JL | journal

In the small basement chambers, which is about 3 meters wide, 5 meters deep and 1.5 meter tall, 50 male or 75 female plus children would stay for two to three days or more, awaiting for the slave auction to open. According to our guide Christopher, many of these people would die of suffocation, starvation, disease or god knows whatever reasons. But that would be OK, for if they could not survive the three-day storage they probably were not strong enough to be sold for a good price anyways.

At the auction, the slave up for bidding would be tied to a pillar, whipped repeatedly as people call their prices. If the slave shall make a sound when the whip cracks their skin, the price would suffer, so would the good temper of the seller.

Children were of little uses as they are not strong enough and not worth the investment of food and care until they are. They would be thrown in as extras for the bulk buyers.
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“before I continue, I must also include the most noble, impacting, profound and beautiful lesson that my travels have BEATEN into me – and that is of Humility. The thought of the arrogance and ignorance with which I set upon my world “stomp,” today, changes my cheeks to shades of shame. That I left my country on the spit and snarl of these two charges, just emphasizes the depth of my personal projection. Such self-righteousness we assume in the task and name of seeking change! The world IS change; it’s the predominant characteristic of nature and the Earth and nothing but comical to presume that we need seek it out. We human beings, both individually and cumulatively, will constantly be presented with the challenges and opportunities to evolve to our higher selves regardless of the continent upon which we happen to find ourselves born or standing. I need not cross the world on a jet engine to either solve the puzzles of the planet or recognize the mystery of life. But perhaps, like Santiago*, we just have to make the physical journey to come to that same, mocking-with-good-humor-at-our-humbling-expense, conclusion.”

—extracted from re-defining home, an article I encountered at Stephen’s blog.

*Santiago is the protagonist of Alchemist, by Paul Coelho. I got this book as a gift from my lovely friend Sherese Tong. Thanks.

Read ^ this post first.

In one way or the other, we are all, with significantly less physical distress, victims of the media, too.

When a person is labeled as something long enough, it is easy for him/her to truly believe in the label. I am afraid we have already labeled Africans as the victim for long enough that they have accepted that as fact. Some of them believe their saviors lie somewhere out there.

“I will not work.” said Meki, a 19-year-old street kid orphaned 3 years ago, who has come to Arusha and been living on the streets since then. “I want education. Someone is going to sponsor me, I know it. Some foreigners!”

“Of the seven years that I have been on the street,” Mohammed recalled, “there was only one time that a foreigner dropped me a hundred US dollar bill.” Regretting becoming a street boy, “I am afraid the foreigners are not as generous as my friend who brought me to the streets told me.” Even though he suffers on the street, he doesn’t know any other way to make enough money to help his single mother.

Some kids make between 2 to 5 thousand shillings (roughly 2-5 dollars) a day, while a farmer on average makes about 3.

Poverty is a problem. But perhaps on our way to tackle that we have created an extra, tangible industry. An industry that does not require government intervention; in fact, it strives better as long as the government ignores the issue.

“From those to whom much is given, much is expected.”*

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For a Mzungu, a soda that is 400 Tsh for the local people might become 500 Tsh; Peanuts that are 50 Tsh a handful will have to be 100 Tsh; Taxi fares, of course, will likely be slightly raised. In case you don’t speak Swahili, and not know the local price at all, it could be much worse. We are the victims of discrimination here, that is the hard part. (more…)

“You have to be the change you want to see in the world.” - Gandhi.

I recall reading this so often quoted phrase on the wall of some museum when I was a child. Perhaps it has subconsciously altered my life forever - forever ’til the day I shall, someday, pass away. (more…)

Due to my relatively high proficiency in tech-y stuff including electronics, circuitry etc. (thanks to my dad, and the Physical Computation class taken in my last quarter at UCLA, taught by professor Reas) compared with most of the staff and volunteers at our site, in addition to my natural geekiness*, I have been titled/nicknamed Jobot.
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noun. a person who freely offers to take part in an enterprise or undertake a task.

What does it mean and feel to be a volunteer? Since I departed for Tanzania, I have received a handful of encouraging and often flattering regards, including my friend Edward’s email and my brother Kelvin’s comment on my first post. I have been thinking about the question a lot myself, and tried to justify my own choice. (more…)