Arusha, Friday, March 10, 2017
It’s 4:00 p.m. here, which means it’s 5:00 a.m. back in Spokane. We need to begin flipping our clocks, as we have only three and a half more hours here in Arusha. Ray will come at 6:30 to load up our luggage and drive us out to the airport. Our plane isn’t scheduled to leave until 9:30, so we should have plenty of time to get to the airport, go through the check in process, and take a breath before boarding. Then we’ll have 20+ hours crammed into our unfriendly plane seats with a 2-hour break between flights in Amsterdam. By the time we get to Amsterdam, I am already questioning if it’s really worth all the misery to get here and back home each year. By next fall, the answer will be a huge YES.
Yesterday was a completely nondescript day. I still feel slightly sick, so I did little except sort and pack for our departure. Mama Kundayo must have noticed that I was not in and out of our apartment as usual, so she sent Beatrice over with a beer for me. I was touched, and though I’m not fond of beer except when accompanied by food, I drank it quite easily. Most of the afternoon, however, I spent lying down hoping that I feel better any minute.
By this morning, we had our suitcases 99% packed, with only last minute items to stick in as we exit. Mazo gave us a large cardboard box in which we have packed the kitchen and household items we brought to make life here easier for us. These are items such as a decent can opener, funnel, additional spoons, knives, and forks, a second serving bowl, silicone hot pads, a silicone spatula, vinyl clad hangers, and our treasured plunger. We also decided to leave some clothes we only use here as well as miscellaneous spices and toiletries. With all of that left here, our suitcases are far less crammed than usual in spite of the fabric and gifts we are carrying home. The heaviest items in our luggage are the six-yard pieces of fabric and the Masai sandals we bought. Today, John made one last trip to the workshop where sandals are made and bought one more pair he had special ordered yesterday.
I was awakened by a phone call from Elizabeth, who is out caring for her watermelons. She reported that the melons are doing well, and she hopes to harvest them at the beginning of April. Both she and I said how much we hope her crop will earn what she needs. I’m glad that after the whole sad saga with her sister Ngaisi, Elizabeth is no longer worried about any repercussions from me. She promised to email me to let me know how the watermelon harvest turns out.
After breakfast, we went out to the garden terrace as we used to. It was all ours again because the Whitworth students had gone off on a field trip for the day. Being able just to sit and enjoy the morning breeze and lovely setting once again in relative silence was a perfect gift for our last morning here.
John didn’t want to spend his day cooped up at Kundayo with me, so around 1:00, he walked toward town in order to have lunch at Ugunzungi City Park Restaurant. I had also wanted to try that place, but I knew I couldn’t handle it today, and now I’m just as glad I stayed behind. Of course, John ordered nayama choma (roasted meat), but while it was tasty, it was also so tough, John could hardly chew it. The prices didn’t seem all that reasonable either, so we aren’t sure why so many people eat there every day though it wasn’t packed today.
John was broiling hot by the time he returned to Kundayo and laid down for a rest. I had been lying down since soon after noon, so I got up to write this last blog and begin shoving the final items into my suitcase. I am always startled when it is time to return to the States. Time passes far too quickly here, and there is almost no one at home who can also see, smell, and taste the parts of Tanzanian life I love so well talk when I talk about my experiences here. The box we packed to leave behind is our promise to return in 2018.
Monday, March 13, 2017
Thursday, March 9, 2017
Arusha, Tuesday & Wednesday, March 7 - 8, 2017
Tuesday began with a message from Moses Pulei, a Whitworth graduate from the 1980s, who has moved back to Tanzania and does a variety of entrepreneurial projects in Tanzania, Kenya, and Uganda. He was first lured backed to Tanzania by WorldVision, but after several years of having to travel constantly to help raise money for them, he gave that up to spend more time with his family and—in my opinion—stop being used as a shill for big donations. What people at home often do not know is that WorldVision spends large amounts of money on their staff, programs, and facilities but often have very thin data to show any long-range benefits for what they do. In Africa, WorldVision is well-known for the lavish lifestyles of their ex-patriot staff. The local workers, of course, are not paid on the same scale.
When Moses arrived, we had a good time catching up with him and what he and his family have been doing since we saw him last year. He is still growing chia in Uganda and trying to market it though that is difficult because of a large Australia company which has been trying to flood the market and push everyone else out. That situation may improve soon, however, plus Moses and his partner have developed chia milk and skin care products for which there is a large market in China. last week, however, he was stuck at the Kenya-Tanzania border with a truckload of hay he had bought up in the Rift Valley for the 500 sheep he had bought to sell for Eid. No doubt wanting a big bribe, the border authorities decided they needed to inspect every hay bale for drugs, arms, or who knows what. Meanwhile, Moses’ sheep were starving here in Tanzania. Finally, the border authority said Moses could take pickup loads of hay bales to his sheep once some bales had been inspected. So, Moses drove back and forth for several days until all the hay had been thoroughly searched, and the truck was completely unloaded. Life is never routine here.
We decided to have lunch with Moses at our favorite place, George’s, even though we had earlier planned to try Uzunguni City Park this day. I guess that adventure will have to wait until next year. Being with Moses and having one last George’s salad and pizza was a double treat.
Mama Tesha came back to Kundayo in the late afternoon to match up the students with their host families. After greeting her, we absented ourselves from the action as students met their families and moved out. By early evening, Kundayo was quiet and once again felt like ours.
We had to get up at 6:30 Wednesday morning because this was the day we were going out beyond Njiro to visit Step-by-Step Learning Center, the school my friend Margaret Kenyi founded for special needs students. It is the only such school in Arusha, and perhaps in all of Tanzania. (http://viva-tanzania.com/step-by-step-learning-centre/) Because Margaret and her husband, Christopher, have a special needs daughter, Margaret became very concerned about the lack of opportunities for such children in Africa and spent two years while they were living in Botswana commuting to South Africa to take courses in special education. It was after they moved to Arusha, that Margaret began the school eleven years ago.
