Not an easy life

Me with an "African umbrella" on the way to work one wet day.

Today on the walk home I saw a girl of six or seven with a 10L bucket full of water on her head. That’s about 10kg. Girls who grow up in the Tanzanian countryside can definitely have a difficult life. Tanzanian society is male-centred so women are expected to do all the cooking and cleaning. However, it’s often also the women that go and do a lot of the field work, sell produce, go shopping and various other tasks. Aside from their jobs (if they are lucky enough to have one), don’t ask me what the men do, although you can guess who you see filling up the bars and cafes.

There was an article in the paper the other day that brought to mind a conversation that Deo and I had had early in my stay. Given the lack of proper sex education, the social stigma of using birth control, and general boredom when you have few of the modern diversions we enjoy in the west, it’s not surprising that teen pregnancy rates are higher here than in the West. And what happens when an adolescent girl falls pregnant? She is expelled from school. Expelled! When Deo told me this, I nearly fell off my chair. Sure, in Canada many pregnant teens drop out of school because of teasing, bullying or the social stigma, but here they don’t even have the choice – the school expels them! “So how do they continue their schooling?” I asked Deo.

They don’t, was the answer. Rough. Anyway, the newspaper article that I read the other day was an editorial lauding the government for it’s recent move to allow girls to resume their schooling after delivery (though not necessarily to allow them to continue their schooling while pregnant). I guess it’s a step in the right direction.

Despite the rough go they have of it here, the women are tough, mentally and certainly physically. I’d like to see how many Canadian 7-year-old girls could carry a 10-kilo bucket of water on their heads!

Overt racism

MZUNGU

Yesterday evening Deo’s sister arrived from Dar Es Salaam, where she is in her first year at medical school. She had some kind of interview in Moshi today, so she had decided to take a week-long “personal break” from school. We went with Deo’s wife to a restaurant where a wedding committee that she was a part of was having a meeting. While Deo’s wife was at the meeting, his sister and I enjoyed some drinks and chatted about this and that.

It was dark when we left and emerging into the night, I was taken aback by the night sky. Stars were numerous, bright and everywhere, and it took not 3 seconds for me to see a shooting star whiz across the sky. I will be looking forward to more of this on the safari and kili climb.
Just as we crossed the road to catch a dalla-dalla to the next junction, one pulled up. They asked the bus assistant the price, even though they knew it was 300 shillings. The assistant said flat out, “It’s 300, but you’re with a mzungu (white person), so it’s 500 each.”

Shocking, isn’t it, this kind of overt racism? It was the second time in as many days that this had happened. The overt nature and complete lack of shame just bowls me over. Having travelled in third-world countries enough, I’m used to the let’s ask the foreigner for double, quadruple or ten times routine. Usually, though, it’s done to one or a group of foreigners travelling without locals. They don’t know the price and so getting swindled is all part of the game. Though similar in nature, I still find this quite different from the blatant racism witnessed last night that not only affected me but also my travel companions. Fortunately, Deo’s wife and sister both told the guy to take a hike; we’d catch the next one. Even when they rolled on a few metres, stopped, and called out to us again that they’d give us the normal price, we still told them to get lost. Serves them right. I just couldn’t help thinking the kind of reaction (social and legal) that that kind of treatment would produce in Canada. In any business, racism that overt would be suicide!

Arusha

Wow! Didn't expect to see that here!

I guess the fact that I haven’t written anything in 3 days verifies that I haven’t done anything significant over that period. There was, however, an interesting incident at school on Thursday, which you can read about more on the teaching blog. In a nutshell, there was a soccer match between Mangi Sabas and another school further away, played on the grounds of neighbouring Mawella high school. The soccer pitch was sloped in two directions so that the lowest point of the field was the far right corner. Still, it was a great atmosphere for the game, out in the open with the corn and the trees all around. If the skies had been clear, a towering Kilimanjaro would have added to the scene.

The game was good, especially from the Mangi Sabas point of view, since our boys won 4-2. Unfortunately, celebrations at the end disintegrated into post-game fan violence (started by the girls!), and things got out of hand quickly. It was an unreal spectacle to watch. In the end, fortunately, there were no injuries to report.

Yesterday I decided to go to Arusha for the day. About 70km away from Moshi, Arusha is the hub of northern Tanzania and the main centre for safaris in the northern parks (Serengeti, Ngorongoro, Manyara) as well as the departure point for most Kilimajaro treks. When I had mentioned my plan to go to Arusha, Deo volunteered his brother Julius to go with me. I accepted, knowing that getting there and walking around would be much easier with someone in the know. It meant covering all his costs, but at about $8 for the day for transportation and food, that wasn’t an issue.

