Joe drove me to work this morning in his new car, a cute 3-door RAV-4 he bought last week with the help of our Tanzanian friend Billy. We have named the car “Ralph.”
Driving in this country requires knowing the tricks of the trade; not only to drive on the “correct” side of the road and car, but how to navigate the system, such as knowing where not to drive at night, keeping the number of a mechanic with you at all times, and dealing with cops when they pull you over.
Joe was pulled over twice last week. The first time was his lesson learned for what not to do: the cop saw him talking on his cell phone, motioned him over, and told him that they had just passed legislation, taking effect “tomorrow,” whereby drivers couldn’t talk on their cell phone. He told Joe to let him into the car so they could “discuss” this, and asked for his license. He then told Joe to meet him under a bridge (which he could do since he had his license) and asked for a bribe (50,000 shillings).
Rule #1: Do not make eye contact (we both wear sunglasses in the car now and I do my best to keep a poker face passing through check points…)
Rule #2: Do not let them into your car
Rule #3: Do not give anyone your real license (just a copy)
Rule #4: Do not give anyone more than 5,000 shillings
It’s ridiculous that they get away with this stuff on a daily basis, and that bribes are this commonplace. In Zanzibar this weekend, our taxi ride to and from the beach town included money for bribes, which even the local drivers couldn’t get out of paying.
Joe was adamant not to let it happen again to the magnitude of 50,000 shillings, and when he got pulled over the next day, the cop demanded to be let in, and so Joe guilt tripped him the entire way to the station, saying “I am doing good work here. This is very bad. You should feel very guilty. I am helping 45,000 people gain access to healthcare. Tsk tsk tsk.” And the cop, thinking he was a doctor, let him off for free.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Myers-Briggs
Having Joe as a roommate has been great – we dance around the apartment with shaker eggs, cook interesting concoctions and have people over for dinner (last night we had Jeremy over for peanut butter okra curry, kidney beans in a tomato-yogurt sauce, and breaded chicken), therapeutically write, and have introspective conversations customary to being abroad. Joe re-introduced me to the Myers-Briggs test, a personality test centering around four trait groups (16 types total): whether you are an introvert or extravert, think via sensing or intuitively (practical or a theoretical thinker), are a thinker or feeler (logical or emotional), and are a judger or perceiver (planner or more spontaneous). It seems to be an interesting way to group people, and describes personalities with seemingly more precision than say, horoscope groups.
Last night we looked up famous individuals in our Myers-Briggs types. Barack Obama, Martin Luther King Jr, and Dr. Seuss were all ENFP’s, like Joe. Jeremy got Jimmy Carter, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Mahatma Gandhi, all INFJ’s.
I got Britney Spears, Ashton Kutcher, Michael Jackson, and Dan Rather, all fellow ISFP’s.
No comment.
Last night we looked up famous individuals in our Myers-Briggs types. Barack Obama, Martin Luther King Jr, and Dr. Seuss were all ENFP’s, like Joe. Jeremy got Jimmy Carter, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Mahatma Gandhi, all INFJ’s.
I got Britney Spears, Ashton Kutcher, Michael Jackson, and Dan Rather, all fellow ISFP’s.
No comment.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Power
We went back to Zanzibar this weekend for a super relaxing weekend in Paje, an east coast beach with a gorgeous view of the Indian Ocean.
While we were there, the power went out for a few hours both nights (and the hotel decided to conserve their generators). This wasn’t so bad for the few hours, but I learned that the entire island of Zanzibar (with around a million inhabitants) lost power for several months earlier this year. Additionally, only around 10% of Tanzania has regular access to electricity (which is a kind of vague term that may mean only 70% of the time). This statistic seems incredibly shocking, but sheds light onto why efficiency seems to be quite difficult to achieve.
While we were there, the power went out for a few hours both nights (and the hotel decided to conserve their generators). This wasn’t so bad for the few hours, but I learned that the entire island of Zanzibar (with around a million inhabitants) lost power for several months earlier this year. Additionally, only around 10% of Tanzania has regular access to electricity (which is a kind of vague term that may mean only 70% of the time). This statistic seems incredibly shocking, but sheds light onto why efficiency seems to be quite difficult to achieve.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Language dreams
Being abroad triggers something in the language part of your brain - people around you speaking a different language makes you want to speak it (or at least speak something other than the default of English), too.
They say that you're fluent in a language when you dream in it; my semester abroad in Spain culminated in a dream in "Spanglish." "Banglish" dreams fluttered about while spending winter session in India.
While I'm no where close to being even basic in Swahili knowledge, I wouldn't have been surprised if some of the everyday words heard on the street entered my mefloquine-doused dreams.
Instead, I had a dream in Spanish last night, a brief conversation with a friend while getting out of a bajaj. At least they're semi-acclimatizing?
They say that you're fluent in a language when you dream in it; my semester abroad in Spain culminated in a dream in "Spanglish." "Banglish" dreams fluttered about while spending winter session in India.