The school sits on 5 acres out in Masailand. There are two very neat buildings, plus some smaller out buildings. One building serves for group meetings, craft activities, and teatime and lunch. The other building contains the classrooms. The students come by bus each morning and return home in the afternoon. I was immediately impressed by how light, colorful and brightly decorated all the rooms were. This contrasts sharply with the usual gloomy, bare classrooms in most African schools. First thing, the students all meet in a large room for circle time, during which they sing lots of songs, some with special motions. It was amazing to me that all the students regardless of the severity of their disabilities all sat on their chairs and joined in the activities. There was no acting out, no disruption, just lots of smiles. Near the end of circle time, the staff went from students oiling their hands while singing the “This is the way…” song with each student’s name. This was obviously the students’ favorite activity, so they spin a bottle to decide with whom the oiling begins. Each and every student wiggled with joy and simply beamed. Then, we held hands, sang another song, and went for chia (tea). Once again, each children went to his or her designated place, sat, and ate and drank as well as they could. Staff sat with the students—something never done in other African schools—and wiped faces and spills as needed. After tea, the students washed their hands and went to their classrooms. I heard not a single scream, cry, or disruptive noise during this whole time.
Then, William, the bus driver and Margaret’s assistant, gave us a tour of the garden and other grounds. Each child has a tiny bit of garden to plant and water, but most of the garden is for growing corn and other vegetables for the school. They also have some goats so they can have milk, and they have begun beekeeping. There are even chickens for eggs. A full-time groundkeeper lives in a little house and takes care of the animals and garden. They keep good relations with their Masai neighbors by allowing them to come over and cut the extra grass in a certain area for their own animals. Unfortunately during our visit, the school’s goats got loose and ate some of the neighbors’ corn, so relations will need some restoring.
Next we visited the two classrooms, and once again, the students were seated and paying good attention. One new little girl was semi-crooning to herself, but that didn’t seem to distract anyone else. The students were going over the parts of the body, using both Swahili and English names for them. The teacher proudly showed us their tented off area that is set up as a “sensory room.” It was recess time when we got to the second, more advanced classroom, but the teacher there took us around and gave us explanations of each area. Here some children can understand numbers and values and have a small pretend store at which they practice purchasing and paying. Some also advance on to basic arithmetic and reading. In the afternoons, the children have a wide variety of activities in which they participate, e.g., beadwork, weaving, making fire briquettes, sorting and counting seeds, as well as their garden plots.
The child who caught my attention most strongly was a little boy with cerebral palsy, who is physically trapped in a very twisted body, which is only now getting any physical therapy, and he could be completely normal mentally. His dominate language is English, so I took his hand, asked him some simple yes or no questions. He would squeeze my hand and try hard to say yes or no. He was clear enough that I could tell he had understood me, and he seemed quite excited that I was talking with him. For all anyone knows, he could be another Stephen Hawking, but he lacks all the computerized technology Hawking has. The idea that this little boy may be permanently trapped and have no way of escaping his physical limits is difficult for me to think about.
Margaret works hard to keep building up her school and put in place best practices for the students special needs. Most African families will hide such children or leave them to die if their “defects” are apparent at birth. Margaret wants to give them a safe place to develop as best they can and most of all give them a sense of value. From what we observed, the children seem absolutely delighted to be at the school, where unlike other Tanzanian schools, there are no teachers with sticks who hit and yell at children. I am humbled by what one determined woman has been able to accomplish.
I often boast a little about how I never really get sick in Africa although long ago I had both malaria and hepatitis. However, since Monday, I have been feeling unsettled in the lower GI region. I did okay at Step-by-Step, but by noon I was very ready to return to Kundayo, where I spent most of the rest of the day lying in bed lapsing in and out of sleep. This will not do, as our departure is very soon.
Tuesday began with a message from Moses Pulei, a Whitworth graduate from the 1980s, who has moved back to Tanzania and does a variety of entrepreneurial projects in Tanzania, Kenya, and Uganda. He was first lured backed to Tanzania by WorldVision, but after several years of having to travel constantly to help raise money for them, he gave that up to spend more time with his family and—in my opinion—stop being used as a shill for big donations. What people at home often do not know is that WorldVision spends large amounts of money on their staff, programs, and facilities but often have very thin data to show any long-range benefits for what they do. In Africa, WorldVision is well-known for the lavish lifestyles of their ex-patriot staff. The local workers, of course, are not paid on the same scale.
When Moses arrived, we had a good time catching up with him and what he and his family have been doing since we saw him last year. He is still growing chia in Uganda and trying to market it though that is difficult because of a large Australia company which has been trying to flood the market and push everyone else out. That situation may improve soon, however, plus Moses and his partner have developed chia milk and skin care products for which there is a large market in China. last week, however, he was stuck at the Kenya-Tanzania border with a truckload of hay he had bought up in the Rift Valley for the 500 sheep he had bought to sell for Eid. No doubt wanting a big bribe, the border authorities decided they needed to inspect every hay bale for drugs, arms, or who knows what. Meanwhile, Moses’ sheep were starving here in Tanzania. Finally, the border authority said Moses could take pickup loads of hay bales to his sheep once some bales had been inspected. So, Moses drove back and forth for several days until all the hay had been thoroughly searched, and the truck was completely unloaded. Life is never routine here.
We decided to have lunch with Moses at our favorite place, George’s, even though we had earlier planned to try Uzunguni City Park this day. I guess that adventure will have to wait until next year. Being with Moses and having one last George’s salad and pizza was a double treat.
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| With Moses at George's |
Mama Tesha came back to Kundayo in the late afternoon to match up the students with their host families. After greeting her, we absented ourselves from the action as students met their families and moved out. By early evening, Kundayo was quiet and once again felt like ours.
We had to get up at 6:30 Wednesday morning because this was the day we were going out beyond Njiro to visit Step-by-Step Learning Center, the school my friend Margaret Kenyi founded for special needs students. It is the only such school in Arusha, and perhaps in all of Tanzania. (http://viva-tanzania.com/step-by-step-learning-centre/) Because Margaret and her husband, Christopher, have a special needs daughter, Margaret became very concerned about the lack of opportunities for such children in Africa and spent two years while they were living in Botswana commuting to South Africa to take courses in special education. It was after they moved to Arusha, that Margaret began the school eleven years ago.
The school sits on 5 acres out in Masailand. There are two very neat buildings, plus some smaller out buildings. One building serves for group meetings, craft activities, and teatime and lunch. The other building contains the classrooms. The students come by bus each morning and return home in the afternoon. I was immediately impressed by how light, colorful and brightly decorated all the rooms were. This contrasts sharply with the usual gloomy, bare classrooms in most African schools. First thing, the students all meet in a large room for circle time, during which they sing lots of songs, some with special motions. It was amazing to me that all the students regardless of the severity of their disabilities all sat on their chairs and joined in the activities. There was no acting out, no disruption, just lots of smiles. Near the end of circle time, the staff went from students oiling their hands while singing the “This is the way…” song with each student’s name. This was obviously the students’ favorite activity, so they spin a bottle to decide with whom the oiling begins. Each and every student wiggled with joy and simply beamed. Then, we held hands, sang another song, and went for chia (tea). Once again, each children went to his or her designated place, sat, and ate and drank as well as they could. Staff sat with the students—something never done in other African schools—and wiped faces and spills as needed. After tea, the students washed their hands and went to their classrooms. I heard not a single scream, cry, or disruptive noise during this whole time.
