The Apology

Wednesday October 31^st

The frustration at not being able to check emails etc finally got too much today and so, after teaching Form I how to use a protractor and then wait until two other people had used it, I decided a visit to the Internet Hut was called for.  Having seen both the headmaster, Mr Masue, and Mr Mmari riding off on the back of motorbikes I asked if there was a number for the local Action Bike’s.  Mr Mmari rang his next door neighbour, whose son is a willing chauffeur, and after an agreed price of 60p, I mounted the back of his bike for the journey to Pangani.  The words Babu and ‘Pole pole’ soon came out and he very carefully transported me down THE HILL and on the way to the Internet.

Having arrived their safely and found, of all people, Denis in there collating some photos, I did what was required on the net, paid my 40p and left.  I decided the easiest way to get back was to walk to the market, where some of the local bikers gathered, and get a lift.  I tried the stationers first, but still no coloured ink in the printer, so it was a sweltering walk to the market.  On the way I saw the couple in the photo below together in their sewing, using a couple of machines that are very common in Pangani and with the electricity problems I’d been having, I couldn't blame them for keeping it green.  Another photo I've got to print out as ‘payment’ for allowing me to snoop on their lives.

I eventually arrived at the market and entered at the same corner as ‘The Salon’ and who should be outside but my friendly barber.  I went over, lowered my head, and contritely said, “Pole sana” (I’m very sorry) and explained what Denis had told me (in pigeon Swahili).  This awakened his memory of the humour of the occasion and in true Tanzanian fashion he kept clapping his hand down on mine as we reminisced on our previous meeting.  By the time I could drag myself away, the heat in my hand had nothing to do with the sun.

I quickly found that, not surprisingly, the journey back up THE HILL is more expensive than the trip down and even after attempting to play one rider off against another I couldn't barter the price down from Tsh2 000 (80p) so I mounted for the return journey.  The engines of the local bikes are not very big and I am sure the owner wondered if he should have asked for more shillingi as he approached the school and dropped from 3^rd gear to 2^nd  and finally to 1^st as he struggled with this large muzungu on the back.  The round trip was money well spent and certainly beat repeating the climb I had already faced once today.

Upon returning home I found Vicky at the door, with the weighing scales out, bartering with two of the local fishermen, and when I looked at the table, I knew kuku and beef were off the menu yet again.

Baadaye

  

The Internet and electricity

Tuesday October 31^st

I’m having mega problems with technology at the moment.  I have broken the screen on my laptop, as you know, so have to work in my bedroom with a projection on the wall.  The electricity is such at the moment that I sometimes wonder if I’m sitting in a disco with a strobe light on, although to be fair I think part of the problem is the angle grinder and welder that the workmen are using.  And then today the internet gave up the ghost and said my dongle/modem could not connect.  As they say life is a beach and I might as well be sitting on it instead of worrying.

The staff here are working flat out at the moment.  As I left for school this morning the whole team was out with pangas cutting the grass.  Obviously there is still cleaning, cooking and washing and the usual chores and then when I returned this afternoon Vicky was still grass cutting, Mama Gladness was painting the new steel windows and Eva and Lucy were lugging great piles of timber on their heads to a dump right at the end of the site.  It seems the new hall has its official opening next Monday so everything has to be ‘just so’ for when the dignitaries arrive.  Once again the work was still going on when I went to bed and I think everyone will heave a great sigh of relief when Tuesday comes.

In the classroom too the problems of Africa are present.  I have just started a section on geometry with Form I that involves using a protractor and I was not surprised when I asked for a show of hands and found we had the chance of about five between the class.  To be honest, I wouldn’t do much better at Carleton, but at least there I could go to a cupboard and get a set out.  Not here.  By going round the other classrooms, I got up to nine which, with the couple that I had brought from the UK, gave us nearly one between two so the lesson could go ahead.  Compasses needed next to do constructions.  I daren’t even ask.

It came time to go home this afternoon and I discovered what every cyclists dreads; a flat tire. No worries; you can’t buy kuku in Pangani and there isn’t a bank but if there is job you want doing that is labour intensive and requires little outlay, you can’t move for help.  Mr Mmarri quickly deputized one of Form II who lived locally to take me across the road into Boza village and we soon came to a hut where a young boy had my bike upside down in no time. He set to work with a cut off bottom of a big bottle to hold the puncture finding water, an old tire to cut a patch out of, a tube of glue and a handle-less knife as his only tool and within a short time I was back on the road.  The cost, I was told, was Tsh 400 but I only had a 500 note so he was delighted at his tip and my last 100 coin for my guide left him happy too.  Totally outlay Tsh 600 (24p) and we all parted with smiles on our faces.  Ain’t the free economy a wonderful thing?

