Lung of Darkness: a tale of tuberculosis
in tanzania

My apologies to those who have been waiting for the grand ending to the trip. Truth be told, there was an exciting finale after our Tanzanian friend showed up on our step 3 days prior to our return home asking for a small financial favor. We acquiesced and what could’ve, based on the details, later blossomed into a full-blown premeditated theft was buffeted by a few days of intense paranoia and covert operations. You’ll have to see me in person for the full story, the mystery of which continues to this day.

I never thought the scale weighing international criminal genius and great friend could be so balanced and inconclusive.

It’s good to be safe. It’s good to be home. I have had an incredible experience this summer and hope that you have all done the same in your own right.

Signing off, for good,

John

Sent Tom off to the airport this afternoon. Finished work yesterday after collecting the last of the 700 surveys and conducting our 33rd interview. The wick to departure is burning, so I’m focusing in on the the environment and chopping at the buddings of laziness before they can bloom into regrets.

Day 38.
Interviews. I’d elaborate on these, but the film will capture everything much better than I can here.

Day 39.
Tea and cereal, Walden and pool-lounging, bit of computer work, Broken Social Scene nap on the balcony (and I’m Feeling Good Lost), local pub, dinner. Then followed some bongo flava cutting through the night shrubs to a park of a pub, complete with plastic tables dotting a big field, a palm-covered bar, and a swingset. Sat under the stars and watched a huge bar fight and a blazing trash fire. Headed to the beach to soak in the shadow-casting moonlight and get some good trip reflection in under the stars. There really is something to being outdoors for the better part of the day.

Day 40.
Shot out of bed, showered, and put on my Sunday best for church with Tom. A crazy time, complete with a woman crying out, falling to the floor, and being saved. Met the congregation post-service and were invited to a man’s house for lunch. Met his wife and sons and heard their stories. The man, Dr. Wilfred, has been a doctor for 20 years now and works 7 days a week, yet he shares a 4-bedroom house with 2 other families. It has no electricity and it’s about to be torn down by the government to make way for coastal tourism/business development. After filling us up with coke and rice, he and his son walked us home. Good people. Spent the rest of the day hitchhiking south on lumber trucks to see the countryside. Soaked it all in.

Day 41.
A night with our Tanzanian friend, hitting a Chinese restaurant and learning about Tanzanian politics. The father of the country, Mwalimu (teacher) Julius Nyerere, wasn’t even literate, and the country is still feeling his lack of support for formal education. Even most college professors here don’t know correct English, and many of them try to teach in it. Spent the better part of the night’s end on a cruise around Kariakoo, the city’s center of homelessness and drug addiction, to take it all in.

Day 42.
A day of work. A mellow night. Not much to report.

Day 43.
Up at 5:15 and cooked a big breakfast to fire our spirits up. A daladala-exhaust-gulp drive to the countryside to finish up work there. Ended the day with our final meeting with the doctors at PATH and a night of pizza and Tanzania-rules caps back at the house.

Day 44.
Breakfast back at the health ministry for new stress-free times sake and our final interview at a private Muslim hospital. Got busted for filming the lobby by a rogue Tanzanian-shiite-born, Israeli-jew-converted security guard who threatened to take our tape of interviews before asking if I was Jewish, then shaking my hand and saying Shalom and letting us off the hook. A real power-tripping nut. Later received apologies from the hospital authorities and the head of security, who had no idea who this guy was. Back across the ferry for a waterfront dinner, where we had a theft scare and bailed.

Day 45.
Went to town this morning to send Tom off. Came home and I took a walk around the neighborhood. I hadn’t thought to go down the back road before, which opened up into a huge farmscape. A big surprise and a lot of great people. Got invited into two homes, but passed; just in the mood to walk, which I did. One of those days that I wish I had more time to spend here. Still looking forward to being home though.

A bit over a week left in Tanzania, and I can’t say whether it will fly by or drag out. All I know is that I’m going to try my best to breathe every rush of cool ocean wind and cloud of stagnant fish-market-stink air to the fullest, to the last.

Day 29.
A hitchhike to the ferry with our neighbor and a short history of the road we’re living on. Five years ago, she brought electricity here, to a lone house they built in the bush and surrounded by watch dogs and Masai guards. Now, it’s hopping (for Africa, at least). A day of interviews, a drive to the beautiful countryside, and a true happy hour on the coast before an early sleep—one of those where you wake up disoriented at 3 in the morning with your iPod tangled in the sheets, and your music has become your dreams.

Day 30.
A day of solid interviews, supportive clinicians, street tangerines, bongo flava (the local music scene) in the car, a slow sunset by the port, and drunk rasta fishermen in the pub. All fine things.

