Diary - Monday, July 31, 2006 

I am very pleased to report that we have just reached the half-way point in this wonderful East African experience. My family and I settled in quite well as Alastair and Pat had left many people here to look out for us. We have been well taken care of. However, we were sad to see Al and Pat depart so soon after our arrival as we feel we have missed some wonderful times with an amazing couple.

I have thoroughly enjoyed my time in the clinic, thus far. It is a very relaxed atmosphere and the cases, while at times challenging, have not been overwhelming. Chai's help as interpreter means a great deal to the success of the work, and in the breaks we have had many discussions about life here in Jambiani. Martin te Loo, the physio/manual therapist from Holland, remained close by, holidaying with his family last week, and our families had many fun times together until they departed last Friday. He and I were able to tackle some tough, late evening patients who showed up on the doorstep having suffered some serious injuries. It was great to have his help and input.

Life here is an experience not to be missed. We swim when the tide is high, walk the beach when it is low. We have been snorkeling, on safari to the mainland (which was an incredible experience), toured Jozani Forest, the girls have visited the local school and stayed up late watching the final of the World Cup in the staff quarters of the Blue Oyster Hotel with about 30 others, and been treated to a tour of Chai's home. My children have made many friends who come around each evening for a round of games and singing on the beach... though I do not know how my guitar playing compares to Ali Baba's, we all have a great time.

Our trips to Stonetown, while tiring, have been made much easier given the good reputation on Mama Pat and Ali Baba and the help of our driver, Rama, who, without his help we would surely be lost. It seems people everywhere are friendly, and around every corner is a new experience. I have even done a few "house-calls" while in town. I am certain that the next two weeks will be as richly rewarding as the first two have been. And, I am also certain the experiences we have had here will leave a lasting impression upon each of us, long after we return to Canada. Our thanks to Alistair and Pat for giving my family and I the opportunity to participate in such a program and a special thanks to them for their confidence in our abilities to look after things in their absence.

Cheers, from The Jambiani Wellness Centre
Dr. Bruce/Hadji Baba

Close-by waves crash upon the shore signaling the return of the tide. The coconut palms above wave a warm welcome to all as the unseen wind whistles by. Local children bellow at the fence, "Mariyam, Samira", calling my children to play games and sing songs. In the distance I see my wife, aimlessly wandering the beach, stopping occasionally to examine a shell come to rest upon the sand underneath. Me, I sit pondering the last four weeks as part of the Jambiani community and trying to piece together what we will all take home from this adventure.

I have marveled at what Ali Baba and Mama Pat have created here on the shores of the Indian Ocean and I am thankful to have been able to contribute my skills as a chiropractor. I have been touched by the gratitude people here have shown me for the efforts I have put forth, yet, one is left feeling that there could be so much more we could do. If only we had an x-ray machine close-by, if only people did not have to travel such distances, if only... Yet, in all the challenges there have been many moments of laughter and joy shared that no language or cultural barrier could hinder. And, somehow, we have managed.

For many, many months after my return to Canada, I will think of who I have met here. The mothers bringing their babies for help with fevers, and advice to care for club feet, or the child whose leg was caught in the spokes of the bicycle wheel. Women limping into the clinic suffering the wear and tear of years of back-breaking labour in the shallows of the low tide harvesting seaweed, gleaning twine from coconut mounds buried under stones in the sea to make coir rope, carrying babies on their backs, water on their heads, bags in their arms. Men with their aches and pains from farming, roofing, driving, fishing, climbing coconut trees, and a whole host of other labours. Proud people who let little deter them from moving through life managing to always wave a greeting or stop for a chat about how you are doing.

I will remember how Mohammed hosted us at his home during the Makunduchi Makwa Kogwa Festival. A proud man recovering from a tremendous Vespa accident which left him a plate in his thigh and many years of rehabilitation ahead. Yet each day that he came for care, he smiled, worked very hard at all the exercises, and we shared laughs and jokes together. While at his home and after the lunch his wife had prepared, he asked that I photograph his family, and insisted that my daughter capture on film our "mock" banana stick fight to honour the ideals of the festive celebrations. He made me promise to send him copies for his photo album, already filled with simple images of his wedding, five children, seven grandchildren and his life working in the military, building his home and farming.

I will miss many things about the Jambiani Wellness Centre, yet, I will take so much home with me that I am certain my outlook on life will never quite be the same. For many weeks and months ahead I know I will find myself staring off into the distance wondering what is going on back at the "Jam". I am so thankful that I have been able to share this experience with my family, especially my children. Together with my wife, they helped to run the ESL classes, each bringing a unique contribution that I know the students greatly appreciated. Often a student or two would arrive early in the morning to sit with "Mariyam" or "Samira" on the front porch to review some principle of the English language, the class not beginning until well into the afternoon. It has been gratifying to see them each rise to the challenge of traveling to a far distant land, and to share in this wondrous adventure with them is something I will always treasure and never forget.

One day, I hope to return to these shores, until then, I wish this project all the success this community and its people so richly deserve.

Sincerely, Haji Baba (Bruce Walton, Guelph Ontario, Canada.)

From Makyla/Mariyam...!!!!
Two years ago when my dad casually said to my sister and I "so, how would you like to go to Africa for a month?", I jumped in with an enthusiastic "yes!" I had no idea what I was agreeing to. And now as we near our date of departure, I try to imagine what it will be like to go back home. I don't think I will truly realize how life changing this experience has been until I get there.