Baadaye

A reason for laughter

 Monday October 29^th

A couple of things I need to mention first.  I explained yesterday about the workmen from Moshi and the reasons they had traveled so far.  This became even more apparent today.  As I set off for school just after 7:00 am this morning I got a cheery wave and a few ‘Habaris’ as they started work.  As I arrived home from school in the heat of the afternoon at about 3:00 pm, they were still at it, and as I went to my room at 10:00 last night the sound of the arc welder was still clearly audible as they toiled on under fluorescent light.  A good day’s work by anyone’s standard.

The second thing is the Boza Printer Appeal.  I was delighted to receive another donation yesterday.  I know I’ve managed to purchase a printer with the money so far, but anyone who uses an HP printer at all knows that the running costs of ink and paper can mount up over the year.  Because of this the appeal is still open and all funds will go to supporting the use of the printer for as long as possible.

Back to school this morning to realise that kids are the same the world over and if I really expected the students here to revise over a bank holiday weekend I was kidding myself, as the results in this morning’s tests clearly showed.   Form I did quite well on their test but Form III were sadly lacking and for the first time this adventure they heard me growl; not a big one, after all it had been Eid, but a growl never the less.  Sadly I was growling at a reduced class as well, as the journey back to school for over a third of the class, was being taken from school time.

Back at the YMCA, I was finding out how important the television was.  The TV appears to run on a version of our set top box and although they do not subscribe to any of the ‘pay to view’ channels, they do get about five free ones through an enormous roof-top satellite dish.  Then last week the decoder box developed a fault and with, what is obviously a major draw, out of action, the numbers of locals that drop in for a drink has plummeted.  This also means I am falling sadly behind with the episodes of my South African soap which owes oh so much to the standards laid down by Crossroads and Albion Market.

And finally, the reason for the title.  I explained a couple of days ago about my trip to the barber’s and how I had got a little peeved that the barber thought my pronunciation worthy of such laughter and I told how I got a little dig in with the seven times table.  Well, Denis turned up this evening and told me the real reason for much of the humour.  It appears that when I was demonstrating my ability to count in Swahili I inadvertently slipped up and ended one of the words with an ‘a’ instead of an ‘i’.  On such errors can wars be started as it appears that instead of saying ‘ten’, as I thought I had, in fact I had likened my merry scissor waver to a certain unmentionable part of a lady’s anatomy. My blushes prevent me from any translation as I plead the fifth amendment and ask you to use your imagination, but I can assure you that the word if used in English would not have simply provoked laughter but quite likely a little more physical response.

I obviously need to be more careful.

Baadaye

The hall

Sunday October 29^th

Back at the beginning of October, after a quiet day, I gave you a guided tour of the YMCA.  It's been another quiet day today and another chance to see what is happening here.

I mentioned last Monday that I returned to a centre over-run with muzungus but I didn’t add that we were also being visited by a gang of workmen from Moshi, about 225 miles north west of Tanga on the edge of the Kilimanjaro National Park.  Moshi is the headquarters for the YMCA in Tanzania but I think the main reason Mama Gladness has brought in workers from such a distance is that they live on site and she can keep an eye on them.  To save you referring back to my earlier blog, here is a picture of the Hall that is on site here and this is where they are doing their work.

At either side of the hall are toilets and a couple of conference/class rooms and the first job they have done is to complete the rendering on the walls and floors for these new rooms.

The team will then go on to completely render the walls of the hall inside and out, but in the meantime a pickup truck arrived Tuesday with lengths of square section tubing on the back, and the resident welder has been busy creating the windows…

…which, as you can see, are quite impressive when in place. 

Mama Gladness’ plan must work, because whilst the Eid celebrations continued all around them over the last three days, the workmen have carried on their seven day working week.  Certainly in the temperature we had yesterday, I didn’t envy them their job and all this without the offer of fish and rice or beef and rice.  They seem to survive on a combination of ‘ugali’ and either vegetable stew or beans.  Ugali is a mixture of maize flour and water cooked to a dough like consistency.  The method of eating ugali is to roll a lump into a ball with the right hand, and then dip it into a sauce or stew of vegetables. Making a depression with the thumb allows the ugali to be used to scoop, and to wrap around the vegetables or beans.  I’ve not tried it yet but I suppose the time must come.

Anyway they are all working hard and as well as the floors, walls and windows, the electrician is using his top of the range retractable ladder to chisel out for the conduit that will hold the electric cable. The health and safety officer must have been stuck in traffic.

The idea is for big concertinaed doors to fill the main entrances on both sides and the front, so when finished it should really look impressive.  I will keep you informed.