While I'm no where close to being even basic in Swahili knowledge, I wouldn't have been surprised if some of the everyday words heard on the street entered my mefloquine-doused dreams.
Instead, I had a dream in Spanish last night, a brief conversation with a friend while getting out of a bajaj. At least they're semi-acclimatizing?
Expensivity
A professor visiting Dar asked me earlier this week what surprised me the most about coming to Africa. I think it would have to be how expensive everything is and the fact that there is no "middle class" pricing. Huge disparities exist in everything, including living, transportation, food, etc, and phone, internet, and other commodities soak up shillings in no time.
A Tanzanian friend's interpretation was that Africa is transitioning between socialism and capitalism, and that it will take a few years for the market to work its magic. He also commented that the arrival of us "mzungus" has raised prices drastically. I'm wondering why the case is different in India and Asia, in that case.
Regardless, was not expecting to pay 120,000 shillings for 2 weeks of internet. Must stop video skyping.
A Tanzanian friend's interpretation was that Africa is transitioning between socialism and capitalism, and that it will take a few years for the market to work its magic. He also commented that the arrival of us "mzungus" has raised prices drastically. I'm wondering why the case is different in India and Asia, in that case.
Regardless, was not expecting to pay 120,000 shillings for 2 weeks of internet. Must stop video skyping.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Walking without crawling first
Natalie, Joe and I visited the orphanage again on Saturday, this time with Mary, the founder. Mary is an incredibly energetic Irish woman, a mother of nine, with honest opinions on everything and a heart of gold. She and her American husband have lived all over the place, including in India for several years, and have been committed to Tanzania for the last ten.
She told us how they set up the orphanage, and how they’ve slowly expanded over the last several years. A vast chunk of their budget goes towards medical care for the children: one of the kids was in the hospital with malaria when we visited, a decently common occurrence.
Mary told us about the devastating situations in which they found some of the kids, and went on about each of their individual personalities. Six kids of the bunch, she told us, are HIV-positive; most are on ARV’s and all have regular check-ups. They’re now healthy and happy individuals, and you wouldn’t be able to tell which are which. Spending time with the kids this week was great – we had brought them markers, and had a drawing session where they wrote their name and drew a picture. One girl even scrawled down, “Malaria still sucks,” a phrase she slyly saw printed on Natalie’s shirt.
Mary later made a comment about Tanzania that stood out in my mind: driving here is terrible, mainly because many drivers are lacking a sense of the space around them. At least in India, she said, there’s a method to the madness and drivers have figured out how to coexist together: there are unsaid rules, so to speak. Here, however, instead of slowing down when they see a pedestrian or a car in front of them, a driver may speed up. “And babies don’t crawl first before walking – the two are distinctly related in my mind, no coincidence,” she told us.
She went on to explain that babies spend a good chunk of their infancy tied in cloth to a mother’s back, and then at some point they are expected to teeter-totter around by walking. But, they haven’t yet developed boundaries at that point, or a strong sense of space without crawling.
She told us how they set up the orphanage, and how they’ve slowly expanded over the last several years. A vast chunk of their budget goes towards medical care for the children: one of the kids was in the hospital with malaria when we visited, a decently common occurrence.
Mary told us about the devastating situations in which they found some of the kids, and went on about each of their individual personalities. Six kids of the bunch, she told us, are HIV-positive; most are on ARV’s and all have regular check-ups. They’re now healthy and happy individuals, and you wouldn’t be able to tell which are which. Spending time with the kids this week was great – we had brought them markers, and had a drawing session where they wrote their name and drew a picture. One girl even scrawled down, “Malaria still sucks,” a phrase she slyly saw printed on Natalie’s shirt.
Mary later made a comment about Tanzania that stood out in my mind: driving here is terrible, mainly because many drivers are lacking a sense of the space around them. At least in India, she said, there’s a method to the madness and drivers have figured out how to coexist together: there are unsaid rules, so to speak. Here, however, instead of slowing down when they see a pedestrian or a car in front of them, a driver may speed up. “And babies don’t crawl first before walking – the two are distinctly related in my mind, no coincidence,” she told us.
She went on to explain that babies spend a good chunk of their infancy tied in cloth to a mother’s back, and then at some point they are expected to teeter-totter around by walking. But, they haven’t yet developed boundaries at that point, or a strong sense of space without crawling.
Pole vs. Samahani
There are two words in Swahili meaning “sorry.” Samahani seems to mean that the person is genuinely sorry and indicates at least sympathy if not empathy.
Pole, on the other hand, while sometimes genuine, seems to mostly be used as an “oops,” or a sarcastic sorry, and is used quite a bit.
Example: someone knocks over water bottle, spills water all over the floor, and goes “pole” without cleaning it up.
Pole, on the other hand, while sometimes genuine, seems to mostly be used as an “oops,” or a sarcastic sorry, and is used quite a bit.
Example: someone knocks over water bottle, spills water all over the floor, and goes “pole” without cleaning it up.
