We had just arrived in Bagamoyo the night before, after traveling for 36 hours from the United States.  We were on a trip sponsored by Hendrix College, during which Maxine and I would photograph and interview, respectively, as many rural women as we could with Terri’s help.  The students were with us to learn about doing this type of work and to pursue their own related projects.  Terri offered to walk us around Bagamoyo that first afternoon.  Though jet lagged, we were eager to see the town.  None of us had ever visited Tanzania before and it all felt strange and new.

We started walking at 4:00 in the afternoon.  Many people were out in the streets, as were chickens and goats.  The people called out greetings to us as we walked and we were all conscious of being such obvious outsiders with our pale skin and awkward Kiswahili replies.  Terri was stopped several times and exchanged greetings with people she knew, including former street boys now living in town.  It was clear that she did not suffer from precisely the same outsider status that we held.  She was also interrupted from her tour guide duties by the phone.

That phone rang and rang.  The babies were sick at the farm.  Her kids were sick.  Test results were awaited and discussed.  Where was the medicine?  How would we get to the interviews in Kiwangwa?  Did someone need to go back to the hospital?  Could George pick up the medicine for Mrisho? Kiswahili and English, more Kiswahili peppered with medical terms, flew from her lips.  Between calls, Terri laughed and smiled and pointed out landmarks and identified plants and trees.  Bits of her conversations began to paint a picture of her life, and the reach she had in her community.  Her very central place in the lives of so many made the pace of our walk through town comfortable for, say, a very sick turtle.

Suddenly, she said, “Oh, I’m going to have to talk to this one for a while.”  We saw the man she had identified walking enthusiastically our way.  Strangely, at that moment Terri’s sandal broke, the thong pulling away from the sole, and rain began to fall.  We hurried under the awning of a building where the man had been standing.  In less than a minute, he had Terri’s shoe in his hand and was running down the street with it.

As we struggled to process what had just happened, the rain started to come down in earnest.  We were stuck there, one of us shoeless, all of us without raincoats or umbrellas, and Terri began to explain.  That was Muba’s father, the boy who had needed facial surgery.  Another group from Hendrix College five years before had taken his picture.  Terri had sent it to a group, Facing the World, who had agreed to help.  For two long years, Terri struggled to get visas and permissions, medical records and test results, and funding.  Officials in the U.K. had lost the paperwork twice.  Complications in Tanzania arose.  Finally, though, Muba got his surgery.  That was why, with barely a word spoken, Terri would have her shoe fixed in minutes.  That was why she would always need to stop to talk with this family.

Every time Terri told me about a success story, someone she was able to help, I thought of this man.  Helping one person in Bagamoyo has a tremendous ripple effect.  You don’t help a person, you help a family, a neighborhood, a community.  Those many phone calls were laying the groundwork for the next success story.  Failures, too, surely, but moving undeniably in the right direction.

As Terri told us this “happy” story, tears rolled down her face several times as she recalled the frustrations of that process.  His surgery was in 2009, but it was still fresh enough to hurt.  Terri sees so much suffering, but she isn’t hardened to it.  It is fresh every time.  She pushes and fights so people will suffer a little less.  She knows about the high price and likelihood of failure, but it doesn’t keep her from trying.

Whenever we went anywhere with Terri, we were reminded of her impact.  The phone continued to ring, sms messages from the U.S. beeped, people came to find her.  She never walked anywhere quickly, but she was always moving forward.

Husna's outgrown her artificial leg and now walks with a limp

Husna is a girl of 11 who lives in Dar es Salaam. She was born with no anus and a leg that had to be amputated. Her mother can’t afford the colostomy bags that she requires. Also Husna has outgrown her leg and a new one costs a minimum of $200, probably closer to 3. If anyone knows of a medical supplier that might be able to donate the bags the details are “two piece drainable pouch, small, transparent/overlap Cut to fit 13-32 mm.” Thank you! The photo was taken on Christmas eve. Baobab took Husna out for a memorable Christmas. She even got to meet ’santa” in the city!

In March, two of our older guys- former street boys-now young men who work for us, each reached a breaking point.  Drinking had begun to do damage to their lives. Where did our responsibility to these guys end? We had loved them for years, but they were grown men now.  We struggled as a family with it. I talked to the other former street boys and then  I took them each by the ear to Dar es Salaam and introduced them to AA and ultimatums. Within 24 hours they were each in a “sober house” in Zanzibar learning “the program”.  We were all a little scared that first day. The houses are stark, with only plastic chairs and a lot of men in various states of heroin detox. Food was basic at best. This was no Betty Ford. A month later I went to visit them and found their Swahili now peppered by 12 step phrases in English. They had made some deep friendships and were genuinely happy. They said that they had entered the house to please me, but they were staying for themselves. I could already see incredible changes in both of them.  Now, 5 months later, seeing these guys, not just ‘get ahead a bit’ but dig up their lives from the roots and replant has been one of the most extraordinary privileges I’ve had here, and I’ve had so very many.  The ripple effects on the whole Baobab family have been extraordinary. They lead our morning feelings/workshift meeting and they attend weekly AA meetings. In our small town nobody had ever heard of AA before so this is revolutionary and they are sharing their success with friends. They are committed at a totally new level to life on the Baobab farm. They are truly invested in our family life and it shows.

