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!

On Sunday evening, my housemate Michelle and I were discussing how much we enjoy living here in Tanzania. She's been here about six months longer than I have, and both of us plan to stick around for another year, at least. We were talking about how we just feel really at home and comfortable here, how we like the community we've found, and how it's still just kind of incredible that we can go to the (gorgeous) beach every weekend. All in all, we decided that there's nowhere else we'd rather be just now.

And then Tanzania said, "Oh, yeah??!"

The weekend had been sunny and bright, with a nice breeze and relatively low humidity. Perfect beach weather. But come Monday, we were reminded that it is, in fact, the rainy season. The rain turns the road from our house to the main road into a mess of mud and murky puddles of varying depth. A misstep might mean you're up to your knees... There's also an issue of, shall we say, inefficient waste disposal, which can make these puddles pretty stinky (and leads to cholera outbreaks in the poorer areas...) The rain also makes the morning traffic even more of a nightmare. Add being stuck in traffic to being crammed into a daladala that is not quite tall enough to stand up in comfortably, and you have my not-very-fun (but pretty typical) commute to work.

Then that night we had a power outage. The blackout did not last so long, but turned into a very annoying semi-power outage, in which the bulbs glow a faint orange providing just enough light so that you don't bump into anything, but not enough to read, or power any appliances. So the food in the fridge spoils, and the fans turn at a maddeningly, tauntingly slow pace.

The rain also brings out some of God's noisier and more annoying creatures. A recent visit to Google Earth revealed that we live right across the street from a large swamp. So the frogs who live there create a cacophony while one tries to sleep (a process that is not abetted by the fact that the fan is barely turning). And then of course the rainy season means more mosquitoes.

Finally, potentially unrelated to the rain, there is our rodent problem. For a while now, we've suspected we had a mouse (OK, there is probably never just a mouse, but still) but he kept a pretty low profile. The occasional nibbling on old papers, or scurrying across the pantry, but for the most part, he did not bother us and we did not bother him.

But suddenly, as if inspired by all the other annoyances enumerated above, he has become emboldened. And joined by a number of his rodent comrades, of both the mouse and rat persuasion. On Tuesday night, I was kept awake by various bumps and thumps, as these insidious creatures ran around my room, gleefully (well, I imagine) knocking things over with reckless abandon. I awoke to find a "present" of mouse poop on my bathroom sink, and also to discover that they had chewed a large hole in one of my favorite purses in order to get at the crumbs from an empty packet of cashew nuts I had bought weeks before...

Anyway, we've decided it's time to call in the pros, and so by early next week, the esteemed gentlemen from DISPOSITEK will have hopefully gotten rid of these unwelcome additions to our household...

OK, I realize this rant is not the best advertisement to those of you planning to visit me, or who I have been begging to come. Perhaps I should take a minute to say that Tanzania still does have a great deal to recommend it, and I'm certainly not ready to pack my bags and return home. Especially these days, when the U.S. appears to be gripped by one scandal and tragedy after another.

So come! But just be sure to pack your flashlights, your earplugs, your bug spray, and your rainboots... (And your cat?)

So this past Saturday I attended my first high society event here in Dar - the St. Patrick's Day Ball, hosted by the Irish Society of Dar es Salaam.

Not having expected to be attending such posh functions when I packed to come here, I didn't have anything appropriate to wear. Fortunately, I live around the corner from the amazing Mama Tina, tailor and fashion designer extraordinaire! She charges a bit more than most tailors (there are a ton all over town) but definitely worth it, and still pretty reasonable. So, I went to her a few weeks ago and explained that I needed a ball gown and I needed it to be green. Luckily for me, she had just finished making a wedding dress for a Midsummer Night's Dream themed wedding, and so had a swatch of gauzy, green fabric. I loved it, and so we set about designing my dress. The whole thing was a bit of a process, involving numerous fittings and pin-pricks, but I was very happy with the end result (even if it was only delivered an hour before I had to leave for the ball!)

I wasn't the only one who made use of Tina's services. See the photo below for additional examples of her work.

As for the event itself, it was a lot of fun. Since I've lately felt that my social life here is kind of like high school (everybody knows everybody else, and thus, everybody knows everybody's business...) the ball really felt like the prom. Tho one did not need a date to attend (lucky, since the women in the young ex-pat crowd far outnumber the men here!)