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| Circle time. The light made photography difficult for me. |
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| Looking from eht eclassrooms to the activities building. |
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| With Margaret at chai (tea) time. |
Then, William, the bus driver and Margaret’s assistant, gave us a tour of the garden and other grounds. Each child has a tiny bit of garden to plant and water, but most of the garden is for growing corn and other vegetables for the school. They also have some goats so they can have milk, and they have begun beekeeping. There are even chickens for eggs. A full-time groundkeeper lives in a little house and takes care of the animals and garden. They keep good relations with their Masai neighbors by allowing them to come over and cut the extra grass in a certain area for their own animals. Unfortunately during our visit, the school’s goats got loose and ate some of the neighbors’ corn, so relations will need some restoring.
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| William explaining how they make briquettes from paper, wood chips and charcoal dust. |
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| The groundskeeper's house with the sheds for the chickens and goats. |
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| The beehives |
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| Enjoying the trampoline and the tricycle. |
Next we visited the two classrooms, and once again, the students were seated and paying good attention. One new little girl was semi-crooning to herself, but that didn’t seem to distract anyone else. The students were going over the parts of the body, using both Swahili and English names for them. The teacher proudly showed us their tented off area that is set up as a “sensory room.” It was recess time when we got to the second, more advanced classroom, but the teacher there took us around and gave us explanations of each area. Here some children can understand numbers and values and have a small pretend store at which they practice purchasing and paying. Some also advance on to basic arithmetic and reading. In the afternoons, the children have a wide variety of activities in which they participate, e.g., beadwork, weaving, making fire briquettes, sorting and counting seeds, as well as their garden plots.
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| One of the classrooms. |
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| John and I with Margaret. |
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| Margaret Kenyi, a true hero. |
The child who caught my attention most strongly was a little boy with cerebral palsy, who is physically trapped in a very twisted body, which is only now getting any physical therapy, and he could be completely normal mentally. His dominate language is English, so I took his hand, asked him some simple yes or no questions. He would squeeze my hand and try hard to say yes or no. He was clear enough that I could tell he had understood me, and he seemed quite excited that I was talking with him. For all anyone knows, he could be another Stephen Hawking, but he lacks all the computerized technology Hawking has. The idea that this little boy may be permanently trapped and have no way of escaping his physical limits is difficult for me to think about.
Margaret works hard to keep building up her school and put in place best practices for the students special needs. Most African families will hide such children or leave them to die if their “defects” are apparent at birth. Margaret wants to give them a safe place to develop as best they can and most of all give them a sense of value. From what we observed, the children seem absolutely delighted to be at the school, where unlike other Tanzanian schools, there are no teachers with sticks who hit and yell at children. I am humbled by what one determined woman has been able to accomplish.
I often boast a little about how I never really get sick in Africa although long ago I had both malaria and hepatitis. However, since Monday, I have been feeling unsettled in the lower GI region. I did okay at Step-by-Step, but by noon I was very ready to return to Kundayo, where I spent most of the rest of the day lying in bed lapsing in and out of sleep. This will not do, as our departure is very soon.
Monday, March 6, 2017
Arusha, Saturday & Sunday, March 4 - 5, 2017
Saturday wasn’t much to write about until evening. I had invited 8 friends to join us for what I call our “Last Supper,” the final meal we have with friends before we return to Spokane each year. One couple could not come because of scheduling reasons, but I was planning for the 6 who had said they were coming. Because of the limitations of my kitchen, e.g.,only two saucepans and one small skillet, four glasses, etc., I decided to have the Kundayo cook do the meal for us. I told Mazo that I wanted vegetable curry, a chicken vegetable dish, rice, cooked greens, and a fruit salad. Mayo decided we should have an avocado salad, too, which was fine with me. Then, at the last minute, three of our guests had unexpected changes in travel plans and had to leave town early, so I was left with only three guests, plus us; five in total. I was not happy but decided we would just have the best time we could anyway.
At 6:30, our guests arrived: Sharon, Tanzania’s MCC director; Eric Rowberg, the owner of HabariNode, a computer service company; and Eric’s daughter, Nashesha, who was wearing a Roger’s High School T-shirt. They are three of my favorite people. However, I wished Nshesha’s mother had been able to come, as I would like to become better acquainted with her. After some wine and soft drinks, and chips and guacamole on our terrace, we walked over to the garden terrace, where there was a table set up for us with all the dinner service Kundayo could muster. The food was excellent, the conversation very interesting, and I think a very good time was had by all. A small hedgehog even made a quick trip across the garden lawn for us. I especially enjoyed having no clean up and dirty dishes to do.
I was sad when I awoke Sunday morning, as it would be our last Sunday at ACC until next year. So many of the people who attend there have become very good friends, and I miss them when I am back in Spokane. My friend Linda gave the morning message on the three temptations of Jesus, and I thought she did a remarkable job both in content and presentation. It's wonderful to hear so many sane sermons week after week. After the service, I wandered around giving my good-byes and taking a few photos as I always do.
Because our friends Linda and Mark couldn’t join us for our Saturday dinner, Linda invited us to dinner at their house on Sunday. She was adamant that we had to come to their house before we left later in the week. So, after church, we rode with another friend who also had been absent Saturday evening out on Ilboru Road to the old Lutheran mission station, where Linda and Mark live. Linda had invited several of our friends to join us, and also present were three doctors who had just arrived from the States to volunteer at Arusha Lutheran Medical Center for several weeks. Linda is remarkably efficient and whipped out a dinner of roast pork, escalloped potatoes, fresh green beans, cooked carrots, cooked red beets, and a leafy green salad. For dessert, there was not only the usual fruit salad but also Girl Scout cookies one of the doctors had brought with him. Conversation and festivities did not end until after 3:00. Sharon drove us back to Kundayo just before the Whitworth student group was scheduled to arrive.
Mama Kundayo was out sitting under her tree, so as soon as I divested myself of my Sunday baggage and had a drink of cold water, I joined her. While we waited for the Whitworth group, we caught up on our activities since our last palaver. She was up and down a lot giving orders to the three workers who were trimming the palm trees, bushes, and flowers in her courtyard, a place where I have never ever entered. From what I could see through the open gate, everything looked fine to me, but Mama has more finicky standards than I do. There were a lot of shouted comments, shaking of her head, and heavy sighs.
