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

In Africa XV

XV

Home for the Holidays; Jane Goodall comes Home to Tanzania; New lunch venues “Coming Soon”; St. Patrick’s Day; Grease; Rainey Season is back

It’s been a while. And a lot of things have happened. On a study tour to the US and Trinidad and Tobago in November with some Tanzanian counterparts my external hard drive was stolen. Then we were home to Florida for the holidays. Four weeks to catch up on a year’s worth of deferred maintenance. My computer crashed. Lost everything and it was backed up on the stolen hard drive. But it was good being home even I for a short time.

Jane Goodall came home to Tanzania to participate in a fundraiser for an animal shelter being started here in Dar es Salaam. She was actually here for other reasons as well, but her name, her short talk and her presence at the event ensured that it was a sellout at $100 per plate. She told the story of how she became enamored with chimpanzees and how she came to Africa and how she was assisted by Louis Leakey to go to Oxford to get a PhD even though she had not yet attended college, and how the professors admonished her for giving the chimpanzees names instead of numbers, and the story goes…. It can be seen on National Geographic or you can find it on the Internet; Wikipedia and all that. She changed how science looks at chimpanzees and other mammals. The attraction wasn’t her story; it was Jane Goodall, now at eighty years of age. We were a relatively small group of a hundred or less. We sat in an open-air restaurant with the Indian Ocean evening breeze blowing through listening to an icon of Africa. It was one of those opportunities that could not be passed by.

waiting for autographs

Our neighbor Mike had pictures of chimps. Some she knew.
He had those autographed. 

Meantime, in the City Center where I work, I was treated to some good news; new lunch venues coming. I try to watch what I eat, not necessarily from a dietary point of view, although with the added weight that is also a consideration, but from a food safety perspective. I am too old to be adventurous with what I eat. This is Africa and a developing country where many good and practical rules are in place but few are actually followed. It is easy to get around them; a little money buys a lot here. I therefore stay to tried-and-true places like the bigger hotels and some eating establishments that maintain a “Western” ambiance and hopefully, standards. There is the Hyatt, the New African Hotel, the Serena Hotel, the Southern Sun Hotel, Steers, a food court type of eatery, the Mokka Café, a local place popular with locals and Mzungus alike, and a few others. Now there is a Spurs – a South African Chain with an American West theme. Spurs is already in the Sea Cliff Village on the Peninsula, but they are now in the city center. At the yet-to-open Diamond Plaza next door to the Canadian Embassy, there will be a Subway, a Kentucky Fried Chicken, and a Black Tomato (a restaurant that is in the Oysterbay Shopping Center on the peninsula.) These additions will help broaden my choices for lunch as well as my waistline.

The Black Tomato on Marumbo Street

Doesn't remind me of South Africa 

Every St. Patrick’s Day there is a major fundraising event at the Hyatt “Kilimanjaro” Hotel in the city center. Last year we were too new to town to make the event, but this year we went. It is billed as a formal affair so I put my tuxedo to use one more time. The event had everything one could ask for in a St. Patrick’s Day event. Yes, of course, Guinness and Jameson were on the menu and there was Irish dancing by some local kids many obviously not Irish. The Irish Ambassador spoke. There was an Irish band flown in especially for the dinner. There was dancing.

There is a “Little Theatre” community theatre here in Dar es Salaam in Oysterbay not far from our house. Popular with and run by expatriates, they perform several plays each year. This year, as a follow-on to a successful production of “Fame” last year, they enlisted the aid of some students from the Tanganyika International School and other young talent and produced an entertaining version of “Grease.” Community theatre is a great thing and can be found everywhere. I remember my host “mother” back in 2006 in Argentina practicing her lines into the late evening for a part she had in a play in Buenos Aires.

It is April. April means rain in Dar es Salaam. This year is no exception. When it rains, it rains. Here the infrastructure is limited. Some drains do exist and work in normal rains, but during the rainy season even they do not take the water away fast enough. Where there are no drains there are small lakes; these are usually in the middle of roads such as our dirt road in front of our house. Even paved roads flood when the rain comes too fast and for too long. In a way, it reminds me a lot of Key West.

And the beat goes on....

Until Next Connection,

Dan