I was gobsmacked. Until now, the youth in Ihalimba village had seemed to me unenthusiastic at best. They turned up at least two hours late for everything, if they turned up at all, and "baadaye" (later) and "kesho" (tomorrow) invariably held sway over "sasa" (now) and "leo" (today). No hurry in Africa.
My Tanzanian co-volunteer, Vende, had always been quietly confident in them, and now of course he's bee proved right. This was the village's first ever SPW event, their primary school festival, and the newly formed Community Action Group (CAG) were not about to let the side down.
They'd prepared a couple of dramas on the event's theme, "Child Rights and HIV"; their kitchen in Mwalimu (teacher) Mwenda's backyard was already up and running, and would later be ready to feed thirty-odd invited and not-so-invited guests; the previous day they had built the guests' stage; today they'd decorated both the stage and the lunch room with numerous kangas (colourful, sarong-like materials with more improbable uses than a paper clip). I'd never felt so proud of anyone in my life.
Our Guest of Honour, the Ward Education Officer, surprised us all by turning up five minutes early. He was now sitting in Mwenda's front room, the festival nerve centre, with barely organised chaos ensuing all around him. Now we just had to wait for the rest of the village to turn up, in their own, very African, time.
So, while we wait, and the schoolchildren keep us entertained with a spot of impromptu ngoma (traditional dance), now would probably be a good time to explain what I was doing there, and why the theme of this particular event is so important.
I was in Tanzania, in East Africa, and lived there for seven months of this year as a volunteer. I was working for Students' Partnership Worldwide (SPW) on their Community Resource Programme. SPW are a UK-based charity with volunteer programmes across rural Africa and Asia. Most of these programmes have over the years become focussed more specifically on fighting the AIDS epidemic and, in the UK, SPW are partners in the Stop AIDS Campaign.
I first came across SPW at a "Careers Fair For People Without A Clue" in the Great Hall in November 2002, my final year at Birmingham. I went to many fairs that year, but amongst all of the ball-point pens, the make-up mirror, the unidentifiable squiggly toy and the confirmed suspicions of what I didn't want to do, I only really came away with one thing in which I found a genuine interest.
There were a couple of things that really made SPW stand out above the other "gap year" organisations. The first was the sheer enthusiasm of the ex-volunteers whom I met. Yes, I had heard plenty of other people talk about how much they had enjoyed their years out, but their spiel just wasn't a patch on the passionate ravings of the SPW-ites.
The other thing that hooked me in was their use of local volunteers. At least half of all the volunteers on every programme are from the host country. I could see that this is not an organisation that simply ploughs into a community and imposes "Western" ideals on them. Instead, they involve the people they are trying to help, recognising the importance of both new ideas and existing knowledge.
So, one application form, one sponsored swim, one briefing weekend and two drunken new year's parties later, I was touching down in Dar Es Salaam International Airport. It was February 2004 and I was taking my first steps in a country that would be my home for the next seven months: on month training, five months in my placement village, and one month travelling.
My placement village, Ihalimba, was in a beautiful setting in the Mufindi Highlands. My home there, shared with Vende (and later with a delightful couple called Idi and Justine), was a domestic paradise. A dark, faintly depressing paradise with a small rodent population, admittedly, but we had certainly done better than Getruda and Belinda, just up the road in Vikula.
For example, our floor was of concrete; theirs was compacted mud. Our rats seemed to operate a one-in, one-out policy, each waiting until the last incumbent had snuffed it before moving in; whenever Getruda and Belinda managed to murder one of their rats, on the other hand, two more would seemingly spring up in its place. And our long-drop toilet had a much more sensibly shaped hole.
Luxury, though, was not what we were there for. We weren't just there to teach in the local primary school, either. We were working to raise awareness and to encourage openness about sexual and reproductive health throughout the community, holding small seminars, as well as larger events.
We were building capacity, working with the schoolteachers, the village leaders and the all-important youth to ensure that the work continued after we left the village. We also helped people in SPW's target groups - youth and women - to set up small Income Generation Projects (IGPs), to give them some financial independence and make them less vulnerable to exploitation.
Children are particularly vulnerable, and girls especially so. It's reckoned that one average, each bus from Iringa to Dar Es Salaam carries one girl who is looking for work as a housegirl in the city. There are over ten buses a day, so that gives you an idea of the scale of the problem in this region alone.
They go with promises of furthering their education and of being able to send money home to their family. In reality, many are abused and they are paid very little, if at all. Some end up on the streets, turn to prostitution, and subsequently become pregnant or HIV positive.
This kind of problem isn't helped by myths such as: "You can't get pregnant or AIDS the first time you have sex," or: "You can get rid of HIV by having sex with a virgin." Which all brings us back to our event.
We were only running about an hour late by the time the village leaders put in an appearance, and we had our MC, one of the teachers, to thank for an entertaining running commentary of their arrival. Nelson Kalinga, the Mtendaji, looked particularly embarrassed.
Before long, we were watching the school choir singing about AIDS, and the CAG had a number of children literally rolling on the ground with laughter during their housegirl drama. Throw in some sack races for both the kids and the village leaders, and we had something that was both educational and fun.
The attitude I encountered on that day was typical of what I came across every day in Tanzania. It's all too easy to think of people as victims, but they laugh and smile just the same as everyone else, especially when the mzungu (white man) speaks Swahili, or attempts a little of the local tribal language, Kihehe.
And never did they laugh so much as during the football at the end of the day, especially during the girls' game. This was the first ever in the village, and notable for its complete absence of tactics. However, they did pick up an number of skills very quickly, and it was one of the most entertaining matches I've ever seen. Then, like all the best games, it ended in a penalty shootout.
World AIDS Day is on 1 December. SPW can be found at www.spw.org.
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