In Africa XII

XII

A friend from Kyrgyzstan; Trip to Dodoma

We like to say that ‘it’s a small world’ when we see someone in a place far from where we ever would have expected to see them. The world is not small, but the circles in which we move are small. The world in fact is a large place containing more than seven billion people – with a “B” – and growing. The work that I have been doing for the past ten years or so is a narrow sliver of subject matter and is done by an even smaller group of people. The people I followed on my very first project in Bangladesh, I met on my second project in Kosovo. One I replaced and the other I eventually hired as my deputy. A colleague of mine from my prior career hired my deputy from Kosovo to his first international job. A fellow I knew in Kosovo I met again in Iraq. There are even more connections when we move to the second degree. We recently met a guy in Zanzibar who was working in Iraq and worked with a fellow I worked with in Iraq; and on it goes. Not surprising then that my wife recognized someone we knew from Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan in a local hotel here in Tanzania. That person, it turns out, is working here on an unrelated project and will be here for a year or so. The plus side of this is that these seemingly random reconnections bring a sense of familiarity and continuity to otherwise strange and unfamiliar surroundings. Or should I just simply say; it’s a small world.

Road to Dodoma

It was in October that I went to Dodoma. It was part of the preparations which we did before the project actually started in January. Dodoma is the national capital of Tanzania since 1973. The National Assembly moved to Dodoma in 1996, but nearly all government offices remain in Dar es Salaam. Its central location, existing infrastructure, room for expansion and moderate climate made it a logical choice. These attributes, however, are not enough to overcome the desire of leaders to remain in the cultural and economic center of the country; Dar es Salaam. Dodoma is also the capital of the Dodoma Region and the home of a “Zonal Office” of the agency for which I consult. I, therefore, made the trip.

Villages

The trip to Dodoma is, like all trips by road in Tanzania, long and tiring. It is a six-hour trip across generally good paved roads that are interrupted all too frequently by small villages and speed bumps. The traffic police in Tanzania patrol the highways and streets by standing along the road and waiving violators over to the side of the road as they pass. They do not have patrol cars that we are familiar with in the US. Speed, therefore, is controlled by the frequent interjection of speed bumps into an otherwise open paved road. The road is a two-lane road and, as in the US, is heavily traveled by trucks. The whole process of passing trucks, traversing speed bumps, driving through villages where pedestrians, motorcycles and cars, roadside markets, and even weigh scales for the trucks, add to the mix, becomes a tiring experience.

Drying rice

The urban sprawl of Dar es Salaam thins only slightly until the halfway point to Morogoro at Chalinze where the road north to Arusha diverts from the Morogoro Road. There are still many small villages interspersed with farming of varying sizes but predominated by flora; mangos, bananas, sisal, maize (corn), but not much livestock. Once you get to Morogoro and turn right off the roundabout and head northwest toward Dodoma, the scenery quickly begins to change.

Svannah

It is not far out of Morogoro that the terrain begins to rise slightly but steadily from the near sea level humid tropical environment of Dar es Salaam to open rolling savannah. From the top of every rise, the scrub trees and grasses stretch as far as can be seen; rolling away, punctuated by an occasional baobab tree in the distance, or a herd of goats driven by a Maasai herder, or a red brick house doorless with thatched roof.

Villages are smaller and more sparsely placed. Crops give way to herds of goats and cows, and the Maasai people can be seen in their natural setting; rather than parking cars at restaurants and hotels as they do in Dar es Salaam, they are herding livestock as they have done for centuries. They are the only tribe of the many that were in Tanzania, who has kept their identity. The others have assimilated into a generic Tanzanian culture. A common language and intermarriages together with a strong nationalistic approach taken by the country’s founder and first president, Julius Nyerere resulted in a populace who now identify more with Tanzania than their original tribes. The Maasai are the exception.

Baobab trees in center and left

When we reached Dodoma we were on a high plateau. The city is low rise and unremarkable. We stayed at the New Dodoma Hotel across from the railway station that was built by the Germans in the late 19th century. I am uncertain when the term “New” was connected to the name or to what it refers, but the hotel is actually reminiscent of a time long past. The rooms were very adequate with retrofitted screens on all windows and netting over the bed. The lodgings on two levels surrounded a rather pleasant courtyard with pool, fountains and scattered tables and chairs. This proved to be a very pleasant place to sit and the only place the free wifi had strength enough to access my email.