Addresses
Just finished White Tiger, an interesting book told from the viewpoint of an Indian “entrepreneur” and driver. One point that stuck out in my mind was his description of Delhi, how many roads have names that no one actually uses or knows, and that addresses don’t really exist or stick. “A-block” may be next to “G-block,” house A-78 may be followed by G-238, and it’s not really an anomaly.
Dar has a similar situation. When I asked our real estate agent the street address, she said it’s (the name of our apartment building) on Haile Salaise Road.” (Mind you, this road is not a small one).
A lot of places in China apparently has two names – a Chinese and an American.
Not the case here, but it’s still challenging to explain where you’re going to a cabby (as would be expected without real addresses). Solution: figure out landmarks and add at least 15 minutes to travel time.
Dar has a similar situation. When I asked our real estate agent the street address, she said it’s (the name of our apartment building) on Haile Salaise Road.” (Mind you, this road is not a small one).
A lot of places in China apparently has two names – a Chinese and an American.
Not the case here, but it’s still challenging to explain where you’re going to a cabby (as would be expected without real addresses). Solution: figure out landmarks and add at least 15 minutes to travel time.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Internet
Apparently the internet carrier we use at our house is down due to the fact that they're having issues with the cable they use to bring internet from India. My first reaction was, they use a cable to bring internet all the way from India??
Apparently the founder of Kayak is working to set up wireless all over Africa. Good deeds.
Apparently the founder of Kayak is working to set up wireless all over Africa. Good deeds.
The Dala Dala
Taking taxis around the city, the easiest form of transportation, is starting to add up. Since Joe and I moved to the peninsula (the “mzungu” part of town a little north east of the city), we’re a little out of the way from the city center where we work, and other neighborhoods. Cabs tend to cost around 8,000 shillings to get to other parts of the town (around $6), which adds up if you’re taking those 4 times a day or more.
So, we try to take a dala dala (a mini bus) to and from work. These cost 250 shillings, and are a decently direct way to downtown. The key is to catch them at the right time, or else they’ll be packed, or you’ll end up waiting a long time (I waited for 45 minutes to get a dala dala going to Posta on Tuesday).
I’m still not entirely sure how it works – there’s no formal schedule and half the busses don’t have their final distination written on the bus. Conductors yell out to the side of the street where the bus is going, and if that destination seems reasonable, it’s all yours to hop on. Additionally, you never know when the dala dala is going to pull off the side of the road and decide it’s time for a break. One dala dala I went on started steaming in the front, and the conductor just chuckled, poured some water into an unknown hole, while passengers watched inquisitively, and then the bus kept going.
Somehow though, locals just know where to catch them and which one to get on, and they expect the unexpected. And so the system functions.
So, we try to take a dala dala (a mini bus) to and from work. These cost 250 shillings, and are a decently direct way to downtown. The key is to catch them at the right time, or else they’ll be packed, or you’ll end up waiting a long time (I waited for 45 minutes to get a dala dala going to Posta on Tuesday).
I’m still not entirely sure how it works – there’s no formal schedule and half the busses don’t have their final distination written on the bus. Conductors yell out to the side of the street where the bus is going, and if that destination seems reasonable, it’s all yours to hop on. Additionally, you never know when the dala dala is going to pull off the side of the road and decide it’s time for a break. One dala dala I went on started steaming in the front, and the conductor just chuckled, poured some water into an unknown hole, while passengers watched inquisitively, and then the bus kept going.
Somehow though, locals just know where to catch them and which one to get on, and they expect the unexpected. And so the system functions.
Saba Saba
The seventh of July (Saba Saba) is a holiday in Tanzania, and they hold a large trade fair the week of and prior to the holiday, culminating with a day off on the seventh. I visited the fair with my supervisor here on Tuesday.
I wasn’t sure exactly what I was expecting – she had told me that the Ministry of Health had a booth there (and the City Council had provided posters on malaria prevalence), and that there were various vendors selling crafts. What we found was a large area full of booths and exhibits from all sorts of industries, including forestry, leather workers, food and cashew vendors, the military, etc. The panda rug Jeremy had bought last year was still there, and there was even a mini-zoo, with a giraffe, lion, leopards, hyenas, wildebeasts, and various other animals not-so-common in American zoos. An ex-president of Tanzania was visiting the same day as us, and a large procession marched around him as he visited the booths.
It was also cool to see the Ministry of Health section: PSI and various other public health organizations had set up booths of information (some in Swahili, some in English). There was a good amount of focus put on malaria: there was lots of information on it, including microscopes containing the malaria parasite to view, and they even had rapid diagnostic malaria tests set up for people to use.
I wasn’t sure exactly what I was expecting – she had told me that the Ministry of Health had a booth there (and the City Council had provided posters on malaria prevalence), and that there were various vendors selling crafts. What we found was a large area full of booths and exhibits from all sorts of industries, including forestry, leather workers, food and cashew vendors, the military, etc. The panda rug Jeremy had bought last year was still there, and there was even a mini-zoo, with a giraffe, lion, leopards, hyenas, wildebeasts, and various other animals not-so-common in American zoos. An ex-president of Tanzania was visiting the same day as us, and a large procession marched around him as he visited the booths.
