Esperanto is a language you probably haven't heard about

Not until early this year did I learn of the existence of this language. Esperanto is a language you probably haven't heard about.

I always thought of myself of being capable of identifying many of the world's most-spoken languages, but when a group of visitors showed up at Mwitongo in January I realized I had overestimated my capabilities.

Through their own introductions I learnt that the visitors represented several nationalities: European, Asiatic, African, and South American. But they communicated in a language that sounded familiar, and one I could not identify. Sometimes the pronunciations sounded Spanish, but I just could not figure out what language was used.

The group of Esperanto-speaking visitors to Butiama

I asked and was told they were speaking Esperanto, a language first developed by a Polish physician, Dr. Ludwig L. Zamenhof, in 1887. One of his objectives in constructing a new language was to enable all nationalities to have a common language of communication.

Esperanto's grammar is derived from Romance and Germanic languages, while its vocabulary is derived from Slavic languages.

***********************************************

Here's more information on Esperanto:

http://esperanto.org/us/USEJ/world/index.html

***********************************************

Worldwide estimates of users of Esperanto range from 2 to 10 million.

The visitors to Butiama had taken time off from a meeting of Esperanto users held in the nearby town of Bunda.

The roof is up

The roof is up today for one of the grain silos at Mwitongo, Butiama.

Tilting the roof provides access to the finger millet stored in the silo. The finger millet flour is mixed with cassava or maize flour to cook ugali (hard porridge), a favorite meal among members of the Zanaki ethnic group.

Occasionally, as is the case in this occasion, the roof of the silo is tilted to permit visitors to view the grain stored inside.

Mwitongo is the compound of the residence of Tanzania's founding president, Mwalimu Julius Kambarage Nyerere.

Kenyan mother names son "Air Force One"

This could be old news to Kenyans, but it came to my attention only recently.

When I read recently that a mother in Kenya named his son Air Force One, born during President Barack Obama's visit to Kenya I thought that was odd. Odd, but culturally understandable.

Throughout African societies, naming tradition is influenced by significant events. And if a Kenyan parent decides that a US president's visit is significant, she has every right to think so. In Tanzania Chausiku is the name given to girls born at night. The name Abidemi in Yoruba is given to a child born during the father's absence. Esi in Akan means born on Sunday.

So if a mother gave birth as Air Force One was touching down at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport recently we might raise eyebrows on the choice of name, but as far as African naming tradition goes, it is perfectly in order.

So I was surprised to learn that some Kenyans squirmed and cringed in reaction when a Kenyan news anchor ululated as she introduced President Barack Obama and his host President Uhuru Kenyatta at a Nairobi meeting.

Julie Gichuru of Citizen TV ululated, as many Africans do on festive occasions, as she ceded the floor to President Obama and her action drew some criticism from some Kenyans. I suspect it reminded these critics that Kenyans were Kenyans; that Africans are Africans. And that act, to those who embrace and extol other cultures, was the the most damaging act she could have projected to a world-wide audience.

The interesting part is that anyone who watches American audiences will notice that, they too, utilise a form of ululation, as a positive reaction to speakers, and at sporting events.

Not surprisingly, besides the criticism, I have seen some praise for her high-pitched welcome from other Kenyans.

How do you order toast in Swahili?

That was my dilemma. Although it took me a while to find out that I was in a dilemma.

I take great pride in my ability to speak Swahili, a language spoken by an estimated 140 million people. It's my mother tongue, so I should not claim to hold exceptional qualities. But I take every opportunity to speak Swahili and will use a foreign language only when I have to.

Recently while having breakfast in a hotel in Dar es Salaam I ordered toasted bread. My request was in Swahili except for the word "toast" which the English-Swahili dictionary published by the Institute of Kiswahili Research translates to "tosti." But I only found this out after I consulted the dictionary. Hitherto, I had never heard anyone mention tosti.

In response, the waiter asked me in English: "how many [slices]?" And I, perturbed by a Tanzanian adressing a fellow Tanzania in English, asked in Swahili: "Do you speak Swahili?"

He switched to Swahili and as I sat in my chair waiting for my tosti it suddenly dawned on me that I was the one who created the confusion in the first place by ordering "toast."

