Watoto Watatu

One of the first things that struck me about Iringa were all of the children that seemed to be out on the town without any adult around.  There are many that look no older than two, with backpacks twice their size, navigating the kamikaze downtown market scene.  There are children playing, children making their way to school and children hanging out in just about every corner of Iringa.

My friend Madeline even told me a story about staying in Makambako. She awoke one morning to see a couple of children, who appeared to be under the age of five,  lighting the back yard on fire.   Alarmed, she quickly called her boyfriend before the house went up in flames.  But she was reassured that they had come to cultivate the land.

On the way home from the market one afternoon, I heard three little babies trapped in a rain gutter next to our apartment.  They had some how climbed down there to play, but then couldn't get out.  I had to drop my bounty of tomatoes in order to bend down and scoop them out.  Their arms stretched out over their heads even though they looked a little doubting about who I was.

A road sign in Port St. John's, South Africa

There are quite possibly many very sad circumstances that contribute to the ever present watato (child) population.  But it also beautiful to see everyone has a genuine concern for one another, and children that are cared for beyond the confines of their own home.  Perhaps  the idea of home in Tanzania stretches far beyond they way I traditionally think of it.

Chief Mkwawa... Hopefully Here to Stay.

One of our first journeys out of Iringa was to Chief Mkwawa's museum just a short jaunt down a bumpy road.  I am still learning loads about Tanzania and African history.  Sadly, I had no knowledge of Chief Mkwawa before we came to Tanzania, but was excited to see the museum because it was touted as one of the 'must see' things to do around Iringa.

Chief Mkwawa was the He He tribal leader that opposed the German colonization of Tanzania.  In a small one room museum, there are a few relics of Chief Mkwawa, including his skull.  The story goes that Cheif Mkwawa put up a formidable fight against German occupations, but his warriors eventually lost in the battle and Cheif Mkwawa took his own life rather than subcomb to the Germans.  The Germans did manage to capture Chief Mkwawa's head and it was held captive in Germany until the Treaty of Versailles demanded that Germany return it to Tanzania in 1919.  Finally,  Chief Mkwawa's remains returned to his homeland in 1954. 

When we visited the museum, the curator was first concerned that we might be Germans.  He was wary of any tourist from Germany because they might attempt to take the skull back.  After the reassurance that we were not German, the curator proceeded to show us the hiding place for Chief Mkwawa's skull under a trap door in the floor just in case their was an invasion.  I tried to imagine the anxiety that a bus load of German tourists might cause our cheerful museum guide.  But hopefully Cheif Mkwawa is in Tanzania to stay.