I think the thing I will always remember the most vividly is the experience of meeting the children. How the older girls welcomed me into their game of "nina taka kwenda" the second day I arrived and explained to me through a series of hand gestures and the little English they knew, how to play. How the little kids come to our gate every night after supper and chant "Mariyam, Samira" until we go out to play. How I taught the kids to waltz, and now whenever my dad plays the guitar on the beach, they put there arms up and say "moja, mbili, tatu, moja, mbili, tatu". The goofiness of the little boys, always ready to laugh at our attempts at Kiswahili. How one little boy who, after spending twenty minutes making ridiculous poses for my camera, fell asleep in my lap. The responsibility the girls have of looking after their baby brothers and sisters and how mature a seven year old can be when there is a baby in her arms. But they are always ready to have fun, to smile, to laugh. I'm sure it will be the children that eventually bring me back to Africa.

Helping with the English classes has been quite challenging, but not without it's rewards. One of the students, Husna, frequently comes to our house before class with questions about our classes, or what she has learned in school. I must say, she knows more English grammar than I will ever know! The other day she expressed an interest in my French workbook and I have begun teaching her the little I know. We have a lot of fun together, laughing at our mistakes and helping each other.

I don't think that going home will be the end to my adventure, merely the next chapter. I have four years of high school to look forward to and after that I am sure with all my heart that I will be back in Africa. A place in my heart will always be reserved for Canada, but I like to think that Zanzibar, Tanzania has an equal place as well. And it will keep expanding as I explore new countries and meet new people. But Jambiani will always be my first experience of Africa and I think that gives it a magic no other place can have.

I would like to thank Mama Pat and Ali Baba for setting up such a wonderful project and opening their home so that other people have a chance to experience what they fell in love with: Jambiani, Zanzibar, Tanzania. And so I say goodbye to Jambiani and its people, but it is with a feeling of "see you soon" as I feel confident that I will someday be back. I wish HABS and the community all the best in the world for they truly deserve it.

Mariyam

From Samantha/Samira.
I'd like to say something, but the thing about being the youngest child is that someone always does it first. One of the many things my sister is better at is writing. So I leave it in her capable hands to say what is in every way true. I will comment on two things though. First, that the two cats Yatima and Kilimanjaro (Kili for short) - most of the time they are two of the most adorable cats you'll ever see. The rest of the time they are being slightly crazy! One minute they will be sleeping together on the bed and giving each other baths. The next Kili will be biting Yatima's tail while Yatima steadily chews away on Kili's ear. They offer some good photo ops! But be careful where you lay down your book, because there are teeth marks in one of mine. And I have reason to believe that a certain kitten whose name starts with Y might have something to do with it!

The other thing I would like to comment on is the huge difficulty it has been for me to be away from home so long. It probably won't matter as much to an adult, but for a 12 year old it's very hard to be away from your friends for nearly 8 weeks (my Mom and my sister and I spent almost four weeks in the UK before joining my Dad to come to Jambiani). So I find myself trying to decide whether or not I'm glad or sad to be leaving. I think, I'll have to settle for a mixture. I'll be soooo glad to see my friends again (and have my large quantity of Harry Potter stuff back!) but it will be very hard to leave my chair by the Indian Ocean. So I say goodbye with Kili having a bath on my legs!

From Jennifer/Jamila
The month has flown by. In fact, for my girls and myself, we've been gone from home for seven weeks now, eight before we finally get home. We had a lovely three weeks in England first on our way here. In fact, that experience led into a theme that keeps coming up for me here. Contrast. We spent the final week in England in the hustle and bustle of London, then came here to Jambiani, where the only possible traffic jam is caused by a wandering herd of cows blocking the road (and even then, there would only be one or two cars held up!)

Over and over again here, I am struck by the contrasts that occur. Modi, a young man who is one of the computer teachers here, is designing a logo on the computer one day, and the next is gathering firewood for his grandmother's cook fire. On our weekly drive into Stone Town, we ride comfortably in a Toyota van with the music playing as we pass young boys driving a wooden cart pulled by an ox. I do our laundry in a handy wash machine while the local women wash everything by hand. We stay in a beautiful, comfortable, weather-proof home with solid walls, plumbing, electricity, and sturdy roof while some of the local people live in what, back home, would be called a hut.

The children smile radiantly at us as they call "Jambo"; when we stop to chat, we see the brown rotting spots on their teeth. Almost everyone here has a cell phone, yet the only "vehicle" most people will ever own is a one-speed bicycle.

What to make of all these contrasts? At times I feel guilt over the disparity of the distribution of resources in the world ("guilt" because as a Northern hemispherer, I'm definitely in the "have" part of the world). At times I wonder does it matter? That family lives in a hut, yet no one is hungry and the kids are all smiling. At times I want to get home and purge our home of "excess", but without conscious meaning behind it, that is just a feel-good action. As I contemplate this experience, question myself, examine and reflect, I have no idea where this will lead me. But one thing I do know, the repercussions of our time here will be reverberating through our lives for a long time to come.

Lest you think the whole month was one of angst for me, it wasn't! Far from it. I reveled in the colours of the sea at low tide. I sketched the gorgeous flowers outside the house. I played with my family in the waves. I walked through the village answering "Asante sana" (thank you very much) to all the repeated calls of "Karibu" (you are welcome). I learned about the history of Unguju from the English students. I got to know Afua, Wahida, and Saidi, who all help at the house here, and Rama, our driver (who can change a flat tire in under 6 minutes-we know because we've had four flats while here!) and of course Chi Hassan, who did so much more than just help Bruce in the clinic, providing many hours of conversation on a variety of topics. I added shells to the collection on the front porch. I laughed at the kittens' antics (they really are the cutest cats, especially Yatima).

Like the rest of my family, I see myself coming back one day in the future. I feel I've barely scratched the surface of this place. Until then, I wish Ali Baba and Mama Pat all the success in the world for what they are doing here. The community here loves and respects them a great deal. Thank you, the two of you, for trusting us with your home, with your clinic, and really, your reputation. You must have big hearts to be able to do that!

Jennifer