Anyway, it was quite fun to see everyone all dressed up, and then we also got to enjoy Irish step dancing, a band that had been flown in from Ireland, a Tanzanian group that played all your wedding/Bar Mitzvah faves (no 'Shout' thank goodness) and plenty of good food and drink. A bit too much drink for some... at some later point in the evening a teenaged member of the Irish band was seen swaying on the dancefloor, wine bottle in hand, with a significant amount of that wine on his neon green T-shirt. He was next seen lying on his back in the middle of the dance floor. Like I said, visions of the prom...

Despite having a good time, I do not think I will become a regular on the Dar ball circuit. (Yes, there is such a thing! The English, the South Africans, and even the Americans all throw their own...) Part of the fun of this was the sheer novelty/absurdity. Plus, think of all the new dresses I'd have to get made!!

"A woman willing to go to Tanzania 'needs to be strong, independent and willing to take a lot of harassment.'"

The above quote is from an article in The Minnesota Daily, the student newspaper of the University of Minnesota. In the article, which has been circulating among my friends here in Dar, a female student describes her rather harrowing experience studying abroad at the University of Dar es Salaam in Tanzania. She describes rape attempts, catcalls, and assaults, as well as a general lack of support (and in some cases further harassment) from University officials here.

I found this article highly upsetting. First off, the experiences described are extremely unpleasant, and my heart goes out to this young woman. But at the same time, I was more upset by the implications of this (rather shoddily written) article - that sexual harassment in Tanzania is the norm. There's a somewhat more balanced account of the incidents here (from InsideHigherEd.com) but to a great extent, the same message comes across. As one of the comments on the latter article puts it, "Kind of makes you wonder what our Tanzanian sisters are putting up with on a daily basis. Sobering."

I don't know. I have certainly received more unwanted attention in this country than I did back home. Part of that simply comes from being a white person, and thus, something of a novelty. And since there is not the same sort of Political Correctness filter here, it's not uncommon for people to vocalize the fact that they think foreigners look different and weird.

OK, I have also been proposed to and propositioned multiple times over the past year - on the daladala, in taxis, and via text messages. Most of the time, I have just been able to make a joke of it ("I think you're a little old for me" to the 50-something taxi driver who parks outside of my office, after he explained that he could take me as his second wife since he's Muslim.) There have been a few instances that made me truly uncomfortable, and those were harder to deal with. I basically tried to deflect the more inappropriate advances and also show that I thought the behavior was not acceptable.

Anyway, one thing that upset me about these articles was the way in which they took one woman's experience and generalized it to the whole country, so I don't want to do the same thing with my experiences. But... what the hell, I will make a few generalizations (with the excuse that this is a blog and not a newspaper and therefore journalistic ethics do not apply) based on what I've seen and heard.

As far as I can tell, Tanzania does not have a culture of machismo. That is to say, while I've been propositioned by strangers, I doubt most Tanzanian women have. Sex is not so out in the open here. Men and women often do not even dance together, especially not in the same bump-and-grind style that is so popular in the States. However, it is probably safe to say that "traditional" Tanzanian culture puts men above women, at least in terms of the respect and authority that they command. This leads to certain assumptions about rape and baffling policies like the one that prohibits pregnant schoolgirls from attending their classes, while doing nothing to reprimand the boys who knocked them up.

But I digress. Getting back to the quote that I started this post with, I don't think that any (American) woman coming to Tanzania should necessarily expect "a lot of harassment." Unwanted attention, perhaps. More to the point, she will have to deal with certain stereotypes about American culture (and thus, American women) that are perpetuated by movies, television shows, and images in advertising that come from the West.

I'm not trying to excuse sexual harassment in this country, but rather to understand it. Living abroad, I find that I must constantly walk a fine line between respecting the culture of my new home, and staying true to my own values - that is, respecting myself. And choosing my battles.

In light of all of this, I'm excited for next Saturday, when I will be attending a Tanzanian production of The Vagina Monologues. (Apparently it was a huge hit last year - among Tanzanians as well as ex-pats.)

Well! Today is my one-year anniversary of living in Tanzania. It's funny - on the one hand the time has absolutely flown by, and I find it rather hard to believe that it's already been a whole year. But then on the other hand, I really do feel pretty well-adjusted and settled here. In many ways, I find my life here to be a bit surreal, but it's still my life.

In thinking about the significance of this milestone, I am reminded of a friend's New Year's ritual. Rather than making New Year's Resolutions, this friend looks for New Year's Revelations - things she's learned over the past year that have some effect on her outlook for the coming year (at least that's how I interpret it). So, forgive this bit of navel-gazing, but I would like to share my One-Year-in-Dar Revelations with you, in terms of three main themes...

