The Arusha Market...January, 21, 2014 ....Hell.

I wrote this back in January, right after we got back from our trip to the Arusha market. I would maybe be able to handle what happened now a lot better then I did then, but it is still stressful even reading it. I decided to post it and then my response I wrote the other night while avoiding a paper. Enjoy! It is written a lot like a journal entry, and I apologize for bad grammar or odd spellings... Just think of it in the context that I am extremely creative or something like that. :P

The market was crowded and dusty smelling. The heat  beat mercerlously down and reminded me of the hottest days of summer. The moment we stepped off the dala we were spectacles. Stares from all directions we fallowed our guide quickly into the collection of fabric stores. Like mosquitoes to a light they were upon us. Pushing this way and that  “madam, Madam, I give you good price!” With a hand on my shoulder one man pushed cajolingly “ Hey madam, good fabric special price!” “Hey madam!” The sound was deafening, the barrage of market men over whelming and my heart began to pound as I indecisively clung to one person or another in my group trying to make my already awful decision making skills help me pick something without being ripped off. Due to inflation the prices were fairly cheap regardless of what I was suppose to buy, I was told that kitenges for making dresses could be anywhere from 10-40 thousand shillings, but the merchants would try to rip you off as much as he could...  I am still becoming accustomed to the idea that prices are barganable, but I am not sure when it is exactly appropriate and I feel very uneducated in my idea of looking for quality things. And being pushed in so many directions by merchants doesn’t help.  I finally chose a blue fabric that I loved, though the man was so pushy it was uncomfortable and started putting it in a sack before I had even said yes. The next one I bought took a few minutes and the people were not as pushy but master salesmen. 25K seemed expensive to me but we had to leave and I was losing my patients and at this point did not want to return there.  I spent a total of 40k, which is not too much but I still feel I spent a lot. I will need to improve my Swahili, that is for certain. After practically running out of that place we walked through the crowded streets to the tailors. People stared and I kept looking at my feet so as not to trip on the bumpy roads and crumbling sidewalks.  We got to the tailors and then all decided that we should go back to Kundayo (the pace we are staying) and use the local tailor Mazo ( the owner of Kundayo)  knew.  But, on our way back someone decided we  should walk through the food market. 

Shouting, yelling, gasoline, fish, and rotting vegetables, all saturated with the smell of human sweat and covered in dust is what we were greeted by. We walked down some steps between two buildings and into a very crowded food market, the ceiling was low and the isles were crowded and we tried to make it through as quickly as we could. Pushing through people and being approached. I could feel eyes, which to be honest has become normal, but the constant barrage is not fun. We passed through an area with mounds of tiny dried fish. Mounds piled on tables, baskets over flowing on the ground; these little fish were everywhere and the smell was as foul as could be. My gag reflex is generally very controllable due to years of working in manure filled barns and such, but I was not prepared for this. This brought back memories of the meal the other night with the fish. Ugali (basically millet flour and water in a sticky cooked substance which is good… But it is often paired with a sauce made with meat and in our case… Tiny dried fish…)  I found myself thinking how being a vegetarian seems very appealing.  As soon as we were through that section we went past grains and then fruit. As we passed through the fruit a man lay unconscious, his head bleeding and in a position that represented strongly that he did not lay upon the ground in such a manner by choice. The blood dripped from a small gash in his face and a fly or two was already upon his face. Shocked I wasn’t sure what to think, and I was sure he was dead. (Apperantly he was breathing according to our professors, however I saw no movement) Lilly our guide said he was probably a thief, and thieves were not tolerated here. Obviously. While I don’t feel bad for the man’s crime I am still in a bit of shock about whole situation. Over stimulus, overwhelming, and my head racing we headed to the dala dala station. Where things proceeded to worsen. A man wanting our business kicked a dala full of people out so he could have our business, men urged us to get in but I felt sick. The people stared; my heart broke for the perhaps 80 year old woman who stood confused on the street. I tried to say “pole” as we passed but I couldn’t help but feel awful. People stared, looks of discust and dislike for “ wazungu” permeated their faces and I don’t blame them for a second. I felt like a disgusting human being.  I had been put above someone else; I had been played off as an ignorant, wealthy white girl who was above another individual, and for this matter many individuals.  I felt sick, and still do thinking about it. I feel hated today. And I never want to do that to someone again. I am not better than anyone else on that dala. Especially that poor old woman. My heart breaks.

