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The weekend just passed I had the opportunity to visit Zanzibar, a small Island off the coast of Tanzania. Seeing as both Sam and I had a couple days break in our schedules, we decided to pack our overnight bags and set sail for the Spice Island.

Since we decided to go last minute we didn’t have any bookings or agenda. We were just going to play everything by ear. If we missed the morning ferry from the port then we’d just take a later one. If we couldn’t find a hotel on the island then we’d just sleep on the streets take the ferry back the same day. Although I’m not usually this haphazard when travelling, it really added to the adventure and proved to be a great way to travel. Fortunately for us we made the ferry and found a hotel in Stone Town.

Stone Town is a very curious place. Its cobblestone streets and maze-like alleyways are adorned with mystery and intrigue. Each alley street had its own charm and inimitable quality. To add to the intrigue, each corner turned was blind, which added a touch of anticipation into the mix. I couldn’t wait to see what picture the next corner would paint. It was like turning the pages of a picture book as a child, always longing to see the next picture that unravelled more of the story. You could easily lose yourself in Stone Town and never get tired of strolling around its unique streets.

Later that day we hopped on a Dhow, which is a traditional sailboat. We sailed along the Western side of the island while the sun was setting, relieving this picturesque land of its scorching heat. Being out on the water at that time of day was unequivocally the most peaceful experience I have had in a very long time.

The following day we decided to be a little more adventurous and leave Stone Town and have look around the island. The biggest problem with Zanzibar is that it’s a tourist hot-spot. To sustain the high traffic of tourists visiting the island there are quite a number of tour company’s offering their services, with prices to match.

Discontented with being confined to a tour group, Sam and I pitched in and purchased two essential items to start our own little D.I.Y tour company; a map of the island and our own transport. Sam assumed the role of the navigator, whilst I was the pilot of our trusty little 50cc 2-stroke Piaggio Vespa!

After putting the Vespa through its paces in Stone Town, we hit the open road and headed North to see the slave caves. Zanzibar was synonymous for its slave trade and there are quite a few landmarks and memorials all over the island. Although the Vespa was like a lion roaring through the tight alleys of Stone Town, its big growl was reduced to a small purr on the open roads. Seeing as the speedometer wasn’t working I couldn’t really tell how fast we were travelling. Although at one point I do believe we were passed by a steamroller that was amending the road. We had a great day out cruising around the island before making our way back to Stone Town in time to board our ferry back to the Dar.

Our time on Zanzibar was short, but it was enough to taste the culture. Whilst on the ferry back to the mainland I briefly reflected on an amazing weekend but my mind was quickly on the move, thinking about the week that lay ahead. The next day my business in Dar would resume, starting at the Department of Social Welfare and Child Services in the morning.

Wednesdays at Uzima Mission Clinic is baby’s day. It’s the one day of the week mothers from the surrounding villages can come and have their newborns weighed, immunised, and can be counselled for infant cares and dietary recommendation. Considering my heart for African babies, I was more than happy to get involved.

The routine was pretty straightforward. I’d attempt to call out the mother’s name (African names are really hard to pronounce) and after a few blank looks and numerous reattempts to pronounce the name correctly someone would eventually come forward with a baby in hand. From there it’s a simple case of putting the little bubba on the scales, documenting the weight, and plotting the child’s progress on a graph. After that the infant receives their immunisations. It was my first experience in vaccinating infants as young as 3 months. The infant’s reactions varied. Some weren’t fazed whereas others would cry and cry and cry. This process of weighing and vaccinating usually begins at eight in the morning and runs on until late in the day, but I had arranged to meet someone who was going to take me into Dar so I could begin my reconnaissance.

Dr Joel had arranged for a man named Karume to take me to some existing orphanages in and around the Dar es Salaam area and also to the Department of Child Services and Social Welfare in the city centre. Samuel, the young American lad, wanted a break from the clinic and decided to accompany us on the trip.