I wasn’t watching the clock, but sometime around 4:30, a small bus drove in and unloaded the Whitworth group: 16 students, two professors, and a professor’s spouse and two small children. I didn’t ask John what he was thinking but I think he might have been as happy as I to be completely free of any responsibility for this group. Managing a group of students is complex and wearing enough, and I cannot imagine how much that may be further complicated by having a non-teaching spouse with two small children, ages five and three, in the mix as well.
Megan, the lead faculty person, kept coming over to where we were sitting and telling me how very, very happy she was to see me again.
The students were soon moved into the apartments where they will stay until Tuesday morning, when they will be handed over to their host families. We retreated to our terrace, and Megan soon arrived for guacamole and chips before the group’s dinner at 7:00. John and I were still fairly satiated with Linda’s feast, so we just had some leftovers and ice cream with mangos. The students must have been tired because I heard nothing at all from any of them. The Pentecostals sang and a dog barked, and all was as it should be.
Saturday wasn’t much to write about until evening. I had invited 8 friends to join us for what I call our “Last Supper,” the final meal we have with friends before we return to Spokane each year. One couple could not come because of scheduling reasons, but I was planning for the 6 who had said they were coming. Because of the limitations of my kitchen, e.g.,only two saucepans and one small skillet, four glasses, etc., I decided to have the Kundayo cook do the meal for us. I told Mazo that I wanted vegetable curry, a chicken vegetable dish, rice, cooked greens, and a fruit salad. Mayo decided we should have an avocado salad, too, which was fine with me. Then, at the last minute, three of our guests had unexpected changes in travel plans and had to leave town early, so I was left with only three guests, plus us; five in total. I was not happy but decided we would just have the best time we could anyway.
At 6:30, our guests arrived: Sharon, Tanzania’s MCC director; Eric Rowberg, the owner of HabariNode, a computer service company; and Eric’s daughter, Nashesha, who was wearing a Roger’s High School T-shirt. They are three of my favorite people. However, I wished Nshesha’s mother had been able to come, as I would like to become better acquainted with her. After some wine and soft drinks, and chips and guacamole on our terrace, we walked over to the garden terrace, where there was a table set up for us with all the dinner service Kundayo could muster. The food was excellent, the conversation very interesting, and I think a very good time was had by all. A small hedgehog even made a quick trip across the garden lawn for us. I especially enjoyed having no clean up and dirty dishes to do.
I was sad when I awoke Sunday morning, as it would be our last Sunday at ACC until next year. So many of the people who attend there have become very good friends, and I miss them when I am back in Spokane. My friend Linda gave the morning message on the three temptations of Jesus, and I thought she did a remarkable job both in content and presentation. It's wonderful to hear so many sane sermons week after week. After the service, I wandered around giving my good-byes and taking a few photos as I always do.
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| Best dress of the morning |
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| Bridging cultures |
Because our friends Linda and Mark couldn’t join us for our Saturday dinner, Linda invited us to dinner at their house on Sunday. She was adamant that we had to come to their house before we left later in the week. So, after church, we rode with another friend who also had been absent Saturday evening out on Ilboru Road to the old Lutheran mission station, where Linda and Mark live. Linda had invited several of our friends to join us, and also present were three doctors who had just arrived from the States to volunteer at Arusha Lutheran Medical Center for several weeks. Linda is remarkably efficient and whipped out a dinner of roast pork, escalloped potatoes, fresh green beans, cooked carrots, cooked red beets, and a leafy green salad. For dessert, there was not only the usual fruit salad but also Girl Scout cookies one of the doctors had brought with him. Conversation and festivities did not end until after 3:00. Sharon drove us back to Kundayo just before the Whitworth student group was scheduled to arrive.
Mama Kundayo was out sitting under her tree, so as soon as I divested myself of my Sunday baggage and had a drink of cold water, I joined her. While we waited for the Whitworth group, we caught up on our activities since our last palaver. She was up and down a lot giving orders to the three workers who were trimming the palm trees, bushes, and flowers in her courtyard, a place where I have never ever entered. From what I could see through the open gate, everything looked fine to me, but Mama has more finicky standards than I do. There were a lot of shouted comments, shaking of her head, and heavy sighs.
I wasn’t watching the clock, but sometime around 4:30, a small bus drove in and unloaded the Whitworth group: 16 students, two professors, and a professor’s spouse and two small children. I didn’t ask John what he was thinking but I think he might have been as happy as I to be completely free of any responsibility for this group. Managing a group of students is complex and wearing enough, and I cannot imagine how much that may be further complicated by having a non-teaching spouse with two small children, ages five and three, in the mix as well.
Megan, the lead faculty person, kept coming over to where we were sitting and telling me how very, very happy she was to see me again.
The students were soon moved into the apartments where they will stay until Tuesday morning, when they will be handed over to their host families. We retreated to our terrace, and Megan soon arrived for guacamole and chips before the group’s dinner at 7:00. John and I were still fairly satiated with Linda’s feast, so we just had some leftovers and ice cream with mangos. The students must have been tired because I heard nothing at all from any of them. The Pentecostals sang and a dog barked, and all was as it should be.
Saturday, March 4, 2017
Soon after 9:00 John went off on his walk to downtown Arusha. As usual, his excuse was that we needed bread and bananas. I’m glad that he is able to walk so much and enjoys it. I was over in the garden terrace when he left, talking with a young German couple who have been here for several days. They had questions about Serengeti and the fees, etc. They plan on camping in their own tent, but were uncertain about food. I am always amazed how brave people can be. I’m no longer young enough and know far too much about possible disasters to try something like that anymore. However, I am sure some folks have wonderful times and leave with great memories.
Mama Kundayo appeared briefly when she got into a car I had never seen before and was driven out of the compound. Once again, she was dressed very somberly, so I assumed she was off to another funeral. I think it may have been the service for the businessman from a nearby village who was hijacked and killed in Nairobi last week. She didn’t return until about 2:00 and immediately went back into her house, so there was no visiting today.
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| Empty conversation center |
John was gone a very long time, and when he returned, he not only had bread and bananas but also the huge fruit salad from Fifi’s. It really is the best in town. However, I was suspicious when he said it was just for me. Then, he confessed: he had had a chocolate milkshake at Fifi’s, so the fruit salad was a guilt offering. What is it about the midwestern psyche that makes self gratification feel like such a sin? I told him that he could have had two milkshakes for all the walking he does, but that would likely have overwhelmed him with guilt.
