Finders keepers

I became aware of this issue last night: click here for the conservation finance article, or here for the source article in the Washington Post, which notes (as a friend told me last night) that following a similar deal elsewhere, Hadzabe men were arrested for hunting the land on which their ancestors have hunted for perhaps tens of thousands of years.

If the UAE royal family is reading this: have a heart for the Hadzabe.

Striking not only twice, but twenty times

It has been raining leopards and hyenas here lately (our version of cats and dogs). At one point last week, the lightning was so near that the thunder shook the ground beneath me, and cloud-to-cloud lightening coursed through the clouds above our office. Overall, it is an awesome and humbling experience, and not totally benign. I heard of two tragic cases last week in which lives were lost: one was a pair of young boys, apparently in town, the other two adults in a neighboring village.

What a pity that taking shelter under a tree can seem such a logical thing to do in a rainstorm.

It made me wonder, how many of the thunderbolts flying above end-up touching down? I found this at Wikipedia:

According to this analysis of NASA data, Kigoma is struck by about 20-30 bolts per square kilometer per year. Some of them from storms which move at breakneck pace toward the lake, while others hover and block the view of even the closest peninsula close across the bay. There are two forms: dry lightning (which hints of rain but never does) and wet lightening, the storms of which can pour.

Wet lightening or dry, I am usually inside when the storms hit, but I caught this dwindling storm last year and wanted to share the images with you:

The real power of a storm is naturally in its motion, which is difficult to render with still images, but unless you come visit me, this is probably the best I can do.

The latest generation

When I invited friends to come to my house to listen to election coverage on my satellite radio, I had a mental picture of still-lifes seen in Truman-era daguerreotypes: sepia photos of children laying on the floor with chins on their fists, kicking their patent-leather shoes and listening to a radio twice their size.

But it is true what they say; during this election, something happened which could not have been imagined a generation ago: my cellphone rang.

You see, Tanzania has jumped generations in technology. While parts of the world went through twangy transitions between telegraph and telephone and between hand-held radios and mobile phones, Tanzania - like many parts of the world - skipped the landlines and went straight to cell towers.

While we listened to NPR's coverage, my Mom and my friend Rob were able to text me updated electoral counts and which states went to which candidate, and they called me when the election was made official.

So much for sepia photographs - we were communicating via satellite.

So as the US contemplates this election and the changes which have taken place over the generations, Tanzanians are talking about it via the latest generation of technology. And that's good news for everyone.

I believe!

I tend to be skeptical about things that I don't experience firsthand. As it turns-out, this election day has shaken the very ground I stand on.

Literally.

At 12:53ish this morning, I slipped from sleepiness to consciousness when my mosquito net's frame tapped lightly against the wall. After that, there were two taps on the bed, followed by a soft bump which caused my headboard to hit the wall.

The tremor (or "temblor") has not been recorded by the USGS, but I believe in it all the same.

As for the earth-shaking events happening halfway around the world, I believe in those, too.