Learning. I have learned an incredible amount in the past year - about Tanzania, about the business of 'development,' about America's place in the world, and about myself. I have found that a number of things that I took for granted are simply not true. Or at least not as black and white. What the hell am I talking about? Well, take 'development.' I think in the West (the Global North? What's the PC terms these days?) it's easy to assume that the main issue behind global inequality and injustice is that some countries have a lot of money and some countries have very little money. So the clear solution would appear to be to have the richer countries give the poorer countries some money. I must admit I subscribed to this rather simplistic view. But living in a 'developing' country (in case you can't tell, I kind of hate that term) you realize there are so many other factors at play, and that the whole business of development is characterized by a lot of arrogance, and perhaps something more sinister. This is not to say that there aren't people with good intentions, but it can just feel very patronizing. And when you think about it, the development business has no incentive to make poverty history (Thanks, Bono.) since then there would be no more use for the development business! Especially in the current lingo of the World Bank (where all citizens are considered to be "clients"), it really doesn't make good business sense to get rid of poverty.

Another eye-opener has been the politicization of civil society in Tanzania (and I think it's safe to assume in a lot of poorer countries). What I mean by this is that the civil society sector has been in large part artificially created. Why? Well, richer countries did not want to give their money to corrupt governments to squander, so they poured money into a parallel sector, which would presumably be more accountable. But what this has meant is that civil society often gets dismissed as being constrained by external priorities, which creates a difficult environment for groups that represent more 'organic' priorities. Also, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and especially international NGOs (such as CARE, World Vision, ActionAid, VSO, etc.) tend to pay much better than local organizations or government jobs, so they suck away a bunch of qualified people.

Yikes! I fear I must appear rather cynical at this point. I'd be remiss if I didn't mention some of the good things I've learned too... My eyes have also been opened to the abundance of natural beauty in this country. The white-sand beaches along the coast, and lush green landscapes to the north, which contrast with red, red earth, and blue skies that offer glimpses of majestic Mount Meru and Mount Kilimanjaro. It's also just been great to get to talk to people and gain an understanding of how they think about politics, relationships, education...

I can't say that I've learned that despite all our differences and distances we are all the same. If anything, I've learned more about the ways in which culture and context make it harder to find common ground. But trying to relate to people from a different culture/context, while not always easy, has its rewards.

Friends. I have made some wonderful, close friendships in the past year. Being so far from home, and family and friends, one sort of has to build a support system from scratch. I think this helps to explain the intensity of the friendships that I have been fortunate to form while in Dar. It can be a bit hard, since the community is rather transient, but I do have faith that some of the friends I've made here will remain in my life after we leave Dar.

One thing that has been disappointing is the lack of Tanzanians in my close circle of friends. This goes back to the difficulties I've experienced in terms of relating to people who come from such a different context. But sometimes it honestly feels like a moral failing. I try to remember that it's a two-sided thing. While I could certainly push myself to go further outside of my comfort zone, in some ways I think Tanzanian culture is just relatively closed, and if other people aren't making the effort, then it's not entirely my "fault."

Home. As I said at the outset of this post, I really feel pretty settled here. And while I miss my family and friends and certain aspects of the U.S. and Western culture, I do not wish I were back in the States right now. In fact, I sometimes experience a feeling of relief that I'm not there. The current political situation, the emphasis on consumerism, the (relative) lack of community... I'm glad to be away from it! But at the same time, I can't say I completely consider Tanzania my home, and I don't see myself settling down here for good.

So, what next? At this point, I really have no idea. My boss just explained that he's trying to find a nice Tanzanian man for me to marry so that I'll have to stick around longer then another year. Not sure about that but it's nice to feel appreciated, I suppose! OK, I must be off and finish up some work (it is Saturday after all) and then raise a glass to myself. Happy Anniversary to me!

(Lots of new photos on Flickr... check out scenes from the Zanzibar Music Fest, our rocking Mardi Gras party, and a night out in Dar!)

So I’m sure it gets old, but so far I’m a big fan of this travelling for work business. Yes, the jet lag is a bitch, but it’s pretty cool to be flown half way around the world and put up in a nice hotel in a cool city. And I’ve been enjoying the work part as well. Over the past four days, I’ve had a chance to network with people doing very interesting work in Pakistan, Ethiopia, Indonesia, Malawi and other places. I have found it really energizing to interact with people who are engaged in the same type of work as me (albeit in very different contexts).