I wish I could go a day or two with a different skin color, not stared at, not a spectacle, be a person here. Not some circus show. It pains me to know that I will never fit in, even though someday I may know perfect Swahili, I will still have the mzungu prejudice. It brings to my eyes some new perspectives of the minorities in the USA. We so often stereotype and treat people accordingly, but now having been a minority myself I can certainly feel ashamed at how I so often am cruel without intention. It needs to stop. I need to be aware. Today was over whelming and over stimulating, but is humbling I need to think more. I need to be a better person.

January 21^st 2014.

April 19^th 2014

Wow, reading this I can certainly say it is true. I hated that day, and I still do. Now I know a bit more of the situation, but it still makes me sick. We almost refuse to go out in large groups now, the ideal number to be safe and not hassled is 3, but up to five is faily comfortable and here in Dar it almost doesn’t matter.  My Swahili is to the point that I can have a very basic conversation. People now smile when I try to speak Swahili and are genuinely pleased when I know more than the average white girl. I have learned a lot these past 3 and a half months. One of the biggest lessons is that people are people everywhere. It doesn’t matter if they speak differently, act differently, view the world in a way you had never thought of, speak a different language, eat weird food… I could go on and on… But people are people, all people smile, laugh, get annoyed… Everyone deserves respect, something I think we so often take for granted when we are in our comfort zones, and something we often forget to give to those who are different to us; and respect is something not just categorized as ‘not being overtly rascist’ or whatever. Respect is something that happens when you treat someone and their way of life and opinions how you would like your own to be treated. It is that golden rule, it is watching what you say, and how you say it. It is being culturally sensitive and knowing that you really are not always right no matter how educated, privileged, or cultured you all. Just because you can speak the language of a place does not mean you are better than those who do not understand your own, nor does it mean that you are any better than anyone else. Because when it gets right down to it, you are no better than the person next to you on the bus, no different than the person who cut you off in traffic, none of your important business is more important than anyone else’s. You never have a right to make someone feel like they are less than a person than yourself. I have found that throughout this trip people assume that I am a privileged white American girl with money who is here to help Africa. Which is not the case, I am privileged, I have had an amazing life by any standards. It has not always been easy, but I have nothing to complain about. And even though I was raised never worrying about food being on the table, or just because I am new to a place that is much different than the place I grew up… Really whatever it is, I have no right to be more respected than anyone else. I am just a person, and we are just all people. It seems trivial and repetitive to reiterate that, but honestly I have discovered that we as people assume we deserve so much, and that we are entitled to something just because we can justify it… But honestly we are no more entitled to anything than the next person. Whether they be male, female, from China, from Africa, gay, strait, vegan, carnivore, atheist, Hindu, Muslim, Christian… You get the picture…We are no different, and we deserve no less respect. So, just some thoughts on life… Okay, I really need to work on my paper now.

Greeted by a chorus of angels… I must be in the right place.

Wrote this a few days ago, but am just now in Wifi land sooo... Yep. 

Well the first week of Dar was a whirl wind, but wonderful despite the flooding, traffic, and expensive frozen yogurt. Traveler’s note frozen yogurt in Dar es Salaam is horrendously expensive… Just buy the Carmellos from the Azam carts. Anyways, Allie and I are roommates now and we live with Mama Christine and Baba Reverend John.  Mama Christine picked us up at the hotel and met us with the biggest smile and a warm hug, she was so excited to see us! We got to the car and loaded our things in the car, before going to our nyumba (home) we took Chris to his house. As we were dropping off Chris our driver introduced himself as Francis and our Mama insisted one of us ride in the front because we were special guests. As the traffic crawled by the sky darkened and we got home about 7:30. Upon opening the car door I was certain we were in the right place with the right family. I mean, come on… God couldn’t have yelled “ YOU WILL LOVE IT HERE!” any louder. There was a chorus of angels singing hallelujah! … Okay well apparently it was just the choir practicing, but you know you must be in the right place if you are greeted with angel’s singing… At least I would assume so, but so far that has not been proven wrong. The family here is so kind, our host mama and baba are the happiest kindest people I think I have ever met. Our baba is a priest at the Anglican Church we live at and our mama teaches primary school. Our baba’s mama also lives in our house and I am faily certain she only knows Swahili, but every morning she comes out of her room and greets us and has the biggest smile on her face… And for 83 years old she looks amazing! No walking stick, nothing! Just a little slow… But so sweet! We also have 3 dada’s (house girls) which is very common in Africa. One of the girls is our host parent’s grandchild Flora who is maybe 13ish (It is very common for relatives or grandchildren to work for family. The family generally also pays for the girl’s school and what not) There is also Jesica who is a relative in some way and also about 13ish, and a new girl who is maybe ten whose name I have yet to catch. They are a hoot, and so kind. They always come and say hello when we get home and even though they do house work (Mama is gone for work from 7 am -7pm almost every day) they are most definitely family.