Baadaye

A haircut and the seven times table

Saturday October 28^th

Surprise surprise, seven weeks away from home and my hair has grown.  It’s by no means long, but it has grown to the extent where really I should use a mirror when brushing it, which, as mentioned earlier, I haven’t got.  So, it was a case of buying a mirror or having my hair cut and the latter was by far the cheaper alternative and seemed the more sensible.  Pangani it is then!

As Denis totally shaves his head, I decided I would avoid his barber, but Mama Gladness recommended ‘The Salon’ in the market place, so off I trotted to the end of the road to find some means of transport into Pangani.  I’d barely been there five minutes when a vehicle appeared out of the track next to me with a muzungu driving and presumably his wife sat next to him.  It had obviously come from either the tented lodge or one of the few houses down there and putting on a winning smile I nodded at the driver.  He, being equally friendly, raised his hand in a wave, turned towards Pangani and drove off.  I’m glad Mama Gladness wasn’t around because I’m sure my comment would have been enough for a life ban from the YMCA.

Dala dala, motorbike or basi; which would come first?  In fact, after only another five minutes, I sampled a new form of transport.  A Toyota pick-up truck hove into site and as it approached it flashed its lights, which I took as a friendly gesture and not a demand that I clear away from the road, so I waved it down. Its driver was a Tanzanian with what looked like his whole family in the back of the vehicle and they made room for me as I vaulted over the side of the truck and settled on the floor.  Possibly vaulted is too strong a word but I must defend myself and say that, for a man of my advanced years, my entry was reasonably athletic.  It transpired that he was going over the car ferry and on further south so I hopped out, a bit less athletically, when we reached the town and was left with the decision as to whether I would go to the stationers to print photos first or risk the barbers.  In the end it was to be neither, as I entered the stationers I found the fan motionless on the ceiling and the computers quiet, for lack of, you’ve guessed, electricity.  When I reached the market place, the barbers too was closed, for the same reason, so all that was left was to hop a Dala Dala and head home, only to find half an hour later that the power had been restored. T.I.A.

The previous evening a new guest had arrived in a Safari vehicle which he was using to transport a German couple down to Dar es Salaam.  They were staying a couple of days at the £50 a night tented lodge next door and he had come to join the less affluent of us at the £8 a night YMCA. As I sat outside my room, rueing my wasted journey, he came out from the next door room and informed me that he was going into Pangani so I hitched a ride with him to have a second go.  I had 50% success as the printer in the stationers had run out of coloured ink and the boy who runs it didn’t seem to have a replacement that worked, but at least, as I entered the market place, I saw The Salon had reopened for business.

Your local friendly barber spoke no English at all but luckily I still had a spare from the passport photos I’d had taken to open my Barclays account, so I pointed to my head, pointed to the snap and offered up a prayer.  He obviously thought it hilarious that a muzungu had come to his shop and my attempts at Swahili did nothing to assuage his mirth.  I took all this in good part until he came out with the only English he seemed to know which was one, two …………nine, ten.  I was on safer ground here so I showed off my numbers by counting to twenty, but this brought even more laughter from him as he obviously thought my accent was funny.  Right, this is war.  Numbers are my business, so I quickly rattled off the seven times table in Swahili up to 28 and pointed at him to add the next number.  After much thought and deliberation he came out with his answer ‘thelathini na nne’ (34).  ‘Hapana’, says I with a smirk on my face, “thelathini na tano”!  One up for the Brits, I thought, as I paid my 80p and left before he tested me again with “Anything for the weekend?”.

Dala dala home, where I had to parade round to have the crop assessed by Mama Gladness, Eva, Vicky, Lucy and Deo.  The general consensus was ‘nzuri sana’. 

Being spoiled last week in Dar has, I’m afraid, exposed again the culinary limitations of my abode, so I decided that with a new haircut and my best ‘bib and tucker’ I’d once again go and join the toffs next door for a meal.  I checked that their set menu for the evening was not fish, counted the money in my ‘pochi’ and set out across the woods, torch in hand, for my bit of luxury.

The Dining Room at the Tented Lodge

The meal was as I had hoped and I found myself sitting at a table with a couple of ex-pats from England who lived in Tanga and seemed to have spent their lives bringing up a family in Nepal, MonteNegro, Sri Lanka….. The list seemed to go on for ever.  They were a friendly couple and a pleasant evening concluded with a genuine offer to stop over anytime I wanted at their home in Tanga.  As this opens up the possibility of an early morning high speed luxury coach journey to Dar for my next blood test, I might well take them up on the offer.

Back through the woods, made no easier by the two large glasses of Merlot inside me, and, after the obligatory fumigation and ten minute wait for the air to clear, I climbed into bed a contented man.