It was also cool to see the Ministry of Health section: PSI and various other public health organizations had set up booths of information (some in Swahili, some in English). There was a good amount of focus put on malaria: there was lots of information on it, including microscopes containing the malaria parasite to view, and they even had rapid diagnostic malaria tests set up for people to use.
Fourth of July in Tanzania
Independence day was spent in Zanzibar on a beach, so it didn’t really feel like a traditional fourth of July. However, last week, we got the chance to go to the US Embassy with some of our friends working at the State Department here. It was a sight to behold, I stepped in and immediately thought I had been transported back to the bay area. Families of all ethnicities ambled around the complex, the US ambassador was there in red, white, and blue with his family, and a buffet of hamburgers and fries awaited us. Desks inside the embassy seemed to be imported from the US: they even had the same phones as in “The Office,” and the same chairs we had at Mercer.
Marines sang “Proud to be an American,” and the dj played “YMCA,” and other straight up American tunes; I felt like we were in an awkward but amazing wedding, where some people danced all out with drinks in hand and others stared onto the dance floor.
The night culminated in fireworks, which could apparently be seen throughout the city. Not quite State College – top – ten- fireworks in America, but pretty awesome nonetheless.
Marines sang “Proud to be an American,” and the dj played “YMCA,” and other straight up American tunes; I felt like we were in an awkward but amazing wedding, where some people danced all out with drinks in hand and others stared onto the dance floor.
The night culminated in fireworks, which could apparently be seen throughout the city. Not quite State College – top – ten- fireworks in America, but pretty awesome nonetheless.
T.I.A
A few of us went to Zanzibar last weekend, an awesome vaca of sorts from Dar. A few people had mentioned it as the perfect destination; Tom had advised me to go every weekend if possible in his “what you need to know about Dar” map he drew me before coming. It indeed lived up to this: Stonetown was a quaint town full of character and interesting architecture and trinkets, and the beach was blissful, with an amazing view of a very blue-green Indian Ocean. We’re planning to go back at least twice more in the next month.
While waiting the customary one hour for our food, only to receive a different set of dishes than what we had ordered, the term “T.I.A” came up: “This is Africa.” While this was the first time I had heard this phrase, it had been mentioned in other ways, such as “Africa Time” –
Definition: no time you have arranged is actually fixed (usually 30 minutes may be a good starting point to wait), and you may even end up waiting for hours on end for someone. This is slightly different from IST (Indian Standard Time), where things will inevitably start late, because with Africa time, it may just not end up happening.
Another friend had said that risk aversion goes away in Africa: again, the unexpected becomes expected, and you just gotta go with it. Defining this actually allows otherwise frustrating situations to be rather amusing – ie: it’s okay if your cab breaks down on the side of the road, internet in the entire country is out for a couple of days, and your power goes off for 24 hours. That’s why we brought flashlights ☺
While waiting the customary one hour for our food, only to receive a different set of dishes than what we had ordered, the term “T.I.A” came up: “This is Africa.” While this was the first time I had heard this phrase, it had been mentioned in other ways, such as “Africa Time” –
Definition: no time you have arranged is actually fixed (usually 30 minutes may be a good starting point to wait), and you may even end up waiting for hours on end for someone. This is slightly different from IST (Indian Standard Time), where things will inevitably start late, because with Africa time, it may just not end up happening.
Another friend had said that risk aversion goes away in Africa: again, the unexpected becomes expected, and you just gotta go with it. Defining this actually allows otherwise frustrating situations to be rather amusing – ie: it’s okay if your cab breaks down on the side of the road, internet in the entire country is out for a couple of days, and your power goes off for 24 hours. That’s why we brought flashlights ☺
The Market
Maria suggested that we should get clothes made here – tailors are relatively cheap, and that way we could pick the fabric and dress pattern of our choice. The cloth is cut into 6 meter increments, is about 10,000 tanzanian shillings (around 7-8 USD) and it’s best to find a partner to share the fabric with = two dresses of the same fabric. Brennan and I headed to the market, a twenty-minute walk from the project house in Upanga. I half-expected to find a large mainly-empty warehouse, similar to some of the markets in Thailand, with individual stalls for vendors, and customers haggling their way down to 1/3 of the asking price.
Instead, it was a sensory overload – cars speeding through the dusty, bumpy roads at a moment’s notice, scattering walkers and loungers momentarily; shards of glass and plastic buried into the sometimes-dry-sometimes-wet ground; people unloading packages with their leathered hands; women and men carrying heaps of kg’s precariously on their heads. Brennan and I hopped from stall to stall, looking for a pattern we both liked.
In India, many market vendors are very aggressive, shouting “Madam, Madam,” after you in order to get you to purchase whatever trinket they might be selling. They will put on an offended face when you suggest a price they deem too low, but may very well end up accepting that price eventually, with a toothy grin.