I have to say today was a great step forward in gaining a better understanding and insight into the processes involved in the establishment of a babies home here in Tanzania. Initially I was a little apprehensive because I know from past experience that trying to make any headway in Africa, particularly involving any form of bureaucracy can take a lot of time. However, today wasn’t the case. Karume really understood my heart and was so helpful to me today. Without him I would still be at square one.

The first stop was quite a large a mission that accommodated infants and children up to the age of seven. Beyond the age of seven they are either fostered out or sent to boarding school. A lady named Anne-Maria was there to meet us and she gave us a comprehensive tour of the mission. By the time we got there the infants were having a siesta, so we tiptoed in and around the little cots that were neatly laid out in the rooms whilst discussing all things to do with orphanages. The whole time I asked many questions, Karume translated Kiswahili where needed, and Sam offered to be my scribe, writing down almost everything that was said. I got a lot of useful information about how babies commonly arrive at such places. The Ministry of Health and Social Welfare and the Department of Social Welfare act as a middle-man between the children’s homes and the hospitals, police, and the people of Tanzania. If a baby is abandoned either at hospital or in a public place then the Department of Social Welfare are notified who then get in contact with organisations who are registered to care for such infants and children. Anne-Maria spoke of how some of infants arrived to the mission and most were rather distressing.

I forgot to ask how many infants and children they had at present, but she did say they had about 45 staff, ranging from cooks to carers to admin staff, which gives you some idea of the size of this place. There were a large number of cots, a lot more than that of the baby’s homes I have visited in Kampala and Jinja in Uganda.

I have also noticed that the Tanzanian’s seem to have a better grip on building construction than the Ugandan’s do, particularly the finishings and finer details. I have to say it was probably the nicest facility I have seen to date. The rooms were clean and tidy and the place seemed to breathe life.

After visiting the mission we headed into the city centre to talk to the folk at the Department of Child Services. We spent a good 40 minutes crammed in dalla-dalla’s during the middle of the day. Although it was cramped and insanely hot in these buses, I didn’t care too much because this is the Africa I love. It’s nice change to experience life through a different culture. It sometimes makes me feel that the culture we have in Australia is sterile by comparison.

Anyways, we made it to the DoCS. We took the elevator to the 5^th floor and spoke briefly with a woman who was working for the Department. Unfortunately the person we needed to see regarding the establishment of a children’s home wasn’t available, so we’ll have to go back on Monday when she’s back in the office. The woman gave me a lot of printed documents, which covered every legal issue for both establishing a home here and fostering children out both nationally and internationally. I have already read through the docs pertaining to the national guidelines for the establishment and management of a children’s home and will come loaded with questions when I return to the office on Monday. I’ve already started thinking about the work that needs to be done when I return to Brisbane, and it’s a lot.

On the way out Sam was keen to take the stairs. When we got to the bottom Karume explained to us that taking the stairs a good habit to get into due to the numerous power outages in Dar. Probably a good thing he mentioned that to us after we got out of the elevator and not whilst in it.

As I type this I’m gazing out at the palm trees swaying in the easterly ocean breeze while listening to the sounds of small children running around, laughing and speaking in Kiswahili. It’s about four in the afternoon and I absolutely adore this time of day in Africa. The hues are so much more vivid between the hours of four and six in the evening than at any other time of the day. Even in Australia you don’t get colours that are as saturated are they are here. It’s times like this where I can kick back and just enjoy being back in Africa.

I have to say I’m really enjoying working at the mission clinic. I get a much greater satisfaction nursing here in Africa than when I do back in Brisbane. When I work in the hospital in Australia I can quickly lose the enjoyment of helping people because it feels like I’m part of this one giant system that just churns people in and out. There never seems to be any genuine care in hospitals. I think nursing staff who have lost the heart are obligated to care because they are getting paid to do so, whereas there is no ulterior motive when you care for people with the sole intent of serving them. I love the feeling that comes with that.