Baadaye

An invasion of watoto

Friday October 26^th

What a full day.  I actually had a lie in until 7:00 today, as it was a holiday, so was late having my breakfast and subsequently was joined by three of the other guests for a very civilised meal.  I mentioned I had returned to a full house of muzungus and although three of them had left mid-week we still had two Danes and an American staying.  The three of them are working at various projects up in the hills beyond Tanga and were spending a few days recuperating at the coast.  It was very pleasant to compare notes about our varying experiences of Tanzania and I was sorry to see them go when their car arrived for them mid-morning. I’m in the wrong job here; nobody sends a car for me!

I spent a trouble free morning on the Internet (there’s a first) and managed to at least throw some thoughts at the screen for the blog.  It’s certainly not ideal though, having to sit in my room with the projector churning out heat next to me when it’s in the high 30s outside.  I’ve just read that again and I don’t suppose anybody is really sympathetic, are you.

This afternoon Deo and I carried on with his swimming instruction and returned afterwards up the path to find the centre had been totally over-run by watoto (children).  Eid ul-Adha, although a Muslim festival is obviously supported by all and the local children from Choba, the village that spreads along the Tanga road from Mkoma Bay, had put on their best clothes and come out to play.  There must have been over a hundred at one time as well as adults and some teachers from the local school.  What was reassuring as well was when a car pulled up and what looked like a family of three generations of Muslims got out.  Eva set up a table and chairs on the newly mown grass for them and they settled down with their drinks.  A community where the Muslims celebrate one of their festivals at a Christian centre must have a lot going for it.

As dark descended the children left and gradually the other visitors drifted away and after a pleasant meal of kuku and rice I settled down for my usual evening drink with the locals.  I’ve already said that I am quite intrigued by the Tanzanian version of draughts and the extra dimension introduced by a roaming queen.  Tonight though I saw the game as it should be played.  One of the Masai guards from the tented lodge next door came round and joined us for a game.  After he had slaughtered Denis I stepped in to show off my new found skills and got truly hammered.  He constantly seemed to work out traps many moves ahead and what looked at first sight like a killing move by me only opened the way a move later for the sucker punch to be delivered by him.  He spoke no English but in my own way I assured him that in the six weeks I have remaining before flying out, I will win at least one game against him.  This is not the first time by any means I have been shown up by a Masai warrior. We have a video at home where all 6ft 2ins of me looks like a latter day Don Estelle surrounded by Masai performing their famous leaps.

Only disappointment of the whole day was when I checked with Denis and he informed me that the next holiday was Christmas so that's it for me this year.

Baadaye

Eid ul-Adha

Thursday October 26^th

Excitement all round as I arrived at school this morning.  Asha (pronounced Aisha), who has very limited English and knows my equally limited Swahili, bounced up to me and announced, “Mr Stuart – Leo ninakwenda Tanga”.  When I asked why she was going to Tanga on a school day the rest of the class informed me that tomorrow was a holiday and quite a few of them were using the three day weekend to take a short visit to their homes.  It appears that tomorrow is the Muslim festival Eid ul-Adha and as such is a day for celebrations, new clothes, sunshine or generally what we would call, a bank holiday.  In fact the banks and many of the shops would be shut as well so we Christians could enjoy the fun as well.  At least if the electricity etc etc…I might find time to catch up with my blog and other things that have fallen behind. 

I taught both my classes today, with many references to Crazy Bananas, and then settled back to compose two tests.  The first two hours of every week are taken up with tests for all forms.  There is a rolling timetable of subjects covered, two at a time, and next Monday is the turn of basic mathematics from 8:00 - 9:00.  There is a rota for invigilation, which I don’t appear on, so I had to write the test with the knowledge that another member of the staff would then copy my work onto the blackboard.  That will give me something to do on Monday, marking that lot!!

Arrived home and the gardening squad were still at work, this time it is Lucy who is going round collecting dead heads from yesterdays ‘strimming’.

I think I've mentioned the on-going problem I have with sim cards.  I purchased two Vodacom sims the first weekend, one for my phone and one for the dongle modem, and went through a process of compulsory registration where they ring  ID through to the firm, in my case using my driving licence.  The sims later became blocked and Denis managed to re-register the one for my phone, but the other one is still not usable.  I finally managed to get through to customer helpline tonight only to be told that there was a problem in the registration and I must visit a Vodacom office.  You've guessed – Tanga!!   At least the music in between, “Your call is important to us”, had a good beat and was something different to ‘ Fur Elise’.

