in nairobi

My Emirates Airlines visit today, the sole purpose for my 2 entire days spent twiddling my thumbs here in Nairobi, was so frustrating, it was hilarious. Nairobi is a real city, with skyscrapers, and after arriving by taxi I ascended to the 20th floor of View Park Towers to see an Emirates rep and move a flight. Somehow, in a masochistic twist, I decided to walk past all the efficient, beautiful women Emirates employees (they make them wear these gorgeous hats with swaths of white gauze - very chic), typing rapidly at their computers, and sit down across from a Kenyan man who was just sort of blinking at me.

He began to enter my surname into his computer at a speed that even 'hunt and peck' does not adequately describe. M-C-S-W-E-E ... he shyly looked up at me and proffered up my passport for me to look at.

'Oh ... is a mistake? I thought it was supposed to be a T.'
'What?'
'Are you sure ... this should not be a T? They make a mistake?'
'Who made a mistake? What?'

I looked at my name.

'No, that's correct.'
'Oh. ... You see, I thought it should be a T.'

MCSWEETEY?

This was a bungled flirtation attempt so terrible, I started cracking up right there. He also chuckled, probably thinking he'd done a great job.

He then proceeded to take an HOUR to change the date of my flight, turning frequently to the beautiful Emirates lady next to him for help. He wrote confirmation codes on various scraps of paper, often used an ancient calculator to add my date-change fees (at least ten times), blinked at the screen, and typed about 2 characters per minute. At forty-five minutes I was ready to tear my hair out.

'Should we get someone to help us?' I asked him, trying not to be rude, and trying not to scream.
'No no, I am just finishing. Juuuust finishing.'

So there it is. I had to tell someone. I waited an hour for Emirates to change my flight. I told my Taxi driver. 'Maybe he is Tanzanian,' he said. 'Tanzanians are slow.'

off to Nairobi, 48 hours early ...

Happy (belated) Birthday Dad! I called yesterday and woke him up on his birthday. Lucky number twelve.

I'm headed to Nairobi tomorrow afternoon, taking the first step of my journey home, a little earlier than expected. It turns out I've got to make a date change for my flight home at the end of the school year, and you can ONLY do it in person, at the Emirates Airlines office in Nairobi. Kind of a long story, but some of their bookings are still made the old-fashioned way. So, to catch them during business hours, I've got to head up to Kenya. It's a bit hectic, and I definitely didn't finish all the Christmas shopping (!) I'd intended to do here ... everyone is going to get Kilimanjaro tea bags for Christmas.

In addition, I've been feeling pretty sick the last few days, with bad body aches in the afternoon and feverish nights of sleep. But today I got malaria tests from 2 separate, reliable clinics here in Arusha, and they're negative. I've probably caught some little thing. But it wasn't a fun way to spend the day, sitting in waiting rooms, getting hot flashes. I had an interesting discussion with the "doctor" at the first clinic, who didn't examine me, asked about 2 questions re: my symptoms, and asserted that Ortho Tri-Cyclen is not a drug or medication, but a "supplement." This is the same doctor who, despite my negative malaria lab test, prescribed me an intense 4-day anti-malarial course.

Sigh.

Hopefully I'll feel better so that I can explore Nairobi a little bit before I fly out Sunday night. There's supposed to be fabulous shopping, Indian food, and a big proper movie theater ... otherwise, I'll be holed up at the Backpackers, catching up on my Z's and dreaming of a snowy NYC arrival. In less than four days, I'll be filling up the hug tanks at home in Mansfield!

1. Rock Star has returned. He appeared the other morning, lounging casually on Jessica's bed as if nothing had happened. "Where have you BEEN!?" I asked him. Only a few missing whiskers suggested some kind of wandering adventure. We were overjoyed to see him, and I basically let him walk all over my laptop while I tried to work.

2. I have one more day of teaching left before I enter Christmas Shopping Mode. I'm so glad to be out of the glare of American Christmas-shopping mania ... but people still like presents.

3. I'm thinking of having a little benefit concert of my own while I'm back home in the Boston area -- so, open call to my musician friends from around there. Want to play on a benefit, and maybe even help me put it together? Something low-key, but where we could try to make a few hundred dollars to assist in the transport of our new electric piano from the US to Tanzania. That stuff's expensive ... so give an email if you'll be around Boston for the holidays, and would be willing to donate your artistic talents to a little gathering.

Jingle bells, ho ho ho, etc!!
Love,
Ellen

oh no!

This morning I realized I haven't seen Rock Star in three days!
What if they actually killed him!?

Oh no, Rocky ...

1. We gave a benefit concert on Friday and raised $600! It was a fantastic success in terms of turnout and it felt great for all the Umoja staff to give performances as a team, to put on an event for the community as an organization. Hopefully we will do another in January when Mom and Dad are here.

2. I'm counting down the days til my departure (less than two weeks now) like a giddy schoolgirl. It's been far too long since I saw Tyler, my parents, my siblings -- including my little brother who just finished his first semester of COLLEGE -- and the prospect of all our amazing family traditions at Christmas makes me feel warm and tingly. Unfortunately Molly won't be around for the holiday because she's having an awesome adventure on the West Coast ... that's really sad, but I'm also super excited for her to be traveling.

3. The music school is in stressful transition as we attempt to schedule all our students into the new space. Juggling twenty people's (or more) different hectic schedules, unpredictable commute times, traffic, children who can't focus past 5pm but don't finish school til 2:30 ... has been extremely stressful for me. Dealing with displeased, demanding parents isn't my idea of a good time. So I am just praying to finish the damn schedule and be done with it. Wish me luck.

Hopefully SEE some of you SOON.

thanksgiving

Happy belated Thanksgiving to everyone ... I missed being home for the McSweeney festivities a great deal, but I was pleasantly surprised (and very amused) to find that my cousin Kyle managed to use his facebook account to let many family members say hello to me after dinner! That was pretty awesome. Dinner just doesn't feel as indulgent without an entire course of AMAZING cavati beforehand. *sigh* I can't believe I missed it.

I was lucky enough to have not one, but TWO great Thanksgiving celebrations here in Arusha. The first one was held at our house, and Erica invited all 35+ volunteers and staff members from her organization to have dinner. The volunteers stepped up and made some AMAZING bread stuffing, candied sweet potatoes, tomato/cucumber salad, and mashed potatoes. I made corn muffins, and we ordered a huge quantity of Swahili-style chicken with super-hot chili sauce. It was a true feast shared by many people, and it was really fun.

Then, on the actual day of Thanksgiving, we were invited to the home of an American couple from Minnesota who have lived here for a long time. Mark, the husband, runs Selian Hospital, the best hospital in Arusha, which receives funding from the Lutheran Church. I made lots of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and we ate real turkey, ordered from Nairobi (!). It was delicious and they were kind people all around. One of the older ladies at the party whipped out her guitar after dinner and sang some hilarious Americana campfire songs for us ... it was wonderful.