There has been some Power Point overload, which I fear is common at these types of workshops, but also some really interesting presentations. For instance, the organization that is hosting us here convened a group of local journalists to come and talk to us about their craft. The Mexican journalists were all rather glamorous (though perhaps that’s just in comparison to us schlubby NGO types) and a tad arrogant, but it was eye-opening to see things from their perspective and we had a lot of fun with them.

I must now share a bit of workshop humor from their presentation. One of the journalists was trying to explain the difference between being committed and being involved. It’s like ham and eggs, he said. With eggs, a chicken is involved, whereas with ham, the pig is committed. Ha.

I’ve also had a chance to check out some of the nightlife in Mexico City. The other night I went out dancing with my Tanzanian colleague and a workshop participant from Guatemala. Following one of our host’s recommendations, we started our evening at a salsa club called Meneo. The scene there was a bit weird – kind of a Miami-in-the-late-‘70s aesthetic, with smoke machines, and Latin music videos playing on huge screens all around the club. Despite the weirdness, I wouldn’t have minded taking a whirl on the dance floor, but my companions were not into the music, plus it was almost exclusively populated by couples, so we decided to make a move.

Our next stop was La Zona Rosa, a neighborhood we had been cautioned to stay away from by one of the translators (because of the prevalence of gay people) and one of our hosts (because of the prevalence of prostitutes). Of course these warnings just made it sound more interesting, and so we ended up wandering its notorious streets until we found a club that would pass muster with my friends. The Zona Rosa was really not so sketchy after all, though we did get some comments as we walked. At one point a guy yelled, “Africa! Club! Africa!” as we walked by. I was all prepared to get offended on behalf of my Tanzanian colleague, but then we turned the corner and came upon an establishment called, “Club Afrika.” Oops.

We didn’t feel like paying the steep cover to go to “Afrika” and so headed on to a loud, crowded gay club. Our Guatemalen friend was slightly scandalized (Did you see those boys kissing??!), but once she got over her initial shock we had a great time and stayed there til the wee hours, making new friends, and taking in a fabulous drag show.

It's 3 in the morning here, so I should probably be trying to fall back asleep, but this wireless Internet credit is only good for 24 hours, and I might be too cheap to buy another one tomorrow, so figured it was a good time to share some preliminary impressions of Mexico City. Hmm. Apparently jet lag induces run-on sentences.

Anyway, I have only seen the part of MC between the airport and my hotel (located in the Centro Historico) out of the window of a cab. But that glimpse left me eager to explore. Yes, there was an oppressive layer of late afternoon smog, but the city strikes me as a colorful, lively place. I was overwhelmed by how much stuff there is everywhere. All the shops we passed were bursting at the seams -- with different colored bouncy balls or bicycles or yards of fabric. Indeed the city seems to be organized by stuff. Like all the bouncy ball shops were clumped together, then came a bunch of bike shops, and for a long time we were driving down formal dress avenue, with countless stores selling satin ball gowns (in lime green, sky blue, coral pink...) or strappy heels.

The centro historico should be fun to explore on foot. Lots of winding, stone streets, and just around the corner from our hotel is this huge plaza, flanked by ornate stone buildings. The plaza was filled with people milling around, taking pictures, selling things -- and I saw a few street performers, which is always fun. I love these public meeting spots that are set amidst some historical grandeur -- so you can just sit back and take it in, while chatting with friends and passing around a bottle of wine... (OK, now I think I'm back in Italy -- I suppose here it's cerveza... Assuming Mexico does not have an open container law!)

It has also been amusing to note a number of more familiar restaurants -- McDonald's everywhere, and our hotel even has a Starbucks! (The only American restaurant chain in Tanzania is Subway, oddly enough. The Tanzanian Subway experience is rather frighteningly similar to the American one, though we do have a few more locally influenced options, such as the Chicken Tikka sub, which I have yet to try.)

Unfortunately, I won't be able to do quite as much exploring as I'd like, since I'll be spending the bulk of the next 4 days in this very hotel (which is rather swanky, I must say! At least compared to my digs in Dar...) But our flight out on the 5th isn't until the evening, so should have some good time for wandering and souvenier-shopping then.

Alright, I suppose I should attempt to go back to sleep now. Must appreciate this luxury of sleeping on a mattress with springs, and having it be cool enough to need a light blanket. Also no mosquito net!!