Baadaye

Crazy Banana

Wednesday October 26^th

I think I've started a craze, or rather Cliff has.  Whilst in Dar es Salaam he used a phrase that I had heard last year but had not yet added to my vocabulary, “Poa kichizi kama ndizi”.  I’m almost tempted not to translate this because it does lose a little in translation and you would not get the same effect in Leeds if your reply to “How ye doing mate” was “Cool like a crazy banana”.  As I've said before, greeting someone in Tanzania is an important ritual and can include a variety of questions and replies.  One of these is Mambo – Hi, which usually follows a more traditional greeting and the expected reply is Poa – I’m cool, so the first time I added my new phrase in school the students looked a little askance as they had never heard it before, but very quickly they decided that this was funny and worth repeating.  I can see quite a few crazy bananas developing over the next few weeks. 

The YMCA stands in about 2-3 acres of land, much of it covered in a tidy grass ‘lawn’.  I found out today the work involved in keeping it tidy as I returned to find Mama Gladness, Vicky and Deo, cutting the grass.  This was done using an implement called a Panga which is a curved, golf club like, blade  serving the same purpose as a sickle but without the need to bend as much.  

A Panga

The action is a truncated ‘golf swing’ to either side of the body ensuring that you don’t take a divot at the bottom of the swing or put too much into the back swing and lose an ear.  Quite easy really and avoiding my toes I had a go.  Easy, did I say?  Yes it was, for all of two minutes and then you realise the energy expended in covering two acres like this.  Even Vicky said at the end of the session, “nimechoka”, and you don’t need a degree in linguistics to realise that she was knackered tired. 

I would imagine the wellies are a safety precaution

Vicky’s outburst as she finished a session of lawn mowing brought back a discussion I had with my students during my daily Swahili lesson, which is now becoming a necessity more than a game, as I realise how poor the English is for some members of the group.  I know the prefix ‘nina’ and had said ninachoka, which as far as I was concerned was ‘I am tired’.  “No!”, said Sylvester, “it’s not ninachoka, it’s nimechoka!”.  When I asked why as it was ninawenda and nina everything else I knew, he said that when it is a feeling about yourself you use ‘nime’ and not ‘nina’.  “Ah, says I. Nimechoka, nimejoto (I am tired. I am hot).  Once again I was corrected, as it should be the usual ninajotto.  I argued that this too was a feeling about myself but no it’s not the same.  Confused? So was I, and don’t bother going back and reading this paragraph again, I’ve just done that and it doesn't help.

Baadaye

The Presentation

Tuesday October 23^rd

The next few blogs, I am afraid might well be short ones (who said thank God), as I am way behind.  The electricity when I got back to Pangani was powerful enough to register that it existed on my extension power light, but not powerful enough to light up a fluorescent tube.  Since breaking my screen I am restricted to watching my laptop using a projector and didn't want to risk the bulb with ‘dirty’ electrics.

Today was presentation day.  Thanks to the generosity of a few of my readers I was able to purchase an HP printer and a quantity of ink cartridges to provide long term usage.  I took it to school and I thought Mr Mmari was going to cry, he was so overcome.  The first thing he did was to type out all the names and responsibilities of the student government and print it out to put on the noticeboard outside.  The heading, done in Word Art, was reminiscent of many I have seen through the years by students at Carleton.  He had carefully written down all the instructions for printing and has practiced inserting a new ink cartridge, so I feel that for the reasonably long term future it will not be left to simply gather dust.

The presentation.  Mr Masui is the one on the left!

I had left some work for my Form III for Mr Masui to do with them whilst I was travelling back from Dar and as usual in such a case had included loads of examples so he would not run short of work for them.  This morning Peter, who tends to be class monitor, turned up with a pile of books where every student had completed all the work and I was left with about five or six pages of marking for each of them.  The books, as I've said before, are the old ‘foolscap’ size, so the task was, to say the least, onerous.  I’ll know next time not to be so clever.

Baadaye

Return to the sticks

Monday October 25^th

Karim picked me up and we arrived at Ubungo early for my 8:30 basi back to Pangani.  It was a good job we did because after searching for Shillingi VIP on the front of one of the buses we were informed that it had crashed and I would have to transfer to a Tanga coach.  As they gave me a new ticket and refunded Tsh 2000 to cover the loss of the Pangani part of the trip, I had no reason to doubt the story and bid farewell to my guide and found my seat.

Once again I found myself on the window side of a pair of seats anxiously scanning my fellow travellers as they boarded to see who would be my companion for the next six hours.  You win some, you lose some.  I’ve had some interesting companions on my travels over here but this one was only really interesting in her size as she could easily have auditioned for the Roly Polys.  I am the last person to be sizeist with a track record like mine but I was hoping for a minimum of 50% of the seat on the road up to Tanga.

My new bus company, in fact, left at 8:00 so , as I had to change anyway, I took advantage of the stop-over in Tanga to visit a computer shop and arrange for a new screen to be for to my laptop which hopefully will see me back into regular contact again.