Everything is well here -- this week promises to be one of the busiest of the year, as we've got two performances coming up. On Friday, we teachers are performing in a benefit concert for Umoja (I'm playing some solo Bach, and some fun tango-style trios). On Saturday, our kids are giving their final performance of the semester at the annual Christmas Fair ... so it's sure to be intense.

I'm counting down the days until I fly home for Christmas. Lots of love to everyone!

P.S. Our cat hasn't been killed yet ... we gave the Mama next door 10,000 Tsh (about $10) to compensate for her lost chickens, and promised to try to address the problem. We haven't had Rock Star deported yet, because he seemed to have stopped his hunting spree. Yet lo and behold, this morning, there was a scattering of black feathers in the kitchen. It seems his days here might be numbered, or his days on Earth will be instead. Poor guy!

the neighborhood hit list

Whoa. Looks like our cat Rock Star is causing serious shidas (problems) in the neighborhood. Should've seen this one coming: this morning, during lazy hours on my day off, I heard a distressed cheeping coming from the living room. Sure enough, Rocky had dragged an entire live chicken into the house and proceeded to eat it in the corner. It was disgusting. He left nothing but a scattering of feathers. And this definitely isn't the first time he's preyed on neighborhood fowl.

Fast forward about seven hours; I'm home alone. There was loud knocking on our gate and an angry-sounded woman speaking rapid Swahili was on the other side. Our dog Kili was barking. "Fungua mbwa kwanzaa!" (something like, "take care of the dog first!") I put Kili inside, opened the gate, and saw an irate mama standing there, holding, well, a dead chicken. I understood from her language and gestures that I was to come with her, so I hurried inside to grab my keys and rejoined her outside the gate.

As neighborhood children looked on with interest, she angrily told me that this morning ("leo asubuhi!") alone, MY cat ("paka yako!") had slain four ("nne!") of her chicken ("kuku!"). She frequently used the dead chicken in her hands for emphasis, showing me its limp neck and spreading its dead wings. Chickens here are quite scraggly, and no one has the money to pump them with feed like we do at home, so it was a pitiful sight.

Though she spoke too quickly for me to truly follow, I got her drift. I tsk-tsked, shook my head, and looked grim. "Mbaya sana, mama. Samahani sana, mama." (It's really bad ... please forgive me, Mother.) But that was definitely not enough. Her response was something along the lines of: You can samahani all you want, but I am PISSED!

She led me to her house, a one-room shanty-type house right next door to ours. A young woman sat nearby with a few kids, and soon the woman's son emerged, and people's speeches began to include the universal symbol for murder: the finger drawn across the throat. The dada (sister) introduced herself in English as Mary, and translated for me: "She wants you to pay for these chickens. And if you do not do something, he will kill that cat!"

In broken Swahili, I explained that I don't speak the language very well, but that my sisters Erica and Liza do. "Atarudi kesho asabuhi," I said -- "She'll return tomorrow morning."

These kuku are probably this mama's livelihood -- she may sell eggs to neighborhood vendors, and certainly must eat the eggs and meat -- and it makes sense to pay for them. But now I'm stuck in the house, with no idea about Rocky's whereabouts, just hoping he doesn't go next door for his FIFTH helping! Jamani!

... And now my electricity's out. This has been the most African hour of my week, hands-down.

Check out the website I've designed for Umoja. It's definitely a work in progress, as it includes a couple of text problems, some silly pictures of the faculty, and one incongruous photo of a person in a snow outfit. That being said, it's exciting that our server's finally working: www.umoja-arts.org. Just please don't show it to any of our potential funders yet.

Lots of work to be done surrounding the January opening of the arts center ... legalities with the Tanzanian government, getting furniture, setting up our teaching schedule, and easing the transition for our expatriate families, who are used to US coming to THEM at their international school. Tables have turned a little on that front, but we still really need their support, so hopefully nobody freaks out about having to drive a little further for their lessons.

Our first benefit concert is November 30, and I'm performing 2 movements of the Bach D minor Partita as part of a fairly short program. We three violinists are also performing a couple of trios arranged by Michael McLean, a fantastic arranger and Suzuki teacher whom I met while at Ogontz this summer. His pieces are wonderful pieces for advanced students and they're also nice crowd pleasers.

In the meantime, I'm dreaming about all the things I'm going to eat during my three-plus weeks at home. On the agenda, for sure, is Asian food; specifically Thai, Japanese and Vietnamese. Also real bagels with cream cheese. Also everything that's involved with McSweeney/McCrorie Christmas festivities: that amazing chocolate bark stuff with peppermint chunks ... my mom's fudge ... antipasti ... shrimp cocktail ... and, of course, anything Tyler cooks for me.

Somewhat in secret, I am training for the Kilimanjaro half-marathon in March. This isn't as impressive as it sounds -- it mostly just means I'm running four times a week -- but it feels really good to work towards some kind of athletic achievement. We'll see how all that goes once I get to the frozen tundra of Massachusetts in wintertime. I'll be happy to see it, however gray and cold it might be then.

They pulled the trigger!

I received a tremendously exciting email yesterday from Mom ... my parents are coming to visit in Tanzania! When I saw the British Airways confirmation number in my email box, I pretty much freaked out. Now, when I return from the States on January 12, Mom and Dad will be with me. I'm so, so happy and excited. My immediate instinct is to begin planning trips for them, asking around with all my friends whom I should hire to take us to some of the most beautiful places around. They may have to travel some without me, since I won't have a lot of time off from teaching. But I think we're also going to try to schedule one of our benefit concerts during their visit, so the Arusha community can hear some real classical singing. =) YAY.

Yesterday was also momentous because I drove a car here for the first time. I know ... it's sort of ridiculous that I hadn't yet. But I've never been a big fan of driving, I'd only had a handful of lessons on the stick shift (thanks parents), and the traffic situation here is pretty daunting. But it was actually the prospect of having guests, like Mom and Dad and Tyler, and being unable to drive them anywhere that really gave me a kick in the butt. The driving lesson with Liza went really well. I didn't stall, the gears were easy to use, and I was pleasantly surprised by how much I remembered about the necessary foot action.

Of course, there's the whole British driving rules thing. The driver sits on the right and drives on the left (and, er, tries not to cling to the edge of the road, where all the fruit carts, bicycles, and zoned-out pedestrians are). I forget -- is the clutch on your left in the States? It is here, and obviously you shift with your left hand. Jasper, the giant 1986 Landcruiser that Liza drives, doesn't have power steering. Turning that wheel is a serious arm workout. His brakes are also extremely stiff, and Liza usually uses the downshifting technique to get him to slow down. It's like riding a huge ... elephant? With a REALLY strong engine.

In case you can't tell, I'm excited about learning to drive.

Happy rainy Monday.

We have a home!

Umoja has a home! Yesterday's contract signing was successful, and the couple who owns the house left the meeting truly happy to have been able to help a new NGO get on its feet. The possibilities that having our own space opens up for us are basically endless. It is a HUGE step for the organization. It's given us new energy to keep working on the registration process -- Liza and I went to a government office today, where we were pretty much given the run-around by a bunch of incompetent employees, but we'll try again on Monday.

