Tanzania Day 4, Part 2: Enaboishu Bike Shop

We are camped between two villages named Mikocheni: Ndogo (Little) and Kubwa (Big). After visiting the fishermen at work in the morning, we biked to Mikocheni Kubwa.

Traditional Maasai Mud Huts

As we biked through town, a number of school children followed us. Two managed to snag a ride with our local guide, Emma. The boy below on the left ran alongside us the whole rest of the way.

Our destination for the afternoon was the Enaboishu Duka la Baiskeli (Bike Shop). Enaboishu is a cooperative of Maasai women who run several business initiatives to help the community, including savings & micro-lending, solar, water sales and since 2012, bike rentals. When they first partnered with Globalbike, the women met clients under a tree and kept bikes in individual homes, which they had to go retrieve when customers came. 

The tree where it all began.

Clementine in front of an Enaboishu member's house near the tree. 

However bucolic it may have been, the "meet me under a tree" arrangement was less than ideal, and with support from Globalbike and a Rotary club in northern Indiana, a proper building was constructed for the bike shop as demand grew. Currently, it houses storage for bikes and spare parts as well as space for maintenance and recordkeeping. There is also a large covered porch where we met with the Enaboishu members.

We had many introductions as well as an explanation of their operations and opportunities to ask questions and learn more about how both the cooperative and the bike shop operate, as well as their impact on the community.

The "mama Maasai" of the group (in red, right) who greeted us wearing her traditional ceremonial collar.

Vincent Kalonga, local buisnessman (standing, in purple t-shirt) greeting Enaboishu members. Vincent helped connect Globalbike within the community originally and continues to be a supporter. 

Left: Magdalena Emmanuel, Chairwoman for Enaboishu who also helps run the bike shop. Center: Tuja Willy, Globalbike Program Coordinator who facilitated the visit and provided Swahili-English interpretation. Right: The "mama Maasai", whose name I didn't catch, giving an overview of Enaboishu's activities.

Ten of the eleven female mechanics who have been trained were present for the visit. Two of them work at the shop at any given time. From the Right of Tuja Willy: Magdalena (hidden behind Tuja), Sara Palo, Vero (who operates a satellite branch we'll visit another day), Emma Palo, Esther Jeremiah, Safina Dasudi, Juma (mechanic trainer), [in yellow - didn't catch name], Martha (leader of bike shop), Safina Simon (secretary for Enaboishu), Vernoica Mgeni (accountant and one of the best mechanics).

While Globalbike and Enaboishu work to empower women, and the cooperatives are composed of and run by women, there are men working to support them as well, including Juma - a bike mechanic from Arusha who trained all the women mechanics to work in the bike shop. There were many smiles as they saw each other again and the women invited him to join them. Juma has also trained the mechanics working for the other cooperative that we will be visiting tomorrow, including a woman, Luice Stefano, who has been trained to become the first female mechanic trainer. Local cultures remain quite patriarchal and women working in roles such as bike mechanics would be exceptionally rare. So having this many women trained to do this work is a big deal - both for them, their families and the community.

Women tend to marry young and most have several children, however the mechanics who spoke also shared their pride at having learned these skills, the enjoyment they found in doing the work and satisfaction in being able to support their families with income from the shop.

We also heard from three long-time customers of the bike shop, including Ziko, a very charismatic guy who has rented a bike monthly since the shop opened. Previously, he had used a motorbike (pikipiki) to get around, but was concerned that he wasn't getting enough exercise, so switched to a bicycle. Doing so has also enabled him to save money while feeling healthier. He uses his bike to fetch water as well as go to his farm to work.

Ziko (dressed in White) with his beaming smile, one of the shop's most loyal customers.

We also heard from Kamalani, a man who recounted how renting a bike simplifies his household work, including fetching water, running other errands and reaching places where he needs to go. Another customer, Elfrieda, spoke about how renting a bike weekly allows her to cut in half what was a two-hour commute each way to her farm by foot. She also saves time fetching water for herself, and makes money by delivering water to others in the village (saving them the time and effort of walking to get it).