Returned home to find the place over-run with bl***y Muzungus.  They get everywhere.  A group working in the hills had come down with some friends for some rest and relaxation at the YMCA and are spending days going out in boats and snorkelling and the like.  I’m very envious. 

Back to school tomorrow.

Baadaye 

By the seaside

Sunday October 21^st

I am afraid this is very very late but a combination of a broken computer screen, a long journey home and little if any electricity or Internet prevented me completing this section of the blog.

We continued my rest away from it all in grand style when we spent three hours at one of the high class hotels that command the sands to the north of Dar.  We got a Bajaj to the door and then had to pay Tsh 6000 each to actually enter the hotel and use their private beach.  After a long discussion  over a pint, ‘putting the world to rights’, Cliff decided to take possibly his last chance for a paddle, but the sea looked very similar to the one I am used to, so I passed on that experience and instead took a couple of snaps of the joint.

A view from the beach of the dance floor shower. 

One of the pools 

The Beach

Having sampled the delights of Indian and Ethiopian cuisine, Cliff decided that it was time for me to sample the Caribbean and for my final night we went to a Jamaican restaurant on the edge of the beach where the owner enveloped Cliff like the prodigal son as he had left the country without her knowledge.  I had goat which is a meat I have never eaten before but having tried it I will certainly look at the little kids that graze outside my classroom in a new light when I return to Boza.  As I had a 500 metre walk in the dark again to reach the main road where I was to be picked up, I elected to leave my camera at the hotel, so I am unable to show you this restaurant, but I did take a couple of shots of the aptly named bar owned by the hotel where I stayed.

Aptly named with me there

The bar and big screen stretched bed sheet

My Swahili was really put to the test at the hotel where English is not spoken at all.  I am leaving tomorrow morning at 7:00 and the kitchen staff do not start work until 7:30, so I suggested that if they boiled a couple of eggs and made some toast before they went off duty tonight, I’d wrap these up well and with the help of a flask of hot water and some Blue Bandi, I could cater from myself at 6:30.  I must have got the message over as, on returning after the meal, a bag awaited me, when I collected my key, containing the very things I need to break my fast tomorrow morning early.

I must admit I’ve had enough of the big city and the tourist life and am looking forward to getting back to ‘the sticks’.

Baadaye

The peninsula

Saturday October 20^th

Today I returned to the other side of Tanzania that I hadn’t seen since last year.  Part of Dar es Salaam is a peninsula that juts out into the Indian Ocean and this is where you find the money.  Nothing prepares you for the incredible inconsistency between the mud huts in the villages around Pangani  and the sometimes ostentatious wealth of the peninsula.

Cliff had picked me up at 8:00 to go to the peninsula to find the clinic where I could have my blood test and on the way we had a sweep round the end to see some of the buildings.  The pictures below do not do the places justice at all.  The first one is an embassy near the end belonging to one of the Arab nations. As we were uncertain what the response would be if we stopped and took photos of the front, this shot is of the side but believe me the building costs must have run into millions, and I mean dollars not shillingi.

The second shot is of a hotel, also near the end, which just happened to have two helicopters parked on the landing strip outside. How the other half lives does not begin to describe it.

We eventually after a lot of phoning for directions and red herrings, found the clinic, which again was all glass and stainless steel and I must admit very reassuring as I left some blood to be tested.  They will email and text the results on Monday, which I suppose will at least give me something to read on the journey back to Pangani.

After a trip to an ATM and a proper supermarket in a mall, Cliff dropped me off at the hotel with a promise of more culinary delights to come in the evening and I had a happy afternoon with a good Internet connection.  About 5:00 local time I wandered down to the bar next door to get a bottle of water and found it packed with Tanzanians, many of them proudly sporting their Red shirts with the familiar badge of Manchester United emblazoned on the front.  The live match between Manchester and Stoke City had just kicked off and since I am now a resident of Manchester, I had to stay and watch the game.  The matches are on pay to view satellite TV, broadcast from South Africa and the locals are certainly knowledgeable about the Barclay's Premier League and the players in it.  The majority were supporting the reds but there were a few cheers from a minority of the people there when Wayne Rooney headed into his own net, particularly from a young man sat next to me sporting the white of Tottenham Hotspur.

Just before 7:00 I left the hotel and walked towards the main road to pick up a Bajaj, not without a little trepidation as obviously it was dark, there are no street lamps and the moon is in its first quarter.  Coupled with this, the street makes the road to Tanga look like the M1, but there were plenty of people around and I soon found a Bajaj and set off to pick Cliff up.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been to an Ethiopian Restaurant but if you haven’t and have an offer to go, take it with both hands.  This incidentally is the way you eat as well; using both hands.  The meal is brought on a tray that contains a thin pancake type base and when the food is tipped onto this base, you tear of bits to scoop up the meal.  Spare rolls of the same stuff are brought on a separate plate that can be used in the same way.  The food is delicious and the whole experience fascinating.  I know that when she reads this Chez will be drooling, because we went to the same restaurant last year and the food was excellent on both occasions.

