One core issue affected everything while we were living on our farm at Mount Compass: we were poor.

I suspect my father’s enthusiasm to have his own patch of land blinded him to the economic realities of trying to run this property as a dairy farm. He presumably bought it cheap after the drought of 1961, but I’m told the bank manager was sceptical — even though he still approved the loan.

The facilities were basic. The milking shed was a simple cement brick rectangle with a corrugated iron roof. The dams and concrete water tank were only constructed later, and initially the sole water source was the bore and its unreliable pump.

One image that stays with me is my father in the middle distance, striding through the overgrown bracken over to the pumphouse, often in heavy rain or even a storm, to get that damn pump working again.

The house was basic too, but more about that another time. And I’ll talk about the effects of being poor later too.

Today, though, the three factors that caused the farm’s continual financial struggles, and an explanation of that photo.

The 1960s saw dramatic changes in the dairy industry.

Traditionally, once the milk had been sucked out of the cows, in milking sessions early in the morning and at dusk, it was stored in metal milk cans. These were collected daily — after the morning milking session, so milk wasn’t standing around in the heat of the day — on a flat-bed truck and taken to the factory where the milk was pasteurised and bottled, or turned into cream, cheese, ice cream or whatever.

In the 1960s, though, bulk handling systems were introduced. Each farm had to buy a refrigerated stainless steel vat, big enough to store three days’ worth of production. The milk factory’s tanker truck came only three times a week. The driver ran a bacteriological test to confirm your farm’s milk was OK to pump into the collection in his tank. Fail the test, and you’d have to discard everything in your vat. He’d also measure the milk’s fat content and other quality factors, since that helped determine what you were paid, not just the volume of milk.

Bulk handling, plus the simultaneous introduction of other milking shed equipment and even better wide-area irrigation systems, meant that larger-scale farms with paid employees could significantly increase production and reduce costs. The farm-gate price of milk dropped. Husband-and-wife farms like ours, with just 25 to 30 cows in milk, became uneconomical.

There was also another severe drought in 1965-1968. That meant buying in feed for the cows so they’d still produce milk. Profit margins were squeezed further. My father ended up taking on day jobs to make ends met — but I’m getting ahead of my story.

The third factor was particularly toxic. We were victims of a scam.

My parents could never understand why their milk production figures were only half that shown in the farm’s records. What were they doing wrong? It was years before they discovered the truth. After they’d bought the farm, a neighbour told them, but before they’d taken possession, the previous owner had brought in trucks and removed all the cows, replacing them with cheaper, less productive cows. Alas, by then the scammer was long gone, and in those days cattle often didn’t even have identifying ear-tags or tattoos, let alone the embedded microchips they have today. Too late.

Dairy farms are a 7-day operation, but somehow we managed to pay someone to run the place so we could take brief holidays.

Our usual destinations were the seaside towns in South Australia’s Copper Triangle, now branded the Copper Coast to include a few more tourist destinations. Wallaroo, where an uncle had a beach shack, or Port Hughes, which is where today’s photo was taken some time in the early 1960s.

I can remember the long, hot drive up through Port Wakefield and Kadina. We’d usually stop at both for a cool drink, and fellow South Australians over a certain age will know all about Woodies Lemonade. But the highlight was always arriving at Wallaroo and Price’s Bakery for their peppery Cornish pasties.

Price’s Wallaroo Bakery is still running today. I’ve marked it on the map. Maybe I should go and check out their pasties again.

Holidays were very simple. Splashing in the shallows of the ocean. Fishing off the jetty. Fresh fish and chips. Reading on the verandah. Walking in the sand dunes and pretending — no, wishing, really wishing! — I was somewhere far, far more exotic.

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Everywhere you go in Tanzania, there are nets. Mosquito nets. And not just here at the comfortable Zanzibar Beach Resort, where we stayed one night, but every little accommodation place we saw throughout the country. They’re serious about nets.

To be honest, at first I thought it was a just a bit of Africana for the tourists — hey, a four-poster bed certainly makes you feel like you’re somewhere different, right? But not so.

One morning in Dodoma, the ActionAid Australia campaigner travelling with me, Lena Aahlby, asked whether I’d bothered using the mosquito net. “No,” I said. “It’s dry, there weren’t any mosquitoes around, so I didn’t bother.”