After our discussion on the porch, we went to tour inside the shop. It was constructed using local materials and is divided into three spaces, two of which housed bikes & spare parts, with the customer service area in the middle.  

 

Tuja and two of the mechanics told us more about the shop's operations, and how Globalbike offers support. Just like renting a car in the US, each prospective renter must sign a rental contract, laying out the terms of the agreement and cost. Rental prices are set at:

• Daily (24 hours): 1,000 Tanzanian Shillings (TSH) (~$0.41 US)
• Weekly: 5,000 TSH (~$2.04 US)
• Monthly: 15,000 TSH (~$6.12 US)

The contract is taken to a village leader to sign as well, which helps denote it as official. In Tanzania, there is a strong sense of sharing and community, and in the past, apparently many renters viewed this as more of a "community business" rather than a private enterprise, and were more apt to return bikes late and balk at paying fees for extended rentals. Having the contract officially recognized mitigates this somewhat (though not completely).

Donors may wonder: why offer charitable support to a private enterprise? It's a fair question, but one that gets to the heart of the debate over how best to help address needs throughout the world. As a public servant, I certainly see and understand a role for the public sector in setting the rules and providing services that enable society to function. However, I also recognize the essential need for private enterprise to be able to identify and creatively respond to local needs.

What is the most effective way to sustainably address needs (in this case, for better general transportation) in areas such as this? Globalbike could just give out bikes to individuals, but to whom do they give them and what happens after they do? In an area with a strong expectation of sharing, their research has found that bike owners may be expected to lend their bike for others to use (particularly if it was given out for free), which could be seen as stretching a resource further on the one hand, but may also mean that an "owner" doesn't have it available when they need it. Also, when the inevitable maintenance is required, borrowers may not feel obligated to pitch in to pay for repairs, and the owner may not be able to bear those costs or have a convenient place to get repairs. As has been amply documented with so many well-intentioned charitable projects in Africa and elsewhere, a "tragedy of the commons" can develop where the resource is exhausted and ultimately falls into disrepair and disuse because community factors and long-term sustainability weren't factored in to designing the project.

Globalbike has tried to avoid this failure of charity by leveraging partnerships with local groups to identify their own needs as well as solutions that can ultimately become self-sustaining. There is a charitable role, yes, but the most effective end of charity should be to create conditions such that it is eventually no longer needed. Plenty of aid is provided to the private sector anywhere in the world through various means (such as the pandemic relief funding the Treasury Department distributed in the US, amounting to trillions of dollars given to businesses and individuals, which work I had some personal involvement in), however as with the pandemic relief funds, the goal is ideally to enable the private sector to survive conditions that may have otherwise led to their failure in the short term despite solvency in the long term.

In an area with fewer resources like these rural villages in Tanzania, private charity can help bring resources that builds up the structure of private enterprise for the long term. While the women's cooperatives own and run the businesses, Globalbike continues to offer support and advisory services. Tuja explained how she visits the shop weekly to review their financial accounts, their maintenance records and gather orders for spare parts, which Globalbike facilitates sourcing from World Bicycle Relief's warehouses in Kenya and providing at-cost to the bike shops.  

Like any business, there are ups and downs and the pandemic has had negative impacts on the local economy, which in turn has affected Enaboishu. They have lost some renters who can't afford them anymore due to reduced incomes. Like elsewhere in the world, inflation also eats away at profits, though they haven't yet felt able to raise costs due to the local economic conditions. They are figuring out how to adapt, including by opening a satellite location in another village where the economy and demand for bikes has remained stronger (and which we will be visiting another day).