This morning I had just finished administering injections when a nurse in the other room called out, “Phillipo, come and weigh this baby” Since being new to the clinic I’m not overly familiar with the layout so I left the injection room and just followed the voice on the nurse who was still calling out my name. Because I was listening to a voice and not reading the sign on the door, I was blissfully unaware of where I was going. I made a beeline straight to the nurse who handed me the baby. Not taking much notice of my surrounds I headed straight to the scales. Whilst the baby was on the scales it quickly dawned on me that the baby was really small. I looked over to the nurse and said, “How old?” She looked at me and said, “Today. Now!” At that moment I became wide-eyed because had just worked out where I was. In my wide-eyed shock my peripheral vision could be expanded and in the corner of my eye there was a woman lying down who had just given birth to the baby I was weighing. That’s right, I had stumbled into the maternity room! She had not long given birth after I walked in. Although it was awkward initially, I did feel it was a privilege being there at that time to share in this woman’s joy. After the nurses had all finished fussing over the baby, I took the infant off the scales and handed him back to the mother. I then slowly retraced my steps out of the maternity room, ensuring I knew where it was so that I could prevent further unexpected surprises in the future.

I think the hardest thing working in a clinic in Africa is the impression a white person has on small children. Lets face it, none of us ever enjoyed going to see the doctor or going to hospital as a child. It breaks my heart that there is always a look of fear in these young children who come into the clinic. I guess it’s hard because they will probably associate this fear with a white person. I had to give an IM injection to a toddler today and he was joyful right up until the time I stuck the needle in. He saw my face before and after the injection and it just really hurt me to think that this young boy is conditioned to thinking white people inflict pain. I guess there was a perfect case and point of this when I dressed a severe burn on a 2-year-old boy. Because I dressed the wound 2 days in succession he remembered the pain of the first day and as soon as I walked into the treatment room to change his dressing he immediately began to cry because the pain from the day before was probably utmost in his mind. I don’t write this in a depressing manner, but it really interests me how young lives are so impressionable and how trusting they are to people in their care.

I think one of the enjoyable things about working in the clinic is performing roles I have only read about and have longed to actually do. For instance, we are trained at my university to do everything involving the set-up and management of an IV infusion with the exception for inserting the cannula, which in my mind is such a vital task. I was fortunate to have cannulated a few patients already. I have read so much about it that I knew what to do. Admittedly the first one was a little difficult but the preceding ones went off without a hitch.

Even though my heart had longed to be back in Africa these two and a half years, I found it quite unusual not having any real sentiment about returning to Africa whilst I was in transit. Usually I’m quite exited when I leave Australia for Africa, however when I left Brisbane on Saturday night it simply felt as though I was just driving down to the corner shop to pick up some milk and bread. As I sat for twenty hours on a plane, only broken by a four-hour layover in UAE, I really didn’t have any sense of excitement or anticipation. I didn’t have any doubt or apprehension either. What I did have, however, was a real sense that this was a natural thing that was occurring. As I sat and watched the in-flight monitor that showed my plane taking me closer Africa I just knew this was right.

I had great flights on the way over. The highlight of was undoubtedly seeing Mt Kilimanjaro from the aircraft. I was certainly struck by its profound prominence over the African planes (and skies). It’s a sight that I will savour for quite some time. When booking my flights I was fortunate to have a very direct route into Tanzania. I guess on paper it looked appealing, however due to the flights being so direct and the layovers being shorter than my previous trips to Africa I’m really suffering from jet lag this time around.

I’m staying on the outskirts of Dar es Salaam in a place called Mwandege, which, depending on how crazy the roads are is about 40-odd minutes from the nation’s capital. The compound I’m staying on is fairly large and resembles a small tropical community. Since Dar sits on Africa’s eastern coastline, sandy soil and palm trees replace the stereotypical images of red dirt and orange skies that are usually synonymous with the African landscape. Paradoxically enough, Dar es Salaam feels more like ‘real Africa’ than it did in Uganda.