The stresses and strains of grave site selection

In Zanaki tradition if no word is left to indicate where someone wants to be buried then the selection of a grave site sometimes will pit the deceased's family in a battle of where the burial should take place.

In a recent funeral, word had reached Butiama that the grave for a relative who had died in Mwanza should be dug at his parent's home in anticipation of the funeral several days later. He was married twice and had a business in Mwanza region.

As work commenced on digging the grave a phone call from his close family pointed out that the digging should be suspended until the body arrived in Butiama because there was an unsettled debate on where the deceased should be buried. The current wife wanted him buried on his property in Butiama while his former wife was said to have wanted him to be buried in Mwanza, where she lived.

An uncle in Butiama said he saw no reason why the deceased should not be buried next to the grave of his father, instead of burying him in a municipal grave in Mwanza. The tradition of burying family members in the grounds of the family's home is still practiced among the Zanaki. Burying a family member in a municipal cemetery would appear like abandoning him and denies surviving members the practice of frequently visiting a grave to communicate with those who have gone before.

Eventually the uncle's decision was decisive and the deceased was buried at the same site that was initially pointed out. Which prompted me to ask: "Shouldn't the wife have a say in where her husband should be buried?" An elder told me that the wife becomes part of the husband's family and the decision made by the uncle, representing the father of the deceased in this case, is paramount.

Divorce in African culture

Divorce in African culture is not unheard of but was highly discouraged. It was the parents who arranged marriages and they enforced the marriage for as long as necessary.

Within the Zanaki ethnic group divorce was permitted under certain circumstances. In cases of persistent physical abuse against the wife her relatives could arrange to return the dowry paid for her marriage to the husband's parents and this action would release the wife from the marriage and she would return to her parents.

If at the time of the divorce the wife did not have children from the marriage all the dowry would be paid back to the husband/husband's parents. If she had children some cows would be deducted from the original number.

A recent ceremony in Butiama for handing over dowry cows to a bride's parents.

Adelaida Nyangeta Nyerere and Sophia Magori Nyerere, two of Mwalimu Julius Kambarage Nyerere's (1922 - 1999) sisters, were divorced from their marriages under these circumstances.

Sophia Magori Nyerere was later remarried to Dr. Lawrence Gama who died in December 2009. Both of Mwalimu's sisters are now deceased.

Related posts:
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2012/12/no-shortage-of-people-who-believe-in.html
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2010/04/zanaki-and-meat.html

Kilimanjaro Awards Music nominee Dr. Jahson is asking for your vote

I have received a plea from Tanzanian ragga artiste Dr. Jahson to vote for his song Push Dem which has been nominated for this year's Kilimanjaro Music Awards. I will vote for him only because he is the only one who has issued a plea. Would you? Watch his video and decide.

If you wish to vote for him write the following text message, BW4, and send it to 15345.

He gets my unsolicited bonus vote for advising his voters to eat natural foods. He recommends a diet of stiff porridge (ugali in Swahili, nsima in some of the dialects of Malawi and Zambia, and polenta in Italian) made from sorghum flour, plenty of fruits, and vegetables.

My bonus vote is only for the green stuff on the plate, not the green stuff on the headscarf.

And he appears to be practicing what he preaches.

How the passage of time is altering core Tanzanian values

Tanzanians are much less hospitable then they used to be.

More than 25 years ago, while driving a Land Rover 109 between Arusha and Butiama, I exited from the Ikoma Gate of the Serengeti National Park late in the evening during the height of the rainy season.

The Land Rover 109, similar to the one I drove through the Serengeti. Photo credit: Buckers.

On reaching Fort Ikoma I turned towards Mugumu, the district headquarters. Being alone and intent on avoiding the risk of getting stuck in mud and spending the night in the midst of wild animals, I thought it better to spend the night at Mugumu and resume my trip to Butiama the following day.

The road between Fort Ikoma and Mugumu was in terrible condition and I occasionally ran the risk of getting stuck in pools of water and mud, but fortunately, the car held on and I progressed slowly ahead.

At around 9:00 PM I was flagged down by a man who was heading in my direction, walking alone, soaked, and  traversing wildlife territory. I picked him up and we reached Mugumu after 11:00 PM.