It was harder to bargain here for some reason. Vendors shooed us away when our price was too low, saying it was a fixed price. Perhaps it was because we didn’t know Swahili, or maybe just because it was semi-fixed. But that seems to be the case for most things: they don’t haggle, they either like your price or they don’t.
We then went to the tailor, and gave her a dress to work with. When we got the dresses back, they were a little on the large side, but rather interesting (and followed the pattern to the T + used our measurements). Must note to mimic pattern exactly for future reference.
Instead, it was a sensory overload – cars speeding through the dusty, bumpy roads at a moment’s notice, scattering walkers and loungers momentarily; shards of glass and plastic buried into the sometimes-dry-sometimes-wet ground; people unloading packages with their leathered hands; women and men carrying heaps of kg’s precariously on their heads. Brennan and I hopped from stall to stall, looking for a pattern we both liked.
In India, many market vendors are very aggressive, shouting “Madam, Madam,” after you in order to get you to purchase whatever trinket they might be selling. They will put on an offended face when you suggest a price they deem too low, but may very well end up accepting that price eventually, with a toothy grin.
It was harder to bargain here for some reason. Vendors shooed us away when our price was too low, saying it was a fixed price. Perhaps it was because we didn’t know Swahili, or maybe just because it was semi-fixed. But that seems to be the case for most things: they don’t haggle, they either like your price or they don’t.
We then went to the tailor, and gave her a dress to work with. When we got the dresses back, they were a little on the large side, but rather interesting (and followed the pattern to the T + used our measurements). Must note to mimic pattern exactly for future reference.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Subway
The theory that all Subway sandwich shops in the world smell the same was disproven today. Pretty decent sandwich artists, but the Tanzanian Subway smells different.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Medical care
Because Dar is a base for so much of Harvard’s research, and because the GDP is seemingly higher since the cost of living is so high (rent ranges drastically, but can be as much as $4,000 / month for a 3-bedroom apartment), I had the impression that medical care would be decent in this city.
Not so – one woman spoke of how they had to take her brother to India for medical care, and some ex-pats here decided to fly to Nairobi to have their baby, since all advice they received pointed away from having a child in Dar if it could be helped.
Even though there are some trauma centers and decent private hospitals (such as Aga Khan), evidently medical care is not reliable for complicated cases (besides eye care, randomly). This is especially troublesome since Dar is the largest city in Tanzania (population = 4 million).
State College med-evac-ing complicated cases to Hershey somehow doesn’t seem as bad anymore…
Not so – one woman spoke of how they had to take her brother to India for medical care, and some ex-pats here decided to fly to Nairobi to have their baby, since all advice they received pointed away from having a child in Dar if it could be helped.
Even though there are some trauma centers and decent private hospitals (such as Aga Khan), evidently medical care is not reliable for complicated cases (besides eye care, randomly). This is especially troublesome since Dar is the largest city in Tanzania (population = 4 million).
State College med-evac-ing complicated cases to Hershey somehow doesn’t seem as bad anymore…
Monday, June 21, 2010
A ri-di, a ri-di-di
A friend has been living in Dar for several months now, and told us that she has been visiting an orphanage on Saturdays, her respite from the city and work life. Joe and I went along with her this Saturday to visit the kids.
This orphanage is about an hour north of the city, in a plot of green land away from main roads. There are about 20 kids living there, aged 5 to 14. This orphanage is a home – a glittering example of a program that works – every child had shoes, clean, new clothes, bunk beds with stuffed animals and neatly strung ITN’s. The adults running it are caring, peaceful and calm souls that welcome visitors with open arms and treat the children as their own. The kids help out in meal preparation, and rarely fight with each other.
Hanging out with kids is always refreshing, a reminder that happiness and optimism persist despite adversity and many of their extremely difficult lives up to now. This visit was no exception – the children instantly showered us with hugs, and took us towards their outside field to start the games. It was great to start to get to know them individually - at one point I met Happy, a 9 year old girl with wisdom beyond her years and a kind face and smiley eyes. In a game I was observing, she would start giggling randomly and often, especially when she got out, and I instantly bonded with her.
After a couple hours of name games, slap dilliyoso (whose words I made up when I taught the game since I don’t remember the real words – must look those up for next time), dodgeball, trampolining, “Mr. Wolf,” and hop-skotch, the kids convened together to start performing for us. They lined up obediently in height order, tied African scarves to their waists, and began an elaborate hour of singing and dancing.
Dominick, the eldest, played the drums. Each of their unique and distinctive personalities sung out as they took on solos and duos together: the three of us “mzungus” (foreigners) sat, entertained and thoroughly impressed. They sang in Swahili and English (with cute little accents), and there was no need for other instruments besides the drum for beat. They then tried to teach us their moves – African dancing is definitely harder than it looks, as Kopal had warned me, as is drumming: ojala que hope is not lost and I can learn some decent beats from them this summer.