The compound is home to a nursery and primary school for the community, numerous buildings that accommodate volunteers and permanent workers, and Uzima Mission Clinic, where I’m moonlighting as a nurse whilst looking into the viability of setting up a baby’s home.

I’m staying in a dorm like set-up with seven other guys who are roughly around my age. Six of the seven are Tanzanian nationals who either work on property maintenance or are involved in some sort of discipleship program. The non-national is a young guy called Samuel. He’s from New Mexico, America. I’m still getting to know him, but from the early onset I can tell he has a very gentle heart for people. Funnily enough, he is also studying to be a nurse, which has been a good conversation starter.

The mornings are spent at the clinic where I help out in any way I can. Basically Dr Joel sees the patients and the nursing staff follow up any orders he writes up. Most of my time comprises of administering various types of injections, setting up IV’s, and dressing different types of wounds. I’m enjoying the hands-on experience very much.

Probably the biggest annoyance I’m quickly finding in Tanzania is the language barrier. I’m only annoyed at myself for my lack of interest in learning fundamental Swahili while I had a couple weeks free before coming here. From what I could tell from various printed guides and various people was that you could get by in Dar on English, however this is proving not to be the case. Although people in the city can understand English, where I am, on the outskirts, the people find it really difficult to understand what I’m saying. Almost every patient I see doesn’t understand a word of English and I feel really bad for that. The nursing staff understands some of what I’m saying, but I have to speak slow and not use 10 words when only 4 will do. Learning the language is something I’ll seriously need to consider if I am to stay here long term.

Well, the time has come for me to make my pilgrimage back to Africa. It’s been two and a half years since I was last there, which is the longest amount of time I’ve spent away from Africa since my first visit in 2005.

I leave Brisbane tomorrow evening and fly direct to Dubai. I have a short layover in UAE before flying into Dar es Salaam, where I’ll spend the first half of my trip. The first half of the trip is a reconnaissance. I’m going with the intention to investigate the viability of setting up a babies home in Tanzania. I was able to make contact with an American doctor over there through some Australian folk who were living in Dar at the time. The Australian folk have since returned to Brisbane to live and were really helpful in pointing me in the right direction for this reconnaissance trip. I’ll be sticking with Joel, the doctor, for most of my time in Tanzania so I can get an idea of the prevalent health needs in both the urban and rural settings. He also knows of a few orphanages and babies homes that already exist in Dar, so I’ll visit each of them and look at how they go about running such places in that country.

I don’t want to overcomplicate this trip. I don’t want to go with any preconceived ideas and strategies, particularly whilst in Tanzania. This is not a do-or-die mission whereby everything must come together otherwise the trip will be deemed a failure. I just want to go into Tanzania with the utmost humility, to serve its people, to learn from its people, to understand the need that is present in that land. I want to go empty, but ready to receive divine direction and revelation.

The second part of the trip will see me back in Uganda. I’ll be flying from Dar to Entebbe on the dreaded Air “BYO Propellers” Uganda. Prayers are most welcome. I’ll spend a night in Kampala with a friend of a friend and then jump on a bus to Kabale where our children’s home is. Kabale is about a 7hr drive south of Kampala. The length of the trip isn’t the problem; it’s more the bump and grind exerted on the body due to the state of the roads. I suppose it’s not all bad. Where else can you get a 7-hour ‘massage’ for $9?

I’m really looking forward to getting back to Kabale. I have such fond memories there and cannot wait to dig them up again. It was certainly a place I once called home. I can’t wait to see the children, whom I haven’t seen for 2.5 years! It will be so good to see them all again. It will be good to reacquaint with the ladies working there and all the folk involved with the home. I’ll be staying at Dave and Kathryn’s little home, which isn’t too far from where we were originally living back in 2007. I’m sure I’ll relive many a night having cold showers and eating half-baked lasagne due to power cuts. Ahh… they were the days.

I’ll try keeping this site updated with stories. I’m pretty sure I’ll write about most days, however I probably won’t get a chance to upload them due to hassles with internet in Africa. Until the next post, it’s adieu Australia!