Dodoma

Dodoma

New Dodoma Hotel

courtyard

Courtyard of New Dodoma Hotel

Dodoma Railway Station

The lobby stretched across the front of the hotel and wound around the corner continuing partly down one side. Two restaurants were situated off the open-air lounge, scattered with arched top pillars. There was a bar and black tied waiters, although few. I actually found myself looking for Sam thinking he may have come there after leaving Casablanca, but the piano stood dignified and silent. There were no crowds there; no smoke filled noisy environs; but the walls clearly held memories, stories that will ever remain untold. I had a quiet dinner at a table for one.

Lounge area with restaurant in back

Lounge area

That October evening was cool despite the waning spring and single digit latitude of the place. To me it is counterintuitive to think of a sub-Saharan African country as having a climate that might at times require a jacket, but most of Tanzania is high enough to escape the heat characteristic of the tropical coast and Dar es Salaam where we live. Everyday I understand more about the continent, its people and its geography. For that I am grateful for this opportunity.

Until Next Connection,
Dan

In Africa XI

XI

Rick comes to Dar; Another trip to Mikumi; Roadside Vendors; Tingatinga

Our oldest son Rick is doing his fieldwork for a Doctorate from the University of Illinois. He worked for six months in South Africa and is currently in Malawi for a second six months. Over a weekend, which happened to coincide with my 65th birthday, Rick came to Dar es Salaam to participate in a symposium at the University of Dar es Salaam. It was good seeing him. The event was covered in the Daily News newspaper as well. It is always great to see you child’s name in print for accomplishments well deserved.

View on road to Police College

He arrived by bus with a friend from Malawi on a Sunday night. He was supposed to arrive at five or six in the evening but a breakdown a few hours outside of Mbeya delayed his arrival until after ten at night. The busses from the regions come to the Ubungo bus terminal on the Morogoro Road on the outskirts of town; actually near the University of Dar es Salaam. I asked Mshamu to come to drive since I knew the traffic would be too much for me.

At theCollege. My Rav 4

The Ubungo bus terminal is an old facility soon to be replaced with a modern terminal area with pavement and well-marked sections identifying which busses will arrive and depart from the designated areas. The current terminal is a large unpaved parking area behind a long stretch of run-down ticket offices beside the Morogoro Road, which is under massive reconstruction. The bus parking area is a free-for-all of busses, cars and taxis, intermingled with vendors. At night there are a scant few lights illuminating the area.

The mountain across the river. A Village is at its peak.
A portion of the dam is at left

There are specific areas for buses from the various towns to park, but they are not marked and if you are not familiar, you are, as we were, left to … well, fend for yourself. We kept in contact via telephone with Rick to know his approximate location. We knew his bus line. When he announced that he was turning into the lot, we saw his bus … or what we thought was his bus. We followed it to the very back of the lot and waited for Rick. After the very last passenger stepped off the bus it was clear that he was not on that bus. We finally made telephone connection asked each other where we were. It was impossible to know or describe anything that was distinctive in the lot of a hundred buses or so and thousands of travelers coming and going.

The town at the base

Mshamu began a systematic search of the large lot. We drove down one lane and up the next – simpler in the description than in the execution. Rick was by a light next to some vendors, not a very narrowing depiction. As we were trying to navigate through a snarl of cars and people, we heard a bang on the car; Rick had found us.

Tomato sellers. Charcoal in the distance in white bags.

The week past was busy with a five-day workshop in Dar es Salaam conducted by a local colleague working on the project, and for me, a second trip to the Police College near Mikumi. The trip is long – a six to eight hour drive – but it is good to see the countryside and experience the environmental and geographic diversity that Tanzania has to offer.

"Canvas' " being made ready

The weather at the police College, which sits atop a mountain in south-central Tanzania, was cool and the air was clean. My “cold” seemed to disappear the three days I was there. The trip was made more interesting by virtue of a power outage at the College. This might be expected but for the fact that the Police College is situated on a site formerly owned by the Tanzanian Power company at the site of a dam and hydroelectric power generating facility. The area is also a game preserve and therefor not developed. A late night storm prior to our arrival knocked a tree over a power line and the College was without power for two days. I was provided a generator to facilitate my Power Point presentation.

