats, and chickens.

  

There are many more students who would like to join the school and The Baobab Home would love to have them!  Please consider sponsoring a student.  For one year, the average cost is $550 USD.  Visit http://www.tzkids.org/home/donation/ and change not only the life of one student, but their family and community as well.  Smaller donations will be used for school supplies and seeds to help in the gardening project.

A Place Called Shamba

July 31, 2012

By Jenn Pae

 

Once Linda and I arrived in Bagamoyo, I couldn’t wait to visit The Baobab Home.  The children are absolutely amazing!  We rode pikipikis (motorcyles) to the shamba (farm) and the minute the kids saw me, I became a human jungle gym.  They were climbing all over me and giving me huge hugs.  You couldn’t help but smile and laugh.  We got a tour of the farm and school, which included a biogas system and solar panels.  I am in awe of this place.  Each time we visited, my heart was overwhelmed with love and happiness.  You can also feel the love between all of the babies, kids, and staff.  It’s incredibly special.

  

During a break in school one day, Sabra (also known as Sabrina), called me over “njoo njoo!”  She pointed up into a banana tree and I told her that they didn’t look ripe yet.  She pulled my hand and showed me one small yellow banana (ndizi) amongst a branch of green bananas.  I picked her up and she reached up and grabbed it.  Once she hit the ground, the kids quickly ran towards her.  Sabra carefully broke off small pieces and handed them out, one by one.  I saw this once again when Linda brought candy to the shamba one day and Hadija was the last one with any left.  Once again, she carefully divided the last bits of her candy to all of the other babies.  Sabra and Hadija didn’t need to share, but they wanted to.

 

The same care and attention is given to the food preparation for everyone at the shamba as well.  It was such a treat being a part of the lunch preparation, the most interesting has got to be the ugali.  You must try it!

 

While we were in Bagamoyo, we also got a tour of a research center and hospital for patients diagnosed with HIV/AIDS.  The Baobab Home has had a long history with the community and for the past 3 years had been serving porridge to the patients as they wait for their name to be called for their monthly medication (sometimes waiting all day).

All of the incredible work The Baobab Home accomplishes each and every day can only be done through your donations.  I urge you to contribute, no amount is too small.  You can even set up a monthly donation!  Please donate today.

A special thank you to all of the staff, volunteers, kids, and babies at The Baobab Home.  I miss you dearly.

Towel Turbaned Totos

June 1, 2012

The kids all love it when Mama Bua puts her hair up in a towel. Everyone comments “umependeza!” (you look nice!) So the other night we all donned towel turbans after showering. Wamependeza sana!!

A Global Team

May 3, 2012

At long last Husna has her new leg! Many thanks to Ken Place for funding this.  So many other people have helped Husna recently. Thank you to volunteer Katie McCarthy for adjusting Husna’s spine and Luke Glaude for helping to get the first leg remade correctly. Thank to  Jo Place to researching sources for colostomy bags and finding Osteomates. Thanks to Ashley Washburn and Andy and  for getting the bags here. Thanks to Ken Russo and Jonathan Santi, Tanner Pulsifer for connecting us to the Stealth Belt. Next month Husna will receive a new belt to help keep her bags in place so she never has to miss school again.

Donations Change Lives-Thank you Melissa and Caroline

April 11, 2012

If you’ve been to Baobab in the last three years then you already know and love George Zakaria. He manages the health of our HIV+ kids, counsels outreach clients, farms and does  about a dozen other odd jobs.   He is Terri’s right hand and always knows where her phone, and often her mind, are when she doesn’t. He’s empathic and wise and the kids adore him. George has lived with HIV for 13 years and has thrived despite so many obstacles. He recently celebrated one year sober, which was a joyful day for all of us.   Recently a friend of his, Melissa Byers of Canada, assisted by a different friend, Caroline Larsen of Denmark, did something amazing. They donated $2000 (1500/500) to build George’s parents and his orphaned nephews a house. For several years George’s parents have been squatting on the property of a pretty mean woman. One night about two years ago George told me his life story until the wee hours of the morning, clearing up lots of lies and secrets he had told to protect himself.  I have held it close to my heart since then, sharing bits and pieces with people, but it’s a story that deserves a fair telling.  For fans of Joseph Campbell, it’s a true hero’s journey. But this essay focuses less on George and more on his family and how it came to pass that they were so desperately in need of help. Thank you Melissa. Thank you Caroline.  You’ve helped a family in an extraordinary way, by giving them what most of us take for granted, a roof over their heads.

1980 Portrait of a happy family in the Nyaturu tribe.  George’s father Zakaria  was a relatively wealthy man. He had four wives and 8 kids. Each wife lived in her own dirt house on his compound and they helped each other. Cows are central to Nyaturu existence and he had many, which meant prestige. In 1983 just after George’s sister Neema was born his mother Magdalena, lay dying of an unknown stomach problem. George’s father assessed his wealth and decided that he should take her to a doctor rather than a traditional healer. It turned out that she required a colostomy. The operation cost a lot of money, so cows were sold. They had no money for colostomy bags and to this day she uses rags to protect her stoma.  In 1984 she became pregnant with her seventh child. She was told that she couldn’t deliver normally so she was flown to a hospital a few hundred miles away and George was born by C section, named after the white doctor who performed this miracle, the same one who had led the stomach surgery. C sections were a rarity in Tanzania then so this had to have cost a LOT of cows. George was her first son, her last born.