We got a Bajaj back and having dropped Cliff off, the driver admitted that he didn't really know where Royal Mushie’s Inn was but we found it somehow.  The last day of my jollie’s tomorrow and then back to work.

Baadaye

The Road to Dar

Friday October 20^th

Having made the decision to go to Dar as Salaam, things moved very quickly.  Staff informed me that there is a basi that actually starts in Pangani and goes straight through to Dar via Tanga so I decided this was the best bet and, once again, Denis came to the rescue with transport to town; me on the back and my carry-on case resting on his petrol tank.  He had bought me a ticket yesterday, so I even had a booked seat D1 (provided you get there first and they haven’t sold it twice).  So at 7:00 I boarded the basi with its name boldly marked across the top of the windscreen – ‘Shilingi’.  I looked in my hand and the company name across the top of the ticket said ‘Shillingi VIP’ so things were looking good so far.  I found my seat and noticed straight away that the windows had catches that worked so we had another positive and then the driver pulled down the cover at the front of the bus and displayed a TV screen.  This was VIP!  Not too ‘posh’ though to neglect the waiting Norwich City fans who boarded just before we left for their ten minute journey to school.  I must admit I envied them as I settled down for the eight and a half hour trip.

Any thoughts that this was going to be a high speed, none stop trip were quickly dispelled as the bus stopped at the junction for Boza and took on further passengers.  One of these was Mr Pius who I knew had a three day trip to an island in Lake Victoria for a family funeral, so my problems paled into insignificance.

The journey was not going to be none stop but this basi could certainly motor and we arrived at Tanga in record time to drop off and take on passengers before hitting the blacktop to Dar.

Tanga

Apart  from the driver,s papers being inspected by the polisi seven times over the journey, which I’ve found is quite the standard, the hours passed in conversation, reading and people watching until we finally arrived at Ubungu bus station 45 minutes earlier than I had been told to expect.  This meant that Karim, although on his way, was snarled up in the usual city traffic and I was on my own.

Thankfully Ubungu is a very different place in the bright afternoon sunshine than it was on my previous pre-dawn visit and, with a grip on my bag and valuables that would have required any pickpocket to have a surgical degree , I descended the steps.  I expertly (?) fielded the offers to carry my case/find a taxi/find another basi/or simply take some of your money anyway and moved along the pavement to a quieter spot to take stock.  I had some time to spend and it might as well be used constructively, so I decided it would make sense to get a ticket for my return journey on Monday.  I finally found the ticket office, or rather offices, with a combination of my poor Swahili and scanning for someone who looked as if they might speak English.  The building looked like an old fashioned primary school and had a very long packed corridor with upwards of twenty small rooms off, all displaying the company names above the door and containing three or four desks.  Needless to say, having walked the full length, Shillingi VIP was not one of them so I swallowed my pride and accepted the help of one of my many followers and was shown to the correct office.  I parted with a few hundred shilling and set upon the task of booking a ticket, ensuring that the language barrier did not deposit me in Dodoma on Wednesday morning.  There was a slight misunderstanding when it came to paying as I was asked for ‘elfu kumi na tano’ (15 000) whereas the journey down had been ‘elfu kumi na nne’ (14 000).  The man muttered something about ‘food’ but as I had certainly missed seeing a trolley dolly on the way down, I said ‘no food’ and the price was adjusted accordingly.

I went back out into the station, found a café with tables, right under a massive sign declaring the ‘World of Hitachi’ and having texted Karim with my position settled down for a long cold drink.

The drink had to be a long one as it appears a protest down town had got a little out of hand and the protesters were fighting the polisi (who obviously must do something, other than stop buses).  Consequently all traffic was avoiding this area like the plague and Karim eventually arrived at 4:45.

A reasonably quick trip to my hotel, after we’d got through the first melee, a quick shower and Cliff arrived to take me to an Indian restaurant for me sit to and sigh and eat and sigh and thoroughly ‘pig out’.  Bliss.

Incidentally I got a real shock as I walked into the hotel room, to see this wild man looking back at me.  I've never mentioned before that nowhere at the YMCA or school do I have access to a mirror, so I hadn't actually seen myself for six weeks.  I’m sure you’ll all well appreciate what a shock to the system I had with that first sighting.