Afterwards they told us to perform for them, and the three of us looked from one to the other, searching hopelessly for an upbeat song that we knew all of the lyrics to. We tried a couple of choruses from Bon Jovi and Journey, deciding Lady Gaga or other pop songs were probably not the most appropriate. One failure of my education up to now is teaching me how to perform on the spot. Let me know if you have any suggestions of child appropriate English songs – we were thinking “You are my Sunshine” might be good for next week.
We tried to re-create the dance moves throughout the weekend following our visit (singing the “a ri-di, a ri-di-di” chant of theirs): one was similar to “the sprinkler,” and another looked a little bit like the can-can, but with more hip, but we need a few more lessons to get them down.
While the orphanage runs well, there are reminders that funding is always a problem – they had to get rid of security recently, something that costs under 100 USD a month. This is pretty troublesome since security is needed throughout Dar.
This orphanage is about an hour north of the city, in a plot of green land away from main roads. There are about 20 kids living there, aged 5 to 14. This orphanage is a home – a glittering example of a program that works – every child had shoes, clean, new clothes, bunk beds with stuffed animals and neatly strung ITN’s. The adults running it are caring, peaceful and calm souls that welcome visitors with open arms and treat the children as their own. The kids help out in meal preparation, and rarely fight with each other.
Hanging out with kids is always refreshing, a reminder that happiness and optimism persist despite adversity and many of their extremely difficult lives up to now. This visit was no exception – the children instantly showered us with hugs, and took us towards their outside field to start the games. It was great to start to get to know them individually - at one point I met Happy, a 9 year old girl with wisdom beyond her years and a kind face and smiley eyes. In a game I was observing, she would start giggling randomly and often, especially when she got out, and I instantly bonded with her.
After a couple hours of name games, slap dilliyoso (whose words I made up when I taught the game since I don’t remember the real words – must look those up for next time), dodgeball, trampolining, “Mr. Wolf,” and hop-skotch, the kids convened together to start performing for us. They lined up obediently in height order, tied African scarves to their waists, and began an elaborate hour of singing and dancing.
Dominick, the eldest, played the drums. Each of their unique and distinctive personalities sung out as they took on solos and duos together: the three of us “mzungus” (foreigners) sat, entertained and thoroughly impressed. They sang in Swahili and English (with cute little accents), and there was no need for other instruments besides the drum for beat. They then tried to teach us their moves – African dancing is definitely harder than it looks, as Kopal had warned me, as is drumming: ojala que hope is not lost and I can learn some decent beats from them this summer.
Afterwards they told us to perform for them, and the three of us looked from one to the other, searching hopelessly for an upbeat song that we knew all of the lyrics to. We tried a couple of choruses from Bon Jovi and Journey, deciding Lady Gaga or other pop songs were probably not the most appropriate. One failure of my education up to now is teaching me how to perform on the spot. Let me know if you have any suggestions of child appropriate English songs – we were thinking “You are my Sunshine” might be good for next week.
We tried to re-create the dance moves throughout the weekend following our visit (singing the “a ri-di, a ri-di-di” chant of theirs): one was similar to “the sprinkler,” and another looked a little bit like the can-can, but with more hip, but we need a few more lessons to get them down.
While the orphanage runs well, there are reminders that funding is always a problem – they had to get rid of security recently, something that costs under 100 USD a month. This is pretty troublesome since security is needed throughout Dar.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Strangers and Islands
We were talking about personality traits the other night, and Joe recapped this game he played with monks while staying at their convent in Korea:
“You were in a storm and land on a random island: you don’t know where you are, and you don’t know if anyone lives on the island.
1) You come across an apple tree and are hungry; you also don’t know if you’ll be able to come back to the tree later. How many apples do you take?
2) You then come to a house in the middle of nowhere. Describe the door on the house as you visualize it in your head – is it open, closed, what does it look like?
3) You manage to get inside of the house and you see something dart by the window, what was it?
4) What do you do then - Do you decide to stay, come up with the plan, leave the house etc?
5) You go back to revisit it and notice a trunk full of candles. You stay in the house for the night – how many candles do you light?”
Your answers to the questions are supposed to reveal personality traits. How many apples you take apparently is indicative of how you deal with finances / money, whether the door is open reveals how open you are to strangers, or how open you think they are to you. The answer to 4 represents how you make a decision, and how many candles you light evidently represents the number of people you are willing to let into your life.
Not sure if all of my responses accurately depict my traits regarding these questions, but I think my answer to the door question pretty accurately represents how open I am to complete strangers – I described a rustic red door (bright but with peeling paint) and a brass handle, that was mainly shut but was propped a little bit open and could swing open or closed at any time depending on how it was pushed. Read: a little intrinsically cautious, but open to people given the right circumstances.
Tanzanians have been pretty friendly so far – they have pointed me in the right direction, taken me to the bank, phone store etc that I was looking for, don’t usually take advantage of the fact that I’m clearly directionally challenged when deciding what cab fare to charge me. Co-workers in the City Council regularly make each other coffee, peel vegetables and fruits for everyone to share, let me use the special toilet (western style), and chat cheerily throughout the day, bringing together co-workers of all ages, levels, and both genders.