  While I am not sure exactly how old our host parents are, Allie and I describe them as ‘grandparent aged’, and I already feel like a fully loved adopted grandchild. They have 4 biological children in addition to Allie and myself, all of which are already moved out. The first two are twin girls one of which has five children a set of triplets and then a set of twins.(Twins and trips most definitely run in this family!)  She was or is a teacher, I am not sure. The other twin was a teacher and is now running an NGO, and then the other ( I think a man) is a lawyer, and the youngest who is a year older than Allie and I and came to meet us the other day is finishing up his law degree at a university here in Dar. Our host parents speak English remarkably well, and seem to have an understanding of the language that even allows them to pick up on nuances of humor (Which is amazing because normally humor doesn’t translate cross lingual lines) Our baba has been an Anglican Priest for many years and spent 3 years at a parish in Venice… ( How cool is that!???) He was telling us the other night how Venice has no cars, and lots of boats with too many people. He also showed us a book about Venice churches, which makes me want to go there more than ever now.

They feed us here ridiculously well and thus far the food has been far healthier than anywhere else we have been. Less oil, more options, and less bread and flour (Thank God!) Everyday mama asks us what we would like for dinner, and what our favorite foods are and she says she is very excited to learn how we cook. Allie and I are trying to figure out a good time to make American food for the family, Dar has so many options it seems we can get anything we would like!  So we are trying to make our food unique food that our family wouldn’t be able to get otherwise which is a harder feat than we had originally anticipated… But I am sure we will figure it out!

Allie and I have our own beds (first time since being here in Africa) and a fan… J J J (You have no idea how amazing those things are.) The church is a good ten meters from our room and every night from about 5-8 sometimes later or earlier there is the choir singing.  To be perfectly honest I pretty much feel like I live in an African Anglican twist on the sound of music… Without the 7 children, the nuns, and Julie Andrews…  So, I guess more of I feel like I live in an African Anglican Sound of Music Church… But anyways, Allie and I love it here, our host mama and baba seem to really love us to and love asking questions about our lives in the US and about our families. Our driver Francis is awesome and always happy to see us. He picks us up at about 8 am every morning and picks us up between 3 and 5 every afternoon depending on traffic. The only annoying part about Dar is the traffic… But traffic is universally annoying and generally found in big cities… So it is only to be expected… But in Dar it is especially bad, and with the flooding lately it is awful.  Oh, story time!!!

 So last week we were stuck in traffic for 4 hours (our normal commute can be as quick as 15 minutes) with some other students and at about hour 2.5 we were all starving so our professor bought us and Francis ice cream from one of the carts that are driving through the grid locked traffic… We also watched the Hunger Games on Allie’s Ipad while we waited and munched on our ice cream. A while after that Francis bought us cashews from another street vender (which are way better than cashews in the US… Just sayin) and in another hour or so… we were home. I must admit, it was probably one of the most enjoyable 4 hour traffic jams I have ever been stuck in.

Well, I think that about sums up what I wanted to say… and to be more honest… I am avoiding writing one of my papers for class… So really this is a nearly justifiable way of procrastinating on homework and a way to keep the world updated on my trip… Which only has I think what, 18 days left? Time moves too quickly…. :p

