Lydia Hartsell

After writing a post about my difficulties with water and rain, in particular, it feels rather paradoxical to post about a Walk for Water that I participated in about 3 weeks ago.  It was a 6 km walk to raise funds for those that walk on average 6 km to collect water for drinking, cooking, and bathing.  It was called the Live Earth Dar Walk and it happened in cities all over the world.  The walk in Dar es Salaam had over 400 walkers as far as I know. It turned out to be definitely a bigger event than I previously thought and it was fun to be joined by friends to raise money to improve access to clean drinking water for many people throughout Tanzania.

For the last month and a half, the rainy season has been upon Dar es Salaam  in full force.  It has rained almost everyday here, and only now am I finally seeing a full straight day of sun (still it is only once or twice a week).  This has created complications in getting to class via the dala dala and more importantly, in washing my clothes (because I need sunshine to dry my clothes).  One morning about a month ago, it was super sunny and bright outside and I decided to skip the morning class session to wash my clothes.  After completing three loads of laundry (pretty much all the clothes in my closet and four sheets) and hanging it out to dry, I went to class.  It didn’t rain at school for the remainder of the day and I was excited to finally have my laudry done and dried.  I returned home to find my clothes even wetter than when I had left. Apparently, it had rained in Mwenge and missed raining in Upanga.  For the next two days, I had to turn my fans on full force and hang them all around my mosquito net stand in order to dry them.  Still after completeing drying them, some still smelled of must.  I had too rewash these ones when the next day of sunshine came.  I am still dumbfounded at how normal individuals do their laundry during the rainy season in Tanzania (because apparently I fail).

Also, two weeks ago, it rained for four days straight.  It stopped raining for maybe 2 hours collectively of the 96 hours.  Dar flooded in parts I never knew was possible. Even the road to my apartment was covered in one long continuous puddle.  I was told by long-term residents that they haven’t seen it rain this much in a very long time.

Before the rains came, the water was cut off to many parts of Dar es Salaam, including my area.  Construction of piping was to take place.   The water went off at a very inconvenient time for me.  I had piles of laundry to do before one of my best friends, Anne, came to visit from Michigan.  Sad to say the water didn’t come back until she arrived.  I was relieved that at least I could offer her a running shower and toilet.  Sorry for the unwashed towels though! 

Even though the water did return, the rain did not stop.  We ended up spending the first day she was here walking around Dar es Salaam in our rain jackets completely soaked.  We even went to Zanzibar, hoping that the rain patterns would be different, only to have one afternoon of sunshine and the other complete downpour.  We were able to return to Dar and have a few hours of sunshine in the afternoon before she left, only to have it downpour again a few hours later.  This is the daily life I have come to know during the rainy season in Dar es Salaam.

• Sitting next to the window does not mean you will get a breeze. It may mean you will have the harsh sun beating down on you and you will sweat profusely.
• Having a seat does not mean you are free from the masses of people in the aisle. Overflow standing room is hovering over your head and leaning into your seat.
• People have no respect for anyone else trying to board a dala. You will be shoved, hip checked, and boxed out. Elbows will fly in your face if you get too close. Patience is rewarded with few “battle” scars and waiting for the next available dala. I prefer patience.

• If you are a dala driver and you hit someone while in standstill traffic and demolish their car front, re-secure your bumper first, then place the car’s bumper back on even though you know it will not stay on for long.
• If you are a dala driver and you hit someone, everyone on the dala will shout out with any version of fiery sentiment they find suitable for their time that you are now wasting. Don’t worry, this is done while all turning around in attempt to catch the best glimpse of the accident. They are more interested in seeing the damage than their time lost in the accident.

• Sometimes the dala will smell like dust and rust, other times bad BO, and if you are unlucky, urine.
• There’s always room for one more, unless physically speaking there isn’t. General rule of thumb, if you don’t think you can cram one more person on board and in the aisle, you can. The conductor will make sure to shove the door shut until it actually shuts, even if your body is the one being slowly crammed aboard.
• You will sweat in places never thought possible.
• You will be crammed up against people in places you never wanted to think was possible. Overweight mama kubwas (big mamas) with oversized behinds are the worst.
• The least time spent on Morogoro Road means you will get to school or class on time. More time spent on Morogoro Road means, without a doubt, you will be late.

• Men are jerks and gentlemen. They will steal your upcoming seat with physical force even if you are almost seated. They will also offer you their upcoming seat and choose to wait in the crowded aisle for the next available one.
• You will see some of the craziest things while riding a dala.  I saw a mother trying to shove a glass eye back into her small child’s eye and I’ve seen two very old mama kubwas have a feisty argument with fist shaking between the window of a dala dala. One got off and the other got on and the shouting match began.
• Live chickens are acceptable luggage to bring on board if they are neatly sitting in a plastic shopping bag. 
• Small children are a priority. If a mother with a small child gets on the dala and does not have a place to sit, another person will pick up the child and hold the child on his or her lap. Sometimes they will go so far as to buy them water off of the street vendors.
• School-age children are not a priority. In fact they are the lowest priority. Sometimes they are not even allowed to board a dala. They are refused seating, shoved to and fro, and squashed between the massive mama kubwas and young men. Their cause for treatment: they pay 8 cents less than other passengers (student discount).

• You will watch someone meticulously pick their nose every time you ride a dala, guaranteed. (My longest observation time so far has been 30 minutes. I kid you not)
• You will then cringe as you watch that same person hand the conductor their money, knowing that your turn is next to pay the conductor. You pray fervently that you have correct change and don’t need to receive change back.
•  And last, but not least: an empty seat is the rarest gem of all. Treasure it.

For the latest news in maternal health – alas positive!