At the end of our visit, we were also shown the water spigot that Enaboishu installed outside the bike shop as another resource for the community. We then got to try out carrying buckets of water - as most everyone here does every day. The kids and Cherry all took a turn, including carrying it on their heads (as is the custom here) to a nearby member's home. They then generously invited us to see the inside of the home. The mud hut was very basic, with two couches in a living room plus a large container for water, a mattress for the parents and a dresser to hold clothes in the adjoining bedroom, plus a third room we didn't get to see, which may have been another bedroom. 

Outside the house.

View of the Enaboishu bike shop.

At the end of our visit, the women sang us a song, which of course was a highlight for me as a singer. While I have no clue what they said, there is something so joyous about people singing together. One person started and immediately everyone else joined in, singing and clapping. It was yet more evidence of a shared community connection and culture, which you don't have to be a singer to appreciate. (Though of course, as a singer, I wish that I could get away with similar communal outbreaks into song in more settings...)

Some of the women had made various items of jewelry, which they offered for sale before we left. We couldn't resist getting a few items, of course. Cherry would have loved to get the cloth, but couldn't justify it, as it'd be hard to find enough proper opportunities to wear it. Though I fully expect before we leave Tanzania we'll be carting home some other yardages of fabric...

Kids are always excited to see other kids around their size, and they all wanted to shake Niels Marcel's hand. It was adorable! It maybe had something to do with our guide Ema having said he was a biking superstar (given that he was leading the fastest pedaler in our group, nearly always leading the pack). Or maybe because he's just a pretty great kid. In whatever case, as the youngest of our three, Niels isn't as accustomed to being in the spotlight, so it was interesting to see him navigate all the attention.

Mama Maasai insisted that I get a photo with her and her daughter.

Kids are kids anywhere in the world. Give them a wheel or tire and they will roll it.

The kids chased down Cherry as we were leaving and managed to hitch a ride a short distance.

  

Riding back to our camp.

Warning: Cattle crossing. A not infrequent occurrence here. They're pretty good at moving out of the way though.

Sunsets at camp were beautiful!

 

Tanzania Day 4, Part 1: Nyumba ya Mungu Fishermen

 We had a two-part day on Friday, spanning another mode of transportation: paddle - as well as pedal - power.

Our encampment is on the shores of the  Nyumba ya Mungu reservoir, which is created by a dam downstream. At the height of rainy season (March-May), this ground is covered by water (albeit very shallowly) though it has receded as the dry season wears on, allowing grass to grow and providing rich pasture for cows. It also leaves some trash (e.g. Plastic bottles or shoes) scattered in places where it had floated, which was noticable primarily because it's been so rare! On the whole, we've encountered very little litter around Tanzania, which was surprising given how much we have at home, and how much we encountered in Guatemala where trash collection was largely non-existent, especially in rural areas. Of course, plastic packaging is a major culprit, and we noticed later in the day that most bottled drinks here still come in glass, which is collected and reused. Reduce and reuse makes a big difference, as well as traditional ways of life that generate less waste to begin with. 

Four local fishermen took us out on a tour of the lake in the boats they use to catch tilapia and catfish. They are simple craft made of two long boards bent and nailed around a floor board, with seams sealed, in a canoe shape. Given the shallow water, most are propelled by long sticks pushing against the ground, though the one who took me and Cherry had a small wooden paddle. He was an older man who to our surpise had emigrated when he was younger from Mozambique and ended up here as a fisherman. Most people, we've been told, belong to one of the 127 tribes in Tanzania, who are each often clustered together and follow various local traditions. But he has clearly melded into the local community, having learned Swahili and a little English in addition to his native Portuguese, and calling out chatting with the other fisherman as we passed. 

Our delightful guide, whose name I sadly didn't write down. 

Setting out from shore. 

The lake is also home to numerous birds who nested among it's grasses and lily pads, including plovers, cormorants, African fish eagle - and my favorite - the African jacana. The latter is has a reddish-brown body, yellow breast and white head, but is most striking when in flight with its dark wingtips. I wish I had a decent photo, but honestly, you'll get a better view with Google. 