None of the hotels that I went to had vacancies. When I offered to drop my hitchhiker at his house he gave up his room for me and I spent a comfortable night that otherwise would have been spent in the car. Those familiar with the Land Rover 109 will recall that it did not have reclining seats.

This is the Tanzania which we do not have anymore. Of people who had trust in strangers hitchhiking at night amidst wildebeest and hyenas, and of people who let strangers into their houses.

I have to admit that today I have to think twice of picking up a hitchhiking stranger, even in daylight. And I doubt whether the person who I picked up that night more than two decades ago would today allow a stranger into his room without risking this stranger leaving unannounced with a few of the room's fittings.

Trust has evaporated and in its place there is tremendous suspicion among ourselves and, consequently, an erosion of the values that identified us as Tanzanians.

"Coca-Cola Zero" could have a better name

For the Tanzanian market, I would have advised against calling a drink "Coca-Cola Zero." In certain contexts "Zero" for Tanzanians carries a negative connotation.

When studying marketing ages ago, I learnt that the makers of Coca-Cola had done extensive research before choosing the name and when the did they chose a name that can be comfortably pronounced in all the major language groups known to humans. True, but only to a certain point. I have heard people asking for "Coca-Cora" and others asking for "Cock." 

The point is accepted nevertheless that where there could be doubt in what a seller in China might have heard being requested by a Tanzanian visitor, with a few repetitions the Chinese vendor would have understood and the Tanzanian would have a Coca-Cola in hand and contributed to the 1.2 billion 8 ounce servings of Coca-Cola that are consumed in the world every day.

"Zero" reminds most Tanzanians of a cartoon strip character with the same name who is famous for not being the most intelligent person. You might hear in Kiswahili conversation of someone labeled "zero" to connote an absence of basic knowledge, incapacity to think, or endowed with questionable character traits.

The effects of a poor choice in naming a product can be trivial for a company's earnings. But sometimes it can affect sales. In the 1970s American Motors introduced a new car model to the American automobile market, the AMC Matador. "Matador" in Spanish means "killer", a name that most drivers who understood Spanish would not have wanted to associate with a car they drove.

Most likely, drinkers of this new drink would not want to be likened to Zero the cartoon strip character.

Nuances of the Zanaki dialect

When a member of the Zanaki ethnic group returns to Butiama after some absence from Butiama and speaks of having visited many countries during his absence, those who do not understand the Zanaki dialect would be excused for understanding that the individual's passport bears immigration stamps from several countries.

When the word nchi [country] crops up in Zanaki conversation it actually refers to localities or villages that are close to the point of departure that do not involve crossing any international frontiers. Invariably, when an individual crosses a valley or a few valleys and crosses into the territory of another village or locality, this individual has crossed into another "country".

I recall hearing one of my cousins, having imbued a commendable quantity of brew, speaking of having traveled far and wide "to many countries" including Buturu, Mwanza Buriga, Buruma, and Busegwe; all of them villages within the vicinity of Butiama.

Sometimes what marks the boundaries of one locality from another, one nchi from another, is the territory that is identified with a particular ancestral spirit. The ancestral spirit of Butiama is known as Muhunda.

Post related to this one:

http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2009/01/up-to-my-neck-in-snakes.html

My version of the year 2012 in review: 8 January

In a series of posts from today, I present some of my photos and recollections from 2012.

****************************************************************

At Butiama, I joined a meeting to set the bride price for my cousin Daisy for her upcoming

At the meeting from left to right: Vincent Nyerere, the bridegroom's brother and Member of Parliament for Musoma Urban constituency, Julius Kiboko Nyerere (the bridegroom's brother), Joseph Muhunda Nyerere (the bridegroom's uncle), the groom's uncle whose name could not be obtained, and The Rev. Nyakarungu (the groom's father).

wedding.

The bride price tradition is still practiced among most of Tanzania's ethnic groups. Before the actual bride price is discussed, the suitors are asked to bring along 'presents' for the aunts of the bride which include such items as cooking utensils and khanga clothing.

The bride price negotiations involved intense 'demands' and 'counter offers' from both sides but all done in a good spirit.

Another post in this 2012 review series:
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2013/01/my-version-of-year-2012-11-january.html

No shortage of people who believe in magic

Mganga is the name of the Tanzanian medicine man, or woman in some cases, and like other Tanzanians, many members of the Zanaki ethnic group who reside around Butiama regularly consult a mganga.

