A day out of Moshi

With the students at the Ndoro waterfalls.

Today was a really great day and a bit of a surprise. Late in my first week, the two English teachers had asked me if I wanted to go see some waterfalls. I said yes and they told me that the following weekend would be a good day. I was looking forward to seeing some sights around Moshi and thought it was nice that the teachers were willing to take me there.

During this past week, though, they had said nothing and then on Thursday, Deo asked me if I was going on the trip to the waterfalls. “Trip?” I asked. I had thought it was simply the two teachers who wanted to take me on a friendly outing. Turns out it was an actual school field trip.
So yesterday, I piled into one of two minibuses packed with students and teachers (so much so that one student had to stand). Kids were wedged in every which way. After stopping in town for a few things here and there, we got on the road leading to Marangu, a small town in the foothills of Kilimanjaro and a starting point for many of the climbers who have chosen to take the Marangu route (there are four or five ways up the mountain).

It was nice to see the countryside around Moshi. It had already been two weeks since arriving, and I hadn’t seen much except the routes to school (which are very nice themselves) and to town. This region is so lush and green that you don’t have to wonder why that colour along with blue (the skies) figure prominently in the flag of Tanzania. It helps that in this area around Kilimanjaro, the temperatures are cooler than elsewhere in the country. It also helps that we are on the tail end of an exceptionally heavy rainy season. Thus if there were one word I would use to describe Tanzania thus far, it would probably be green.

We sped along the highway with the kids singing to the music being pumped by the bus’ stereo. They were all really happy and excited, and I later learned that this was just the second field trip since the school opened over a year ago. Of course, not all the students were able to afford the four or five dollars it cost to do the trip, so we had about 40 of them, along with about 8 teachers.
There was confusion as to where exactly to go as we arrived in Marangu. Various people got in and out of the bus and then we were driving along some bumpy roads up a hill. We arrived at the end of one road only to find that we had come to the wrong waterfalls (there was no water there), so we had to turn around and backtrack a bit. Eventually, we found the right place.

Despite being a tourist attraction mentioned in my LP, this waterfall, or at least the access to it, is privately owned and there is no set fee. When we arrived, I went with some of the teachers to “negotiate” the fee for our group entry. I didn’t understand anything, of course, but it involved a smiling woman and a grumpy grandfather. In the end, it was settled that each child would pay 1500 shillings. This family is clearly doing well off the waterfall!

It was a steep decent into a very narrow but very lush gorge carved by the river. The waterfall, when we got to it, was quite the thundering beast, probably a good 60 to 70 metres high, though I have to admit my waterfall height judging skills are a little rusty. The energy of the falling water was blowing a pretty good mist down the gorge, so it was difficult for me to use my camera, but I was able to get off some shots of the kids playing around. Some went so far as to dunk themselves in the river, and there was one girl who was in there from beginning to end, splashing about as everyone else looked on and laughed. We spent a good half hour down there as people took turns taking pictures and some tried to climb the rocks in the river. By the end of it, almost everyone had become quite soaked by the continuous shower of fine mist, and some of the kids were shivering. It has to be noted that though the sun was going in and out of clouds, the low 20s temperature was definitely on the chilly side for Tanzanians. Ascending back to where the buses were parked, we had a rest and then got out our packed lunches. Afterwards, the bus drivers turned on some of their music and there was about a 10 minute dance-fest that erupted before we had to get back in the buses and go.

On the return trip, we stopped in the town of Marangu so that some of the kids who hadn’t brought a lunch could buy snacks. During this time, I walked around the town with a few teachers. We came upon a village education centre where there was a craft shop and a real Chagga hut.

Though the Maasai is the tribe that comes to everyone’s minds when you talk about Kenya and Tanzania, in Tanzania they are closer to the parks area of the north-west. Here around Kilimanjaro is the land of the Chagga, so all of the students and teachers at my school speak Chagga. It’s quite amazing, actually, since now that they are learning English in school, they are becoming trilingual already.

In the past, the Chagga lived in huts with a shape somewhere between a dome and a cone. The skeleton was made of wood from the forests while the outside was made of grasses collected and piled on densely. The woman giving us the explanation had herself been born in one of these huts whose base is circular and about 15 feet in diameter. Inside, there was a small section (about ¼ of the hut) to keep cows and goats. The “kitchen”, just a fire really, was in the centre of the hut and sleeping areas were around the centre. The door was built purposely low so that potential attackers could not enter aggressively; having to duck to enter, they were in the perfect position for a club blow to the back of the head or neck from the father inside, who always slept by the door.

Outside, pineapples were grown in a ring around the hut. Curious for sure, at first thought, but as the old woman explained, if you’ve ever seen the leaves of a pineapple, you’ll know that they have serrated, knife-like edges, and that was good for deterring any big game attracted by the smell of cattle or other food inside. Thus, the pineapples were dual purpose: food and protection.
What astounded me the most was being told that the Chagga lived in this kind of hut up until the late 60s and early 70s! Indeed, Deo’s father was born in one and spent the first 10 years of his life living in one. Amazing, when you consider the picture of Canadian life during the same period.