Despite the scary warnings in my little travel medicine book, I hadn’t bothered with insect repellent either.

But our Tanzanian colleague Albert Jimwaga leapt in. “Oh, you’ve got to use the mosquito nets,” he said, a genuinely worried tone in his voice. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t see any mosquitoes, because they only come out late at night. You have to use the nets!”

It turns out this wasn’t just polite concern for his overseas visitors.

In Tanzania and other African nations, the threat from malaria is real.

As Abdul Kajumulo points out, malaria kills more than 100,000 infants annually, and attacks between 16 and 18 million people countrywide each year. That’s around 45% of the population. And that’s despite Tanzania having a decent anti-malaria strategy, apparently.

For my brief stay in country, spending AUD 30 for a month on gut-churning Doxycycline is a viable prevention strategy. But poor rural peasants only earn AUD 120 a year, so many malaria cases go untreated — with an obvious toll on individuals, families and the economy.

And then there’s dengue fever, for which there’s no vaccination and no cure.

I now have real respect for the humble mosquito net. I can see why, when there’s flooding or other cause for human displacement, a truckload of mosquito nets is high on the agenda.

[Disclaimer: Stilgherrian was in Tanzania as a guest of ActionAid Australia. His opinions do not necessarily represent the views of that organisation or its international affiliates.]

Saturday 27 June 2009. This isn’t exactly the world’s newest Boeing 767-300ER, and there’s slightly too much pubic hair in the toilets. Breakfast is being served, and my stupidly-expensive Moleskine notebook is filling up with notes about the Parable of the Quartered Donkey.

That’s quartered as in hanged, drawn and quartered.

I’m the donkey.

The smiling Kenya Airways staff go about their business of bread rolls and bitter coffee en route from Bangkok to Nairobi, where I’ll change for my flight to Dar es Salaam. I wake from a brief period of something vaguely approximating sleep to the realisation that Project TOTO has one significant flaw: multiple goals, with conflicting requirements.

Something deep in my gut says this is going to be a problem.

Flash forward to today. It’s only two weeks since I arrived in Tanzania and a week since I left again, but the world is eager to analyse the project’s “success” or “failure”. We already have Laurel Papworth’s Stilgherrian: Wherefor art thou, bloggers? (which has triggered some excellent discussion) and Fi Bendall’s Sharing the knowledge: How NGOs can benefit from online consumer awareness.

Both articles are well worth reading. Both highlight what I think is a serious problem: short-term thinking.

But first, those multiple goals.

• “Give poverty a voice.” This was the “public” goal. Training Tanzanians in blogging and getting their blog online, as promoted in the original #secretmission briefing note and media release. This requires uninterrupted time at a computer with a decent Internet connection — although there’s also the paper blogs training exercise. But that’s just the orientation and technical set-up. Actually establishing a corporate blog requires discussion within an organisation, and then slowly, steadily building an audience. That takes months, unless you’re Stephen Fry.
• Tell the story of poverty. Expose me to the reality of African poverty, so I can write about it. This requires both plenty of contact time in the field, and plenty of quiet reflect-and-write time in solitude. As I wrote a fortnight before I left Sydney, an insightful essay can take half a day, and I was already worried then that it was going to be tough.
• Expose a hidden problem. The report Breaking the Curse, commissioned by development charities including ActionAid, reckons African states have been deprived of royalties and taxes by mining firms, thanks to a lack of legislative oversight and overly-generous tax concessions. They want to expose Australian mining companies if they’ve been behaving badly. This is investigative journalism. It’s all about establishing trusted contacts and research over an extended period.
• Raise ActionAid’s profile. This whole project came about because Austcare, a “trusted brand” in charities here in Australia, was becoming ActionAid Australia, and needed to promote it new identity. If people were reading about the project, then they’d learn the new name.
• Raise money. In amongst all that is the need for ActionAid to cover the costs of the project — as well as fund its continuing operations, of course. Fundraising targets were amongst the KPIs Fi Bendall write about in her piece, though they’re not spelled out.

It strikes me that all of these things take time.

Indeed, as Laurel writes:

Social media can be slow — everything happens in the long tail of rippled content, rather than the short head of traditional campaign activity.