After touring the lake (at times through thick aquatic grasses), we visited the landing where fishermen brought in and sold their catch. 

Yes, this is several feet deep water. 

Sorting bigger and smaller fish in the boat. A lot of them were tiny, and apparently the government has started closing the lake for three months a year to allow stocks to recover a bit and grow bigger. 

Processing the bigger fish in boat. On shore, women cleaned and fileted piles of fish with a speed and deftness that was impressive. Each fish was scraped and cut in a couple seconds, with barely a glance down at the quick knife movements they had mastered from repetition. They didn't want to be pictured, which was important to respect. 

The temporary shelters around which fishermen gathered to rent boats, then bring in and sell their catch. These can move along with the lake's water level. 

A woman frying up fish to sell back to the fishermen for lunch. Served with ugali - a corn meal paste - and eaten by hand. Similar to fufu in West Africa (made with cassava), you take some ugali and form it into a ball with your fingers, then press your thumb into it to make a small bowl shape you can use to pick up a piece of whatever you're eating - fish in this case. 

What struck me most was just observing the economic and social structures. The boats are all owned by two local businessmen, and labeled with their name (Kalonga or Temba) and a number. Our outing was facilitated by one of them - Vincent Kalonga - who is a prominent local figure and has been a supporter/facilitator for Globalbike's partnerships with the community. When fisherman arrive in the morning, they will pay the boat rental fee to his agent, and Vincent drops by every evening to collect the funds. As needed, boats have to be repaired.

While the fishermen work individually or in pairs, they obviously get to know the others they see each day as they go about their work. Every community the world over has its own rythyms and relationships that form from the same people doing similar things each day. In urban American settings it's possible to move in greater anonymity and solitude - surrounded, but alone. Here though, you won't get that. The fisherman, those working on shore and buyers have ongoing and regular relationships with each other, and we certainly stood out as interlopers - though we're welcomed warmly.

While of course there are all sorts of communities in the US as well, mine are more discreet. I have friends scattered around the country (and world) from different places I've lived, from church, work, schools, neighbors and affinity groups. Like the Nyumba ya Mungu reservoir, my relationship's are wide, but often shallow. In a small community though (like Cherry experienced growing up in rural Idaho) the different facets of life overlap much more and relationships run deep. Like in Idaho, many people in these rural villages stay in the same place generation after generation. Some find that being in a small, tight-knit community can seem stifling or seemingly limit one's ability to grow and do new things. But given the fundamental human need for a sense of belonging and significance, there is undoubtedly much to be said for having those deep connections formed over years of spending time together and sharing culture and heritage. 

However, as populations grow, technology encroaches and limited land and water resources are available to support the communities dependent on them, inevitably there are and will continue to be changes, wherever you are in the world. 

Xavier carrying back a bucket of fish purchased for dinner. Center: Our local guide and longtime Globalbike coordinator, Emmanuel (Ema). Right: Trip organizer and former Globalbike board member, Liz. 

Tanzania Day 3: Asante Baiskeli

 A short update tonight as I have to be judicious with managing battery usage the next couple of days while we're out riding and camping.

This morning we got to put our Buffalo Bikes to the test on the rugged roads between Moshi and Mikocheni, where were stopped camping for the night. It definitely wasn't quite the same as riding my usual bike, but we all adapted fairly quickly. The biggest things we missed: not having shocks or different gears to smooth out the ride as well as a having a rear pedal brake instead of a hand brake. These are all compromises to help keep the bike simpler and more reliable, as well as less expensive and easier to maintain.

They handled well with their wide, sturdy tires, and kept going even when I got a puncture from an Acacia thorn. 

Seriously, this has got to be the world's most unfriendly tree. 2-inch thorns all over!

And we needed that reliability on roads and paths that varied from "decently smooth gravel" to "endless rumble strip" to "dodging potholes big enough to swallow a car". And we finished by traversing a literal cow pasture in a floodplain, pockmarked with hoof prints. So yeah, rugged and reliable is the name of the game.