We arrived in Arusha at about 1:00pm after a 90-minute bus ride from Moshi. Having Julius with me was handy at the bus terminal in Moshi as it is chaotic and there are touts everywhere trying to get you to get on their bus. As a foreigner, you don’t really know what the standard fare is, so they can easily rip you off. With Julius, that wasn’t an issue, so we paid the proper fare to Arusha, 2000 shillings or about $1.65. There’s no real schedule though; the buses leave when they’re full. Fortunately, we got the last two seats on a very full bus and were off in no time.

Arusha has nothing significant to see in itself. It is simply larger, with much more hustle and bustle than Moshi and a few of the streets looked somewhat “city-like,” meaning they were lined with mostly respectable-looking buildings and had some semblance of a sidewalk. The weather there is a few degrees cooler than Moshi as it sits a little higher, on the slopes of Mt. Meru. The mountain gets little recognition since it sits just 70km away from the roof of Africa (Kilimanjaro), but at some 4600m, it’s the 4th tallest mountain in East Africa.

After looking into some flights for June, we simply walked around taking it all in. Julius doesn’t often come to Arusha, and even when he does it’s more to meet friends, so it was a bit of a tourist experience for him, as well. We just went wherever our feet took us, and managed to cover most of the town in the 4 or so hours we were there (it really isn’t that big). Of note was the first traffic light I have seen in a month, although I did only see one. We also found a proper supermarket and even a gelato shop.

Soon enough, though, it was almost 5p.m. and time to head back to Moshi. As the bus pulled out of Arusha, the skies cleared significantly and Mt. Meru was fully visible. With its lower height, it has no snows on the top and its peak is pointed in contrast to Kilimajaro’s rounded top.
After the 90-minute bus ride, the dalla-dalla and walk back home, I was exhausted and was in the door just under a minute when Deo called. “I’m coming home now so we can go out to a club,” he said, and I groaned. I was tired not only from the day but also because his father had woken up and blared his radio and TV (simultaneously) starting at 5:45am this morning.

Despite my numerous excuses, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so within an hour we showered, had dinner, and caught a taxi into town. Why he wanted to be there at 9:30pm was beyond me, as the place had no one in it. Admittedly, it had a charming little atmosphere and the dance floor, while extremely small by Toronto’s standards, had everything necessary for the club experience, minus the go-go dancers. Still, as nothing was happening, we sat and nursed drinks for about 2 hours before things started to pick up. It never really got packed, but by about 11:45 there were a good 50 or so people on the dance floor and others around it, so it did resemble a club atmosphere. Unfortunately, the music was mostly Africa beats, which my body doesn’t move properly to, and Deo doesn’t like to dance anyway (so why did we come??), so we mostly just took in the show. His wife got up to dance a couple of times and just before leaving Deo and I joined in for a bit, but that was about it. Despite the different music, people here don’t really dance any differently than those in the clubs back in Toronto.

Sun out, lights out

More students (can't help it, they come with the territory)

Today started out rainy but in the afternoon, the sun finally came out for a short while. It was, quite literally, the first time we had seen it since last Friday. I took the opportunity to go into town and get online – just for something to do. Another night of coming straight home and snoozing didn’t really appeal.

I didn’t have much time, since I left school at the end of the day, so I decided to take a quick walk around town. I was lucky today as I had no flycatchers. I think I have found the trick.

Today, as I walked I held a newspaper in front of me, pretending to read it as I walked. Not one person disturbed me the whole time I was walking…it was great!

Tonight, the Champions League final was on. Deo’s father, his brother and I were all geared to watch the game and convened after dinner in front of the television. We watched a good first half that saw a great Manchester goal, and then just as Chelsea tied it up with just minutes before the end of the first half, the lights went out. Why?! Why tonight of all nights? Not last night, not tomorrow night, but tonight! We haven’t had any power outages at night since I arrived more than three weeks ago. Why tonight? Likely someone at the power station watching the game and slamming his fist down in frustration on the console after the Chelsea goal. Anyway, we finally saw the sun today and now the lights are out.

Mbege!

Thirsty? Hungry? Mbege's got you covered for both!

Yesterday in the late afternoon, after writing the last entry, Deo and I headed out for a walk just to get some exercise. After watching it rain all day, we decided to head out at 4pm under cloudy skies, umbrellas in hand. We were going to walk up Lema road to the Kibosho area, a slightly uphill climb. The road was muddy after all the rains, but we were glad to get out and I was glad to see a bit of the countryside around town. There wasn’t much except fields and the odd house, along with two very small conglomerations of run-down shack-like shops.

After walking a good hour and 15 minutes, somewhere around 6 kilometres or so, we decided to turn around, but not before stopping for a little refreshment at a café/bar. As we walked through the little village centre, all eyes were on us, since not too many outsiders make it up that way. Still, everyone was friendly. Deo had his beer and I had my Fanta.

After looking through the grill at the various other alcohols on offer, we got talking about mbege, what everyone simply explains as “the local brew.” Basically, it’s homemade moonshine made from fermented bananas and millet. You don’t find it in bottles or anything. You go to a bar and have to ask for it, and it comes in either a 1-litre or 2-litre cup. The alcohol content can be anywhere from 5 to 10 percent, depending on the batch.