And as Ash Nallawalla commented:

I didn’t know about Stil’s trip until the day of his send-off party, and only because Neerav mentioned it.

It’s all too easy to forget that just because we might be hyper-focussed on some issue and hanging on every tweet, for others it’s just part of the background chatter in their lives.

I felt like I’d been talking about Project TOTO for weeks, to the point of boring everybody. However I was still getting messages on Twitter a week after I’d arrived in Tanzania from people wondering why I wasn’t in Sydney. People asked me today whether I was still in Tanzania, when I left a week ago.

We shouldn’t be surprised by this. People retweet things said days ago because they’ve only just logged in and scrolled back. People add comments to blog posts from months or years ago, because they’ve just stumbled across them while searching for something on their agenda today.

Despite knowing this, Laurel is disappointed by the lack of instant reaction:

I expected Australian bloggers to get more behind Stil, and I’m a little disappointed they didn’t. A few blog posts on the going away party — we bloggers love boozy tweetups — but no real analysis of the changes that citizen journalism can wrought to this new hybrid of Social News and Social Action.

But one commenter, Just some guy, absolutely nailed it, I reckon: Authenticity. Or rather, the lack thereof. His comment is worth reading in full.

As an outsider — I don’t know any of you people — I have to say that the apparent lack of interest in this project has to do with the failure of Stilgherrian to communicate in an authentic voice.

For someone who, according to the voice he chooses to use in social media, can barely lift the telephone or make it up Enmore Road without a “FFS” about some perceived injustice against his delicate sensibilities, to suddenly become the Mother Theresa of African blogging read as forced, fake, self-censoring and pandering to the politics of his sponsors.

It’s absurd to be harangued for not getting behind the project when, from an objective point of view, all we saw was an endless series of tweets about getting there only to be followed by more tweets about getting out of there and worrying about getting a decent hotel room in Bangkok.

It was ridiculous to find one of Australia’s most cantankerous voices on the internet replaced, suddenly, with an apparently calm acceptance of things we know, from experience, he would never put up with in his day-to-day life in suburban Sydney.

Regardless of how socially significant the project may be — which was never really explained or expressed outside of months of chatter about “sekrit” meetings — its expression read as two-dimensional and insular.

If you genuinely believe that Australian bloggers outside your network should support and promote this kind of international action, you need to back off from the provocative language and engage a real-world audience with something a little more useful. As it stands, it looks like all that happened was a piss-up and a couple of long drives in the African countryside as narrated by Evelyn Waugh on Valium. Got anything better to offer?

Whoever he is, he’s right. I did self-censor. And I did worse. I committed the unforgivable sin of being boring.

From the time of The Gnome Incident, I was stressed about saying something else that might cause problems. Though I had a document in which my editorial independence was agreed there was, as vealmince pointed out weeks ago, inevitably an invisible pressure to conform to The Message simply because ActionAid was paying for my ticket.

This is, of course, precisely the criticism aimed at embedded journalism. And rightly so.

As I said in my previous post, for most of the time in Tanzania I was completely exhausted. And exhausted, I didn’t have the focus to say what I was really thinking and feeling. While I didn’t have time or, often, an Internet link to blog, I did tweet to sustain the presence — but my tweets became banal.

One of the recommendations from Thursday’s debriefing with ActionAid Australia was that the next outreach blogger will need time to recover from jet lag and a less-packed schedule if they’re to write while in the field.

Barry Saunders also nailed it in Social media and social justice:

I’m quite keen to blog about [Project TOTO], but frankly, I’m more interested in hearing the voices of the Tanzanian bloggers. The last thing the blogosphere needs is more middle-class white westerners drowning out other people’s voices.

Hear hear!

Quite frankly, I’m uncomfortable with the slogan “Give poverty a voice”. Poverty already has a voice. Everybody does. What poverty needs is for us to shut the fuck up and listen for a change.

While my longer blog posts are only just starting to appear, we’ve established some valuable human links between Sydney and Dar es Salaam — both through actual voices from Africa in the blog Jambo Tanzania and whatever other stories emerge . It’ll be interesting to see how that evolves.