Day 31.
An early Friday morning—served coffee by the first doctor we went to, who, after being described as “complicated” by our assisting doctor, grilled us on Swahili, health stats in the US, and our thoughts on gay relationships and HIV. I apparently had a huge disrespectful yawn, leaned back, and stretched my hands to the sky, news to me afterwards, and Tom contained himself from punching me awake. Story of this week. Lunch in a police compound restaurant with prisoners strolling about, decent afternoon interviews, ferry home, beach walk to the mangroves and a swim (the water is super warm), some drinks at the 3-table pub at the end of our street/dirt path, and a bunch of thumbs up and “mambo vipi’s” to the kids and strangers on the walk home. I’m going to miss this place. Some of our acquaintances stop over, and we fly downtown to an Asian-filled casino and a Scandinavian-filled YMCA bar before grabbing dinner and settling at a pub, vibing to some live bongo flava. Spirited away standing at the water’s edge at the bottom of the ferry ramp, waiting for the rumbling engines to round the bend so that I could drift home.

Day 32.
Slept in on this Saturday and had a stroll about town. Tried to breath it all in, but found myself a stomach-ache on legs and succumbed to that. Shrugged that off with some Walden back home, a good dinner, and The Royal Tennenbaums. Some drinks at our 3-table joint, ending in consent on Tom’s note that “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” and a walk through the dark Swahili night (the road to our house, in contrast, is paved with rocks and bushes, and is pitch black in the night). Good stars, good night.

Day 33.
A lazy Sunday, done up like I do. A nap and walk on the beach, stepping over the most colorful shells I’ve seen. These might be a bunch of the most dull-living creatures on the planet, snails and muscles and the like, and yet they tote such unique and bright shells, shouting out to the variety and beauty of even the most minuscule life. And no one does “silly,” “useless” things like collect shells here, so they are everywhere. Tom and Sam join, we toss ball in the ocean with some kids, I have an interesting talk with a Tanzanian woman who’s never left Dar and cannot escape housework for her poor family, watch the daily livestock parade roll by, and head back for leftovers and lights out.

Day 34.
Interviews were mostly frustrating today for some reason. One of those days that I can’t get passionate about our work here because quite a few doctors don’t seem concerned by the TB situation. Lunch at our favorite Mansour Cafeteria, where the guys are sporting goofy new matching polos, followed by errands and a trip home for some Explosions in the Sky-fueled data entry mental check-out. End the day with Thoreau’s thought of waking every morning and following our own genius—not being bound a job or obligations, but letting the day flow by and seeing what we get into. It may not be too practical, but I dig it.

Day 35.
A 4:45 alarm and a trip to the coastal region. Ditch our usual doctor for the day, who’s been a bit of a drag lately, and meet up with the coastal coordinator, Mr. Numvire. This guy’s great—a 40-something unofficial doctor who arrives on a motorbike and takes us around the clinics, being a huge help and getting himself and clinicians excited about our work. Turns out he’s a sociology student, and thinks I’m a sociologist, so we have a great one-on-one about the differences between Tanzanian and American culture. He then buys us lunch, insisting that we’re his guests and it’s part of his culture to do so. Keep in mind, doctors don’t get paid well at all here, and that we’re not compensating this guy for working for us all day. A great day, followed by a heated night of recap.

Day 36.
Interviews roll by, to Kigamboni market, to sharing a gin-packet on the front step, enjoying the breeze in light of the power outage. Cooked dinner in the dark, entertained ourselves with Led Zeppelin and a great black Mozart moment on the last of Tom’s computer battery, and walked to the beach under the crazy-bright moonlight. Recap of the trip with Tom, trying to figure out why so much has been so stressful and half-fulfilling this trip, when it sounds so great on paper, and should be all good things all the time. Took our minds off of it by planning out our huge horror-thriller film we thought up a few weeks back, to be written this fall. Don’t want to give away too many details, or you won’t be surprised in theaters.

Day 37.
Is today. A fine day of interviews, followed by the usual oceanside drink, a KC Accidental listening session, a trip to a wack Indian restaurant in the city and a busted-toe walk through the dusty, empty streets. Ended at a favorite city pub, under green lanterns and palm roof. Good to be home, good to be able to sleep in a bit tomorrow.

All for now. Stay well.

John

We’ve had two solid days of work and are making up for lost time. In keeping with the day-by-day spirit of things, here are the updates.

Day 19.
Back to my island, with Tom along this time. Lose track of time as the tide rises, and wade back through half mile of ocean. Skirted a few eels and a lot of sea urchins. Big high five and sigh of relief upon reaching shore. Video footage of the whole thing.

