Secrets to the chaos of Africa

You know that Africa has gotten in your blood when:
You bargain for everything you buy.
You’re excited when you realize that the swollen blister on you foot isn’t a sand flea with its egg sack.
You know all the cows in town and pet them frequently.
You look forward to chapatti for dinner every night.
You appreciate every last drop of water you have access to.
You dance to music whenever you hear it.
You rely on the birds to be your alarm clock at 6am.
Your exercise involves chasing baboons away from things.
You have a celebration whenever there is a big rainstorm.
And when you speak Swahili to dogs and cats.

The tiny rural village of Rhotia felt like civilization after returning from the Serengeti. My little thatched roof banda seemed like home and I was relieved to be able to crawl up to my top bunk and securely tuck in my mosquito net. Being so high off the ground has helped me convince myself that giant insects can’t reach me. The 5 inch long spiders can’t get to me up here I continually tell myself when the electricity shuts off.
From the day we got back we were in a time crunch to get going on our long awaited directed research projects. Throughout the semester we worked on countless small research exercises to help us prepare for our research projects with the Tanzanian professors – which take over our lives for the last month and a half of the semester. I chose to do environmental policy research on tourism as a package incentive to communities to participate in wildlife conservation. The high rate of poverty in this region has caused people to focus on basic needs rather than conservation, which has created an ongoing struggle to protect the wildlife. The ecosystem that we are working in has the second highest density of mega fauna in the world – which makes it a major tourist attraction and is extremely important to the Tanzanian economy. The best way to go about preserving this area is to spread knowledge of the importance of conservation and one of our main goals is to find ways that local people can access knowledge through the tourist industry. My professor – John Mwamhanga – has worked for the Tanzanian government for 20 years and wanted to try doing research with American college students for a year.
Collecting field data in Africa was exhausting because of the unavoidable heat, dust and chaos, but at the same time it was extremely exhilarating because we constantly found ourselves on unexpected adventures. Nine of us worked together to put together a questionnaire that satisfied all of our data needs so that we could collect as much data as possible. For 10 days we woke up at the crack of dawn, split up in pairs, and walked throughout the villages and towns of the Tarangire-Manyara region of Northern Tanzania. A local translator accompanied each of us and helped find people of every age, tribe, and profession to interview (which allowed me to meet people and go to places that I wouldn’t have been able to in any other circumstance). I talked with everyone from lodge managers, to rural farmers, to teachers, to duka shop owners, to wood carvers, etc. - all of which slowly helped me understand the secrets to the chaos of Africa.
My questionnaire answered more than just simple questions for me and taught me an incredible amount about the complexities of rural Africa. However, there is one more thing that I am extremely curious to know, that I don’t know how to go about finding the answer to. What do people think when a 20-year-old American girl asks them about their professions, lives, backgrounds etc.? Do they know that I’m trying to help and that I’m not just walking money (which is how tourists come off here)? Do people realize that I come from a place that is different from rural Tanzania in every way possible and that no matter how long I spend in Africa I’m usually completely out of my comfort zone? Does anyone else realize that I’m being completely hypocritical by telling people to not cut down trees when my carbon footprint from my plane flight here is worse for the environment than probably anything they will ever do? And lastly, what would I think if a group of Tanzanians flew to the U.S. to told me not to drive my car anymore?
Currently my research paper is in the 45pg headache stage and I would do anything to go back out into the chaos of Africa instead of stare at my computer. I have spent 13 weeks in Africa, and I have one more week left. The last day of the last week I will present all of my research to the entire community. I would like to think that it will go well, but all I can do is expect the unexpected.