I was driving in my car the other day, on the way to a meeting, when I came across a set of traffic lights that were not working. As I approached the T-intersection I noticed many people were confused about what they should do and where they should go. Their guiding lights had been taken away from them and as a result the traffic immediately lost its flow.

What people fail to understand is that when traffic lights go out, normal road rules are to take precedence straight away.

As I drove through the T-intersection and onward to my meeting I pondered on what had just happened. In and amongst that chaotic T-intersection was a very valuable lesson learnt.

The road rules, in this case, represent the truth. The truth is above everything. It gives instruction on how to drive. It is the law. It is just. It protects people on their journey. It is what enables cars on the road to flow. Just like God’s word and His direction is to us, so to are the traffic rules to everyday driving.

It is our responsibility to seek this truth for ourselves.

The cars on the road represent people. We are all on this earth together, all on life’s journey. Some of us have been called to do certain tasks; others have been called to perform certain duties in life. We are all driving around, heading toward our different destination, or our purpose and goal in life.

The traffic lights also represent truth, however it is not absolute truth. Traffic lights are not above the truth, however they are used to display the truth. Traffic lights can be something we believe to be truthful, something we believe we need in order to fulfil a plan and a purpose in our life, or it could simply represent someone or something we use to get closer to knowing the truth, without actually seeking the truth for ourselves.

We all use traffic lights to assist us in getting to our destination, however there is a danger if we let the traffic lights substitute absolute truth. Instead of relying on natural means that represent the truth in our lives, why don’t we seek only the absolute truth, the truth that comes only from God? I guess there is an ease in using traffic lights, however it takes away our personal need for searching and scanning the roads for ourselves.

The danger in relying solely on traffic lights and not seeking the truth will cause people to stumble, as was the case at the intersection. It was clear to me that no one at that intersection knew the road rules. If we focus too much on the traffic lights and not enough on the truth then when the things that aren’t absolute are taken from us we become confused behind the wheel of our lives.

In the face of adversity, such when a set of lights on the road goes out, we can become confused and disorientated. It is up to us to know what to do when that happens. In our adversity, times of testing, and times of trouble there is only one thing that will keep you heading toward your purpose in life and that is knowing what only God is saying and holding true to it.

I guess I can write this after I faced a pretty damaging string of events just this week. As I drove through that intersection I really felt God tell me to hold on to what he has already spoken over my life and disregard my recent circumstance whereby I lost something really important to me. As Christians, it is important we seek only His face for direction in our lives. It’s important we seek His anointing. You can guarantee that life’s traffic lights will fail us and it’s up to us to know what to do in those times as we press on toward our destination.

Over the last two and a half years I’ve slipped in and out of varying degrees of post-Africa related depression. I don’t need a medical text to figure the only way to treat the depression is to return to Africa.

As a way of celebrating the completion of my degree I had always planned to return to Africa in the summer, in between my last exam and starting full-time work as a registered nurse. However, a late change to my final clinical placement at the Royal Children’s meant I would be grounded in Brisbane over that time. The only chance I had to return to Africa this year was straight after my paediatric placement in July. So, after jumping through a plethora of hoops, making calls to uni, Royal Children’s, and various travel agents I’m thrilled to say I’ll be flying out of Brisbane on the 10th of July!

To say I’m excited is a vast understatement. I’ll be spending 2 weeks in Dar es Salaam on a reconnaissance to look into the likelihood of starting a babies home in Tanzania. After that I’m off to Uganda, where I’ll spend the rest of the time in Kabale to see the kids and to catch up with the folk there. It should be a great time to recharge before I head back into my final semester of studies.

Interestingly, the day I had planned to book my tickets I had woken up that morning from a vivid dream. I was standing in a room of a house, looking into another room with half a dozen babies sitting down at a table, eating lunch and making a big mess. I really sense there was great significance in the timing of that dream. I really look forward to this reconnaissance mission with great anticipation and expectation.