Update: The following point occurred to me as I was responding to comments. I think it deserves to be pulled up into the body of the post.

Which of these two aims was the real aim of the project?

1. Give poverty a voice.
2. Look at me and tell your friends! I’m giving poverty a voice!

Humans are highly-evolved social animals. I think we have a special part of the brain designed to detect insincere attention-seeking behaviour.

This is Juma Hassan lila Kalibu, secretary of Kilimani [see update below] village in Zanzibar, showing off the village school’s new computer room. As you can see, it has no computers. Or electricity. Or desks. Or chairs. Or anything, really.

When I visited this village last Sunday as part of ActionAid Australia‘s Project TOTO — this school is one of their projects — it was a striking example of what we’d been discussing the previous day with ActionAid’s Zanzibar team: the poverty web. You can’t just dump one single piece of modernity into the poor rural environment and expect everything to work. As James Burke’s classic TV series Connections showed, modern Western civilisation is a built on a web of interlocking technologies, processes, structures and institutions, and you need all of them to make things work.

Kilimani has none of them.

Kilimani is literally a series of mud-brick huts. I’ll post more photos later — but this school, with its concrete floor and rendered walls, is as far ahead of the villagers’ homes as a medieval cathedral was ahead of the peasant hovels that clustered nearby. It’s appropriate, I think, that everywhere I’ve travelled in Tanzania, education is seen as the key to future prosperity. Well, not prosperity exactly, but whatever’s one notch up on the scale from abject poverty.

Consider this. Computers need electricity, amongst other things. Even if you string in the wires to connect this village to the power grid, someone might decide that the scrap metal value of the copper wires is more important to them than the electricity right now. A family in poor parts of the Tanzanian mainland might have a total annual cash income of TZS 150,000. That’s about AUD 120. When you only have $10 a month, a couple dollars of copper represents significant wealth — and at the mine we visited in Nzega in northern Tanzania yesterday they have to post guards to stop people stealing the water pipes and fences.

OK, assuming the wires and transformers aren’t stolen, what happens when something breaks? Who’s paying for the spare parts? Who’s trained to do the work? What use is a technical college when there are no teachers? Who’d come to work as a teacher when the homes have no electricity or running water? A basic education is a pathway out of here! So you need electricity to attract the teachers to… um, but that’s where we started!

How do you unravel this poverty web? Buggered if I know! But that’s the challenge facing countries like Tanzania. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of things we take for granted in the West simply aren’t there, and all the things you need to build those things are not there. They could be bought, sure, but there isn’t the money.

Money. There you have it.

Juma Hassan lila Kalibu, dressed in his Sunday best to greet his honoured guests, is certainly proud of his school, the most magnificent building in the village. And he would like our help. Some paper would be nice. And some pens.

[Update 13 June 2010: I have just discovered that this village is not called Kilimani at all. Kilimani is the location of the Zanzibar Beach Resort, just south of Zanzibar Town. That's the hotel where we stayed overnight in Zanzibar — and be warned, their web is a dreadful slow-to-load Flash job with looping music that can't be turned off. It's quite possible this village is called Kisimani, located here on Google Maps and not marked at all on Bing Maps. I will investigate.]