Last week, we also got the chance to meet the head of the Tanzanian Joint Finance Commission, through contacts of a woman my mom met at the State College Indian grocery store. He was very friendly, and even welcomed us to visit in Zanzibar. This was something I’m pretty sure is rare in most countries, indicating a sense of openness and friendliness.
Ex-pats, a common sight on the Peninsula and many bars, have also been pretty friendly and easy to meet as well, perhaps because we usually go out in big groups. They are here for a plethora of reasons – working for non-profits, for-profits; teaching, micro-finance, etc. Many of the people we meet are public-health or policy related as well.
“You were in a storm and land on a random island: you don’t know where you are, and you don’t know if anyone lives on the island.
1) You come across an apple tree and are hungry; you also don’t know if you’ll be able to come back to the tree later. How many apples do you take?
2) You then come to a house in the middle of nowhere. Describe the door on the house as you visualize it in your head – is it open, closed, what does it look like?
3) You manage to get inside of the house and you see something dart by the window, what was it?
4) What do you do then - Do you decide to stay, come up with the plan, leave the house etc?
5) You go back to revisit it and notice a trunk full of candles. You stay in the house for the night – how many candles do you light?”
Your answers to the questions are supposed to reveal personality traits. How many apples you take apparently is indicative of how you deal with finances / money, whether the door is open reveals how open you are to strangers, or how open you think they are to you. The answer to 4 represents how you make a decision, and how many candles you light evidently represents the number of people you are willing to let into your life.
Not sure if all of my responses accurately depict my traits regarding these questions, but I think my answer to the door question pretty accurately represents how open I am to complete strangers – I described a rustic red door (bright but with peeling paint) and a brass handle, that was mainly shut but was propped a little bit open and could swing open or closed at any time depending on how it was pushed. Read: a little intrinsically cautious, but open to people given the right circumstances.
Tanzanians have been pretty friendly so far – they have pointed me in the right direction, taken me to the bank, phone store etc that I was looking for, don’t usually take advantage of the fact that I’m clearly directionally challenged when deciding what cab fare to charge me. Co-workers in the City Council regularly make each other coffee, peel vegetables and fruits for everyone to share, let me use the special toilet (western style), and chat cheerily throughout the day, bringing together co-workers of all ages, levels, and both genders.
Last week, we also got the chance to meet the head of the Tanzanian Joint Finance Commission, through contacts of a woman my mom met at the State College Indian grocery store. He was very friendly, and even welcomed us to visit in Zanzibar. This was something I’m pretty sure is rare in most countries, indicating a sense of openness and friendliness.
Ex-pats, a common sight on the Peninsula and many bars, have also been pretty friendly and easy to meet as well, perhaps because we usually go out in big groups. They are here for a plethora of reasons – working for non-profits, for-profits; teaching, micro-finance, etc. Many of the people we meet are public-health or policy related as well.
World Travelers
Watching the world cup incessantly (and the World Cup’s official K’Naan song) makes the world seem so much smaller, and everyone so much more similar.
We re-watched another youtube video this morning, “Where the hell is Matt?,” and I remembered how adorable it was. This guy travels all over and dances with random passer-by-ers in each city. Perhaps dancing and smiling is all it takes to speak the universal language – Esperanto really isn’t needed.
And, little reminders that news travels and that the world is all really one big place persist: a co-worker was reading an article about “Deadly Star Wars Lifesavers in the UK” this morning. Another Tanzanian was wearing a cowboy shirt and hat to work.
We re-watched another youtube video this morning, “Where the hell is Matt?,” and I remembered how adorable it was. This guy travels all over and dances with random passer-by-ers in each city. Perhaps dancing and smiling is all it takes to speak the universal language – Esperanto really isn’t needed.
And, little reminders that news travels and that the world is all really one big place persist: a co-worker was reading an article about “Deadly Star Wars Lifesavers in the UK” this morning. Another Tanzanian was wearing a cowboy shirt and hat to work.
The Battle with the Mbu
My impression was that mosquitoes (“mbu” in Swahili) would not be as big of a problem right now – we are in a city, and rainy season has just passed. Additionally, malaria incidence/year in Dar es Salaam is around 5%, versus 25% or more in other regions of Tanzania. However, that doesn’t mean that malaria doesn’t exist, or that mosquitoes aren’t a problem. A roommate in our house got malaria just last week (albeit a milder version since she’s on anti-malarials), and Tanzanians I have talked to here says pretty much everyone has had multiple bouts. Also, 95% of the mosquitoes we see don’t carry the malaria parasite, but many of them are carriers for lymphatic filariasis, a condition that can cause swelling of body parts by (cutting off blood circulation).
