Day 5 - Korogwe

Dear Friends,

Greetings from Korogwe!

Two days ago Sam and I hopped a Scandinavia Express bus out of Dar es Salaam and began our trek to Korogwe. Eddey, our new friend who helped us navigate the endless chaos of Dar’s bustling streets and markets the two days we were in the city, dropped us off at the bus station and basically carried us to our bus to ensure that all went smoothly. It helps to make friends in foreign places!

If you’re not accustomed to traveling on African roads, the bus ride may have been mildly terrifying. But after 3 days of flying around the city in Eddey’s 1980’s camry, narrowly avoiding head-on collisions with every person, vehicle, animal, building we passed, the bus ride was by our newly formed metric, uneventful.

5 hours later, we arrived in Korogwe.

Jumping off of the bus, we were immediately greeted by several very friendly cab drivers each of which had a different idea of where our bags should go. Thankfully, Canon Edward and Brendan, a 26 year-old from Ohio who is working with the Anglican Diocese, rounded up our gear and threw it in the Diocese’s Landcruiser.

Still not knowing where we were going to stay during our time in Korogwe, and thinking that we would end up bargaining to share a room in the local hotel on a random off street of New Korogwe (Mandundu), we were bewildered to find ourselves dropped off in front of a 3 bedroom home on the hillside above Old Korogwe (about a 5 minute walk to downtown Old Korogwe and a 30-45 minute walk to New Korogwe). Complete with running water (some of the time), electricity (some of the time), a refrigerator, an oven and stove, and lots of tea, our new home is incredibly nice. Though we still have to use buckets for showers, it is fantastic to know that I can wash off every few days. And I am very thankful that Sam and Brendan can wash off every day—limits the smell!

Soon after unpacking our gear and cozying up to our new abode, we were thrown in a car and shuttled off to our greeting celebration with Dr. Damian, another new friend. Dr. Damian works at St. Raphael’s hospital in Old Korogwe attending to locals stricken with malaria, HIV, birthing complications, and other such common problems. But for that night, with the workday over, he wanted to relax and enjoy some good drink, good food, and good conversation with us.
As we sipped on Kilimanjaro—motto: “It’s kill time. Make the most of it!”—we enjoyed a real local delicacy: pork, slow roasted for hours over coals in a huge cast-iron oven. It was delicious. We were soon joined by another doctor coming from Teule, the region’s main hospital. Dr. Damian had invited him to look over the grant proposal he was writing for a program to limit transmission of HIV from mothers to their children. The two doctors made for great company, and the hours (and rounds of Kilimanjaro) passed freely.

Yesterday morning we met up with Canon Edward and headed down to the two markets in Old Korogwe. All of the vendors at the first market were selling various produce. The first vendor we spoke with was a teenage girl, sitting amidst hundreds of oranges laid out on a large canvas. The Tanga region is famous for its oranges, and we all enjoyed a fresh sample of her family’s crop. Tanzanians do not peel and eat there oranges section by section; instead, they use a knife to peel off the rind, then cut the orange in half like a grapefruit and bite/squeeze the juice and pulp out of the pith. Of course, the locals make it look easy, but Sam made quite the fool of himself trying to wield the knife, and ended up covered in fresh-squeezed orange juice. Brendan bought a dozen oranges and Canon Edward, Jesse and Sam did a little research on the production, transport, and sale of the vendor’s family’s oranges.

From there we continued on through the market, sampling and purchasing fruit and vegetables as we went. Finished with the first market, we moved on to another, busier, more diversified market in the center of town. It was a hive of activity, as daladalas, taxis, and buses passed in and out. The market was fairly sprawled—it was divided into several connected squares, with vendors lining the perimeter of each. The market is comprehensive, with second-hand shoe vendors, women’s underwear vendors (ever wondered where those clothing drives end up?), and cellphone kiosks mixed in with butchers, spice sellers, and large produce stands. It all easily overwhelms the senses.

We came to the hillside palace for lunch and a siesta. Once fully rested, Jesse and Sam grabbed a soccer ball and headed down to a small soccer field in Old Korogwe.

Nothing quite beats the spectacle of a couple of wazungu walking down a road with a soccer ball, and we quickly picked up a large group of eager, up and coming soccer stars who led us to the nearest “soccer field” – think rolling grass mounds with crudely constructed stick frame goals. In no time, we had two teams fighting it out on the field with half of the Old Korogwe community playing their role as audience – the goat herder watching as his herd mowed the adjoining field, the local men disenchanted by the Euro futbol game happening at the local tavern, the parents’ eager to see their children outperform the other local children, and the majority anxious to see if these two white boys had any skill, which we left no doubt, we’ve still got it – at least against 10 year-olds. Jesse attempted to play barefoot, as was the local fashion, but quickly discovered that his feet, normally very satisfied in athletic socks and supportive shoes, did not appreciate the abrupt change of environment and quickly tore to pieces. Sam experienced similar discomfort. But the games continued.

After about an hour of play, the coach arrived; although, we didn’t notice until we started losing players one by one to drills on the lot next to us. Yet, occasionally players would return to the field, raising the question, had we become part of the practice? It didn’t take long for our question to be answered when the coach appeared on the field with a very brief English welcome and direction, ”Hello. You can keep playing but I sub out 7 to practice over here and then replace with new 7. Ok?” So the game continued in an incredibly structured fashion. The field was spread. The ball worked around with accuracy. Few shots taken. The kids wore expressions of tension, the type of tension that comes with the awareness that coach is watching. This continued for another hour until we were thoroughly exhausted. With high fives and a quick chat with the coach, which included an invitation to come back anytime, we departed back to our home.

That night, we were invited over to the Komba’s for Mama Komba’s special Korogwe welcome dinner. We enjoyed beef stew, fried pork, sukamawiki (collard greens), rice, potatoes, noodles, and watermelon. To wash it all down we sipped juice made fresh from mangoes and guavas. It all was delicious.

This morning we got up bright and early to head to church. We traveled with Canon and Mama Komba to a parish about 4 miles away. The church is located a good ways off the main highway; we navigated the dirt/mud road roads up a picturesque hillside and eventually reached the church. We received quite the welcome—personalized welcome signs greeted us from the wall of the pastor’s home next door. The service was beginning just as we arrived, and we were immediately hustled up to special chairs at the front of the church. The service was lovely. It featured a wonderful mixture of High Anglican orthodoxy—lots of incense, heavy robes, chanted readings—and African charismaticism. The small youth choir sang several stirringly beautiful songs. Sam strained to follow along with the Swahili service as best he could.

Midway through the service we were invited to stand in front of the church to greet and be greeted by the parish. Canon Edward translated, and Sam generated some excitement by attempting to introduce himself in Swahili.

After the service—two and half hours, lightning quick by African standards—Pastor Joel welcomed us into his home for tea. Pastor Joel is a really incredible guy. He is not married, but has adopted five orphan sons. He is directly involved in the care of several other children, and runs a program for the several hundred orphans in his district. We met three of them, and they are all awesome—incredibly kind and sharp. The youngest delivered the announcements during the service, and is clearly a budding superstar preacher. The kid had serious charisma.
In all, it was an incredibly moving Sunday. We’re back at the palace now, tossing a football and waiting for the rice and beans to cook.

For those who made it this far, thanks for taking the time to read this absurdly long post! We will endeavor to make subsequent posts much more abbreviated, hitting the highlights with more photos and less verbage.

Much love to all,
Jesse and Sam