To believers the mganga has a remedy to most problems affecting humans, from health issues to the resolution of conflicts arising out of social relations. Some even claim to possess potions that can bring instant riches to their clients.

In the book Bantu Customs in Mainland Tanzania author P. van Pelt writes:

When we speak about religious beliefs, we do not only speak about a Bantu's understanding of Being or of a Supreme Being and his relationship and conduct towards this Being or Supreme Being. We speak also about his understanding of other non-human beings and his consequent relationship with and conduct towards these other beings. As a matter of fact the Bantu is very much occupied with those other beings. The question is then which are the consequences for his relationships with human beings and his synthetic understanding of the universe. These other beings exist in nature, that means they are not transcendental. They are spirits or things having forces which surpass in power people who are bodily living and these forces can act on living persons, animals and things. But it happens also that specially gifted people by themselves or with the assistance of spirits can command these forces.

This belief gives rise to magical practices.

The mganga falls within this class of "gifted" people.

A medicine woman preparing her tools of trade before consultation with a patient.

In a consultation I witnessed, the mganga began the healing process by summoning the spirits of her ancestors through incantations, the spirits having provided indications of the problem that was only fleetingly hinted by the patient.

Post related to this one:
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2008/11/letter-from-butiama-modern-day-witch.html

How to remove a poisonous snake from the house

From the bathroom, to be more precise. A black mamba chose the worst moment to enter the house last month, just when students and teachers from St. Constantine's School in Arusha were completing their dinner.

As she walked out of the washroom, one of the teachers casually informed me that there was a snake in the toilet, the guest toilet near the dining room. She was my preferred kind of visitor, not the type who screams at the top of his or her voice at the sight of a snake.

As I cautiously peered behind the toilet door to size up the snake, the lead guide/driver who had accompanied the group of 25 students and three teachers asked me not to kill the snake.

Photo of Black Mamba, Dendroaspis polylepis, used under Creative Commons License. Details at: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

I said: "Don't worry. We don't kill snakes in this house", I said to Costa Simba.

Step 1: Using a broomstick, I gently coaxed the snake out of the washroom and it squeezed itself behind the opening under the door hinge.

Although its entire body had shifted past the door opening, it coiled up and lodged itself firmly behind the door with its head facing me. I have seen enough nature documentaries to be aware that it was not in a mood to make friends with anyone. It had taken a hostile position.

Step 2: I placed the broomstick in front of its head with the expectation that it would crawl on and I would be able to pick up the broom and take both snake and broom outside the building to release the snake.

From time to time, Costa kept checking on my progress on removing the snake. At one stage, apparently more concenred about what I would do to the snake then what the snake might do to me, told me: "It's all right, the elders have come to say 'hello.'"

That, he had no need to explain. According to Zanaki tradition a guardian spirit called Muhunda takes many forms: a large baboon, a leopard, or a snake. That tradition forbids humans from harming these creatures.

Simba explained to me that, according to tradition, the 'right' way to remove a snake from the house is to coax it onto a stick and then when it slides onto the stick, to lift both stick and snake and throw it out of a window. Through the window, he insisted, not the door.

That was what I was trying to do but the snake obviously wanted to stay a little longer and was not going away anytime soon. I was still desperately trying to complete step two; he wanted to make sure I followed the instructions well.

At some point I decided the broomstick was too thick for the snake to crawl on to and I changed tactics.

Step 3: I walked out to the garden and cut a thin branch which I assumed would be easier for the snake to relate to.

It was probably unwise to try to coax a snake onto a plastic broomstick in the first place. With the thin branch I tried too much and the snake turned back into the door opening and slid back into the washroom and began slithering up the egde of the door.

In the meantine the teacher who had casually announced the presence of the snake, seeing how much time I was spending trying to remove the snake asked me why I could not just scoop up the snake with a short plastic container. "It seems like a harmless tree snake," she said. No, I explained, this was a black mamba. One of the most poisonous snakes in the world.

She said she wished I did not reveal that; now she was afraid. Now her earlier casual fearless announcement about there being a snake in the bathroom made prefect sense.

