Friday, December 22, 2006

 

Lazy

In one hour I will leave the office for a much needed 4-day holiday. That means I should be finishing up my work, I suppose, but I fear I'm already in vacation mode, so it seemed more important to update my blog! However, I'm afraid I'm going to be a bit lazy and reprint a piece that I just came across in one of the local English-language dailies (The Guardian). I'm copying the whole thing below -- it's a bit long, but offers a taste of the local journalistic flavor, plus tells you a bit more about my place of work (HakiElimu) as well as my trusted means of transportation (the daladala). Thus this post should still fulfill Dar es Salaam Diary's stated mission to Inform And Entertain. (Sorry, just back from 9-day planning retreat, so still thinking in terms of Strategic Goals, etc.)

Enjoy, and Happy Holidays!!!

For once, there was civilisation in a daladala

2006-12-22 09:03:35

By Chris Joe

Daladala commuters in Dar es Salaam and elsewhere where daladalas operate will understand when I say it is both interesting and irritating to ride in these vehicles, depending on the mood of the day, which invariably determines the mood of the driver, conductor and the passengers.

Some days the conductor wears quite a foul mood, shouting at commuters, and particularly school children at peak hours, mouthing really dirty, abominable words that would even leave Satan himself (or herself depending on the sex of the creature) beside himself/ herself with shock.

Come to think of it, ladies and gentlemen, what sex is the devil? Could it be a hermaphrodite?

Indeed, that would be interesting to find out, but I guess it is of no consequence here.

What I am certain of, though, is that the devil is evil, and I would accordingly advise you to keep a very long distance from it, because it’s sole aim in this world is to destroy and to kill you dead now and in the life to come.

Well. I was talking about the conductor and the devil, or rather, the conductor’s foul mouth. Ok, the same, though to a lesser extent, with the driver. Less because the driver’s contact with the passengers is minimal. The passengers, too, are no holier.

Sometimes they become nastier than the conductor, reducing him to a novice as far as bad-mouthing is concerned.

That is why daladala commuters are always advised not to board the same daladala with their mother- or father in-laws.

You may wish to jump out of the window to hide your face. Some people can be vile, you know!!. But that was beside the point.

The advice is, however, as valid as it has always been. What’s more, it is free.

All this notwithstanding, however, sometimes you may chance to sit near some couple or a small group of sane people who discuss issues, and national issues for that matter, seriously or with some light touch.

The other day, I had this rare chance of listening to some sane guys talking about national development.

I must say I was lucky that day, because almost all the passengers in the daladala decided to be civilized, talking to each other like brothers and sisters of the same father and mother.

The couple I was interested in was talking about some television programmes or jingles by the controversial Haki-elimu.

I assume most of you are aware of this NGO, which, in the recent past, irritated the government so much that its activities were suspended for some time.

This organisation seems to specialise in making annoying jokes at the government of the day by pointing out anomalies in some government programmes.

Let me state from the outset that I find nothing wrong in these jingles.

Indeed, if anything, I think haki-elimu should be given a pat on the back (if they have any) for volunteering to be the government’s free adviser or a prickler.

The couple in the daladala was arguing on whether or not to allow haki-elimu to air such jingles.

The first jingle was where a radio announcer is heard expounding on the successes made in the economy, that people now live a better life, that Mkukuta (poverty reduction programme) was successfully fighting poverty of individuals.

But the people listening to the announcements are devastatingly poor and in tatters.

”What is this supposed to mean if not to ridicule the government?” asks one. ”No,” says the other gentleman, ”it is supposed to remind the government that what it is saying is contrary to the reality on the ground; that the percentages and figures mean nothing to the people, that the people are still very poor if not poorer.”

They argue a bit here with the other fellow pointing out that haki-elimu could have delivered the same message differently, without embarrassing the government. They agree to disagree.

Another episode is when a government official visits a newly rehabilitated school and the official seems to be impressed by the state of the buildings and tells the headmaster of the school to concentrate on teaching now that they have better buildings. The official leaves in his shangingi.

A seemingly dejected head teacher walks down a down a thorny path to his dilapidated house.

He is met by his granddaughter who asks him whether their ramshackle house would be repaired as well. The head teacher shakes his head miserably.

The second man says: ”Here, haki-elimu is trying to tell those responsible for education that while rehabilitating classrooms, they should also remember to improve the teachers’ houses to boost their morale.