In July we had several volunteers. I was concerned that one of them did not have enough to do. I went to my dear friend Halima, age 63, pos, grandmother to half the town, former gun runner during the war with Uganda, tough as nails and soft as a pillow. I explained my problem. I was looking for a child in the community with a tough medical problem who would likely get better care if accompanied by a mzungu who could probe the issue and get extra tests done. I said “who doya got?” She didn’t know of any kids right now but took me two doors down to see her neighbor, Maua. She’s a beautiful woman in her mid 50s who has been sitting at home for three years due to blindness. She explained to me that a doctor from the city had prescribed her some vitamins a few years ago that seemed to increase her ability to see light, but that was it. Could we get more vitamins for her? I was not hopeful. I knew it wouldn’t be much money to take her but I worried that we were giving a woman hope where there was none.  A few days later volunteer Melissa B from Canada took Maua in to the eye doctor right down the road. Cataracts. That was it. Really thick cataracts. Three years of solitude and resignation with no resources to probe the issue further.  Two weeks later, Mugin took Maua to have her first eye operated on. For about $100 of Melissa’s donation money, which included travel and food, Maua can see out of one eye. In a few weeks she’ll have the other eye done, also courtesy of Melissa.  Halima and I have been calling each other on the phone throughout the process high fiving each other.

There is no guidebook to this job and I know I make a lot of mistakes. I’m just so grateful when the universe gives me such clear signs. Thank you all so much for your support.

We found Martin’s Dad and the baby is now called Martin Joseph. He is thriving and happy and walking like a champ. His father likes his son’s name and loves his son. He’s done his best to visit and get to know Martin in the months since we introduced them. On October 28 we will pay bus fare for Martin and his father to travel back to their tribal home of Kigoma where Martin will be raised by his father and his father’s Aunt, a woman who lost her only son several years ago to a tragic accident.  Soon everyone will be where they are supposed to be and a new baby will join the Baobab family-maybe for awhile, maybe forever.  Good luck Martin and Baba Martin!! Thank you to the Martin family and all of our donors who enable us to really love and tend to each child in our care.

At long last here are the photos of our little herd. Thanks to Randy Michaelis for inspiring the purchase and to Marilyn Weiland and George and Susan Edmonds for contributing generously. We are the proud owners of 13 cows.  These cows are very eager (we asked them) to do what they do best (digest and produce waste) for a purpose and one day they will. Baobab will eventually cook all food for kids and staff using biogas and not waste even one more Tanzanian tree. We are slowly moving toward our vision to build a locally constructed biogas digester. If anyone would like to help our cows reach their full potential, you are welcome to donate or come visit and help us to build. It will cost about $4000

Thanks to volunteers Liana Woskie and Katie Balk though, The Baobab Home is now conducting research on the psychosocial needs of children living with HIV. We have finished the preliminary interview stage and this Saturday we will lead discussion groups with dozens of parents and caregivers about how best to expand our breakfast program to meet the growing psychosocial needs of positive kids. The good news is that fewer and fewer children are born positive each year, yet it happens. But for Mariamu and her many peers, born before drugs were available here, something must be done to help them to live the healthiest and happiest life possible.

Masumi was a JICA volunteer who speaks excellent Kiswahili and worked tirelessly in the Bagamoyo Social Welfare Department for two years. As her work term was winding down, she met Baobab volunteer Katie Balk and devised a plan for a playground at Baobab. Together they kept the project running on time and only $10 over budget, both of which are amazing feats here.

On September 11 The Baobab Home held a grand opening party for the playground with food, music and many guests. The children from the Baobab orphanage were all there as well as our neighbor kids, many of whom had never even seen a playground before.  It was clear from the beginning that playgrounds are not only fun, but become teaching tools as well.  The older kids often took the lead and helped the younger ones down the slide, or took turns pushing each other on the swings.  In the end, both the kids and the adults had an amazing time and it’s a day that will not be soon forgotten!  Thankfully it was just the first of many and we look forward to welcoming all of Bagamoyo’s children to enjoy the new playground!

To Hokkaido, JICA, EX-JOCV CHIBA ASSOCIATION and Masumi Ichihara we say  “ Arigatou gozaimasu” and “Asanteni sana” from the Baobab Home, and all the children who will have years of fun and exercise on the new playground equipment.