Government operations here are so unbelievable inefficient, I'll never whine about the RMV again. I now realize that virtually every US office is, by comparison, a remarkably smooth-running, clean, well-equipped office full of friendly, competent, well-trained people who know what they are doing. (I know ...)

If Monday's effort to penetrate the beaurocracy is successful, we'll take the bus down to Dar Es Salaam to try to continue the registration process ourselves there over the weekend. Time is flying by, and I'm happy to be busy.

(Happy almost Halloween!)

Fingers crossed ...

Last night, the Umoja Staff (me, Liza, Jessica, David, Linda [our visual art director] and Tiana [our dance director]) entered into a verbal agreement for a two-year contract on the BEST potential new home for Umoja that we've seen yet. We made the decision to go for the house very quickly.

We'd been engaged for a few weeks in a long decision process about another potential house. It was in a fabulous location, close to where the U.N. is conducting their Rwanda genocide tribunal, and we had received three bids for a renovation project. But almost all of us were getting cold feet about spending all this money on a place whose structural integrity and quality we couldn't really vouch for.

But two days ago, our long-suffering realtor, Rose, found us the perfect place, probably less than 200 yards from the fixer-upper headache house: a big compound with lots of parking, a main house and servants' quarters in excellent condition, tons of rooms, a lovely garden, and a former basketball court which is virtually a ready-made space for outdoor dance classes and even an in-the-round performance space. (The weather is so good almost all year in Tanzania that planning year-round outdoor dance classes isn't considered crazy.)

This afternoon Liza and Linda will attend the contract-signing meeting, in which (hopefully) our offer will be formally accepted. It's so exciting! And scary! Being part of an organization with six staff, basically unpaid, teaches you how much courage, work and foresight it takes to try to start an organization. A learning experience, certainly.

Cross your fingers for us. I'll update again.

We need a holidaa-ayyyyy ...

This week is ... well, WAS ... our mid-term break from teaching, and Jessica, Liza and I were all pretty eager to get out of Arusha for a change of pace. We got lucky enough to stay at our friend Tom's place in Pangani, a town on the coast of Tanzania, about six hours' drive south of Arusha. It was wonderfully relaxing and amazing to get to see this part of the country. The Indian Ocean is warm, bright and inviting ... the beaches of Pangani are almost unbelievably quiet and remote-feeling (compared to pretty much everything I've experienced). Some of the views make you feel as if you are dreaming. And people say it isn't nearly the prettiest coast in East Africa. Well, WHATever, I loved it.

After several hours' drive, we reached the coast, and took a quick ferry across the water to continue our trip. With us is Tom's stepdaughter, Irene:


Tom's place was a quiet, simple hut-shaped structure with a simple kitchen, a few beds, running water (but no electricity), and a fantastic porch on which we could all sit and read, drink tea, and stare at the ocean:




On our second way, we hired these guys to take us out on a somewhat dubious-looking boat, to a marine park where you can swim, snorkel, etc. It rained during our trip out to the marine park, and the boat pitched back and forth in a way that made me really nervous ... the trip was longer than I would've liked, but eventually we made it. I didn't take my camera, but it was like paradise! It was just a tiny dot of sand that got bigger and bigger as the tide went out. And I got to go snorkeling, which, as a Pisces and a former aspiring marine biologist, is something of a life-dream. All around this little island were small coral reefs full of beautiful tropical fish. I got a wicked sunburn while I was floating on my stomach down in fish-land, but it was worth it. Basically. On the way back, two of our party were fishing off the back of the boat ... and they caught a GIANT barracuda! I mean, I guess barracuda are pretty big. When it leapt thrashing from the water, we all gasped and yelled. It was huge, and had pointy teeth. The ancient, slow-moving African guy who appeared to be the captain of our ship (but also appeared really stoned) came over to the barracuda, seized it by the gills, and squeezed the life out of it. Its jaws still snapped a few times, too close for comfort. Once we landed back on shore, I ran inside, grabbed my camera, and captured both the boat and the beast for posterity:




Now there's just seven weeks of teaching before I return home for Christmas, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't counting down the days. I'm doing fine here, but absolutely can't wait to be home. With lots of love,

Ellen

Handel's Maasai

Yesterday Liza, Jessica, and I played in the "orchestra" for a pretty crazy choral concert at the Lutheran church in Arusha. It was a fundraiser for the hospice of one of the largest hospitals here. About twelve choirs from around Arusha were performing, and they were each performing a big chorus from -- you guessed it -- Handel's Messiah, in addition to one traditional Tanzanian choral piece. (On the phone with Liza, our Tanzanian guitar teacher, David, called it 'Handel's Maasai' in earnest. David isn't even Maasai. Anyway ...)

This was the Messiah in Swahili.

It was, of course, insane. Randy and Carol Stubbs, two American musicians who run the only music bachelor's degree program in the whole country, helped to coordinate the concert. Randy told crazy stories about going to visit each of the choirs and check out their progress, and discovering they'd been singing it in a completely different key than what the orchestra was playing in. Or realizing that no one in any of these choirs could read music, and that they were learning "For Unto Us a Child is Born" by ear. There were definitely a couple of choirs who ended about a half step flat of the orchestra ...

And, in typical Africa style, the event started very late and took twice as long as expected. It seems every Tanzanian (and American!) representative of the hospital needed to give a long speech, which then had to be translated for everyone. We were at the church from 12:30-6:20; the performance ran from about 3-6:30. We were ready to tear our hair out/hysterically laugh by the time all twelve choirs finally piled onto the stage for the finale of the Hallelujah Chorus.

It made me think of the McSweeney family Christmas Eve ... which brings me to my next point. I'm coming home for Christmas! A tag team effort between me, Tyler, my parents, and my Poppa Joe has resulted in a British Airways ticket, purchased today! I missed Christmas last year, and I hate to miss it twice in a row. I'm so, so excited to come home. Should be home Dec 17-Jan 11. It will be amazing to be in the comforting nest of home for a few weeks. I'm hoping to have a fundraising recital for the Umoja Arts Project while I'm home ... any old friends want to play chamber music for a good cause?

Lots of love,
Ellen

House concert!

Once a month, we give our outreach students a group class instead of an individual lesson. Today, we were a few minutes late ... and arrived to find a big crew of kids and parents waiting for us. They love group class! Everyone came on time! Truly amazing.


Also, the Arusha Suzuki Program had its first house concert of the year today! The program has several concerts every year, and families volunteer to host them at their house. The Blumers' house is a beautiful place, and everyone had a nice, really relaxed time. My students Maike, Saskia and Georgina all played, and did beautifully. I took a few pictures in the nice afternoon light.

Liza and David jam a little bit before the recital starts.


Jessica shows her student, Andy, where to stand for his performance.


Me with my students, Georgina and Aliya.

Our wild, wild adventure.