The human resource is, in fact, more important, don’t you agree?” His friend grants a ’maybe’, reluctantly.

Then they discuss the episode where a teacher asks her class to study privately as she travels to the district headquarters for her salary.

A naughty child whispers to his colleague that that means she will be away for at least three days.

The teacher borrows some money for her fare to the district headquarters promising the shopkeeper to return the money the same day because it is their payday.

Alas!! There is no salary and the salary people ask her to go back the following day.

The gentleman who had been saying haki-elimu was being unfair to the government almost jumps from his seat saying that that was true.

”My daughter undergoes such torture every month, I don’t know what is wrong with this government.

His colleague smiles at him and the fellow looks around sheepishly, realising that he has lost his argument to his friend.

Recovering quickly, he murmurs: ”But haki-elimu should air something positive, some of the time.” And, having reached my destination, I got off the daladala happy that for once there had been no dirty words.

  • SOURCE: Guardian

Monday, December 04, 2006

 

Reverse Culture Shock and Reverse Reverse Culture Shock

Well! I am back in Tanzania after 3 weeks rest and relaxation (and overeating) in the good old U.S. of A. My journey to the States was long, but relatively painless. I flew direct from Dar to London (about 10 hours) where I spent the night with a friend (and former housemate here in TZ). I experienced a minor panic attack upon leaving Heathrow Airport. I find London to be rather overwhelming in general, and I also had this irrational urge to go up to everyone I saw and explain to them that I'd just spent 8 months in Africa so they would understand just how much like a fish out of water I was feeling.

My immediate reaction to landing on American soil was less dramatic. As I explained to a former coworker in DC, I had been in Tanzania long enough to adjust to the culture here, but I had not been gone from the States long enough to completely forget the culture there... Still, I did have a few moments of "reverse culture shock." The escalator at the Dupont Circle metro station in DC induced a mild case of vertigo, as did the swirling crowds at Union Station. (Who are all these white people?!!)

I was also struck many times at how much stuff there is in the States - the bounty of food in the grocery stores, the infinity of shops selling outrageously priced clothing and completely useless objects, and the billboards and TV and print ads convincing one of the dire need for the outrageously priced clothing and useless objects. As I've said before, I'm not exactly roughing it here in Tanzania, but I am living a bit more simply, and getting on just fine. The notion that consumerism culture preys upon our insecurities (and creates new ones) certainly rings true. After a few weeks in the States (especially the last one in New York City) I couldn't help but feel a bit inadequate about the fact that I didn't have (and could not afford to buy) the latest, coolest clothes and things. Would I not be a slightly better person if I owned a pair of skinny jeans? Isn't my 2004 iPod hopelessly clunky and out-of-date?!

Despite these nagging flickers of self-doubt, I can report that I thoroughly enjoyed my time at home. In addition to catching up with people that I love and have missed greatly, it was delicious to walk down a busy street and be completely unnoticed, to wander through bookstores and sit in cafes, to take long walks in the park with my dog... And then of course there was the food! Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays, but this year it was even more delicious. I also indulged in baked goods and Thai and Mexican... Unfortunately, this indulgence is now evident in the bit of added girth that I brought back with me to Tanzania. I have already been told by a coworker that I gained weight (a compliment here, but still!) and more tellingly, popped a button on my skirt! Given the fact that I can't exactly hide under a bulky sweater at the beach, I think I had better head back to the gym.

So, in terms of "reverse reverse culture shock," the thing I have been most struck by upon my return to Tanzania is the heat. Dear god. It is SO HOT. And I'm in for 3 months of this, if not more!!! I've also managed to experience a blackout at the airport (tho only for a few seconds while I was waiting in line at customs, so it was more amusing than inconvenient) and there hasn't been any running water at home. (See above comment about living simply!) I'm afraid I've lost my touch w/ the bucket shower, so feel as if parts of me are still covered with a thin film of soap. Add to that the thin film of sweat that is pretty unavoidable in tropical climes, and well, yeah, it's pretty gross.

That said, I do feel happy to be back. By the end of my visit to the U.S., I was ready to come back to a place where I had more of a purpose, a routine, and a community of people with whom I share a context. I'm still not quite sure where "home" is, but for now, Dar is feeling pretty good. A bit sticky, but good.

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