Dar es Salaam Diary

The past week has been marked by the arrival of two wageni (guests). Undeterred by the hardships detailed in my previous blog post, these two brave souls have each decided to abandon the U.S. of A. for a good part of the summer and spend it here in TZ. The first is a dear friend from college; the second a summer intern at HakiElimu.

Showing them around and answering their questions has given me a chance to see Tanzania (and my life here) with fresh eyes. For the most part, this is fun, energizing, and also provides me with some (oft-needed) perspective – basically a reminder that I am quite far from home and things are quite different here and so it makes sense if things are sometimes confusing or difficult or frustrating.

That said, being under the wageni microscope does re-awaken certain insecurities about my life here (Why don’t I have more Tanzanian friends? Is my lifestyle overly decadent or frivolous? What exactly am I doing here? Why isn’t my Swahili better?)

But again it’s mostly just fun to be able to share my experience and interesting to hear others’ impressions.

For instance, Erin (college friend), who also lived in a Southern country (Venezuela) for a year, was struck by how undeveloped Dar is as a city. (Not sure if she’d put it in exactly those terms – to see exactly which terms she would use, you can check out her blog here!) Upon arriving at my house from the airport, she remarked that if there were a prize for who really lived in the ‘third world,’ I would win. She also noted that whereas Caracas (her former home) and Dar both have about 4 million residents, Caracas is “like New York” compared to Dar. This takes me back to my first impression of downtown Dar (essentially, this is it??!)

I haven’t yet had the chance to pick the summer intern’s brain as he only just arrived Sunday morning and was somehow managing to stay conscious as we trekked around town despite having been unable to sleep during his long journey. We spent much of Sunday attempting to run errands such as getting him a cellphone (the cellphone shop was closed), buying a map of the city (the bookstore was out of maps), and visiting the office (also closed). We fortunately succeeded in getting him cash and feeding him Tanzanian food (“kiti moto” or grilled pork) and showing him where the office is located. This process involved subjecting the poor guy to riding no fewer than six different daladalas, causing him to remark that the transportation system here is “somewhat different from New York.”

Both wageni also fulfilled a duty that befalls most visitors from the motherland – that of the mule. Thanks to them, my stocks of chocolate, sugarless chewing gum, magazines, books, bikinis, and cute cotton tops have been fully replenished. I just might survive until my parents come in July!