Step 3: It was not the gentlest snake removals I had done, but when the snake coiled its upper part on the stick I gently and gradually forced it off the door and wall until most of its body was suspended in the air and it had only one option: to coil itself around the stick that I was holding.

I walked past the dining room and headed for the nearest window.

Step 4: With ample warning to those who are petrified by the presence and sight of snakes, I called ahead to those near the nearest window to open one window.

The closest window was in the kitchen and I am glad I announced my approach because it is not common for me to walk into the kitchen with a snake on a stick. I recall walking into the dining room with a snake in a plastic bag but this was an entirely new experience. Eventually, I stretched my hand through the window and placed the stick on the ground and the snake uncoiled itself and disappeared into the evening.

It was also a different experience from another perspective. I have on a previous occasion removed a snake from the house in a similar manner, but I walked out of the main entrance with the snake on a stick and released it out on the garden. The window tradition was a first for me.

Epilogue: Actually, I am the only one who does not kill snakes at home. Lucky snake.

Posts related to this one:
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2010/05/snakes-and-chiefs.html
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-version-of-year-in-review-january2.html
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2012/04/world-story-telling-day.html
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2009/01/up-to-my-neck-in-snakes.html
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-version-of-year-2010-in-review-march.html

Kiroyera Campsite in Bukoba

When in Bukoba one of best locations for whiling the time away is the Kiroyera Campsite situated along the shores of Lake Victoria.

For those who prefer more traditional forms of accommodation there are traditional mshonge (grass) huts that remind the visitor of the older bullding traditions of Kagera.

Posts related to this one:
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-version-of-year-2010-in-review.html
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2011/06/mary-kalikawe-and-william-rutta-reach_15.html

Akamwani: A traditional welcome gesture in Kagera, Tanzania

A guest to a home in Kagera region will normally receive the traditional snack of coffee beans, known as akamwani in the Haya dialect.

Akamwani is made from Robusta coffee beans and is served to the visitor immediately after the exchange of greetings. Robusta coffee beans are smaller compared to Arabica coffee beans.

When coffee is almost mature but is still green in color it is harvested and washed, and mixed with special herbs to augment its aroma. The mixing of these herbs is known in the Haya dialect as akachumba mwani. The mix is then boiled in a pot for about eight hours and then dried in the shade.

Akamwani was traditionally used in various social events, such as during ceremonies for joining two friends in a covenant that transforms their friendship into a family bond, or at the conclusion of a mourning period.

Both the outer shell and the bean itself can be eaten although I found it easier to chew the relatively softer bean.

Traditionally it was taboo for children and those living with their parents to eat akamwani. Children were warned that if they ate the snack their parents would die. The more probable reason for this taboo is that because coffee induces insomnia it would prevent children from sleeping and also prevent their parents from freely engaging in acts whose effect was to produce more offspring.

The traditional Haya house, or mshonge, consisted of a single thatched-roof round building with a single entrance, a central cooking space, and various sleeping compartments made of straw or wicker partitions for the parents and female children. The male children slept in the open spaces around the mshonge.

Parents seeking privacy in the mshonge could only get that privacy when the children were asleep.

Clash of cultures on Mt. Kilimanjaro

Once, a long time ago while studying in Milan, I was in car with some Italian friends and one of them broke wind, very publicly and quiet loudly. It should not be a subject that demands attention, but it offers a study on the stark contrast in cultural norms.

It happened again during my recent climb of Mt. Kilimanjaro. I have for my past six climbs climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro on the Lemosho route where only tented accommodation is available on the trek. This time I used the Marangu route, which is unique for its scenic landscape and stunning views of both Mawenzi and Kibo peaks. The Marangu route offers accommodation only in shared log cabins. I have never shared tents on my Lemosho climbs and for a good reason; the privacy of one’s tent provides flexibility to the climber, from changing dirty clothing to staying away from the noise of a snoring neighbour. As one climber mentioned recently: “If a snorer sleeps before you you’ll have great difficulty falling asleep.” Sleep is most essential in recovering from the daily hikes from one camp to another.

Mawenzi peak as seen on the Marangu route.

So, I found myself sharing a cabin with four other European climbers who had absolutely no self-restraint in how much foul air they allowed into the atmosphere. I am not sure about how much they contributed to Global Warming, but I admit I was uncomfortable. For Tanzanians it is taboo for grown-ups to break wind in the presence of others. If an adult does so accidentally and a child happens to be nearby the child will be blamed for the act and scolded for such unbecoming behaviour.