• The Age of the Essay | Paul Graham: This essay dates from 2004, but it’s still valid. The essay, the kind that’s about exploring an issue, is a natural form of writing online. Plus I like his comments about disobedience and creativity.
• GLAM | Wikimedia Australia: One for your diaries! A little conference called “Galleries, Libraries, Archives, Museums & Wikimedia: Finding the common ground” at the Australian War Memorial, Canberra, 6-7 August 2009. Hosted by Wikimedia Australia, with discussions on four themes: Education, Technology, Business, Law. To be opened by Senator Kate Lundy, Senator for the ACT.
• That 180ms is the bane of my life: Network engineer Glen Turner explains why the 180 milliseconds it takes for Internet data to cross the Pacific causes problems. “You’ve got to realise that Australia is almost unique in being a long way from the centre of gravity of its language. Broadly, almost all German-speakers live in Germany, whereas a tiny proportion of English-speakers live in Australia. That has an effect on Internet traffic. Most Internet traffic in Germany stays within Germany. Most Internet traffic in Australia goes offshore.”
• One thing PC users can do that Mac users can’t…: Crude but effective.
• Media and Brand Supremacy: Why the New Media Brand Could Be Nike | The Huffington Post: Heidi Sinclair notes that individual journalists and commentators are sometimes bigger news brands than the outlets they work for. There’s plenty here which meshes with my complains that some folks don’t separate the content (“news”) from the container (“newspapers”).
• texts from last night: A scarily funny collection of people’s (allegedly) drunken text messages. Don’t click through unless you’ve got plenty of time to spare.
• Death in Birth – Where Life’s Start Is a Deadly Risk | NYTimes.com: The first of three articles on efforts to lower the death rate in Tanzania. Excellent timing, given Project TOTO. Challenging to read, however
• The Angelina Factor | Bitchy Jones’ Diary: A ranty article which, in language which may be confronting for some, explores the social and psycho-sexual issues around the idea that Angelina Jolie is universally sexually attractive. Just for the record, I do not find her the least bit attractive.
• Rethinking the Global Money Supply: Scientific American: China has proposed that the world move to a more symmetrical monetary system, in which nations peg their currencies to a representative basket of others rather than to the US dollar alone. The article includes a little history, too.
• “We did not know that child abuse was a crime,”says retired Catholic archbishop | the freethinker: The retired Catholic Archbishop of Milwaukee, Rembert G Weakland, says “We all considered sexual abuse of minors as a moral evil, but had no understanding of its criminal nature… [I] Accepted naively the common view that it was not necessary to worry about the effects on the youngsters: either they would not remember or they would ‘grow out of it’.” WTF?
• Comedy Thrives in Times of Despair | Spiegel Online: Monty Python’s Michael Palin on what the financial crisis is a boon for comics, and the perils of political correctness.
• Hello Africa | Vimeo: A 42-minute documentary about mobile phone culture in Africa.
• Shell On Trial | newmatilda.com: Next week, Shell will appear before a US federal court on charges of torture, extra-judicial killing and crimes against humanity for incidents which took place in the Niger Delta. Will it be the first multinational found guilty of human rights abuses?
• Genital warts take Shoaib out of Twenty20 World Cup | ABC News: There was a time when someone’s medical history was considered private, even if they played sports professionally. Personally, I reckon the specific of Shoaib’s medical problem are none of anyone else’s business.
• PlugComputer Community: The developer community for Marvell’s Plug Computer.
• Plugging In $40 Computers | NYTimes.com: Marvell Technology Group has created a “plug computer”. A tiny plastic box you plug into an electric outlet. No display, but Gigabit Ethernet and a USB. Inside is a 1.2GHz processor running Linux, 512MB RAM and 512MB Flash memory. US$99 today, probably under US$40 in two years.
• Misguided middle-class moaners | BusinessDay: Ross Gittins explodes a few myths about Australia, class, taxation and social welfare.

If you’ve been following my Twitter stream or read a certain recent blog post, you’ll know that a SEKRIT mission was being plotted. Tonight I can reveal… Project TOTO.

Late this afternoon I received my first briefing note, and it’s reproduced in full over the jump. However in summary, it appears that I’m going to Tanzania on behalf of ActionAid Australia (from 1 June, that’s the new name of Austcare) to report on what I see, and to establish a blog outpost in the local community.

Amongst other things, I’ll be posting daily video diaries. Here’s the first.

As you see, I’m only just starting to get my head around this. I’ve never been to Africa, and certainly not to the kinds of places that ActionAid operates. That’s challenging enough — except that I also have to set up a training program for people I’ve never met from a culture I’ve never encountered.

And deliver “media product” from locations where… well, where Internet bandwidth might not be as plentiful as I’m used to.

My head is exploding.

OK, here’s the briefing I received…and there’s more comment from me at the end.

#SECRETMISSION BRIEFING
19 May 2009

My Dear Stilgherrian,

As you are aware, over the last few weeks you have been drawn into #SECRETMISSION.

To recap, you have already agreed:

1. To be sent to an undisclosed African country;
2. To report on what you find there;
3. To undertake a technology challenge in that country.

Through the use of technology and social networks, you will enable a voice to be heard from this remote destination on an ongoing basis.

I can now confirm this mission is ACTIVE and provide you with further details of your task.