Baadaye

Bits & Pieces

Thursday October 18^th

Cliff was hoping to get up to Pangani this weekend, driving up tomorrow, but has had to cancel so I decided to brave the basi and have a trip down to Dar as Salaam.  I have to go sometime in October anyway as I promised my GP to have my blood checked because of the Warfarin (rat poison) that I take and there are no facilities to do blood tests in either Pangani or Tanga.  It seemed silly to go when Cliff has moved on so I have decided to ‘kill two birds with one stone’ (Three if I can get hold of that cockerel – oh behave yourself Lonsdale).

Because of the safari I needed to set work for my classes to cover my absence and this and the organisation for tomorrow seemed to take most of the day so I decided that today’s log is a mish mash of things that I have not had time or space to cover before.

Firstly, transport.  I have mentioned many times, my adventures on the back of motor bikes and that I have finally stopped hugging Denis and instead have a white knuckle grip on the luggage rack behind.  This is how the ladies cope with it –

The side-saddle seems the preferred position whether on the back of a push bike or a motorbike and often the passenger on closer examination is nursing a baby as well. 

Secondly, transport again.  Getting commodities moved around the area is quite a task and it is nothing to see a push bike travelling down the road laden to the skies.  I even saw one yesterday with a double bed mattress strapped on behind.  He should have waited and this pickup could have dropped one off for him –

Thirdly, cleanliness.  The day ay Boza starts well before assembly at 7:45 as this group illustrate.  The time is 7:30 and they are sweeping leaves off the drive with what from a distance looked like egg whisks.  Eva and Deo do the same task at the YM. –

And finally some good news.  The cockerel has finally proved his worth (or rather one of them has).  I was becoming quite guiltily concerned that the procession that had been three cocks and four hens seemed to have been whittled down somewhat on the female side and there only appeared to be two hens around.  Was I the guilty party.  I decided to investigate and found that the two missing ladies had been hatching a clutch of eggs and with about 15 additions to our little family, hopefully ‘kuku’ might be on the menu a little more regularly.

Dar as Salaam tomorrow. Early start.

Baadaye.

Our day out

Wednesday October 18^th

A lot better organised than Mr Russell’s play but still a few hiccups along the way.  It started early as Mr Masui had told me that the trip left at 7:00 a.m. so I asked Denis to give me a lift as I didn’t think it would be the best of starts to be ‘lathered’ as we got on the Dala Dala.  On arrival I found out that we weren't actually leaving until 8:00 am and they then informed me I needed a copy of my visa.  As I had given this to Denis, who needed it for a job he was doing for me, I had to call him again and ask him to return.  I said there was no rush as we weren’t leaving until eight and hung up, only to be informed that when I was ready we were going.  Not the best of starts but it certainly got better.  For a start, teachers ride shotgun (front seat) and this is a whole different experience from the cattle class in the back that I am used to.  I saw a whole new world that is usually not visible because my head is in the roof of the vehicle; which, coupled with the passengers crowding round me, gives a very restricted view of life.  An enjoyable Dala Dala ride, who would have thought it; and when we turned in Tanga onto the main Mombassa highway, with smooth metaled surface, all my Christmases had come at once.

The trip, with Form III and Mr Pius was to the Amboni Caves, which is a very large complex of limestone caves about 8km north of Tanga.  

The caves are carved by the sea, unlike the limestone caves I am used to in the dales that are usually carved by rivers.  At the ticket office the man asked for my proof of residency.  As my visa does not bestow this at all I simply said, “I am not a resident” and he never even bothered with my papers.  The price of entry was Tsh1000 for residents and Tsh20,000 for visitors.  In the event, presumably because I was with a school party, he let me in for the child’s price of Tsh10,000.  We were then met by our guide as there are many twists and turns inside that could lead to trouble, and he started his explanation in English until I stopped him and pointed out that he should speak in Swahili for the students.  Then followed a lengthy talk, during which the words limestone, stalactite and stalagmite were about the only words I registered, followed by a question and answer session.  I was amazed at how many questions there were and the obvious interest shown and, not for the first time, I was proud of my students.

For the tour of the caves they took pity on the Muzungu and I went round with the English speaking guide whilst the students picked up another Swahili guide.  

The tour mainly consisted of pointing out outcrops and stalactites that bore resemblance to animals etc. Some stretched the imagination but, to be fair, there were some that were excellent.  After the tour the usual trip money was spent on pop and biscuits and we prepared for our journey home.

Luiana, Peter and Asha with Fatuma and Anna in front

The Dala Dala had left us and gone to earn some money with the promise to return to pick us up at 2:00.  T.I.A. was my comment as the minibus finally appeared at 4:30 and we boarded for the bumpy ride home.  The sun was setting as I walked the 400m from the road to the Y.M.C.A.  and needless to say I was very tired but wouldn’t have missed ‘Our Day Out’ for the world.

Baadaye