Greetings from Amsterdam!* Or rather, the lovely Amsterdam Airport Schiphol. I am just stopping here for a few hours on my way to Mexico, but figured I had better update now or else I would fail to achieve my goal of at least one post per month**, thus signalling something of a death knell for this little blog. So, where have I been? Well, there is the obvious excuse that I have simply been too busy experiencing life to find time to chronicle it. Some truth to that, I suppose, but I’ve also just gotten a bit lazy. Fortunately, the experience of an airport layover is sufficiently less than thrilling, so I can finally take some to reconnect with you, my dear readers. (Or perhaps at this point, I’m just down to reader… Hi Mom!)

So, I find it rather amusing that I should be making my first trip to Mexico via Tanzania, rather than my considerably closer country of origin. But I’m not complaining. Especially since it’s all for free! I’m travelling to attend a conference sponsored by the International Budget Project, the international division of my former employer in D.C. A Tanzanian colleague and I will be representing HakiElimu at a workshop designed to hone advocacy and communication skills, and connect us with nine other organizations from around the world that IBP is also supporting to do similar work (budget analysis in the public interest).

Unfortunately, my trip has been cut short due to the fact that I became ill the day before I was supposed to travel. Nothing exotic like malaria or West Nile Virus or Rift Valley Fever, but enough of a bug to make travelling on Monday evening seem like a very bad idea. Fortunately, I was able to delay my flight until the next night (KLM has a standing red-eye from Dar to Amsterdam) and here I am.

This was the first time I’ve been sick enough here to take time off from work, and my colleagues were duly concerned. When I came into the office on Tuesday afternoon to finalize a few things before my departure, I received a Pole sana, Dada Ruth! (“Very sorry, Sister Ruth!”) from practically everyone who saw me, often followed by further exhortations of how grateful they were that I had returned and was doing better. My favorite reaction to my illness came from our director for Finance and Administration, who gave me his Pole sana and Nashukuru (I am grateful) but then followed it up with an explanation that as a man of faith, he had to say that suffering actually brings us closer to God, and so we should not complain in light of suffering, but actually be grateful for it. Well. Thank you, Lord, for my flu! OK, enough blasphemy. To be honest, it was really nice to experience such an outpouring of concern from my colleagues about my welfare.

I am still sort of wondering about the wisdom of my decision to make this trip, since while I’m feeling better, I’m still not feeling great. Two hours into my flight here, one of the stewardesses asked in slightly shaky voice if there were any doctors on board, as a passenger needed immediate medical attention. OK, she wasn’t referring to me, but still it seemed like some sort of a sign that an airplane is no place to be if you’re sick.

Fortunately, there was a doctor on board. In fact, he was seated in my row! He rushed to the front of the cabin and helped attend to the poor passenger (who was apparently having a seizure) and after about 30 minutes returned to his seat. Since everything was dark, it was unclear what had happened. I wanted to ask the doctor, and congratulate or thank him, but somehow these urges seemed inappropriate (too ‘American’) and so I just let him go back to sleep.

Not knowing what had happened to my fellow Sick Person on the Plane added to the general anxiety I’ve begun to experience recently when flying. (I know it’s much more likely to die in a car crash than a plane crash – certainly not hard to believe if you’ve been on the road in Tanzania – but flying still just feels like tempting fate a bit too much…) While I waited for a restroom that had been occupied for an inordinately long period of time, I managed to convince myself for a brief moment that the poor siezing passenger had expired and the flight crew had stuffed him or her in the loo for lack of a better option.

Happily, I was reassured when the door opened to allow its fully live occupant to exit. And upon landing a member of the flight crew came by to thank the doctor for his help, and present him with a token of gratitude, which presumably she would not have done had the passenger croaked. (Two mini-bottles of house wine and a ceramic figurine were his reward. One would think they could find something slightly nicer from the duty-free stock for a lifesaving feat, but perhaps this kind of thing happens all the time.)

This incident made me reflect on how doctors (at least those with some sense of moral responsibility) can never be entirely “off.” Having the social utility of one’s profession be so obvious must be gratifying, it must also be something of an annoyance at times. The chances of a passenger needing “immediate budget analysis” on my next flight are rather slim, which I must say is something of a relief!


*OK, I'm actually in Mexico now -- was too cheap to go online at the Amsterdam airport.
**It's still February in Mexico City!!