Our spontaneous trip to Oldonyo Lengai was one of the most intense adventures that I have ever been on. It began in the Patisserie, the little Internet cafe in downtown Arusha: Liza received word from a friend that Lengai, an active volcano several hours from Arusha, was erupting, and that the site was awe-inspiring. We had to go see it! Liza turned to me and we instantly agreed to make a quick trip: leaving Saturday at noon, returning Sunday night, camping overnight at a campsite by a river. It sounded gorgeous, perfect, exactly the rustic bush experience I'd been wanting. How long would the trip take? Four and a half hours, maybe.

We set out on the road after our outreach teaching, as prepared as we could be: a full tank of diesel plus a big container of extra; lots of food and drinking water; lantern, flashlight, matches, sunblock, bug spray, first aid, knife (for cutting food and ... any unwanted visitors). After about an hour on paved roads, we checked in with a local police station to confirm where the turnoff was for Lengai. We entered the bush.

It was tremendously exciting to be out there: hardly a soul around, the occasional sighting of a rare bird or a Thomson's gazelle. It's difficult to describe the beauty and peace that comes with being out there, although as Liza pointed out (and as I'd later learn firsthand), there's really no such thing as wilderness in this country. Even the most remote, dry, seemingly desolate landscape probably contains a Maasai boma (compound) or two. Just when you think you're alone, a tribesman or woman will appear at the side of your car, seemingly from nowhere. It's difficult to imagine sustaining life in a climate such as this, but the Maasai have been doing it forever.

After a couple hours of bush driving, though, we were in trouble: though Liza had traveled to Lengai before, we really didn't know which way to go. It's difficult to describe just how unfriendly these roads are to an unskilled traveler: not a single man-made thing ANYWHERE, let alone a sign ... and an unvarying landscape of dry grass, scrubby brush, and the occasional acacia tree.

Several men in the first Maasai village we stopped in gave us some unhelpful directions. As we turned around to try again, we met with two men about our age, traveling uphill on this crazy road with their bicycles. After a brief exchange with Liza, they discovered we were headed to Lengai, and told us their village was on the way. They piled into the car (after a struggle to fit their bicycles inside) and were our guides for a few more hours of bush driving. They told us that they were biking from Bible school. That is a HUGE bike ride, just to get to Bible school. It had taken us several hours to drive it. This kind of commuting time is fairly typical in Tanzania. We know people who commute two or three hours a day on a bicycle just to get to work, or kids who walk two hours uphill to get to school. We shared hard-boiled eggs, cookies, and water with them on the way.

We dropped our guides off in their village (and met their mother! they also were Maasai and she was an old woman, quite excited to see us), and began a race with the setting sun. We were still quite far away from our campsite destination, and still hadn't even SEEN Lengai, the erupting volcano we'd come to see. This began a quite stressful mood in the car, with long silences and straining eyes, trying to spot Lengai on the horizon, to give us the hope we needed to continue the journey. The sun was beginning to set, and the glare made it difficult to see.

We drove for at least an hour, both of us quite concerned that we hadn't yet spotted the mountain. (You'd think an erupting volcano would be a pretty conspicuous feature!) Finally, Liza said, "OH!" No wonder we couldn't see Lengai ... the mountain was being obscured almost entirely by the intense, blazing sun! We could see the faint outline, though, if we stared straight into the sun. As the sun began to dip below the peak, we could see more and more of the mountain, and could make out the plume of smoke rising from the peak. It was truly spectacular. We yelled for joy and high-fived each other: we needed a moment like that badly! We took beautiful photos of the blazing sun and the dark, smoky volcano:
black

We also took this opportunity to photograph ourselves. We had become unbelievably dirty -- more dirty than I've been in my entire life -- because waves of dust from the "roads" (term used loosely) poured into our car regularly, and filtered onto our skin for the entire trip.


After the thrill of finally catching sight of Lengai, unpleasant reality started to set in. The sun was going down, and we still had a ways til the Riverside campsite. We drove in increasing anxiety, and began to talk about possible campsites in the bush along the way. Finally, when it had gotten dark enough that the road was difficult to find, we decided to stop. It was a tense moment. We could hear the voices of Maasai children playing nearby, and the tinkling of someone's herd of cattle. We might be in the deep bush, but we wouldn't be alone tonight.

Our spirits were low, initially, and when two Maasai men approached us, we hoped for the best. They came by, said a brief hello, asked us where our men were, and said goodbye. During the night, two other men would stop by, ask us where our men were, and leave.

We pitched the tent easily, rolled our sleeping bags, lit our lantern, and ended up having one of those awesome, low-light, rustic dinners (of lentil soup, red wine, eggs and cookies) that make camping so much fun. We stayed up for awhile talking and enjoying the stillness and beauty of our camp. We slept well, and the transparent screen of the tent let me watch the movements of the moon across the sky each time that I awoke. In the night, we heard hyenas yowling in the distance, and an enormous herd of livestock passed right by our tent.


When we awoke to beautiful morning light, we met two Maasai women, who had come from their nearby boma to find out what we were up to. One looked younger than I am, but she had a big, healthy-sized baby strapped to her back, papoose-style. Her mother, an old, old woman, also came over to say hello, and they sold us bangle bracelets and gave us great directions to Oldonyo Lengai.

Finally getting to see the mountain up close was amazing:


We got home safely. Whew. Longest story ever. Gold star if you got all the way through.

Some little tidbits ...

Today I had the wonderful good fortune of getting to have lunch with Kathy and Garth Johnson! It's truly unbelievable how small the world is. Garth is the brother of my (amazing) Uncle Brett, and he and Kathy have been coming to the McSweeney family Thanksgiving festivities (which are, or should be, famous worldwide) for several years now. Their oldest daughter, Valerie, runs an incredible orphanage in Moshi called Amani (www.amanikids.org), which is just a couple hours away from Arusha. For the past two weeks, they've been in Moshi visiting with Valerie and her husband, Matthew, and getting to vacation in Zanzibar. Today was their last day in the country, and I got to meet them at Coffee Lodge for a relatively luxurious lunch. They're such nice people. It was really nice to see family and a get a warm hug from familiar folks. It made me long for the day when my parents might visit ... (hint hint). At any rate, hooray for family. They can report back to everyone and confirm that I'm alive and well.

In other awesome news, Tyler has a bona fide ticket to come out to Tanzania in February! We're trying to restrain ourselves on the whole countdown thing, but I'm already saving up my pennies so we can go on a cheap camping safari somewhere ... I can't wait. I miss him terribly, and I'm so grateful he gets to come. He's my favorite traveling companion, truly.

I'm settling down well into my teaching schedule, and time is really starting to fly. There have been so many moments where the teacher becomes the student. It's a unique challenge to get to know each child and figure out the best way to teach and motivate them. I can feel myself learning a lot from my teaching experience, and it's a luxury to have Liza and Jess around for questions and advice. I'm really grateful for this opportunity to learn.

Our kitchen is full of cooking, full of personality these days: Liza with her culinary experiments and hilarious stories; Jessica with her biting sense of humor, fabulous 80's music playlists, and love of hot peppers (pilipili); Frank, the Alpha Cook, with lots of kitchen ambition and tales of celebrities and energy-healers in his native Malibu, CA ... and Erica, who I just love, and who works insanely long days and always shares the latest organizational gossip with us. It's quite a whirlwind to be at home sometimes. My family might laugh, but sometimes, I'm actually the quiet one of the group .. In fact, I'm home by myself right now, and the quiet is shocking. (But nice ...)