I understand from my experience in Italy that, from the perspective of some cultures, it is acceptable behavior. But I suspect there are certain circumstances that may limit this behaviour. I cannot imagine that at a summit of G-7 leaders discussing the limiting of carbon emissions that you’ll have the same VIP delegates, heads of state and government of the world’s seven leading economies, liberally firing off some of the same gases that they are trying to limit.

The Tanzanian Tourist Board issues tips to foreign visitors on acceptable practices that conform with Tanzanian cultural norms. I wonder whether it is time now to caution visitors against restraining themselves - at least while in the cramped logged cabins on the Marangu route.

Chassis, chesisi, or kiunzi?

There are certain foreign words that just don't respect international boundaries and they find expression and usage in far away places, much farther than where they came from.

Chassis is one of them. It made its way from French into English usage. How, I do not know. And where alternatives do not exist in other languages, the use of English words is widespread. Inevitably, in Swahili chassis is also widely used although its spelling is not always correct, as is the case with this instance of a motorcycle chassis number that was written on a motorcycle pending the issuance of a registration number.

The standard Kiswahili translation is chesisi, which sounds familiar or kiunzi, which does not - even to Swahili speakers. As someone who prefers originality, I would prefer the latter word but its use will most likely create a few problems. Try to tell a customs official: namba ya kiunzi ni [the chassis number is...] SH42A-105716 and no will will understand you.

Kiunzi has been in the authoritative Swahili - English dictionary, Kamusi ya Kiswahili-Kiingereza published by Taasisi ya Uchunguzi wa Kiswahili (Institute of Swahili Research) of the University of Dar es Salaam since 2001 but is yet to appear on the online English to Swahili Dictionary.

Post related to this one:
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2010/09/hanna-is-getting-married.html

My version of the year 2011 in review: 7 October

I was invited to the nearby village of Nyamuswa where Juma Makongoro, who works with the Fisheries Department in Mwanza region, donated school desks to the primary school where he studied in his formative years.

One of the beneficiaries, on the extreme right of the photograph, appeared to be bored by the proceedings.

To entertain the visitors was a traditional musical group composed of elders of Nyamuswa.

Other posts in this 2011 review series:
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2012/08/my-version-of-year-2011-in-review-2.html
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2012/08/my-version-of-year-2011-in-review-13.html

My version of the year 2011 in review: 2 October

In the evening I attended the wedding reception in Dar es Salaam of my nephew, Petro to Shum Komanya.

There was little doubt I was getting older because, for the first time, I delivered the wedding speech on behalf of the groom's parents.

Posts related to this one:
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-fictitious-second-wedding.html
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2010/09/weddings-are-different-nowadays.html

More posts in this 2011 review series:
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2012/08/my-version-of-year-2011-in-review-28_12.html
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2012/08/my-version-of-year-2011-in-review-7.html

My version of the year 2011 in review: 18 November

The Africa Week in Dresden included both an Energy Workshop, which I attended, and an exhibition showcasing African culture.

The African culture part also involved regular performances by African musicians, including Angolan Jack Panzo who created a rule of handing one of his Ghanaian drums to anyone within reach and embarking on an impromptu drumming lesson. I was not spared.

I, in the centre, enjoying the sounds of African drums at the Centrum Gallery in Dresden. 

That evening I imagined someone calling up the German Embassy in Dar es Salaam and saying: "Guess what? That guy who said he was traveling to Germany for an energy meeting has joined a group of street musicians performing in Dresden. Don't issue a visa to him ever again."

Benjamin and Maurice's newspaper interview on our forthcoming Mt. Kilimanjaro climb finally appeared on the day's newspaper. The accompanying photograph made me appear like an experienced mountaineer who could even conquer Mt. Everest. So I thought.

Andrea Wobmann with whom I climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro in September 2010, and who was in Dresden for the Africa Week, presented me with a coffee mug filled with Swiss chocolates.

Other posts in this 2011 review series:
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2012/07/my-version-of-year-2011-in-review-7.html
http://madarakanyerere.blogspot.com/2012/08/my-version-of-year-2011-in-review-20.html