In Africa V

V

The car; The insurance man; The driver

We live in a bubble of wealth and prosperity fueled by affluent Tanzanians, government officials, and foreigners here on assignments from one to several years. Known as “The Peninsula”, or just Masaki – the name of the borough on the peninsula, - the area is just far enough from the city center to require a car to get there. Even getting around the peninsula necessitates transportation of some sort. Most everyone has a car, and we are no exception.

The car of choice in Tanzania is Toyota, and the model most often seen is the Rav 4. Parts are easy to come by, four-wheel drive is a necessity for any trips outside of town and even in town with bad roads like ours. The height of a four-wheel drive vehicle alone is important when traversing the puddles we have on our street.

Rav 4 in our carport - FINALLY!

Imported used vehicles – virtually all from japan – are expensive. To the vehicle cost, add duty (25% of value) and, if the car is older than ten years, a “dumping fee" (another 15% of value). One can easily spend ten thousand dollars for a car twelve or more years old. We are exempt from duty because of my job status, but the paperwork to get the necessary waivers is a long and frustrating process. Finally, after two months of waiting and paperwork and government bureaucracy, we were told the registration was complete and we could pick up the car. We had to get insurance, but otherwise it was ready. A 1999 Rav 4 cost us $7500.00 plus dumping tax for a total of $8700.00. During the period we were waiting for all the registration paperwork to be processed, we obtained our Tanzanian drivers licenses. Once the registration was completed, we could get the necessary insurance to drive the car. We already had the mirrors and windows etched with the registration number and all the trim pieces pop riveted to prevent, or at least deter, thieves from removing these items while the car is stalled in traffic jams or parked at night in a bad place.

Etching on side mirror

etching on rear door windows 

reflector on front fender riveted in place

Add rivets on door moldings

rivet in hub cover

We had a Tingatinga artist paint over the dealer's ad on the
tire cover

We parked on the street near where the building collapsed killing 35 plus people a month ago. The rubble is gone and it is an empty hole now. Across the street construction on another unfinished building of about 18 floors has been halted. The exposed foundation and some pillars on the main level show why. It looks like it could fall anytime.

hole left where the collapsed building once stood

site of collapsed building

Condemned building across from the fallen structure

scary looking foundation of the condemned building

Mshamu parked the car and Mathew and I went to the office. It was across the under-construction Morogoro Road. It seems that when finished the busses will run from the outlying areas on Morogoro Road straight into the center of the city. Where pedestrians and other vehicular traffic goes is not apparent. We crossed the empty newly formed street to an older building. Around the corner we entered the dark hallway leading to the stairs. The crippled man sat inside but within the slanting rays of the invading sunlight. His pleading eyes foretold the appeal in his upturned hand. We passed to the dimly lit stairway; I followed Mathew’s lead. The first flight made a spiral turn as it rose to the next floor. The steps were molded concrete ,chipped and cracked, swept but not clean. The second and last flight were traditional but in similar condition. At the landing we walked to the end of the hall to a windowed door bearing the insurance company’s name. Typical of insurance brokers everywhere, it was the proprietor’s name as well. Mathew, being familiar with the place, pushed open the tattered door.

Morogoro Road under construction. Bus lanes now are
a pedestrian  mall

Insurance company's building. Old Dar architecture. 

There was room to walk between the desks from the door to the back of the office, but no more than that. To each side desks lined the tiny space giving each occupant barely enough space to sit and work. There were maybe ten desks in a space large enough for two people to work comfortably; maybe three. I was offered a seat in a chair whose back had become detached and lay on the seat. In the last desk an Indian man with dark hair except, for the inch or so of white closest to his skull, looked up to offer me a seat in front of his desk. He wasn’t an old man, but he was old enough to have outlived the vanity preventing him from donning a head of silver-white waves of hair. He was in fact the proprietor.

Age had discolored the walls from what they were intended to be; a color that might easily be revealed by moving one of the wall hangings seemingly in place for decades. At some point he or another was a member of the local Lions club; the plaque hung on the wall. Pictures, calendars, piles of files on cabinets and desks; it was a working office. I needed to insure the car. Mathew felt confident this place would provide good insurance at fair prices.

I chatted with the Indian man. He was personable as we discussed the Morogoro Road construction and intended use. We discussed how lessons learned from other countries seem to be lost in developing environments such as Tanzania. There are issues we cannot understand and perhaps neither can the Government. Within fifteen minutes I had insurance. The price, paid in US Dollars, was reasonable. We left the way we came. I was off to get the car.

I didn’t actually drive the car off the lot myself, Mshamu did that. Mshamu is our driver. He worked the Sea Cliff Court Hotel when we stayed there. There are two types of taxis in Dar es Salaam; one are the official white taxis with white plates and either a yellow, green or blue stripe, depending on the area of the city wherein they work; the other are the informal taxis that work specific venues like the hotels, shopping centers and the like. These taxis are unmarked, but the drivers have a relationship with the hotel or other venue such that if there is a problem with a driver, the venue management will not let the driver work that area.

Mshamu checking under the hood

When I began driving to the city center for work each day, the drivers all wanted to make that a permanent job for themselves. I tried several. They all began to find ways to add to the agreed fare; parking charges, waiting charges, anything to increase the fare. Mshamu did not do that. He parked with his own money, waited for free, and was always prompt or would ensure that another driver was there if he couldn’t be.

The drivers of these informal taxis are actually driving cars owned by other people. They pay for the fuel and pay a fee for the use of the vehicle; around 100,000 shillings a week (around $62.00). The drivers need to make a lot of money in order to have some left for themselves. Good drivers at good locations make about double the amount needed for their vehicle rent. Mshamu is a skilled, honest driver and has been able to build a clientele over the years. People who come and go from Tanzania on a regular basis call him for transport to and from the airport. We began to use him regularly and he agreed to work for us when we got the car.

Mshamu

Private drivers make 400,000 shillings per month give or take. That is about $250 per month. Bearing in mind that chambermaids in the hotels make half that, it is a pretty good job, all things considered. Our arrangement with Mshamu is that when we do not need him (evenings and weekends for sure) he is free to drive his taxi. He is also a devout Muslim and prays five times per day. We always make sure he is able to get to a Mosque or other place for prayers. He appreciates that a lot. We have a good relationship thus far and he has already taken to the Rav 4, treating it like his own.

I have ventured out on the weekend when the traffic is light. Adjusting to the right-hand drive and left-hand side of the road is not as difficult as I had thought, but instinctive reactions can be problematic. Although some see the expense of a driver as unnecessary, we prefer the security of someone familiar with the streets and the haphazard traffic during busy weekdays. I lost track of Suman, our driver in Bangladesh, a few years ago. Rama was our driver in Kosovo and we attended his wedding. I have been following Rama’s family as they grow, he now has two children I have never met. We have not yet met Mshamu’s wife and two year old son either, but we hope to at some point. It is difficult living with these contrasting worlds; expat versus local working person. We do what we can, but we know that in the big scheme of things we can only do so much, to go beyond a point is to disrupt the status quo that was here before we arrived and will be here after we leave. If we can give some small advantage to the people who work for us we will have succeeded for being here at all. They, after all, want the same things we all do; to provide for their families and make a better life for their children.

Until Next Connection,

Dan