I hope everyone's enjoying a nice autumn at home in the States. We're working our way towards summer, and recent winds have blown all the dry-season dust off the hills, making views particularly lovely outside town. Til next time ...

"This internet is lightning fast." "Really, you think so?" "No."

I've now gone running a few times up Karama Hill, a very short (but intense) run in our neighborhood. It's an interesting experience for a couple of reasons: one, it's a pretty tough hill, and after about six minutes on it, my (admittedly wimpy) heart is pounding like a jackhammer. The other thing, though, is that (as during any trip on foot in this town) you end up exchanging Swahili greetings with virtually everyone you pass, no matter how out of breath you are. Yesterday I went running around five, which was a peak time for foot traffic, and I was a running mzungu, so quite conspicuous. The chain of greetings just kept going: "Habari? Salaama!" (how's it going? peacefully!) "Mambo! Poa!" (what's up? cool!) "Pole! Asante!" (sorry! thanks!) I've gotten pretty used to these little rhythms, but doing it while you sweat and turn red-faced (or practically purple-faced, in my case) is pretty funny.

Everything IS going pretty peacefully here. A few times, I've found myself actually thinking of the streets (lined with women carrying buckets of produce on their heads, men riding rickety bikes like suicide pilots, and the occasional pair of donkeys) as commonplace and familiar. Sometimes, communication and getting around (the power goes out, the cell phone network goes down) and simple alienation from my environment (enormous barriers of socioeconomic status, race, language, and culture) make me wonder if it's really worth it to live in a place like this. I think one factor that makes it worth it is the people: they're SO warm, so kind, so much fun to converse with, even if you can only speak thirty words. Of course, the natural beauty is another pro. Basically, in my mind, I'm weighing all the reasons people come here, the reasons they leave, and the reasons they stay. I'm experiencing all of these things at the same time.

Still, right now I feel like Tanzania won't be the place where I can do my best work as a person, musician, writer, whatever. It's a little crappy to admit this, since I'd like to think I'm the kind of person who can stomach all this stuff. But I'm learning that I'm really quite sensitive to a lot of environmental factors, and that while the thrill of adventure is sometimes inspiring, I might be more of a homebody/boring person/old lady than I originally thought. (My friends probably won't be that shocked to hear this.) We'll see how my homebody factor changes over time.

Tarangire trip

Here are some pictures of yesterday's quick trip to Tarangire, a beautiful national park that's famous for being full of elephants! I had many beautiful, restful, peaceful moments up at the fancy lodge we stayed at ($65 a night which none of us can really afford), and we did a couple of short game drives where I had my first sighting of many species in the wild! In the future, I think I'll skip out on the fancy stuff ($6 cocktails, hot showers) in favor of a more rustic experience -- and I'd definitely go for more than one day. Still, the place is totally gorgeous, and it was my first ever trip into the bush (though it wasn't all that rustic ...)


The zebra traffic was heavy coming into the park.


The lodge looked out over enormous, expansive, never-ending plains.


A bunch of wildebeest boldly crossed our path on the way up to the lodge.


The sunset was gorgeous ...


We didn't get to look at these giraffes long enough!

Love,
Ellen

Our tiny and wonderful outreach program

Today was the first day of real lessons for our outreach kids, the Tanzanian kids who pay about $2/hr for lessons at the Arusha Community Church on Saturdays. While I was a little nervous waking up this morning about the many challenges that outreach teaching would bring me (parents with very limited English and very specific questions; registration forms and instrument checkout forms to be filled out; new students to meet and work with), I found myself enjoying our Saturday morning at the church as much as I've enjoyed any teaching this week. There is a real feeling of community: families often come early and stay very late, observing lessons, chatting with each other and with us teachers, watching their kids play in the courtyard. It really feels good to be part of something positive in the community, something that the kids enjoy doing and that the parents are happy to bring their children to. These people probably have many problems that we cannot imagine, but they are warm, relaxed, and engaged in the program environment. I was so excited to sign up two lovely new dads for their kids to begin lessons! It's wonderful to be able to bring new people into the program and provide something special for them.

While the Church is awesome to let us rent the space cheaply, it would be even more amazing to have our very own space! Space for the kids to play, places to have snacks, performance spaces, teaching space, office space ... sigh. Our organization's biggest search right now is for a home.

I've been a bit homesick recently, missing the familiar comforts of home. Today is Jessica's birthday, so we'll go out to dinner with some friends to celebrate ... I still haven't really gotten to go camping or to see the bush, so I hope we can all get away from work long enough to do that soon.

Love, Ellen

quick appeal for nonprofit legal experts

Dear friends,

If anyone is, or knows, an expert in US nonprofit law, I would really appreciate being put into contact with such a person! My biggest project for the Umoja Arts Project NGO right now is to do research into the steps we need to take to acquire nonprofit status in the US. I'm making pretty good progress on my own with the trusty Internet, but of course there are lots of IRS things that are pretty much unintelligible to me.

So, if anyone knows a lawyer who's pretty familiar with US regulations of nonprofit organizations (and might be willing to have a little pro bono phone call or email exchange ...) please let me know!

Love,
Ellen

PS I'm feeling much better today.

honeymoon's over, toots.

First things first: my stomach hurts. This is pretty normal here, especially among the expats, as everybody adjusts to the enormous array of new bacteria that their Western upbringing just didn't include. Still, those who know me well know that my stomach can tend to freak out, so I'm a bit nervous that the whole Africa thing will be too much for my guts. For the past couple of days, every time I eat or drink something, my stomach clenches like a fist and starts "churning and burning." This doesn't change the fact that I need food and water, though. To be fair, Liza and Jessica aren't feeling 100% either, and it's usually a relief to check in with your roommates and find that they, too, are pooping way too often. (Sorry to be gross, but EVERYONE discusses bodily functions here. All the time. To be sure they're not contracting amoebic dysentery or something. YIKES!!) Anyway, I'm sure stress is contributing to the churn 'n' burn factor, so my parents are right as usual, I need to be meditating.

This week was my first week of teaching. It is really intense, but really enjoyable too. My students and their parents (every Suzuki lesson has the parent sitting in as an observer) have responded really positively to me as a person, and despite the initial haranguing of making a schedule which pleases everyone (impossible), I think I've gotten off to a good start with pretty much everyone. Teaching demands so much of you personally, especially one-on-one teaching with children. I'm nowhere near forty hours a week teaching (it's really more like fifteen), but it's still quite exhausting. You must be intelligent, energetic, entertaining, compassionate, analytical, organized, positive, and articulate. It's fuckin' hard! (Sorry grandparents. And Dad. And everybody.)