The afternoon was basically reading, writing, and washing another bucket of socks. I made a big pot of spaghetti sauce, adding some of the less than stellar Dodoma wine to it. And, then it the clouds opened and it poured. We've always heard thunder when it rains, but today for the first time, we saw lightning, too. There were a few breaks in the rain, but in general it kept up even as we went to bed. I wondered, of course, if Elizabeth would have needed that 60,000 Tsch. if she had just waited another day. One never knows.
Arusha, Thursday, March 2, 2017
This day started early because I was the leader for the ACC women’s Bible study group. Our discussion was supposed to focus on Matthew 5: 16 - 19, the passage about being salt and light in our world. For someone with my elastic theology, this wasn’t a difficult text at all, but I wanted to make certain that I didn’t just say the same old things we’ve all heard since our Sunday School days, and I didn’t want to completely offend women who I knew would be far more theologically conservative than I am. So, as always, I over prepared. I downloaded N.T. Wright’s book, “Simply Jesus,” and read through that and also read several article on internet, and finally decided to first give the historical context into which Jesus appeared and discuss how he was not recognized as the expected messiah, just as today he isn’t recognized as revealing a new ethic and way of life. Both then and now, people wanted a political, militarily powerful messiah. After that, we’d explore the text and discuss meaning and application for us today. I knew, too, that as always, the women would find lots of ways to talk about whatever they wanted to, so I wasn’t worried about filling time.
We met at Miriam’s apartment, and since I arrived first—I was on time—I had time to find out more about Miriam, who is ethnically Asian Indian. She’s in her late 70s and as long as I have known her, she has been caring for her almost bedridden husband. She was born in Tanzania and met her husband while she was a nurse in Botswana. He is Muslim and she is Christian, so for years he forbid her to attend church. Finally, she discovered a women group which was meeting in some athletic club and began attending it every week. After several years, she finally told him why she went to the athletic club so faithfully, and he allowed he to continue. Then, a friend from that weekly group invited her to ACC, and again he allowed her to attend. Now, the women’s group meets in her apartment from time to time, which I think must be a huge stretch for him. She has always seemed a bit dour to me, but I realize now that she is simply a quiet, private person with great inner strength.
Our meeting went just a I thought it would, and only one woman—a mzungu—got a little jumpy with my theology. The women all had excellent observations and got off the topic as soon as they could so they could catch up on who was doing what or had which sort of problem. They are thick as thieves, as we say, and I’m always amazed that they have allowed me inside their circle. The “study” is supposed to end at 11:30, so we can eat the hostess’ prepared lunch and leave at 12 noon or soon thereafter, but everyone kept talking until 12:15, when I finally called a close to it all. Then, we enjoyed the incredible baked vegetables with yogurt topping, fruit and nuts, and caramel flan which Mariam had made, plus the vitumbua she had bought from a neighborhood baker. I love those things, but managed to control my intake to two. Of course, the seasoning on the vegetables was superb as well and I was reminded how dull our American cooking often is.
Afterward, I rode with Angela to a nearby produce hub of some sort called Simba Farm. (Well, we drove there after we had a discussion about whether or not Angela was having a heart attack. I said I thought not because I didn’t know how to drive her stick shift Rover.) The “farm” is a compound right in a very typical Arusha neighborhood. The Dutch family living there has a real farm somewhere—as some other Dutch do as well—and so all the produce comes to the big warehouse in the compound, where it is sold to the public though the bulk of it is packed and sent by refrigerated truck to Dar es Salaam. I have never seen such a variety of produce and herbs in one place (http://www.simbafarmlodge.com/veggies/gallery/). There was even rhubarb! Angela loaded up, but I only bought two potatoes, two cucumbers, and once nice big avocado, all for about $.60. Next year, I will make sure we shop often at this place, as it is close enough for John to walk there.
From Simba Farm, Angela drove on to Ilboru area of Arusha, where she oversees a small gift shop at the Ilboru Safari Lodge Hotel (http://annelie3.wixsite.com/isl2015). The Dutch hotel owner has given Angela the space free of charge so Angela can market the crafts made by a co-op of Masai women she has been working with for several years (www.maasai—art.org). Angela meets with the women once a month at a site between Arusha and their bomas to teach them better design and jewelry making skills as well as pricing and marketing strategies. She also drives for several hours once a month to wherever these women live to pick up their wares and distribute to them the money they have earned. Since Angela does all of this without payment, and the hotel staff handle the sales for free, the women get all the money from their sales.. The little shop was very neat, the wares were well displayed, and I was surprised by how extremely reasonable the prices were. I really didn’t need any more Masai jewelry, etc. but I did a bit of what I have come to call “charitable shopping.” Then, Angela and I had very cold Cokes (I hadn’t had a Coke for many, many years.) and reviewed her possible heart attack beforeI called a taxi for the trip back to Kundayo.
By the time I got back, it was well after 4:00, and I was exhausted. The road into Ilboru is one of the worst in all of Arusha, and I felt completely shaken to bits. Plus, I hadn’t slept well the night before. I wanted to collapse and have full in-room service with fan wavers and someone bringing me cold drinks and gently wiping my sweaty brow. However, Elizabeth texted me that her watermelons needed water which would cost her 60,000 Tsch. and could I please send that much to her via the phone transfer system they have here. I couldn’t handle the thought of hundreds of dead baby melons because of my being selfish, so I gave John the money, which he then took to a nearby hole-in-the-wall cosmetics shop, where the owner made a phone call, and the money was instantly transferred to Elizabeth. She immediately texted me all sorts of grateful thanks and blessings, which I guess will be my reward since the watermelons won’t be ripe in time for me to try one.
Then, I really felt done. However, Mama Kundayo appeared outside, so I wobbled out to sit with her and give an account of my day. She was dressed in black as this has been a dreadful week for her with several funerals. We didn’t talk as long as usual. And, then, my good and faithful helpmate, John, fixed us a light meal of leftovers with fruit and yogurt for dessert. Then, we watched a bit of MSNBC and learned more about Jeff Sessions and the Russians. returning back to the States is getting less and less appealing.