Maternal Deaths Decline Sharply Across the Globe

For more articles on maternal health (not so positive), check out:

\’Tragedy\’ of Maternal Death

Being Pregnant in Africa – Stories from women of the continent

For an article closer to home, maternal mortality in the USA: US Scandal of women dying in childbirth

(If you can’t tell, this is a topic I am very interested in.  My dissertation is covering data registration to track maternal deaths and thus prevent them.)

Also, to end on a positive note….I should mention that my deskmate Lauretta had her third child a couple days ago!  She hasn’t been in class for the last few days and I have definitely missed her.  Hongera (congrats) Lauretta na Karibu Mtoto (and welcome baby)! Hope to see you both soon! (couldn’t visit today because of a vaccination appointment)

Every now and then our class takes site tours of various places relating to our class topics. We have traveled to the flood plain in the middle of Dar es Salaam to look at potential breeding sites (irrigation channels, coconut shells, empty cans, etc) of the anopheles mosquito (carrier of the malaria parasite).  We went in hopes of finding some larvae diving and dipping in the water and to learn how to identify particular mosquito larvae.  I now can distinguish between the culex (carrier of lymphatic filariasis) and the anopheles mosquito.   It was neat to see the physical science behind the class lectures.  It was also challenging to walk along the subsistence farmers growing their crops in a polluted flood plain in the middle of a crowded city while the teacher pointed out potential sources of breeding malaria.  These people are some of the poorest of the poor in Dar es Salaam.  The areas that surround the flood plain all are shanty towns and slum conditions.  How is malaria to be stopped without providing these people with proper places to live away from the malaria vectors? Even if malaria is vanquished, what will be done to ensure that these people don’t die a preventable death from diarrheal diseases?

Another class trip involved a drive to the Lower Ruvu water treatment plant that purifies water coming from the river Ruvu for a large proportion of Dar es Salaam.  We witnessed how polluted and murky river water can be properly turned into clean drinking water for a large population of people.  This is one of four water treatment plants for the city of Dar es Salaam.   The guide on our tour pointed out how the river water has been receding due to population growth along this river.  More houses are being built and more small-scale farm plots planted.  All these household and farming activities have destroyed the natural landscape around this river and slowly drained the water.  In addition, there were also workers standing barefoot in this polluted river around the cement intake.  The workers’ job was to shovel the debris (mostly fallen brush and garbage) from the grates in which the water passed through on its way to the water treatment plant.  The guide mentioned that even dead bodies and animal carcasses have been found to clog the intake channels so they had to put up smaller grates to filter the incoming water!

Our third class trip took us to the Kanga fabric factory, Urafiki (Friendship) factory, on Morogoro Road outside of city center in Dar es Salaam. (A kanga is traditional cloth worn in East Africa as a skirt, shawl, or head covering and have a swahili verse written on it).   It was started in 1968 by the Chinese and owned by the government of Tanzania.  It was one of the largest factories in Tanzania, employing over 6,000 workers.  During the Ugandan War in 1978-79, the factory had difficulties keeping up production and ended up officially closing in 1994.  In 1997 after seeking help from the Chinese, it was agreed to be a joint venture between the Chinese (51%) and Tanzania (49%).  Currently the workforce consists of 1,100 workers (18 Chinese and 1,082 Tanzanians who are permanent, contract and day-contract workers). 

Walking around the grounds of the factory, there were huge signs of doves, handshakes, and Tanzania and Chinese people standing around together looking happy.  In Dar there are several signs of the Chinese “friendship” with Tanzania. There is this kanga Urafiki (Friendship) Factory and also the Sino Friendship Hospital.

The conditions at this factory were also deplorable and the reasons that we came.  Our visit was to examine occupational hazards at their worst.  Upon arriving at the factory we were given dust masks and ear plugs for our protection.  Most of the workers that come everyday to work at this factory,  however, did not have ear plugs and dust masks. 

We observed the factory’s process from start to finish.  From raw cotton until the finished dyed kanga, we were able to tour all of the facilities.  Cotton particles and dust swirled throughout the factory and machines spun faster than an eye could count. If a worker forgot to pay careful attention, very few machine guards protected the workers from the debilitating effects of the fast-functioning machines.  Highly repetitive and arthritis-inducing tasks became the common work load for many of the workers.  Some workers had shoes and others didn’t.  All stood on cement floors in a poorly-lit room for 8 hrs a day. Some sat on low-seated chairs weaving minute fibers through a bob.  All worked in humid and sweltering conditions.

 The worst of all though was the central weaving room.  The sounds of the clanging machines could be heard even a few rooms away.  It was like a mighty beast, caged in the center of the factory, destroying the hearing all who worked there.  I had had my ear plugs in for most of this tour, but decided to unplug the one from my left ear for this part of the tour.  I wanted to fully hear the roar of the machines.  Our class maybe spent five minutes in this room.  After leaving, my left ear rang for about ten minutes and I couldn’t properly hear out of it for the next hour.  This is no exaggeration.  It was probably a stupid idea to inflict hearing loss upon myself, but it gives you an idea of the intensity of the sound in this room.  Those who work in or around this room have severe hearing loss and the factory provides no compensation. 

It is a sad state.  Occupational hazards are not a consideration in Tanzania, but it makes sense.  Some will perform whatever work they can in order to provide food for their families.  The workers at this Friendship factory were probably poorly educated and just plain poor.  They were not paid well either as the daily pay was not disclosed to us; but it was a source of income in which they could make it another day.  Occupational health considers the conditions of those working in harsh environments.  It recognizes the need to improve those working conditions not only to the benefit of the employees, but also to the employer.  It not just identifies situations that need improvement, but acts to improve those conditions through occupational research and public policy.  I am hoping that one day occupational health will be as strong in Tanzania as it is in the United States.