Roadside attractions you won't find on Route 66: Termite mounds 

There is so much I could recount, but will have to narrow it to a couple of observations.

1.) We saw people carry different and often large loads (including other people) by whatever means of transport available: truck, tuk-tuk, motorbike, bicycle, hand cart or walking. 3 people or a driver carrying eight-foot long posts cross-ways on a motorbike. Tools, jugs, other riders or firewood piled 6 feet high on the back of a bike. Huge piles of grasses carried above head by people that resembled truffula trees from The Lorax at a distance (albeit without the vivid colors). People find a way, and often bikes were the best tool they had.

There is a person walking under that giant ball in the middle. 

Cow pasture: definitely more X-games than Tour de France. 

2.) As we passed Oria Secondary School, numerous school children waved and called out to us as we passed. In the schoolyard, a conspicuous number of bikes were present. As we rounded the corner on the main road, we understood why: A sign showed that this school had a partnership with two other organizations (ABC Impact and Velafrica) that provides bikes to students so that they can more easily traverse long distances to school. https://velafrica.ch/en/what-we-do/bike-to-school/

The sign reads:

ORIA SECONDARY SCHOOL

Now I always come to school.

Now I avoid temptations on the way.

Now I don't walk long distances.

Now I get extra time to study myself. I am sure to fulfill my dreams.

THANK YOU, BICYCLES!

When students may have to travel 5-10km to school, it impacts their ability to go and learn. A bicycle, such as those donated to this school, or through the partnerships in the villages where Globalbike works, reduces the "costs" of getting to school and in doing so enables more kids to work towards a future with more possibilities.

And today, ours got us over 22 miles from our hotel to our campsite - in what we were told was by far the fastest time of any previous gbconnect group. 😊 Asante Baiskeli! (Thank you, Bicycles!)

A gorgeous sunset viewed from camp.

Check out my activity on Strava: https://strava.app.link/ve9ehHgGMBb

The Art of Asking - And Saying Thank You!

 Five years ago, I read Amanda Palmer's memoir, The Art of Asking: How I Learned to Stop Worry and Let People Help. Suffice it to say, while we have walked some of the same streets in Cambridge, MA and are both singers, Amanda and I have very different personalities and life paths. She pursued a life of artistic expression, beginning as a street performer - and not even something as conventional as a musician busking for cash, but rather a bride statute who gave out flowers. Her income from that endeavor was rather unguaranteed, to say the least. I, on the other hand, picked the security of a government job with a steady paycheck, health insurance and a retirement plan. 

As the sixth of seven kids, I have sought from a young age to be responsible and self-reliant. How else could I ensure getting what I wanted? You figure it out on your own (as best you can) and you do it yourself (as best you can).

And all told, that ethos has served me well in many ways. Of course, the truth is that I have received help from many people along the way, which I was happy to accept when they were generous enough to offer it. But just like with proposing marriage, I was not someone to ask unless I was pretty confident that I already knew the answer would be yes. (And even then, I still might hesitate...)

But as an adult, I've had to come to the realization that, while I am someone who enjoys being able to say yes to others and offer assistance or guidance, I don't trust that others are similarly disposed (despite ample evidence to the contrary). Or perhaps, it's too much of a blow to the self-made ego to admit to others that I may not know best or have all the capabilities I thought or wished I had. The last thing I want is to be needy.

Watching Amanda's TED talk and later reading her book helped me gain a different perspective: Asking is not the same as begging. It's an invitation to collaborate. To make an exchange. To do something bigger than is possible alone.

Looking back, I have to conclude that even in the big things I've tried to do in life, I've played too small because of reticence to ask and truly collaborate with and trust others. Whatever impact I've had in areas that I care deeply about (leading my Cub Scouts, PTA, church, neighborhood association, advocacy efforts, etc.) has fallen well short of its potential because I've failed to adequately invite others to be part of our collective success.