Tingatinga shops

The remoteness of the Police College is such that currently there is no mobile phone connectivity and, as a result of the power outage, they had no Internet. On Thursday afternoon, Mshamu and I began the twelve-kilometer drive down the mountain to the town that sits across the one lane bridge at the base of the mountain. Before we left the Police College premises, just past the first of the two gates, the Police College Doctor with white smock over Police Uniform, flagged us down. There was an older woman who needed to be taken to the hospital, or at least to the town below where she could take a bus.

There are a few people living near and around the Police College, their status is still uncertain to me. Across the river on the next mountain there is a village that uses the road to the Police College as their access to town. They travel on foot down their mountain, across the river and up to the Police College access road. The village is a farming community where they grow bananas, cassavas, potatoes, beans, rice and other crops. The people can be seen several days each week beside the road waiting for a bus or a car to transport them and their goods to the town where their produce is sold.

We did not know from where the woman came, but the doctor was insistent that she needed treatment at a hospital. We of course agreed to drive her down – along with her daughter (presumably) and two gentlemen whose relationship to her I am totally uncertain. Three of them used the back seat of my Toyota Rav 4 while one young man climbed into the back luggage area. The road winds through the forest and down the mountain, interspersed periodically with baboons looking for a handout. It is about fifteen minutes or more for the twelve kilometers. We left the woman and her family at the buss stop. I do hope all turned out well for her.

They paint on any object. For sale inside.

Artist working on crocodiles

Mshamu, as is usual with Tanzanians living in cities like Dar es Salaam, wanted again to bring back onions, tomatoes and rice from the “Regions” as those items are cheaper outside of the city. As we had done this on our first trip, we stopped; first in Mikumi to get onions, then on the Morogoro side of the Mikumi National Park where the tomato selling women work the roadside together with the charcoal sellers. The process, like so many things here, is more chaos than order; each woman trying to gain the sale, but all with the same produce at the same price.

These elephants are nearly finished.

Sharon wanted a second hand woven basket and another woven carpet. For these items we stopped near Morogoro at the roadside woven basket and carpet sellers. We stopped at the same place we had on our prior trip since the man with a bad leg and limp gave us such a reasonable price. We were not disappointed. We dealt with his mother this trip, but the prices were the same. It is an interesting phenomenon of human nature that we are offended by those who try to take advantage of a situation. Even at the inflated Mzungu (white person) prices, the cost is minimal, but we just do not like those who will take advantage of our perceived wealth and lack of local knowledge. The woman and her handicapped son have been more than fair and thus get our business.

Artists at work

Tingatinga (also spelt Tinga-tinga or Tinga Tinga) is a painting style that developed in the second half of the 20th century in the Oyster Bay area in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania and later spread to most of East Africa. Tingatinga paintings are one of the most widely represented forms of tourist-oriented art in Tanzania, Kenya and neighboring countries. The genre is named after its founder, Tanzanian painter Edward Said Tingatinga.

Wheel covers near the road

Near our home and in the area where the painting style began, in Oysrerbay, there is a bazaar featuring not only numerous Tingatinga paintings on all types of media, but also the artists who actually do the paintings. It is in fact the Tingatinga Arts Cooperative Society formed by the relatives and followers of Tngatinga himself. While the Tingatinga Arts Cooperative Society is usually recognized as the most authoritative representative of the Tingatinga heritage only a small fraction of Tingatinga artists are directly linked to this society. The style can be found in everywhere in Tanzania and the East African region. The benefit to us of having this resource so close is that we can have paintings done to order, such as the cups we had painted or the wheel cover for our spare tire. It is not only fun but also interesting and educational to watch these artists ply their craft. They are truly talented.

We had plain white cups

Our wheel cover

Everything is negotiable here among the Tanzanians; art, supplies, foodstuffs, everything. Not always so with those of different ethnic backgrounds. I have said often in this series that this is a place of contrasts. It truly is. So much talent among so many. So much poverty among so many. So much disparity between the haves and those who have not. Among many of the Westerners, there is a response to this, seldom spoken but nonetheless there; we select one or two locals for whom we have respect and affection, and try, in our short time here, to bring them to a higher standard of living. I suppose it is guilt and compassion all intertwined. If it does nothing, it makes us feel better.

Until Next Connection,
Dan