My group class is particularly nerve-wracking, as I work with seven kids, and all the parents observe. Group classes are supposed to be fun as well as educational, and if you don't move quickly and vigorously, you lose the kids fast. But for my first-ever week as a bona fide Suzuki teacher, I think it's going pretty well. I think I have something like eleven violin students, a group class, three piano students (yeah ... anyway), and two cello students (right ... ).

The work is extremely rewarding, and most of the kids are so sweet, they give you a burst of positive energy and love just by walking into the room! It's adorable how kids actually laugh at your nerdy jokes, and usually reciprocate every ounce of excitement that you create. My tiny piano student, Simon, is four years old, and when I showed him the groups of black keys up and down the piano, you would have thought I had brought him to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, he was so excited. Kids are, like, soooo cute.

Today, I took a daladala to school to teach an extra lesson. It was an interesting ride. These buses are extremely crowded, and as you can imagine in a country where many people don't have running water, the body odor is pretty intense, particularly among the men. (The women, for the record, usually smell GOOD and often emerge from their mud-and-thatch houses with perfectly coiffed hair and radiant skin, wearing gorgeous brilliantly colored wraps and dresses. You go, girls!) Anyway, I ended up sandwiched between two men, one of whom was a Maasai tribesman with traditional red robes and spear. He smelled HORRIBLE, and the other guy was no picnic either. Under the combined influence of B.O., diesel exhaust, and dust, my churning stomach churned a little harder. I was even more mad at the Maasai guy than I would have been yesterday, because I found out today that Maasai women almost always undergo genital mutilation. Not that it's his fault, exactly, but still.

Whew. Sorry to transport you to the world of body functions/odors, but it's a pretty significant part of life here. Wish me and my stomach luck, and write soon. =) Love, Ellen.

house/pets

Tyler has been asking me for pictures and so I'm going to post a crapload for everybody!

Here is a picture of our kitchen!




Here is a picture of our house from the outside, complete with laundry line! Our yard is small but nice. We are enclosed by a six-foot wall and a super-fancy locked gate, for security.



Here is a picture of Kili, our dog. Kili had a litter of seven puppies at the beginning of the summer, so she's quite tired of having puppies biting her nipples all the time. She's also tired of how everyone pays more attention to the puppies than to her. She's a really sweet dog; your average overworked mother at the moment.



A very sad thing happened in the first week of my time here: Kili's puppy, Binti (the one puppy Erica chose to keep at the house) was accidentically hit by Erica's car as she pulled into the driveway on a very dark, rainy night. Usually, Binti was smart and didn't go near the car, but it was a horrible accident, and she died immediately. I cried a lot that night! I thought Binti would be my puppy all year long. In memoriam, here is a photo:



Luckily for our souls, we were able to get another of Kili's puppies (he'd been living at the field office of Erica's organization). This one's name is Eddy, and he's an extremely scruffy, lazy, affectionate little guy.



He gets along extremely well with the cats.



The cats, by the way, are Burrito (the blackish one) and Rockstar (the orange and white.)






Now you've seen real African animals.

attempted update!

Look! I think I finally figured out how to shrink photos down to a size that Tanzanian bandwidth can handle! Here are David and Liza, posing for me during our walk from the beautifully village district of Bangata.




In other news, our fellow teacher, Jessica, arrived in Tanzania yesterday and it's really nice to have her here! I'm looking forward to getting to know her better, learning from her teaching, and becoming friends.

I jammed with Liza's band last week, and I think I'm going to be "hired" (the band's pretty casual and wonderfully fun) to do some backing vocals and even a little bit of keyboard! Liza's good friend Janelle appears to be the de facto front woman of the band, and she's a REALLY talented songwriter and fantastic person! They were extremely warm and welcoming people; I even played one of my own songs for them. They gig around town when they can, and there's even talk of traveling to Nairobi to play a gig at some hotel ... I think studio recording time is quite cheap here in Arusha, so if my salary will allow, perhaps I can record my first full-length solo album here! That would be exciting.

I start teaching lessons TOMORROW. My first student is a piano student. It's a little boy who's never had a piano lesson in his life. Right. Sooooo ... since Liza, Jessica and I are the most highly trained classical musicians in all of Northern Tanzania (and perhaps beyond) right now, this qualifies us to take on piano students, with the disclaimer that we don't ACTUALLY teach piano (by American standards, that is). Liza's mother is an awesome Suzuki piano teacher, so I hope to be able to correspond with her regularly and get advice about my piano students. In the meantime, little Simon is going to play clapping games with me tomorrow ...

We hired a wood fundi (fundi is a word used to describe anyone who works on anything: car fundi, wood fundi, bike fundi) to build me a set of shelves and to build my bed frame. However, contracted labor is quite a more lax process here than it is in the States, and the "fundis" are far less qualified to do their work. My fundi is now 2 days late with the cabinet installation, and we're hoping he doesn't make off with my $90 cash advance. This is particularly annoying because, as my Mom said in a recent email, "Dad could make you a bed frame in about one hour." The shipping would be a bit steep though ...

We had our first registration meeting on Saturday with the parents of our Tanzanian outreach students. There are about seven or eight families whose children take lessons from us at the rate of about $2/hour, and the kids play on the instruments donated to us in the States. I was struck not only by the incredible feat of getting these people (who are quite poor, and whose society barely runs on any kind of real schedule) to the right place at the right time, violins in tow, quite dedicated to their children's music education, when music education is virtually nonexistent here. I also witnessed for the first time the practical consequences of Tanzania's extremely high illiteracy rate. Although these parents are some of the most smart, dedicated, and forward-thinking in Arusha, it probably took them an hour to fill out a simple registration form, even with English-Swahili assistance from Liza and David. To me, this was staggering. As I told Tyler about it later, I wondered: how does anyone pay taxes? how does anyone read a newspaper? how does anyone sign up to have their baby at a hospital? To read and write at such a low level slows the entire pace of the country to a crawl. It is no small feat to successfully bring Suzuki string education to such a community, and there are still many challenges before us.

Happy Sunday!
Ellen

One week in Arusha!

Dearest everyone, it's my one-week anniversary in Arusha, I just realized! Well, today I celebrated (I guess) by taking the daladala (public bus) by myself for the first time. I'd like to make this mode of transport a comfortable option, if possible, because it's extremely cheap, faster than walking, avoids unnecessary use of fuel, etc. So I successfully got onto the correct bus (the Kisongo line) and, with the help of a very kind old woman next to me to who conversed with me mainly via hand gesture, got off at the right stop! Getting around is not easy or relaxing, but if you keep your head about you, it's perfectly safe, and anyway I have to get used to it sometime ...

Doing work for my job (helping manage the Suzuki program, corresponding with parents, doing US non-profit funding research on the internet) can be really comforting when things start to feel chaotic here. It's good for me to remember that I did come here to do a job, and that I can be helpful and productive even as I'm getting settled into third-world living. Of course, for me it's mostly first-world conditions: hot showers, internet, clean clothes, good Indian restaurants, rations of dark chocolate, etc. But occasionally the energy required to deter theft, or the unannounced power cuts (on Sunday night we had no electricity for thirteen hours or more), remind me of where I am.