#SECRETMISSION active name is “The Overseas Training Operation” #TOTO.

Your Brief

Client: ActionAid Australia.
Mission: Use every available channel open to you in the fight to end poverty and injustice.
Location: United Republic of Tanzania.
Details: To meet this challenge, you must:

1. Conduct comprehensive physical and psychological preparation.
2. Undertake full briefings to gain a deep understanding of the political, economic and social realities of the target country.
3. Travel to the target country and build rapport with the locals.
4. Report freely on what you find utilising technology in remote terrain. Be warned you may have to face many psychological challenges, be affronted by injustice, social deprivation and cultural diversity you have never experienced in your life.
5. Establish a blog outpost in the local community, complete with all required technology.
6. Train the local community in best-practice blogging to ensure that long after you leave, their voices will continue to be heard loud and clear.

Your mentor for this mission will be Archie Law, CEO, ActionAid Australia. Keep him close to you, you will need his help.

Further details of this mission will be made available to you as we progress.

Good Luck my friend, I will be back in touch with further instructions soon.

Fi Bendall
Director
fiona@bendalls.com.au
+61 2 9948 0007
+61 (0) 431 032 426
Twitter: FiBendall
Sykpe: FiBendall
www.bendalls.com.au
www.digitalintelligence.com.au

There will be daily posts as we plan the mission, and I’ll be providing plenty of material from the field — words, pictures, videos.

This all takes place very, very soon. Although the specific dates haven’t been set yet, Austcare becomes ActionAid Australia on 1 June, and obviously this project is part of the “new” organisation’s launch — even though Austcare has been around since 1967.

There’s lots of ways you can follow my journey…

… although calling it my “journey” inspired a dear friend to pronounce that sending me on this mission is “Australian Idol meets South Park.” Well screw you, Mark!

Oh.

I see what you mean.

Anyway…

• Follow me on Twitter. I’ll tag everything related to this project with the hashtag #toto.
• Follow this blog. There’s a specific RSS feed for category “Project TOTO”. [Update Wednesday 20 May, 8.05am: If you subscribed to this RSS feed before now, you'll actually have subscribed to the "Arts" category. That'll teach me to test things at night. I'm a morning person! It's working now.]
• And more methods will come soon… like Flickr.

We’re also looking for sponsors who can help us out with equipment or services, and later up I’ll probably pass the hat for donations to ActionAid Australia and ask how you can help build community support. But all in good time. For now, um, whaddyathink?

(Oh, yes, the whole TOTO thing was inspire by this song. Obvious and lame, I know. And in the context of what I’ll probably encounter, wildly inappropriate. But you can’t pin that one on me.)

[Photo: Giraffe and Lake Manyara National Park, Tanzania, by Fanny Schertzer.]

“Want to buy a sofa, going cheap?” Mike, the bloke sitting on the veranda, laughs — amused that the discarded furniture was torched. He’s annoyed they started the fire too close to the fence, though, scorching the paw paw plant that’s just starting to come into fruit.

Somehow the conversation turns to the weather-beaten old homeless guy who was camped out nearby most of this week, but who’s now been moved on. “Keith? Nah, he’s not into money,” Mike tells me. “He’s a millionaire though.” Come again?

Ten or fifteen years ago, Mike was in the queue behind Keith at the bank. “He had a bank book,” says Mike. “That’s old, I thought, so I had a bit of a sticky-beak over his shoulder — and the balance was $1.2 million!” Keith withdrew a thousand dollars in $50 notes that day, carefully folded them into tight little squares in the palm of his hand, and shuffled out into the street.

“I’ve seen him sitting there, on the nod,” says Mike, “and his hand has dropped open and there’s four or five hundred dollars in cash scattered on the ground. Anyone could just take it and he doesn’t care. Once I asked him if I could borrow two bucks ’cos I was short for a packet of smokes, and he opens his hand and shows me a bunch of notes and says take what you want. I can’t do that!”

Keith’s lived on the streets a very long time. His skin is brown and leathery. His hair and beard are a deeply knotted tangle. He sits motionless and silent for hours at a time, staring at nothing in particular. I don’t think Keith understands that he’s a millionaire.

[Names have been changed.]