I'd love to say that the book transformed not only my outlook but my actions as well, but like any muscle, asking takes practice and repetition to develop.

When Cherry and I signed up to do the Globalbike Connect trip, it was tempting to take the "easy" way out of the $3,000 fundraising commitment: quietly put our noses to the grindstone and figure out how we could work harder and save more in order to just pay the amount ourselves. But I didn't want to do that. The spirit of the effort was about connection. The entire ethos of Globalbike is about partnership and building solutions to improve lives via collaboration.

So we took a leap of faith and decided to share with family and friends, trusting others enough to let them help. And curiously enough, when we told people about our plans for this trip and a bit about why Globalbike's work mattered to us, the response was overwhelmingly positive. People wanted to help!

Even so, we were slow to keep asking and following up until the deadline was fast approaching. I was still too concerned about ensuring I asked in the "right" way, when the most important thing was really just asking at all.

But when we finally did, you came through. And in a BIG way. With the help of 43 donors, together we raised $3,837.21 for Globalbike, exceeding our goal by 27%. Most of you were family and friends, but we also had donors who were friends of friends or who wished to remain anonymous.

With all our preparations to leave we haven't yet had the chance to send individual thank you's to everyone, but before it gets too late, I want to express my enormous gratitude to each person who sent gifts whether large and modest, or even a note saying that while they couldn't donate they believed in and supported us.

We value and appreciate you all. I'm not going to lie: I cried, literally overwhelmed when enough donations came in to get us over the finish line... and then continued beyond it. I don't know that I've ever felt so lifted up, so valued and so trusted.

So thank you! Thank you. Thank you.

And I will keep my promise to continue sharing our journey here in Tanzania with you. Even if it means I'm a little later getting to bed then I would like to while I write this update, because it's important to share.

In the morning, we finally set off on our first day of biking. But as I go to sleep I am remembering that Amanda was right in observing that relationships are nurtured and deepened by mutual giving. I'm glad to be in relationship with you, and that we've chosen to go on this journey together.

Asante Sana!

-Spencer

Tanzania Day 1: Arrival in Kilimanjaro, plus: How Many Mattresses Can You Fit on a Bike?

It was a long journey that included a brief layover in Paris, an overnight stopover at our friends' place in Dar es Salaam and finally another short flight to northern Tanzania, but we have finally arrived in the Kilimanjaro region!

After 20 hours of being seated in airplanes I'm more than ready to get in a bike seat, but we still have another day before then. Tonight we met our guide and other participants on the gbconnect trip and had a brief orientation and got settled into our hotel. Tomorrow is a tour of the local area around Moshi including a coffee plantation and getting fit for our bikes before setting off riding on Thursday. 

The kids have noted sights and smells that remind them of Guatemala, where we spent the summer of 2019 with our neighbors' family, and they got their first taste of life in a less developed country. Obviously there are many differences in culture and language, but a lot that looks similar. The walls and gates around properties, the smell of cookstoves and exhaust, people selling any and everything on the street, roads in various states of repair. And on them: pedestrians, cyclists (both motorized and not), vehicles and trucks all jockeying for position. There may be frequent horns and close calls, but on the whole, because of the lower speeds, people mostly manage to get where they're going, including these three guys we saw in Dar along the main road to and from the airport:

Now if you would have asked me previously, the number of mattresses that I would have said could be transported on a bike would be pretty close to zero. Certainly not 25! 

But there they were, piled high. Yes, they were technically on tricycles, but still moving by unassisted pedal power in mixed traffic. These deliverymen aren't going to win the fame, notoriety or remuneration of the riders in the Tour de France, but I'd say that these cyclists are no less impressive or worthy of respect. And if I were building a team for the Kinetic Sculpture Race and had the choice between them and Jonas Vingegaard, I know who I'd be choosing. (Hint: it's not the Dane.) 😉