Day 58

In addition to dogs, Tanzania is full of children! Apparently 1 in 4 teenage girls are mothers, and about 50% of the country’s population is under 18. Women tend to get married and have children at a younger age, and large family sizes are highly desirable. Throw in religious convictions and a lack of contraceptive health care and you get children galore. Kids are actually a pretty big part of our days here in Iringa. We always see mothers going about their daily business, including highly physical tasks like hauling produce, with their babies slung on their backs in khangas. It seems like babies here rarely cry or fuss because they are constantly with their mothers, just hanging out and observing the world. One day, a Maasai woman and her 3 kids came to visit us at the site and helped us sort artifacts. Her baby had just reached the crawling stage so there was a bell on his leg so she would know when he got away. In Canada we might have more cribs and fewer poisonous snakes, but I think tying a bell on a baby is one of the greatest ideas ever. Every time I see an un-belled baby I’m tempted to inquire if he needs a good home and I can keep him forever. As for the older children, they comprise the vast majority of the peanut gallery that watches us while we excavate. Even when we don’t have candy or pens to give them, we’re still more fun to whisper about than the cows and goats under their charge. The kids around here also wave at our car everywhere we go. Many also yell either “WAZUNGU” (white people) or “NIPE PIPI” (give me candy). The other day, 2 farm boys threw rocks at our car and one actually managed to hit the open passenger side window, almost taking out Pam. Our driver Philliminus, who has 4 children of his own, stopped the land rover, threw it in reverse, and yelled something fierce at those kids. That’s probably the fastest I have ever seen two little boys run in my life. It reminded me of something my dad and his brother probably would have done when they were 7 year old boys in Saskatchewan.

Without contest, our favourite Tanzanian child is Jack, the little boy who lives in one of the villages close to our site. I can’t remember when we started calling him Jack, but the name suits his personality. He’s about 3 or 4, but then again the kids here seem smaller (probably because there are no hormones in their meat, when they get meat at all) so he might be older. The first day we drove to the site, he was wearing a yellow shirt, no pants, and threw a stick at our car. Ever since then, we take bets every day on how Jack will be on our way to the site. His behaviour fluctuates between happy and waving, indifferent, and angry and potentially hostile, with some combination of yellow pants, yellow shirt, and red sweater. One morning last week, he surprised us all by beating his chest and making the universal “you want a piece of this?” gesture. Now that we’ve been going to and from the rock shelter for over a month, he seems to be getting used to us. When he’s in a good mood he smiles and coyly waves. When he’s in a bad mood, he’s expanded into to using other weapons like rocks and his fists. Jack is a very complex and constantly evolving human being. Although I haven’t run the numbers, I think there is probably some correlation between Jack’s morning demeanour and how successful we are at the site each day. There is probably also an interesting case study on culture contact in there, since it’s unclear whether he had ever seen white people before us. We probably won’t get to meet Jack and find out his real name before we leave this country, but I like to think that he will have a good life for all the joy he’s brought us during our morning commute. Thanks for making this trip great, buddy.