Immediately after Kara’s visit I traveled with some of the other volunteers in my region to our friend Jenna’s site for her school’s graduation party. Another PCV, Joe, also met up with us at Jenna’s that weekend. We had no idea that we would have the privilege of spending the last weekend of Joe’s life with him.
Most of us arrived in Jenna’s village on Thursday evening so we would be there in time for the festivities at her school all day Friday. We made some amazing grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup from scratch. Jenna had brought the cheese in from a town 9 hours away. The cold that I had been suffering through turned nasty on Friday morning, causing me to spend the whole day in bed, throwing up into a bucket. Joe arrived Friday afternoon, and I heard his voice among the group amidst my deliriousness, but didn’t actually see him until Saturday morning. When I was finally able to stand up on Saturday morning, I ventured out of bed and was greeted by Jenna, Erica, and Joe sitting around the charcoal jiko, sipping coffee.
I had met Joe once before, last March in Moshi for the Kilimanjaro Marathon. I did the half marathon; Joe ran the full shebang and faster than any other PCV too. He was one of the few PCVs I remembered having met on that trip. Joe was a nice guy, easy to talk to. We connected because we both taught A-level physics at boarding schools here in Tanzania. We discussed the trials of teaching in Tanzania on a rooftop bar in Moshi with a view of Kilimanjaro in one direction and the setting sun in the other.
When Joe saw me again at Jenna’s house, one of the first things he said to me was, “Oh, I forgot to email you those physics notes that I said I would.” He may have forgotten to do it, but I was impressed that he had remembered that he had forgotten.
After breakfast we hiked across the valley to the site of another volunteer, Mary Sunny. While we waited for Mary Sunny to get back from town, we took a little tour of the school and cathedral. Although catholic, Joe must have gotten bored with observing the Cathedral before the rest of us, because as we were gathering to leave, we couldn’t find him. After we walked outside we found that he had gone out ahead of us to explore other things. Joe didn’t like to just sit around for very long.
Mary Sunny’s school was having an end-of-the-year choir concert that day. The seven of us PCVs got to sit at the table in front for special guests. During lunch I sat next to Joe. We talked about our families. He was the oldest of three brothers. His family had come to visit him during his service and the three brothers climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro together. I also asked him about his post-service plans. Joe didn’t have specific plans after returning to New York, but on his way home, he wanted to visit his first Peace Corps site in Kenya, go river rafting in Uganda, and visit his ‘bestie’ in Japan. She had also been a volunteer at his school in Tanzania. Not only did Joe learn Swahili during his service, but he also picked up Japanese.
After lunch at the choir graduation, the MC coerced the seven wazungu (white people) to give an impromptu dance performance. He told the audience of school girls, “You don’t want to miss this. You are about to see something never seen before, something powerful and unforgettable.” No pressure! When the Bongo Flava music started playing, we gave it our best shot and then motioned for the students to come up and join us as soon as decently possible, which they did eagerly.
The next morning at Mary Sunny’s house most of us were feeling pretty lazy. We sat around drinking coffee, chatting, and reading. Joe got restless and decided to go for a walk. He was gone for a couple of hours. Finally we were ready to get moving and walk back to Jenna’s site, but Joe was no where around. Not too long after Joe showed and made us all envious with his description of the little adventure he had climbing to the top of a nearby peak and looking down over Lake Nyasa.
That day in Jenna’s village was a big party. Coffee is the major cash crop in the area. As the coffee is harvested, the profits are immediately put to use having elaborate parties every weekend with dancing. Each village in the area puts together a team of men to dance. The traditional dances of the women occur earlier in the year. Every dancer wore a white shirt, white shorts, generally with tights underneath, soccer socks and the most ridiculous accessories. It seemed the color of the soccer socks worn corresponded to which village the dancers were from. The dancers also carried kazoos made out of gourds. One guy was wearing a pretty awesome cowboy hat with flames on it. Apparently the point of dressing up in white and wearing cowboy hats was to mock the white colonialists and missionaries who first came to the area over a hundred years ago. One dancing group had a guy in front dressed up like a pope. Joe made sure to point out to me that the pope was carrying a toilet boil cleaner as a kind of scepter! It was ridiculous. Certainly not what I expected traditional African dancing to be like! You have got to see the pictures and even the video clips on my blog.
The next morning we all got up before dawn to go our separate ways. I headed back to site with a couple of other volunteers. Joe and Amanda headed out on a demanding day hike down to Lake Nyasa and back. That was the last time I saw Joe. It was the day before he died.
Joe made it to Lake Nyasa and back okay, but that wasn’t enough of an excursion to wear him out, so the next day he set out with Jenna to climb one of the huge rocks in the area. On the way down he lost the path and fell.
We had a really good memorial service for Joseph Chow last week in Dar es Salaam. Many wonderful and hilarious stories were told about Joe. Even a handful of his students came to the service and offered their memories about Joe. The most touching part of the service for me was listening to letters from Joe’s younger brothers read aloud. Losing a sibling at such a young age is one of the worst things I can imagine. Please keep the Chow family, Joe’s friends, Joe’s Tanzanian community and the Peace Corps community in your thoughts and prayers.
Mesmirized by the sound of water
Making breakfast on my jiko
Hanging laundry out to dry in my yard
Zanzibar
Wandering through Stone Town