This day started early because I was the leader for the ACC women’s Bible study group. Our discussion was supposed to focus on Matthew 5: 16 - 19, the passage about being salt and light in our world. For someone with my elastic theology, this wasn’t a difficult text at all, but I wanted to make certain that I didn’t just say the same old things we’ve all heard since our Sunday School days, and I didn’t want to completely offend women who I knew would be far more theologically conservative than I am. So, as always, I over prepared. I downloaded N.T. Wright’s book, “Simply Jesus,” and read through that and also read several article on internet, and finally decided to first give the historical context into which Jesus appeared and discuss how he was not recognized as the expected messiah, just as today he isn’t recognized as revealing a new ethic and way of life. Both then and now, people wanted a political, militarily powerful messiah. After that, we’d explore the text and discuss meaning and application for us today. I knew, too, that as always, the women would find lots of ways to talk about whatever they wanted to, so I wasn’t worried about filling time.
We met at Miriam’s apartment, and since I arrived first—I was on time—I had time to find out more about Miriam, who is ethnically Asian Indian. She’s in her late 70s and as long as I have known her, she has been caring for her almost bedridden husband. She was born in Tanzania and met her husband while she was a nurse in Botswana. He is Muslim and she is Christian, so for years he forbid her to attend church. Finally, she discovered a women group which was meeting in some athletic club and began attending it every week. After several years, she finally told him why she went to the athletic club so faithfully, and he allowed he to continue. Then, a friend from that weekly group invited her to ACC, and again he allowed her to attend. Now, the women’s group meets in her apartment from time to time, which I think must be a huge stretch for him. She has always seemed a bit dour to me, but I realize now that she is simply a quiet, private person with great inner strength.
Our meeting went just a I thought it would, and only one woman—a mzungu—got a little jumpy with my theology. The women all had excellent observations and got off the topic as soon as they could so they could catch up on who was doing what or had which sort of problem. They are thick as thieves, as we say, and I’m always amazed that they have allowed me inside their circle. The “study” is supposed to end at 11:30, so we can eat the hostess’ prepared lunch and leave at 12 noon or soon thereafter, but everyone kept talking until 12:15, when I finally called a close to it all. Then, we enjoyed the incredible baked vegetables with yogurt topping, fruit and nuts, and caramel flan which Mariam had made, plus the vitumbua she had bought from a neighborhood baker. I love those things, but managed to control my intake to two. Of course, the seasoning on the vegetables was superb as well and I was reminded how dull our American cooking often is.
Afterward, I rode with Angela to a nearby produce hub of some sort called Simba Farm. (Well, we drove there after we had a discussion about whether or not Angela was having a heart attack. I said I thought not because I didn’t know how to drive her stick shift Rover.) The “farm” is a compound right in a very typical Arusha neighborhood. The Dutch family living there has a real farm somewhere—as some other Dutch do as well—and so all the produce comes to the big warehouse in the compound, where it is sold to the public though the bulk of it is packed and sent by refrigerated truck to Dar es Salaam. I have never seen such a variety of produce and herbs in one place (http://www.simbafarmlodge.com/veggies/gallery/). There was even rhubarb! Angela loaded up, but I only bought two potatoes, two cucumbers, and once nice big avocado, all for about $.60. Next year, I will make sure we shop often at this place, as it is close enough for John to walk there.
From Simba Farm, Angela drove on to Ilboru area of Arusha, where she oversees a small gift shop at the Ilboru Safari Lodge Hotel (http://annelie3.wixsite.com/isl2015). The Dutch hotel owner has given Angela the space free of charge so Angela can market the crafts made by a co-op of Masai women she has been working with for several years (www.maasai—art.org). Angela meets with the women once a month at a site between Arusha and their bomas to teach them better design and jewelry making skills as well as pricing and marketing strategies. She also drives for several hours once a month to wherever these women live to pick up their wares and distribute to them the money they have earned. Since Angela does all of this without payment, and the hotel staff handle the sales for free, the women get all the money from their sales.. The little shop was very neat, the wares were well displayed, and I was surprised by how extremely reasonable the prices were. I really didn’t need any more Masai jewelry, etc. but I did a bit of what I have come to call “charitable shopping.” Then, Angela and I had very cold Cokes (I hadn’t had a Coke for many, many years.) and reviewed her possible heart attack beforeI called a taxi for the trip back to Kundayo.
By the time I got back, it was well after 4:00, and I was exhausted. The road into Ilboru is one of the worst in all of Arusha, and I felt completely shaken to bits. Plus, I hadn’t slept well the night before. I wanted to collapse and have full in-room service with fan wavers and someone bringing me cold drinks and gently wiping my sweaty brow. However, Elizabeth texted me that her watermelons needed water which would cost her 60,000 Tsch. and could I please send that much to her via the phone transfer system they have here. I couldn’t handle the thought of hundreds of dead baby melons because of my being selfish, so I gave John the money, which he then took to a nearby hole-in-the-wall cosmetics shop, where the owner made a phone call, and the money was instantly transferred to Elizabeth. She immediately texted me all sorts of grateful thanks and blessings, which I guess will be my reward since the watermelons won’t be ripe in time for me to try one.
Then, I really felt done. However, Mama Kundayo appeared outside, so I wobbled out to sit with her and give an account of my day. She was dressed in black as this has been a dreadful week for her with several funerals. We didn’t talk as long as usual. And, then, my good and faithful helpmate, John, fixed us a light meal of leftovers with fruit and yogurt for dessert. Then, we watched a bit of MSNBC and learned more about Jeff Sessions and the Russians. returning back to the States is getting less and less appealing.
Arusha, Tuesday & Wednesday, February 28 - March 1, 2017
As we get closer to the time we will leave Arusha, it’s harder and harder for me to focus on recording what goes on here each day. So much of our daily lives is patterned from the our Wheetabix breakfast until we listen to MSNBC at bedtime. The rain comes sporadically, sometimes very heavily but more often in short, light showers. The electricity goes off with total unpredictability, but it hasn’t stayed off for long anytime so far this week. Every day, John finds an excuse to walk into town, e.g., to buy bread or bananas, visit an ATM, or shop for vegetables.
I spent more time thinking about what to say as leader of the ACC women’s group on Thursday, knowing full well I won’t write anything down on paper until the night before. And every afternoon, had the usual visit with Mama Kundayo.
Our formerly favorite restaurant, The Umbrella, a generous buffet for only 6000 Tsch. (less than $3), had closed last year, but we decided to try the Chinese restaurant which has replaced it. We had Ray drive us to the Anglican Cathedral, and then we walked to the Art Co-op, where I always buy a few gift items each year. The minute we walked in, the staff welcomed me back and asked if I had other wazungus with me again this year. I said I didn’t, but that the student group would be arriving next week, and I would tell them about the co-op. Then, I spent 15 minutes or so choosing small possible gift items. As always, even with my supposedly experienced bargaining skills, the total bill was more than I had anticipated.
