Mission Rabies Tanzania 2005 - Orientation

So, today was officially “Day One.” Apparently, everyone slept soundly last night — except me. That’s not entirely true. I was doing fine until the call to prayer sliced through my Ambien haze at 5:00 a.m. I’d forgotten about that. Tonight: Ambien and earplugs. The golden ticket.

With my alarm set for 7:30, I used the unexpected extra time for some photo editing. I attempted a shower but the water was freezing, so I skipped it. Instead, I wandered the grounds of Tanz Hands, our guesthouse.

Tanz Hands is more than just a place to stay — it’s a rehabilitation and vocational training center that teaches job skills to people with physical disabilities. The grounds are lovely: flowering plants, a chorus of birds, a small church, even a bakery. It feels part school, part farm, part summer camp. Our little guest section is quiet and comfortable.

A church on the grounds of Tanz Hands

The bakery was closed, but they have some yummy stuff here when they're open (I shot this in black and white, just to be artistic.)

Our section of Tanz Hands. The building on the left and in the back contain the rooms where we sleep.

At the edge of the property, I came to the road. Across the way, a group of schoolchildren in crisp uniforms spotted me, waved, and slowed as I approached. They greeted me with cheerful hellos and readily agreed when I asked, in my new Swahili phrase, ‘Unakubali picha?’ — do you agree to a photo? For a second I felt worldly… until they answered in perfect English. Then I just felt like a doofus. Still, it was a lovely start to the morning.

Back in time for the 7:30 breakfast, I found a spread that was worth waking up for: juice (mango mixed with…guava? passion fruit? whatever it was, delicious), coffee, tea, and a thermos of spicy ginger tea. There were baskets of bread, an egg frittata, and salad — terrific all around.

After breakfast came the training. I’ve seen a version of this slideshow four times now, but it never feels old. Fran, Alisha, and Jens walked us through the program — rabies prevention, treatment, and how Mission Rabies runs in Tanzania.

Then the team pairings were announced. I was matched with Elsa, a young veterinarian from Chicago with a passion for cats. Perfect match. She’s also an avid birder, binoculars always at the ready, and her enthusiasm is infectious. Jens distributed our iconic yellow Mission Rabies shirts — now upgraded to collared polos. Pretty snazzy. We also had a training session on the Mission Rabies phone app, where we’ll log all the vaccination data. Then it was time for lunch. Before lunch, I zipped out front to the bakery to see if they had any snacks I could keep in my room for later in the day. I snagged a few things, and also took some pictures of a kid, Jared, who was hanging outside the bakery. The kids here are very photogenic. Might as well take advantage.

The highlight of the day came afterward: a visit to Mbwa Wa Africa Animal Rescue and Clinic. The name says it all — part rescue shelter, part rehabilitation center, part veterinary clinic, and a hub for spay/neuter and vaccination campaigns. It’s Jens’s haven for animals that have had a rough go at life. The clinic itself is undergoing a major renovation, soon to become a state-of-the-art hospital. Even in its unfinished state, it was impressive. Once complete, it will surely rank among the best veterinary facilities in Tanzania.

The Entrance to Mbwa Wa Africa

For me, though, the visit was emotional. Two and a half years ago, during my last Mission Rabies campaign, I spotted a scrawny dog staggering through a rice paddy. As we drew closer, it became clear: both of his eyes were diseased, leaving him blind and terrified. We managed to corral him and bring him to Mbwa Wa, where after much debate it was decided to remove both eyes. His recovery was quick, his adjustment slower — but in time, he learned the grounds and lived like the other misfit residents: cared for and safe. By tradition, the person who rescues the dog gets to name it. Since we’d found him in a rice paddy, I chose “Paddy.”

Today, as we walked the outdoor kennels where he’d once lived after surgery, who should come ambling around the corner but Paddy himself — a good 25 pounds heavier now, with a lush coat, moving slowly but confidently. He heard our voices, wandered over, gave us each a sniff, and then flopped in the grass nearby. I knelt beside him, stroked his head, and tried — unsuccessfully — not to get choked up. A moment of pure gratification.

You can read more about Paddy (and see the dramatic photos from when we initially found him) in the blog section of The Everyday Frame.

We drove back to base, took a short siesta, gathered for dinner, and then retreated to our rooms to prepare for the real first day — the one we’ve all been waiting for, when we finally head out to vaccinate the dogs.