On Monday, I awoke to a mosquito angrily buzzing straight into my ear, and noticed 17 mosquito bites on one elbow alone. Clearly the electrocuting racket (which I first saw in my uncle’s house in Calcutta) we were using before bedtime and the rather older bednets weren’t working. Swarms of mosquitoes infested the house around dusk, and even though all of us heavily apply the local roll-on mosquito repellant, something more had to be done. Shouting “DIE MOSQUITO, DIE” also seemed to have no effect, surprisingly.
We decided it was time to change the bednets in the house. Joe went out and bought brand new insecticide treated bednets – we were sure we outsmarted them this time, being Public Health practitioners and all. I was looking forward to passing out last night, sure to find dead mosquitoes lying on the net in the morning.
Unfortunately, that was not the case - a finger was swollen this morning from bites; still can’t entirely bend it. Perhaps it was because the corners of the net were not entirely tucked in. Also, even though we google-translated the bednet packaging, it’s possible the insecticide hasn’t yet been applied, which is why they included mini-packets of the treatment with the bednet. Yet another reason to learn practical Swahili... But even if the net was insecticide treated, mosquitoes would have to sit on it for a rather long time for it to take effect.
At least we get to see first hand how complex combating malaria is…
On Monday, I awoke to a mosquito angrily buzzing straight into my ear, and noticed 17 mosquito bites on one elbow alone. Clearly the electrocuting racket (which I first saw in my uncle’s house in Calcutta) we were using before bedtime and the rather older bednets weren’t working. Swarms of mosquitoes infested the house around dusk, and even though all of us heavily apply the local roll-on mosquito repellant, something more had to be done. Shouting “DIE MOSQUITO, DIE” also seemed to have no effect, surprisingly.
We decided it was time to change the bednets in the house. Joe went out and bought brand new insecticide treated bednets – we were sure we outsmarted them this time, being Public Health practitioners and all. I was looking forward to passing out last night, sure to find dead mosquitoes lying on the net in the morning.
Unfortunately, that was not the case - a finger was swollen this morning from bites; still can’t entirely bend it. Perhaps it was because the corners of the net were not entirely tucked in. Also, even though we google-translated the bednet packaging, it’s possible the insecticide hasn’t yet been applied, which is why they included mini-packets of the treatment with the bednet. Yet another reason to learn practical Swahili... But even if the net was insecticide treated, mosquitoes would have to sit on it for a rather long time for it to take effect.
At least we get to see first hand how complex combating malaria is…
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Karibu, karibu
Since this is the first time I'm having to work or study in a country without knowing the language, I bought the Swahili Rosetta Stone before coming, hoping it would allow me to get around, order some food and at least give me a little street cred. The program is pretty fun, and the CD case boasts that it's so fun you won't be able to stop (sort of like the pringles of computer programs). I know phrases like, "mvulana chini ndege," "boy under airplane," and "wanamke wanasoma," "women reading." I even can say "small umbrella," "mwavuli mdogo."
However, I unfortunately haven't gotten to the practical section yet. So, when I stopped by at my first day at the Dar City Council yesterday, I was greeted by my supervisor with "karibu," "welcome." Instead of saying "thank you," or "hello," my reflexes went with "karibu." The room erupted in giggles. Goal for the week: useful phrase building.
And Joe just got here!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Where am I, exactly?
As we exited the plane in Dar es Salaam, a passenger in front of me commented, "There's that heat!" Suddenly, I couldn't help comparing it to landing in India, feeling that rush of warmth you feel when you land in a tropical climate, that inescapable heat mixed with humidity and all the smells associated with the country in question.
Entering the airport perpetuated the comparison. There was a mad rush to fill out the entry card and forms, and begin to stand in that never-ending mosh of impatient travelers wishing to get their visa and begin their journey. A young man slyly sidled in front of me in the mosh, keeping his eyes on the visa windows and avoiding eye contact. I looked at the dark passport he clutched in his hands - "Republic of India." I smiled a little bit internally, picturing the same scene in the Delhi airport.
An airport official then came over to me, pointing at the visa application of an elderly man of South Asian descent, indicating they wished to know if I had seen the man. I shook my head, slightly perplexed - no, I had not seen the man, why wasn't he asking anyone else around me? Another woman came over a couple minutes later, "Is this your father," she asked?
I found the driver sent to pick me up as I exited the airport, shaking my head at the eager taxi drivers wishing to pick up another customer. We began the journey to Upanga, known as the "Indian neighborhood," to the research house of a friends I will be staying at for the first few days. "How does Indian food sound tonight?" they asked. "Perfect!" I replied.
When we got to dinner, I began to confuse my surroundings - a cement paved outside seating area, full of Indian patrons. The menu looked authentic, and included pav bhaji and other unmistakably Indian appetizers. While men of Tanzanian descent took our orders, Indian families chatted and chuckled around us. But it wasn't until I was lying under my mosquito net later that night, listening to "Vande Mataram" blare on the seemingly neighborhood-wide speakers that I began questioning where I was, and how small the world of ours truly is.
Regardless, I am excited to begin my journey today, and discover all that is distinctly Tanzanian.
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