1994  Magdalena was shunned by her co- wives because of her health condition and the toll it had taken on their social standing. Zakaria’s wealth was disappearing. He was drinking and resentful. George sided with his mother, but her desperate situation upset him so he ran away a lot and lived on the street. George’s sister Miriam was 19 years old with two children and no arms because they’d been burned off when she’d fallen into a fire during an epileptic seizure.  She had stayed in the hospital for months healing. Five years prior she had graduated at the top of her 7^th grade class and earned a full scholarship to prestigious high school, but couldn’t take the position she’d been offered because she had been impregnated by her seventh grade teacher.  Then, Magdalena lost her third child. She was overcome by grief. A month later she decided that she had to escape the curse that was chasing her and one night,  when George came back after a few weeks on the street, she took her armless daughter, the two kids, and George and just began walking. She had no idea where she was going. She carried her 4 year old grandson on her back and George and Miriam took turns holding the baby. They walked until they dropped about 150 km later in a town called Igunga. They lived in a field for weeks until they got shelter from a pastor.

1996 Miriam was the breadwinner and life was pretty good. She was the town’s most famous beggar and definitely the smartest. She wouldn’t let anyone mistreat her. She challenged anyone who mocked her and proved her intelligence by writing with a pen held in her mouth. Bus drivers gave her free rides to bigger towns so that she could make more money.   She saved 50,000 shillings (less than $50 in today’s money, a fortune then) which bought a small plot and a mud house. They bought a cow and a plow. Magdalena farmed and sold donuts. Neighbors who had no money paid her in rice.  She did very well for herself but her son was lost to her. George was on the street, smoking pot and drinking, coming home only occasionally. He spent a lot of time at a shelter several hours away where one of the teachers saw his potential and took him under her wing.  One day the teacher brought him home to see his family. Miriam was overjoyed. Her brother was back, and he lovingly fed her again and helped wash her face and her feet. She begged him to stay but Magdalena knew that this was George’s only chance at and education and she urged him to go back with the teacher.

1999 George completed the fourth grade. He was 14 years old. He missed his family terribly as he had no word from them for over two years. He went home to find that Miriam had died during another seizure.  Magdalena was left with the two young boys and George’s sister Neema had come to help. George decided to quit school and stayed home for about a year to help farm.  Before George had arrived home, Magdalena found a woman curled up in the street, emaciated. She had been kicked out by her parents and left to die on the street. Magdalena carried her home on her back and fed her. She nursed her back to health but never told her family that the woman was HIV+ for fear of stigma. By the time George came back from the shelter, the woman looked reasonably healthy and George slept with her. A few months later the woman died and people began talking. George got sick and didn’t respond to any medicine so a nurse urged his mother to get him tested. George didn’t really understand what HIV was or the implications, but his mother did and she was wrecked. She had just lost her fourth child and believed that she was responsible for the imminent death of the fifth.  In those days there were no drugs and HIV was a death sentence. She was scared each time he got sick. He hated the pressure and he was mad at her for not being open about the woman’s status, so he left.

2000 George hit the streets again. People liked him so he got lucky breaks and stayed with people for months at a time, but he was restless and moved from town to town chasing odd jobs.  Meanwhile, unbeknownst to George, his father Zakaria went to Igunga to visit his long lost wife. He still had 20 cows and some land, but he sold it all to go to live with Magdalena. He converted to Christianity and stopped drinking. They lived there for two years together with the boys and then the rains had stopped. There was no food. There were no jobs so they had to sell their farm and in 2003 moved to Arusha. Zakaria knew people from his days selling cows. He got a job as a security guard. It enabled them to rent a room for a few dollars a month and get by for a year or two.

2005  After many twists and turns that belong in a different essay, George wound up in Bagamoyo at a different street boy shelter and was trying to finish primary school at age 20. He fell in love with a girl, but had a deadly secret and knew that he couldn’t hurt her. Just before he was set to graduate the shelter was shut down and the boys scattered in different directions.  A representative from the shelter contacted me, Terri, and urged me to find a young boy named George, HIV+ in need of medication. I dispatched the Baobab boys to go look for their friend, but he was nowhere to be found.