African Easter Sunday

I would be lying if I say I didn’t miss the Easter Party and copious amount of chocolate and pie from back home… But Easter in Africa is pretty amazing. We attended the church service at the church by our house, and it is probably one of my favorite services ever! Not only was the coir music incredible, but the church was beautiful, and listening to hymns and choir pieces in Swahili is so interesting. From what I got from the message and from what our host mama interpreted for us it was a similar message to your average Easter service sermon, but with more of an emphasis on how Easter is also a time to spend with your family. Allie and I also got to introduce ourselves to the giant congregation… Somehow I wound up going first and in front of about 4 or 5 hundred people I stumbled through very basic introduction…  Habari za asabuhi. Jina langu Andrea, ninatoka Mericani, sijui Kiswahili… I am a student  and here in Tanzania I am studying African culture, history, politics, and Kiswahili…. Right after I said it I realized I know all of those words in Swahili… *facepalm moment* But my host family and the church secretary later told me and Allie that they were so happy we tried, so I guess it is the thought that counts! Anyways, after church we hung out with our host family and low and behold… THE TV HAS CARTOON NETWORK, DISNEY CHANNEL, AND OTHER CHANNELS WITH HAWAII 5-0 AND FRIENDS! Allie and I were thrilled and our host parents thought it was hilarious. We only found this out because our host parents eldest daughter was visiting with her family and the kids were watching tv shows… Also, I was wrong before… She has a set of twin boys, a single boy, and triplets 2 girls and a boy… All under the age of ten… If there were ever super parents… Those were them. I commend and am in awe of those parents… Though in all honesty the kids seemed really well behaved, as most African children are. Mama says we will be visiting them on the 1^st of May, which I am very excited for! Before the family left Allie and I ran into our room and got the few little gifts we had for children, when we came out everyone was looking at us… We then attempted to explain that in America we have an Easter bunny (probably the most confusing tradition to explain)… Thank goodness our host parents had had the explanation last night and their daughter already knew about it, other-wise that explanation could have been terribly long and awkward. The kids loved the bubbles and toy cars and everyone was thrilled with the gifts. When the family left, Allie and I spent an hour or two planning our lives and getting everything in order and making lists… And watching friends and Hawaii 5-0… After the 1960’s Jesus’s life and works special dubbed in Swahili of course. After that we had lunch… Pilau and nyama… Aka PIlau ( a mix of seasonsings) seasoned rice, and meat. With a tomato and red onion salad. Traditional African Easter food!!! Soooo good! The rest of the way was filled with homework… Which we still have not finished… It is looking like it will be another day of hunkering down and essay writing, job applications, and movies… and sleeping. Not a bad day if you ask me but I am looking forward to Tuesday and moving and walking. At dinner we came out and chatted with our host brother who had come to visit, he is a 21 year old law student and was really interested in the school system in the US, and was wondering if things were really like in the movies. It was great, after dinner which was pilau and ndizi mbichi ( raw banana stew.. I promise it is nothing like it sounds… It is amazing) we talked for a while until he left and then Allie and I stayed up late working on applications…. We also each got a little hershey’s Minnie that Allie and saved from her America candy stock pile and was kind enough to share, we also got to read Easter letter’s from family. It was an amazing day! 

Story Time: Natural Disasters, Refugees, and Peanut Butter

… My intro to Dar es Salaam.

So, I have been in a rural village since the 5^th of April, so I must admit I am a tad totally confused as to what day it actually is, and when exactly everything happened in the last 3 days… Wait, what happened? Oh, right, I didn’t mention that yet… Well, I kind of got to witness first hand a natural disaster… I also got to get a taste for what refugees feel like… and I may or may not have eaten almost an entire jar of peanut butter for dinner… Also as of this moment have been unable to have any internet communication for about 10 days now, which to be honest I absolutely love… Though, I really needed to post another blog post or two and get caught up on emails for housing situations next year for school… So blah, oh well anyhoo… Here we go.

I will explain the rural village in another post but will currently write about our experience getting from Lushoto to Dar es Salaam, so now… Story time.