In general, I'm feeling fine. I got to talk to my entire family yesterday on the phone, which was truly great. I got choked up of course. I'm talking with Tyler as often as we can manage, though I miss him terribly and the time difference and other communication barriers are taking some getting used to. He's being extremely patient, and I'm grateful. I'm already dreaming of when he visits in February. Not exactly living in the moment, I know, but still .... =)

Thanks SO much for the friendly comments, it makes me smile to read them! Please keep 'em coming.

It turns out ...

... my walking 'friend' Richard is indeed a flycatcher, just one of a different type. Erica gave me a little education on them over dinner. I'll leave this previous post as it is, however, just as a tribute to my mzungu naivete about whom to trust. (Don't worry, though, they're all pretty harmless.)

This place is crazy.

I just returned, feeling moderately victorious, from my first big walk around Arusha by myself. Liza's out of town this weekend working on our organization's legal NGO status, so I'm left a little bit to my own devices ... which is certainly daunting, but probably a good thing for the long term! I decided to venture out after taking some time around the house to relax and put down a big, round straw mat in my room for a kind of rug. (The floors are concrete, which helps keep the house nice and cool, but it also makes the room feel kind of like a cell.) It looks nicer now. I also have a newer, fancier mosquito net to hang up (we sleep under them every night), if I can get my spacial reasoning skills to function later.

Of course I was a little bit nervous to go out by myself, because I've heard a lot about African men staring at white women, asking them to marry them, and being in generally a little sketchy. The staring is certainly true, and you can see why: on my forty-minute walk into town, I saw only two other white people. (Once you're actually in town, there are more white tourists and residents, but still a tiny minority.) There were certainly some suggestively raised eyebrows, a few whistles, and some hisses (my least favorite) from the men, but in general, everyone is kind. They smile, and look pleased (or maybe they're amused) to hear you use Kiswahili. Going out by myself was a fantastic way to see my neighborhood up close, and to practice my greetings!

On my walk, I conversed at length with three men. The first, Richard, was a young Tanzanian guy who stopped me and began speaking to me in very good English. He began to walk alongside me on my way into town, which made me a little nervous at first, but he ended up being a wonderful person to meet! He was extremely gregarious as he regaled me with stories about the other (probably young, female) foreigners he had welcomed into Arusha and shown around town. He explained the difference between himself, a nice guy, and the 'flycatcher' men who were prowling the roundabout in the middle of town, talking to foreigners, trying to get them to come into shady shops or be paid to show wazungu around town. (Later, when I was alone, these men were quite aggressive.) I let him show me a craft market in town, where I impressed him by using Swahili with the vendors. Then I told him I needed to stop in at one of the airline offices (which I did, sort of), just in case Richard ended up being less innocent than he seemed. But he truly was a nice guy: he never asked for money or was sketchy, and seemed genuinely friendly. This was a pleasant surprise.

The second man, Harry, was a tourist from Southern Scotland. He was sitting alone in the coffee shop that I ducked into to avoid the flycatchers described above. We struck up a conversation, which consisted mainly of Harry's glum, flustered complaints about Africa. He'd been traveling all over the continent, and seemed to come away from the place largely remembering the poor service, dirt, poverty, and discomfort. I listened sympathetically; he seemed like a nice guy who wasn't cut out for solo travel in Africa. Then, I discovered he'd done a similar trip before, and was returning to see friends he'd made it in several countries! Then, he began to complain in a similar way about Heathrow Airport in London! Some people just know how to complain. It was actually kind of funny, and I didn't mind sitting in the cool, safe coffeeshop to make him feel better.

The third, Mike, was an extremely tall Tanzanian guy on the way to work at his duka (little roadside store). He was very cute, friendly, and said I had good Swahili.

It's amazing what you run into when you travel by yourself.

Photos aren't working so well right now, but I'll keep trying.

Village visit

All is well here in Arusha! I am enjoying everything so much: doing lots of organizational work for the Suzuki program with Liza (it feels wonderful to be my our own bosses for now), absorbing as much Swahili as I can, and keeping basic goals of personal health and sanity (use a mosquito net, apply bug spray after dark, stay hydrated, eat, get some quiet alone time). I have been incredibly fortunate to receive a truly amazing introduction to my new home in the first two days.

Today, Liza, David Sengenge (my fellow teacher, of guitar), Erica (my new housemate) and I visited a beautiful village in the Bangata district, just outside of Arusha. We were there to watch a choir rehearsal run by a few American women who are volunteering for Erica's organization, called Support for International Change, which sets up volunteers who want to work in AIDS/HIV-related projects here in the Arusha region. Erica is one of the higher-ups on the small staff, and I'm already learning so much from her about running an organization, speaking Swahili, being brave, and driving an ungodly huge 4x4 truck. (She and Liza have lots in common.) Erica wanted to hook the American volunteers up with Liza, David and me, because we're music teachers. We watched, made some suggestions, and Liza got started connecting them with local resources. The children have unbelievable ears! They are so accustomed to singing, clapping, and dancing in church and community. They can sing parts in thirds easily and heartily, without the shyness we all remember from middle school chorus.

The village was unbelievably gorgeous. It was lush, green, and QUIET compared with the relatively urban hustle and bustle of Arusha proper. The road up to the village was incredibly rough, and is apparently only passable in ONE kind of truck. (Erica's organization owns several; without these, their rural outreach work would not be possible.) Because these people are more removed, white people (wazungu) are pretty unusual. Enormous crowds of schoolchildren developed around the truck whenever we needed to stop.

Because many people don't really understand how cameras work, why you'd take their picture, and where the picture's going, locals don't like having their picture taken. In order to respect this, I kept my camera out of sight until we began to walk back down the road, and captured some nice images without annoying anyone. When the internet's better, I'll post them. =) Love and miss my friends and family.

Safe in Arusha

Hello! I'm pulling away briefly from hanging out with Liza and my other new roommate, Erica, to get some quiet time to catch up with myself, and whoever might want to read something, or look at a picture. We arrived safely in Arusha around 3pm today and it has been a beautiful and overwhelming place so far. I had dinner tonight with several other American women doing various kinds of work in Tanzania, and it was quite amazing to be able to feel so at home, with young women who share much of my background and probably many of my values. A few of them are Liza's really good friends, and they're really good people, I can already tell. I'm a little too overwhelmed to be really social, but hopefully they understand. It's only day 2 on the African continent ...

We stayed in a fantastic hostel in Nairobi. It was clean, comfortable, had a computer with Internet, a 24-hour kitchen that could make hot sandwiches, and full of interesting people (mostly European and American), some of whom had been backpacking for months and months, all over the world. The hostel bedroom we stayed in was full of colorful bedspreads.