Day 20.
An early morning in town getting driven to errands by our friend, Fary. A lot of waiting and a strain on patience, ending in some interesting stories about witchdoctors, travel, and the business of hustling over dinner. Late night drinks, stapling, and chilling back home.

Day 21.
Our tenth visit to NIMR, and the woman there explodes on us, insisting that we’re being overbearing and there’s nothing we can do to speed things up. Frustrating, but taken as success in a way. Our waitress at lunch picked up spirits by handing out 10 surveys to patrons after showing interest in our box of papers. Haggling at the fish market, nap, dinner, hazy evening of stress (realized pointless and starting to lift) and contemplation.

Day 22.
A day home for reflection. Tom and Sam went into town for errands. A lot of heated thought about philanthropy and a lot of questioning why I’m here. A day-long power outage to set the mood. It all ended in a run, a dip in the pool, and a nice night of grilling. Refreshed and satisfied at the end of it all, covered in sweat in my bed (you don’t miss A/C until it’s gone).

Day 23.
Daladala adventure around town. Met a shoe salesman. Strolled the University of Dar es Salaam campus (education is definitely more of a privilege here, don’t think there were any ragers on campus tonight). Homemade fish and chips, Igby Goes Down, a bootleg mosquito net rig out of frustration, and I’m off in dreams.

Day 24.
It’s a Friday, and we finally got our letter of approval. Set to begin research Monday, we decide on a weekend trip to Zanzibar. Hop onto the bow of the two-hour ferry and watch the sunset over the Indian Ocean. Shark and cane juice dinner at an international mixing pot of an outdoor market and an hour drive north to the waterfront Nungwi Inn. Drinks on the beach, met some Rastas, and hit up the disco.

Day 25.
Early morning jump from bed to beach. Decided to head on a snorkeling trip to see some nature and meet some white people. Did plenty of both. Brilliant water, lunch on a remote beach, and a nap on the sail home—Zanzibar is great. A Pink Floyd nap back at the Inn followed by a local pub and dinner. A night of watching our backs and making our own fun after realizing something odd about the place. Good times.

Day 26.
A great car ride south and a wander about town. A crazy ferry ride home, decidedly piloted by Captain Morgan himself. Went out on the deck and rode the waves in the spray.

Day 27.
Monday. Up early to begin work. A crazy loop around Dar trying to get MORE papers signed by various health officers. Met a doctor in the morning who will be accompanying us for the rest of trip. She’s a life saver. Found out our pool guy died yesterday when a wall fell on him. Everyone that works at our place is gone for the day at his funeral. A reminder that life is short, got to make every second count.

Day 28.
Another early morning. Finally we get the required papers together and are able to go to clinic, of which we hit 7 before the day is done. A great evening lunch, waterside, after a crazy busy day. And here we are…

Keep emailing me when you get the time, and keep living the good life. Can’t wait to be home.

John

Just home from a beach weekend on Zanzibar (island off of the Tanzanian coast). Had an interesting experience to say the least. The 2-second picture: Rastafarians, Masai tribesmen, and international tourists mixed up in a silken-sanded cove kissing teal water at the end of a shack and trash-fire 5-mile-an-hour dirt road. It was odd and nice at the same time—met many people (and fish), snorkeled and sailed, threw back rum runners on the beach, even learned some life lessons. More to come…

But for now, sleep, as work starts tomorrow. We got approved Friday and are all squared away to fire up. 7:00 wake-up call (following the 4:00 mosquito wake-up call, following the 5:45 muslim imam wake-up call, following the 6:15 rooster wake-up call), I’m going to have to start being a real person now. But I’m glad for it somehow; I’m sick to my stomach of waiting. Good to be back, good to be doing good.

All good things,

John

Day 18.
A solitary trip to the beach with book and pen. Took up the opportunity of unusually low tide to try my luck at wading out half a mile to an offshore island. Stashed my bag in a bush and swung my way around sea urchin fields, fat red starfish, tiny shy crabs, odd sea cucumbers, neon salmon coral, and loads of seaweed and sink sand. Passed a few women picking abalone from the weed to make into jewelry (maybe to end up in an American Eagle by you soon). Made it to the island after some doubts of rising tide and almost an hour’s time. I was the only person on it to my knowledge, and passed no one while there. Bright green algae and left-claw-heavy crabs lined my arrival on a pier of volcanic black rock. Mangrove roots rooted up from the rocky beach like living stalagmites. Followed a path into the woods and came upon a small, almost tribal fishing camp, deserted, it’s workers offshore in two wading lines a few hundred yards out. Took my time on the walk home, meeting a few people and discovering some new markets off of the main road. Unwound poolside with Walden and Miles Davis. I could get used to this.