We set out from the Mountain View Lodge ( or whatever it was called… Basically, hotel like place in the most spectacular mountains I have ever seen… J  ) at about 8 am in a hope to beat the rain and with prayers that the bus would actually be able to make it out of the mountains on the muddy roads… With only one problem hill and three or four tries we made it to the pavement… Where we blew another tire. Now, I say another because the previous day the bus had been attempting to pick us up from our hike, wound up in a ditch and with the help of some amazing people (African’s are seriously some of the most helpful amazing people ever!) The bus was fine, excluding the fact that one of the tires was flat. So now here we all are a bunch of wazungu and a bus with two completely flat tires and an amazing bus driver (I say amazing because he seriously helped protect our lives)… Some kind people stopped their public transport bus to help us and after the jack was working, the tires were rotated, and many laughs were had at the fact that we were stuck in the most beautiful place possible and that it could be much worse ( Someone really should have knocked on some wood…) We all headed down to town. Once in town we bought some sodas and meandered around trying to get really good deals on fruit while the bus was in repair. Once on the road again we were all in happy care free moods… Even us sickies (Yes! Big surprise… I was sick... Again... Though this time it was a horrible cold… Which was new…) were fairly happy. We were all excited for the infamous Dar es Salaam and one of the final journeys on our trip. I am so thankful now we were so light hearted with the situation. What would turn into the next 12 hours in the car together would be probably some of the most tolerant waiting that I would experience in my life. Anyways so we carried on, we watched horrible Swahili soap operas, Matilda, and had some pretty interesting conversations. As we got closer to Dar we began to see giant public transport buses pulled over to the side of the road, not just one or two either. There were at least 15 or twenty in this one small area. Our bus driver found out that the road to Dar was flooded, near the one bridge over the river. Apparently the flooding was bad enough that no one was being allowed to cross, we figured that the best thing to do would be to carry on even though we figured we might get stuck. Which we did. Not more than an hour out of that town we hit a wall of traffic in grid lock. People were all getting out of their buses and walking around, the small town next to the road was partially flooded, but among the mud and puddles people were selling food like mad, bananas, cashews, soda, clothes… It was a bit crazy. At about hour 1 we decided to go out in search of bathroom facilities… We found some bushes that over looked a flooded field that were sufficient for our needs… On the slight downside it was right near the road… So that was a little awkward, but non the less very manageable. A while after that a few of us crossed the road to walk around, it was amazing, we were stared at a lot but I think I remember only one person calling “ Wazungu!” at us, and it may even had been a child. Everyone was being kind to one another, everyone was on the same playing field, ex-pats, Africans, Indians, Asian, and us… We were all waiting for the road to be passable… At about hour 2.5… Or maybe 3… I am not exactly sure due to my benedrill induced sleeping like state (in an attempt to make my cold allergy symptoms go away I took some benedrill) trucks and buses began to come from the other direction… An hour or two later our life finally began to move. There was so much commotion, people were yelling, they were so happy! We found out later that some had been waiting since 8 am that morning to cross… We were able to drive for maybe another hour or so until we were stopped again. This time for only an hour or so, but due to a lack of bushes we made a handy makeshift bathroom out of blankets…

 It was about 12 am then… and it was at about this time I ate a good portion of the jar of peanut butter I had had in my bag… No shame. Anyways, we would be stopping once or twice more before we actually got over the bridge and into the ‘Danger Zone’ ( Cue song) as we got closer I could begin to see the magnitiude of the flood. The road was raised slightly and to either side water was within a meter of the pavement. Trees and houses were partially submerged and as we drove closer to Dar I noticed that there were portions of the water that seemed to be rushing from under the road… It took a moment for me to realize that we had long since passed the bridge and this surging water was coming from one side of the road to the other… By way of UNDER THE ROAD…. What may have once been small drain pipes under the road had now become eroded water channels. The water gushed right under the pavement… We got a call from the Vintons ( The family we stayed with at the Lodge) who said they were watching it all from their TV, it was a huge disaster people were lined up for miles and miles and the situation was just looking worse and worse. As time went on the nervous tension among us and among all of the drivers on the road seemed to be rising. About a half hour driving at a stop and go pace on this road that seemed to be quite literally having its foundation of dirt washed away as we drove on it we arrived at what I would call the pinnacle of the adventure… The road before us was covered in 6 inches ( or more) or rushing water. The sides of the road could be marked by the eroded broken concrete jutting up as the water poured over it. To the right of the road I could make out 2 trucks (There was also a car, but I guess I didn’t see it) I am not sure how long that part of our drive was but I knew that I was wide awake and completely alert. Being from Oregon I have seen flooding before, but I have never really been so nervous as to question if I would make it out of a situation… We were in actual danger, the road could actually be washed out at any moment… Even though my mind was rushing with the possibilities… I was stunned. It was so like nothing I have ever seen that I don’t think my words here can do it justice… Thanking God, we made it out safely and about 2 hours later we arrive at our hotel at about 4 am and after unloading the bus and carrying luggage up 5 flights of stairs I was passed out in a bed…  In Dar es Salaam, the biggest city in Tanzania… We later calculated how long we had been traveling and we figure dthat we actually spent more time with that bus than we did in the air getting to Africa… It was crazy… But an amazing experience. Even though we had 4 fairly sick people, and 12+ hours of sitting waiting for the road to be clear enough to proceed we have 0 complaints, no bickering, no snapping, no whining… It was amazing. Kudos to all the people on this trip, I really don’t think 3 months ago we would have been able to handle such an event… Our patience and tolerance astounded me… And not just ours, most every person I saw with the exception of one bus driver rushing and pushing passed other cars were patient and supportive. There was no fighting, no rioting, no violence… Somehow I don’t think it would have happened like that in the U.S… It certainly makes you think. It also gives me some more faith in humanity…

Here is a picture of the flooding we walked through today in town. More pictures to come.