We had both busy and long days traveling down to Mang’ola with the long ride to and from Karatu each day. Our mobile clinic today would be in the village of Mang’ola Juu, which literally means “Mang’ola Up,” and, as the name implies, refers to a village that is somewhat up in the foothills of Mt. Oldeani, the mountain who’s base we’ve been traveling around to reach the villages of Barazani and Mbuga Nyekundu over the last two days. The road ascending to Mang’ola Juu is a bit trickier than driving to the other villages, especially in the rainy season, when the first section becomes a bit of a soupy mess with very deep ruts that love to throw the vehicle back and forth when you slip into them greatly increasing the level of anxiety for those travelers in the very back of the vehicle. Thankfully, the soupiness eventually subsides with the remainder of the drive, though the road becomes narrower and steeper with a few drop offs. Suffice it to say that none of this is for the faint of heart.
It was an overcast day and looked like rain was eminent, but even more discouraging was the fact that there were no patients waiting for us at clinic. This wasn’t entirely surprising, though, as with the recent rains, many of the local residents were out in their fields planting for that’s not something you can just put off to another day. Life here revolves around the planting and harvest seasons, and it has been like that for many generations back. The setting of the clinic here is incredibly picturesque – it sits high on the slopes of Mt. Oldeani with a panoramic view over virtually the entirely of the valley we drove through the last several days. This heavily fertile valley stretches all the way from Karatu to the west, almost to Lake Eyasi to the east and produces a great number of crops, though most heavily onions and maize.
The clinic itself here at Mang’ola Juu is very, very basic – it’s a single building sitting atop a perch overlooking the village. We didn’t see anyone connected to the clinic for some time but were eventually told that we could use three of their rooms instead of four, which wouldn’t be a huge problem for us considering there were no patients yet in clinic and it didn’t appear that anything was going to change very quickly on that account. The front of the clinic has a porch with an overhanging roof to protect it, so this served as our combination registration desk, waiting room, and pharmacy while swallows continually swooped in and out from their nests that are tucked in along the eaves high up on the front wall of the building.
Thankfully, a few patients began to accumulate after a little while, some arriving on foot coming from the local village and others on motorbike with the typical three per vehicle configuration coming from further destinations. One of the patients Alex had seen was an elderly man who could barely walk at all, but he had somehow arrived on a motorbike which we all doubted that could be correct. Watching him get loaded back on for his departure, though, confirmed it. Last September, we had brought the portable EEG machine with us and had miraculously performed EEGs that were read on the spot for the patients to receive treatment based on those studies. Sitting in such a rural setting with no facilities around and having access to such incredible and powerful technology gave everyone hope that virtually anything could be accomplished in this setting.
By our lunchtime, which is typically at 2:00 pm, there were no more patients nor did any show up while we were eating, so it looked like a good time for us to make our way home. It had also started to rain about this time which made our decision even more unanimous considering no one wanted to make our way off the mountain in heavy rain given what the shape of the road had been in the morning. Luckily, there were no incidents on the way home, though there wasn’t much chatter coming from the back of the vehicle on the way down which is quite typical when you’re mostly holding your breath.
We were getting home early enough that it seemed to be a good afternoon to visit with Phillipo and his family to see their coffee farm. This has become another one of must see “cultural visits” for the residents as it is a small family run coffee farm that does all of their production by hand including the coffee roasting, something that is far less often done here nowadays as the coffee farms have been incredibly large and are most often owned by European families who have had the land for generations. I had first met Phillipo and his wife, Fausta, a few years ago by happenstance as we were visiting the wood carver next door and he wanted me to meet his friend. Since then, a visit to Phillipo’s coffee farm has become a staple for us – his family is lovely and it’s always like returning home. I have a special place in my heart for his daughter, Elizabeth, or Eliza, who I have watch grow up from a tiny child who I would always put on my shoulders the minute I arrived, though can longer do so as she’s grown so much. She’s now a 4th grader and doing incredibly well in school which is no surprise whatsoever. Jill has always brought her books to read when we visit.
Phillipo’s farm is five acres that is harvested all by hand along with another family’s farm that is of similar size. Together, they produce around 2000 kilos per year of coffee that is only sold locally and not through shops. The entire process of picking, taking off the outer shell, fermenting, drying, pounding, and finally roasting (5 kilos at a time), and packaging in half kilo bags is all done by hand every step of the way. Phillipo was away picking Eliza up at school when we arrived, so Fausta took everyone on a tour of their coffee plants around their home first. They also have dozens of hanging bee hives that are for the small stingless bees that are the pollinators of the coffee and make delicious honey in their hives that’s far different than the typical honeycomb we’re used to in hives. The honey is stored in small, disorganized wax cells throughout the hive and is harvested by the spoonful.
Phillipo’s father was busy roasting a batch of coffee when we arrived, so after everyone had a chance to pound the dried coffee to remove the out shells, they also had a chance to turn the roaster. Once the coffee was finished roasting (40 minutes for a medium roast), it was placed onto a cooling grate where Phillipo and I shook it for several minutes to not only cool the beans, but also to remove the remaining chaff before the coffee is bagged. Buying coffee that has just been roasted by us is something special and not something that can happen everywhere.
It was pretty dark by the time we had finished with our coffee tour, but everyone had also wanted to stop by the wood carver’s shop next door to Phillipo’s. Athumani, an artist friend of mine who I have known for years also had artwork there that everyone wanted to look at. We were in no rush for the evening, so everyone had plenty of time to look through everything and haggle a little about the prices. My philosophy has always been that they need the money more than we do, but unfortunately, the starting price on any piece is typically twice what they want knowing that there will be negotiating, so you’re pretty much obligated to at least haggle somewhat. There’s little that one can do to avoid bargaining because of this, but my original philosophy is always a good guide to keep in mind.