2008 Pascal shows up at the Baobab Home with George…….several years after he was sent to find him! At this time Steve and Mdoe, young HIV+ brothers were living at Baobab.  George was a brilliant big brother. He was helpful with Steve and Mdoe but it was hard on him emotionally because he hadn’t grappled with his own demons yet.  I got mad at him for a lie that Steven told and George got fed up. He stole money and ran away, first to Singida where he learned his father and mother are now reunited.  His mother had assumed that he had died. George found his parents in dire straits, squatting on the property of a woman who mistreated them. George’s mother was going to the dump every day to see what she could salvage. Zakaria was too old to keep a job as a security guard. He was raised to herd cows and city life was not easy for him. Magdalena and Zakaria are talented singers though so they sing in their church and people give them money. George’s learned that his nephews were being sponsored by a pastor in the area an doing well.  I sent someone to find George and bring him back. He had wronged us, but I had not lost faith in him by any means. He paid his debt to Baobab and continued to work. He drank to drown out thoughts of his family’s condition but he did his job well.

Late 2010 George quit smoking pot and was happy and a little more focused. He still had drinking binges that were self destructive. I helped buy his family a plot of land in March 2011 but just after, George smoked again and hit bottom because he was so disappointed in himself. Thanks to some amazing timing I got him into a 12 step sober house in Zanzibar where he stayed 3 months and completely overhauled his life. His sobriety now means everything to him and he has helped several others overcome their addictions. He is a brilliant counselor.

March 2012 Melissa Byers sent $1500 to build Magdalena and Zakaria their very own house. Caroline Larsen covered the rest. George was scared at first, but he headed to Arusha and handled the building management beautifully and frugally. The design is for three rooms. We only had the money to build two and put a roof on one room, but it’s enough for now. He got them a toilet dug and they are on their own. No more cruel treatment from the landowner where they squatted.  When I spoke to George’s mother she was so shrill with excitement I couldn’t even understand her. She said Haleluya a lot.  One day the third room will be small shop so that they can have an income and not live off handouts at their church.  George’s nephews Amani and Ibra, the children of his deceased sister Miriam, are thriving. They are in high school with terrific grades and they play music. Ibra is an artist.

Thanks for reading this far. There are so many people out there with circumstances like this and it’s been an honor to get this story told, and to be a part of such a life changing project. Melissa and Carolina, thank you for what you did. You’ve changed lives and alleviated the suffering of an entire family.

Kata Keki Tulay (Cut the cake, let’s eat)

April 3, 2012

If you’ve got lots of money you can have cocoa powder sent to the farm by motorcycle and you can make the brownies that you really want, but if you don’t, it’s the banana cake that everyone else loves. Preparation is key. The day before you bake, you have to entice the fruit seller into giving you his rotten bananas (they work best) by telling him you’ll give him a piece of cake. This should work because how many fruit sellers can say that they have a mzungu making them cake?  The next morning after coffee, you save a little of the fresh cow’s milk.  Hide it in a good spot so nobody scams it.

When you’re ready to start, check your egg, banana and crowd size. There are no Grade A Jumbo eggs here so you have to guesstimate how your scrawny Tanzanian chickens eggs compare to what those hormone fed beasts back home can produce.  Likewise, Tanzanian bananas pack a flavorful punch, but in about half the size. Increase numbers accordingly.  As for how much to make, a single cake is NEVER enough at Baobab.  The question is do you double, triple or quadruple the recipe? Whatever you do, write it out. If you double your flour and triple your eggs, you’re sunk.

Assemble your labor. Put two kids on the sugar/shortening. Two others can do the banana/egg mix, and two can do dry ingredients. You are command central, setting everyone up for success and making sure measuring cups are level and eggshells don’t get into the mix.  Send one kid to pick a lime to make the sour milk. If its nap time and you only have big kids, you will gain efficiency but lose some of the thrill of it all.   Whatever you do, don’t let them pour the batter in, that’s gotta be you. If you go too thin, you’ll burn, too thick and you get a burnt bottom and a mushy top.

Fire. The best time to make a cake is late in the afternoon when the evening rice is almost finished getting a light brown crusty layer on top and the coals are glowing red. This saves you the money and hassle of starting your own fire. Why let good hot coals go to waste? Make a cake! Just sift through the ashes with a metal slotted spoon to find the perfect gems and start putting them in the clay oven. Preheat? What’s that? Break up your coals so they are an even size. That way your cake pan, or whatever vessel you are using, rests nicely on them. The last thing you want is a sloping cake.  Put a cookie sheet on top and more coals on that so it cooks evenly. Fashion a door for the mouth of the oven out of something flat and prop it up with the aforementioned slotted spoon. Do not even look at the time, as that could lead to overconfidence. Watch your cake like a new mom watches her baby sleep. Is it too hot on the bottom? Is the top getting cooked? Keep your tongs handy for coal rearrangement when needed. Smells go up the chimney so if you smell anything burning, the game is already over. By the time you get to batch number three your coals will be very tired out. You may have to go for the ‘Tanzanian microwave’ at this point. Spark up the gas stove and put some coals right in the flames. Take them out with your trusty tongs, blow on them to get them going and then add them on top or bottom as needed. Do the fork test. Done.

It should be about dinner time. Perfect. If it’s not somebody’s birthday, the kids will pretend it is anyway and will feed each other cake like everybody is a bride and groom.  That’s just the way we do it in Tanzania.