Just to show me, Deo decided to order the “small cup.” Although it definitely smells like alcohol, it doesn’t look at all appealing. Think light mud water with sawdust mixed in. Why anyone would want to drink it with all those millet particles about is beyond me. Deo says it’s a drink and a meal all in one. Price may be the reason though; at 15 cents for the 1-litre cup, it’s about 15 times cheaper than bottled beer. A bargain, but you never know where the water used came from, and people getting disease after drinking it is not unheard of. Thanks but no thanks, even if I could drink!

This entry is for the birds

Taken from the bedroom window!

Some things in Tanzania are not so different from Canada. After a work week of beautiful days, this weekend has been a write-off, with heavy rains both mornings and cool, cloudy conditions prevailing for the rest of the day. Laundry was done on Friday, but it still sits sopping wet on the line outside.

Yesterday, after waiting until fairly sure it would rain no more, Deo’s brother Julius and I took a walk into town. I needed to get online since I hadn’t been able to on Friday, and Julius was just there for company and probably something to do. He’s 23 and very easy to get along with. We always have lots to talk about and he’s genuinely curious about how things work in Canada and elsewhere. The walk into town takes about an hour and the round trip made for good exercise and sadly, along with getting online, was the highlight of the day.

Today, more of the same, sans internet. I might crack open the Swahili books. Yesterday, as I was doing some things in my room before heading to town, I spotted some birds out in the garden through the bedroom window. They were amazing colours. There are some small raven-like birds here that are an iridescent blue-green. I also spotted another one with a blue body and long brown tail.Well, that’s all I’ve got. This entry is for the birds!

Delivery!

Delivery of the new desks. No more sharing!

Today, just as I was finishing up my last class, the carpenter’s truck pulled up with the desks and shelves he has been working on for the past two weeks. They look great – all new and shiny with varnish. The students helped offload them into one of the classrooms where they will stay until Monday, when another man comes to stencil a number on to them (so that they can be recorded as school property). The carpenter will now get to work on the furniture for the staffroom.

As it was Friday, I went into town to get online and file my reports to OISE. We had to come into town anyway so that I could get the money to pay the carpenter for the work. After going around to a few shops with Deo (he wanted to show me digital cameras here), I was really hungry but also had to get online before it got too late in the afternoon.

Surprisingly, there’s not much in the way of portable street food here. Not like you can just grab a hotdog or a burger and get on your way, which was all I was looking for. Here, either you sit down and do the waiting game, or you try to get a takeout box and still do the waiting game. Fortunately, near the shop we found a little samosa shop. There are a lot of Indians in Tanzania, actually, some that have just immigrated and many that were born here and have lived here all their lives. They invariably run businesses and manage to avoid the poverty that afflicts a good chunk of the general population. In any case, with samosas at 30 cents a piece, I was happy for their presence!

Samosas in hand, or bag, rather, I went off to the internet café and was immediately disappointed to see the door closed and the Closed sign hanging. Again?!? This happened last week! At the nearby tables in the little front area, the woman was sitting with a friend and told me that there was no power today.

“Again?!?” I asked, “You have no power on Fridays, is that it?”

The two seemed to find this very funny, that this random coincidence seemed like a pattern. Anyway, after eating my samosas I headed home, but not before getting a phone number from them. Next time I’ll call to see if the lights are on before coming.

On the bus home, there were a couple of Scottish girls squeezed into the bus with me, so we got talking. They are the first white people that I’ve talked to in the few weeks that I’ve been here. In fact, Deo and I got talking about that point the other night, just by coincidence. He found it strange that I didn’t start talking to the white people that I pass in the street here.

“Why would I?” I said, “I don’t know them.”

“But they are mzungu (white people), like you,” was his reply.

“So I should talk to them because they are white?”

It’s an interesting point, actually, and one that I’ve faced a lot in my travels. In Japan, there was even a kind of name for it, “the gaijin glance”. When you’re an extreme minority in the surrounding population and you spot someone like you, what are you supposed to do? This person is as perfectly random a stranger as all the other people around you. Are you supposed to say hi or start up a conversation because you’re both white? Because by that simple fact you’re sharing some sort of experience that requires you to bond? For me, I’ve found it makes for a strange situation, like you almost feel compelled to acknowledge this person even though you wouldn’t give them a second glance if you were back home on the street of your own town. Sure, if the circumstances put you in close contact for a period of time, such as a bus ride, I’m not averse to striking up a conversation, but just for people in passing on the street, I don’t feel any reason why I should greet them or chat them up more than anyone else.

Deo thought that might be just my big city coldness. He said that if he were in Toronto, he would talk to all the black people he passed.

“Then you’d be doing a helluva lot of talking!” I replied.