In Africa XVI

XVI

In Africa

Mango Rains Come Early; Kusi Moves to Kaskazi; Mshamu’s Rant; Catching Up Through Pictures; Another Day

The Mango Rains came early this year. They usually come in late October and continue into December. This year they started in September and seem to be continuing. Just one of many things that is a bit out of sync in our lives lately. The Mango Rains are so called because mangos and cashews are in their final development stages this time of year – early spring here in the southern hemisphere. The generally lighter and shorter rains help the fruit to mature as intended. Like all other things that happen unexpectedly we take it in stride.

So much time since my post post. Best way to close the gap is with pictures.
In April it was Ian's Birthday and a few others and Easter....
We celebrate with expat friends.

Every country has a celebration. They all occur here.
St. Patrick's Day, St. Andrews Ball, and the Orange party
 in honor of the Dutch-born Protestant king William of Orange

Orange is the color; the Order of Orange; the Orangemen, etc.

And the party would not be Dutch without windmills

The yacht club held the King's Day Regatta for the same reason. 

Scottish St. Andrew's Ball

Kusi is changing to Kaskazi as predicted, however, as happens every year at around this time. Kaskazi is the northeast trade winds that blow from December to March. Kaskazi is what took the traders from the Arabian peninsula and India south along the east coast of Africa to Kenya, Tanzania and Zanzibar. Kusi took them back; trade winds blowing from the southeast from April to September. Kusi is also the name given to the sailboat we have leased for our time here.

The ice cream man is also predictable,
coming by the house outside the gate everyday at 5:30.
 I know the time when I hear the music from the ice cream cart.

Canada day picnic at the Canadian Ambassador's residence 

On a typical morning in this in between time, called Matalai, we drive to work. For whatever reason Mshamu our driver starts on one of his rants. I have heard it before in various versions but always the same theme; the rich here get richer and the poor here are near starving. This day it was corruption in government. “Every people working for Government is make money. Get money from Government; put in the pocket. Get more money from Government; put in the pocket. Use money for every people? No! Why?”

Saba Saba is the annual trade fair in Dar es Salaam 

Saba Saba is July 7 or seven seven. It is a holiday here.

The US was represented 

Nothing runs like s Deere even in Tanzania ...

... or a Buffalo Brand animal drawn plough;
 and any parts you may need

Three-hundred-six billion Tanzanian Shillings (about $191,000,000.00 USD) were misappropriated from a Bank of Tanznaia trust account by several prominent politicians and some wealthy private sector persons. It is a huge scandal and resulted in the European counties who have been supplementing the Tanzanian budget with grants to withhold further payments until the culprits are brought to justice and the money returned. The people are understandably outraged by this blatant act of corruption.

Training on investigations at the Consolata Mission Centre in Bunju

Training lawyers in trial skills in Arusaha  

Dinner with the trainer and sponsor

As Mshamu rants on, we move, somehow flawlessly, through the creeping traffic jammed because of inadequate roads. A daladala (small local transportation bus so named for its fare; dollar dollar) is stopped by a policeman at the intersection. They are not allowed on the back residential street we are using. The stop further congests the traffic. “Police is arrest daladala.” Mshamu comments. “What is the problem for driving daladala here? Oh sorry.” He mimics the policeman and then the driver. “No sorry! Need money!” He alludes to the fact that the traffic police are notorious for taking bribes.

We pass him often on our way to work. A proud and happy man

Building scaffolding in Stonetown Zanzibar

It is not a circus act and there is no net

Stonetown waterfront

Sunset in Stonetown Zanzibar

“Mzungu (white people) say; 'oh Tanzania is too much expensive! Why?' Every people is make money, make money. Build apartment, rent is too much expensive.” 

The “Big Road” as I call Upanga Road or Ali Hassan Mwinyi Road, the main road from Masaki into the city center, is its usual snarl. Mshamu changes lanes then changes back again. The cars pass within inches of each other. He is still ranting; talking about how the regular Tanzanians are living on a few shillings per day while those who are catering to the foreigners are making large amounts of money by charging high rents and high prices for everything. The market seems to bear it as western companies and foreign governments pay whatever is asked in order to keep their workers in the standards they are accustomed to.

Building boats on the beach in front of the house.
Here they lay a keel for a new boat and a finished one is behind

The methods have not changed for centuries

Adze and other hand tools are all that is used. 

We approach the Salander Bridge, I check for the Kilimanjaro ferry from Zanzibar even though I know it is already at the dock in Dar es Salaam. A dozen or more ships lie at anchor off the shore waiting their turn at the port. The tide is out. The creek bed is nearly dry. We pass the police station and turn onto Barrack Obama Road. Mshamu is talking about the apartment building supposedly being built by the Tanzanian President in Masaki. It has gone up very quickly and will be finished in a few more months.

“President’s apartment; four months, finish. My house; four years still not finish! Why?” The apartment building will take longer than four months to complete but the point is made. Mshamu is in fact building a house very slowly as he gets money. He has been working on it for four years. His rhetorical question “why” is as much a statement as a plea. He uses it liberally.

Columns at the Colosseum Hotel in Oyster Bay

Typical Tanzanian - something is wrong with the pictures. 

As we pass the traffic circle onto Samora Avenue he continues. We pass the new KFC in the new Diamond Plaza building at the intersection of Samora Avenue and Mirambo Street; as we near our turn at Ohio Street there is a pause in Mshamu’s rant. Then a simple and final; “Ah Tanzania.” His tone is somber and clearly expresses both distain and disappointment. This is a country of forty million people most of whom live in abject poverty. A few are very very wealthy. I have seen it before. It is a prescription for disaster. In Kyrgyzstan I witnessed a revolution. People died. Here the elections are coming next year. People hope for something better knowing it will likely all be the same. If that is so, I worry that the feelings of helplessness will then turn to anger as inevitably happens.

The fishermen out our door make their home on the beach 

He is handicapped and uses the three-wheeled hand pedaled
trike provided by the Turks. 

He begs everyday on Somora Avenue.

We pull in front of the Sukari House. Sukari means sugar in Swahili. The Sukari House is a government office building housing the Tanzanian Sugar Board and some related entities like Kilombero Sugar a public (Government of Tanzanian) private (South African) venture, as well as other government offices. Women wrapped in their brightly colored kangas are already waiting on the terraced steps for the Micro Finance Bank to open its doors. They will get a small loan for a home business of some sort; or perhaps some will make a repayment. The dilapidated non-functioning fountain in the building’s plaza shows the signs of age and neglect. Blue mosaic tiles are missing; it is filled with dust but no water. Passing inside I walk the three flights to my office. I need the exercise. It is another day.

Until Next Connection,
Dan