We got on the shuttle the next day from Nairobi to Arusha. It was a five-hour trip, and while it was logistically smooth, it was physically REALLY bumpy. Although this is the biggest main road between the two cities, it's full of potholes. For one long stretch in Kenya, our driver had to swerve all over the road to avoid huge potholes, or slow down to about 5 mph just to avoid breaking an axle. (Drivers here already make a habit of swerving into the opposing lane in order to pass, since there are no roads with more than two lanes. Many times, you end up unnervingly close to a directly oncoming car ... yikes!) The ride was full of sights: I saw a gazelle, a bunch of camels including a baby one, and two ostriches! I also saw many, many Maasai tribesmen (this is an enormous indigenous tribe in East Africa) walking their herds of cattle through the endless plains. They wear traditional robes in bright colors (sometimes plaids!), the men often have earlobes that have been stretched to great lengths by weights, and their shoes are made from recycled car tires. They also send tiny boys, who look as young as five years old, out to the fields with their own herds to supervise. This was quite incredible to see. Here is a picture of the plains they walked through. (I just wasn't comfortable sticking my camera out the window of a bus full of white folks ... it's a big effort to take out my camera and feel like a tourist.)



Arusha is fantastic, also with lots of bumpy roads, people and bikes walking along them in a fairly chaotic arrangement. Lots of beautiful plants. Our neighborhood is a true African neighborhood, a bumpy dirt road, EXTREMELY narrow, with vegetable stands and tiny ramshackle establishments set up all along the side. We are among very very few white people living in the neighborhood, and the children of our neighbors smile and hug Liza when she gets out of the car. They hugged me too, actually. These people seem extremely warm and kind, though sometimes they hold out their hands for money immediately after ... it is a daunting but very exciting experience to know I'm going to live in this neighborhood and hopefully, with improving language skills and a smile, get to know my neighbors.

This is the view from the grocery store.




I'm really overwhelmed, but trust I'll settle in eventually. Please stay in touch and say hello whenever you want to.

my extra luggage!

I write with just four days left in the US ... and I just sent out my blog announcement email, so if you're checking out my blog, hello!

While I was taking Suzuki pedagogy in San Diego, I got to experience some of the wonderful energy and generosity towards our Africa program that Liza has told me about. Because of the awesome work of Karla Holland-Moritz and Glen Campbell, the co-directors of the Strings by the Sea Institute, many musical families in San Diego know about our outreach program with Tanzanian kids. Throughout the week, we received donations of money, instruments, bows, music, and teaching supplies. It was truly exciting!

Of course, the whole thing about getting donations is that we have to find a way to physically GET them into Tanzania, where the kids need them. So Liza and I split up the biggest donations -- I took three full-size violins and one tiny violin; Liza took the full-size cello (!) -- into big boxes, and flew them home with us to Providence and Pittsburgh. I'll drive my little violins to New York, then they'll get checked (for a fee) through to Dubai and Nairobi, and then (hopefully) they'll survive the long, bumpy bus ride from Nairobi to Arusha.

If the instruments make it there unharmed, it'll be amazing.

All that being said: all you musical folks out there, if you've got instruments, bows, music, rosin, strings, teaching supplies, or money lying around unused at home ... please consider donating them to our Suzuki outreach program. If you/we can't afford the shipping this year, we can pick them up from you next summer.

(Liza will be glad I'm already putting in shameless plugs for us on the Internet.)

With love and thanks,
Ellen

A little on the Suzuki method

It's just over two weeks until I leave for Tanzania! I write this from Nashville; this is my last full day visiting my boyfriend Tyler. Obviously, it's a really hard day for both of us. But we had a fantastic time here.

A few weeks ago, I had the wonderful experience of being reunited with Liza (my friend and collaborator in Africa) at the Ogontz Suzuki Institute in rural New Hampshire. Lize and I hadn't seen each other in two years! But we'd corresponded extensively through phone and email in order to set up the logistics of my moving to Arusha, and to keep up with each other's lives.

As friends, we picked up right where we left off. She is still hilarious and, in my Mom's words, "a pistol." In other words, she's still the fantastic, smart musician and friend that I'd move across the world to work with. I'm not surprised by this, of course, but it was enormously reassuring to be with her for a week. It was great to be able to ask her all my little questions about Tanzania whenever I wanted!

Liza and her sister Annie, a cellist who spent the past year in Tanzania, are faculty members of the Ogontz Institute. I spent the week observing some truly awesome teaching at the Institute, and enjoying the beautiful camp and adorable kids. This was my chance to get a little bit of "Suzuki immersion," watching great teachers, getting a feel for the way they teach the Suzuki repertoire and the basics of violin technique. While the Suzuki Method is in some ways a fairly standardized approach (the kids all play the same repertoire, learn their first pieces by rote, go to group classes, and have a very involved parent who is the "home teacher"), it's also an approach that allows for a lot of creativity and personality. Each of the Suzuki teachers I observed gave very different lessons, with different pedagogy styles and points of technical emphasis.

In a couple of days, I head to San Diego to get my Book 3 Suzuki Training unit done. I'll meet back up with Liza, take class every day, and (hopefully) go to the beach and enjoy some of my last days in the US. Now that is scary.

Introduction

Today I found out that I'm leaving for Africa on August 11, from New York City. We're flying Emirates airlines, so we're going to connect in Dubai! I thought I'd celebrate this little milestone with my first blog post.

During my ten-month stint in Tanzania, I'd like to have a place where family and friends can read, see pictures, and double-check that I am alive. This will be the place! At the very least, I can brag here about the dangerous mega-fauna that I have seen/wrestled.

From August 07-June 08, I'll be living and working in Arusha, Tanzania, a city in northern Tanzania. (It's only five hours South of Nairobi, Kenya.) Arusha is one of the major cities of East Africa and is very much a tourist center because of its proximity to some of the most beautiful parks and wildlife reserves on the continent. (These include Mount Kilimanjaro, Mount Meru, and the Ngorogoro Crater.)

My income in Arusha will come largely from giving Suzuki violin lessons to students from the International School there. Most of these kids are the children of expatriates from all over the world -- I've already heard from parents from Asia, Europe, Latin America, and one originally from Newton, MA! -- who are doing all kinds of work in Arusha. From what I understand, some expats are architects, doctors, AIDS workers, Christian missionaries; others are jewel dealers or owners of luxury safari companies who charge as much as $16,000 per person for a two-week guided safari. (I've been to their websites, and those safaris definitely do NOT count as camping. Whoa.) The Suzuki program there is very young, and I'm extremely excited for the opportunity to gain teaching experience in such an exciting location. The other part of my employment will be on the staff of a brand-new arts NGO (non-governmental organization) called the Umoja Arts Project.

My dear friend Liza Barley, a 2005 Vanderbilt graduate and a violinist, is the director of this Suzuki program and the founder of the Umoja project. Lize will be my employer, collaborator, housemate, and tour guide in Arusha. She and I have been talking about my coming to join her in Tanzania ever since she landed the job. It's exciting and surreal for both of us that I'm actually able to come! She's done an amazing amount of work there in just two years. Another young American woman named Jessica Welch teaches violin there also, and the guitar teacher is a native Tanzanian man named David. These will be my co-workers when I arrive.

There's much more to say, but I'm going to have to stop! Please keep in touch by emailing me (ellen.mcsweeney@gmail.com) or commenting on this blog entry through the link below.