We continued down the rough, dirt side street to the Peace Restaurant, and suddenly to our left we saw a huge new establishment. It was a restaurant of some sort with an enormous layout of outside terraces, tented areas, and a nonstop line of cars going in and out. It’s name was Uzunguni City Park, and we had never seen anything like it before! There were no wazungu in sight, so John posited that a wedding or convention of some sort must be going on. However, when we returned to Kundayo and reported to Mazo, he said that it was just a new eating place that is very popular with young African professionals who crowd in at lunchtime and in the evening. (https://www.facebook.com/uzungunicitypark/) We think we will try to squeeze in there some day next week.
We were the only customers at the Peace Restaurant, and while the food and prices were fine, it was nothing special. Compared to the hustle and bustle of its next-door neighbor, it was already dead.
On Wednesday, I stayed at Kundayo in the pretense of getting really serious about my lesson for the women’s group. John had taken a pair of shoes across the highway to a shoe fundi for resoling, so he went to pick them up and pay his bill of 7000 Tsch ($3.20). I messed around all day doing nothing memorable, so fortunately there was leftover eggplant stew in the freezer which we heated up for our dinner. Then, I began to think seriously about the next day.
As we get closer to the time we will leave Arusha, it’s harder and harder for me to focus on recording what goes on here each day. So much of our daily lives is patterned from the our Wheetabix breakfast until we listen to MSNBC at bedtime. The rain comes sporadically, sometimes very heavily but more often in short, light showers. The electricity goes off with total unpredictability, but it hasn’t stayed off for long anytime so far this week. Every day, John finds an excuse to walk into town, e.g., to buy bread or bananas, visit an ATM, or shop for vegetables.
I spent more time thinking about what to say as leader of the ACC women’s group on Thursday, knowing full well I won’t write anything down on paper until the night before. And every afternoon, had the usual visit with Mama Kundayo.
Our formerly favorite restaurant, The Umbrella, a generous buffet for only 6000 Tsch. (less than $3), had closed last year, but we decided to try the Chinese restaurant which has replaced it. We had Ray drive us to the Anglican Cathedral, and then we walked to the Art Co-op, where I always buy a few gift items each year. The minute we walked in, the staff welcomed me back and asked if I had other wazungus with me again this year. I said I didn’t, but that the student group would be arriving next week, and I would tell them about the co-op. Then, I spent 15 minutes or so choosing small possible gift items. As always, even with my supposedly experienced bargaining skills, the total bill was more than I had anticipated.
We continued down the rough, dirt side street to the Peace Restaurant, and suddenly to our left we saw a huge new establishment. It was a restaurant of some sort with an enormous layout of outside terraces, tented areas, and a nonstop line of cars going in and out. It’s name was Uzunguni City Park, and we had never seen anything like it before! There were no wazungu in sight, so John posited that a wedding or convention of some sort must be going on. However, when we returned to Kundayo and reported to Mazo, he said that it was just a new eating place that is very popular with young African professionals who crowd in at lunchtime and in the evening. (https://www.facebook.com/uzungunicitypark/) We think we will try to squeeze in there some day next week.
We were the only customers at the Peace Restaurant, and while the food and prices were fine, it was nothing special. Compared to the hustle and bustle of its next-door neighbor, it was already dead.
On Wednesday, I stayed at Kundayo in the pretense of getting really serious about my lesson for the women’s group. John had taken a pair of shoes across the highway to a shoe fundi for resoling, so he went to pick them up and pay his bill of 7000 Tsch ($3.20). I messed around all day doing nothing memorable, so fortunately there was leftover eggplant stew in the freezer which we heated up for our dinner. Then, I began to think seriously about the next day.
Arusha, Monday, February 27, 2017
The day began with clouds and thunder, but no rain fell all morning. We were semi-trapped at Kundayo, as a friend had texted that he would stop by for a visit today. He had not given us any ETA, so as noon approached, John texted him to ask when he thought he would arrive, but again there was no reply. Such lack of communication is not at all uncommon for this person, so I often wonder why we even try to keep the connection alive. Anyway, by 1:30, we decided to make and eat lunch and scrap the idea of going out to lunch together.
Even after lunch, there was a chance our friend might show up, so both John and read and did small tasks in the apartment. I spent some time on the terrace talking with the German/Mexican couple and discovered that they are here with a German volunteer program, Senior Experience Service, which enlists retirees for programs around the world. The husband (I still don’t know their names.) had been a soccer coach at the European Cup level, and is now holding workshops for youth here in Arusha. His wife helps with the non-soccer aspects of the program, e.g., team building games and social activities. The wife noticed my haircut and asked me who had done it, so I gave her the information for Aly. I’ll be very interested in what she has to say if she goes to him.
It poured rain a lot of the afternoon, and once that stopped, it seemed obvious that our friend was not coming after all. John needed a walk, so he took a pair of his shoes across the highway to a shoe fundi (technician) to be resoled. Then he walked to the little neighborhood market and returned with beautiful, fresh green beans for our dinner. It’s going to be a real sacrifice to return to Spokane, where there will be none of the incredible fresh fruit and produce we have in such abundance here.
For dinner, we heated up the leftovers from the nyama choma and that with the green beans and sliced avocado, made a delicious meal. Still, a significant amount of goat meat remained, so I froze it for later use in a curry perhaps.
We had wanted to watch a bit of news on MSNBC, but although hundreds of other channels were available, MSNBC was picture only with no sound. We switched to FOX to watch Sean Spicer’s news briefing, but after that, it was either Al-Jazeera, BBC, Sky, DW, or French in English. There is a wealth of international news which we never hear anything about at home. No wonder we have such a distorted view of the US as the center of the world, rather like the King had of Siam in the play “The King and I.”
The day began with clouds and thunder, but no rain fell all morning. We were semi-trapped at Kundayo, as a friend had texted that he would stop by for a visit today. He had not given us any ETA, so as noon approached, John texted him to ask when he thought he would arrive, but again there was no reply. Such lack of communication is not at all uncommon for this person, so I often wonder why we even try to keep the connection alive. Anyway, by 1:30, we decided to make and eat lunch and scrap the idea of going out to lunch together.
Even after lunch, there was a chance our friend might show up, so both John and read and did small tasks in the apartment. I spent some time on the terrace talking with the German/Mexican couple and discovered that they are here with a German volunteer program, Senior Experience Service, which enlists retirees for programs around the world. The husband (I still don’t know their names.) had been a soccer coach at the European Cup level, and is now holding workshops for youth here in Arusha. His wife helps with the non-soccer aspects of the program, e.g., team building games and social activities. The wife noticed my haircut and asked me who had done it, so I gave her the information for Aly. I’ll be very interested in what she has to say if she goes to him.
It poured rain a lot of the afternoon, and once that stopped, it seemed obvious that our friend was not coming after all. John needed a walk, so he took a pair of his shoes across the highway to a shoe fundi (technician) to be resoled. Then he walked to the little neighborhood market and returned with beautiful, fresh green beans for our dinner. It’s going to be a real sacrifice to return to Spokane, where there will be none of the incredible fresh fruit and produce we have in such abundance here.
For dinner, we heated up the leftovers from the nyama choma and that with the green beans and sliced avocado, made a delicious meal. Still, a significant amount of goat meat remained, so I froze it for later use in a curry perhaps.
We had wanted to watch a bit of news on MSNBC, but although hundreds of other channels were available, MSNBC was picture only with no sound. We switched to FOX to watch Sean Spicer’s news briefing, but after that, it was either Al-Jazeera, BBC, Sky, DW, or French in English. There is a wealth of international news which we never hear anything about at home. No wonder we have such a distorted view of the US as the center of the world, rather like the King had of Siam in the play “The King and I.”
This would be our next to last Sunday, which cast a tiny shadow over my usual ebullient mood as I get up and ready to attend ACC. Then on our way to church, Ray was stopped at a police roadblock and the officer said we all had to go directly to the police station because Ray did not have the correct insurance. Ray insisted that he had what he needed and showed all sorts of documents. However, IMHO, the officer thought he had a good chance of getting a bribe from two wazungu who were in a hurry and definitely did not want to go to the police station and miss church. John has never ever paid a bribe in Africa, and I have never ever kept my mouth shut. So, while John just looked unruffled and gave monosyllabic answers to whatever the policeman asked, I kept saying I had no idea if the insurance was correct or not and did not want to miss church. When the officer asked if I believed him, I said I had no idea what the problem really was, I just wanted to get to church. After ten minutes of this stuff, the policeman gave in and told us to drive on to church and then Ray should drive to the police station. I haven’t seen or spoken with Ray since then, so I still have to find out the end of this story.
This was Family Sunday, so we had lots of singing, and another performance by the Sunday School children. The attendance seemed rather skimpy, but I’m not sure why so many members would be absent on the same day. I know that Linda and Mark are in Capetown visiting their daughter; Sharon had car trouble on the way; and Tarek and Laura were off climbing Kilimanjaro. Rogers was also absent for some reason. Anyway, many people I enjoy seeing and visiting with were not there. However, Christy gave me all the flowers in the bouquets, so I now have a lovely display on our terrace.
John and I decided to go out to Njiro for our last feast of the best Indian food in the Arusha area.
I always get Chicken Sagwala, and John has begun copying me with Mutton Sagwala. It was delicious and the naan seemed even better than usual. After we had eaten, I spent a few minutes in The Village Supermarket doing what I call entertainment shopping, looking at the $7 chocolate bars, canned plum pudding, pickled onions, and potato crisps from the UK. I ended up buying a thank-you card for Mama Kundayo, two bars of soap, and a danish for me and chocolate croissant for John. Then, I said good-by to the Njiro Mall until 2018.
Later in the afternoon, it poured rain, so Mama Kundayo couldn’t hold court outside as usual. John thought she was sitting inside the restaurant, and indeed I found her there completely encased in red à la Christo. I gave her the card I had bought to thank her for the nay choma, She was very pleased and kept giving me complicated African handshakes, which I invariably flub. (I need to teach her to high five.) As usual, I had my computer along so I could show her photos of my week’s activities. She especially liked the ones showing John’s hike. Somehow we ended up talking about snakes, which cause her nightmares. After that the conversation went to the dogs—literally—and she talked about why she won’t have a dog at Kundayo: they scare her. On that note, I excused myself to cook dinner which was the pastries I had bought. Later, we warmed leftover up chicken stew and rice to eat as a bedtime snack.
Monday, February 27, 2017
Another day of staying close to home. In the late morning, when it wasn’t raining, we walked to the nearby tailor shop to check on on new clothes. Everything was done and waiting for us: two simple dresses for me and one beautifully made shirt for John. Plus, the tailor had saved the main remnant of each piece of cloth and hemmed to make small table toppers or throws perhaps. We settled our bill, which was more than we had expected yet so incredibly low compared to even trouser hemming at home that I was ashamed I had even blinked. When we got back to Kundayo and tried everything on, we were pleased with how well things fit. I know some may be waiting for photos of me in my new garb, but the truth is that I always feel like a party balloon when I don African fabrics. Things which look wonderful here on dark skin just don’t complement my fair skin in the same way. Still, I may get around to posting some photos soon.
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| Entrance to our tailor's courtyard |
The rest of the day was lazy with showers from time to time. Mama didn’t appear for a visit, and I couldn’t decide what to cook, so eventually, we ordered chicken stew (peanut? coconut curry?), rice and greens from the kitchen for our dinner. There was so much that we had enough left over for another meal sometime. I had put on a new mosquito repellant John had bought at Moona’s Pharmacy, and can now report that it does not last long nor work very effectively. I now have numerous bites all over my arms and back and rue the fact that I didn’t pack enough OFF to last the two months we are here.
Saturday morning was extra cool, so when I went to the garden terrace to connect to the internet, I wrapped up in the only shawl I had brought with me. The Mexican wife of the German man, who is also staying here until mid-March, arrived dressed in a long-sleeved sweater. I’m embarrassed that I haven’t learned these people’s names nor why they are staying here in Arusha. The husband in particular is always very friendly and chatty. By noon, however, the temperature had risen to a more normal height, and because of the high humidity that has come with all the rain, I was back to my usual sweaty self.
John had walked downtown on the excuse that we needed bread, and he brought not only bread but also his favorite samosas and the fruit salad from Bamboo FiFi’s for our lunch. The fruit salad is the best I’ve ever had in Arusha, and a single serving provides two generous portions at the bargain price of 6000 Tsch. John is partial to the samosas from Barista, which is right across the street from the Naz Hotel. We were in food bliss at lunchtime.
Elizabeth had said she was coming back for another visit today and texted that she would arrive at 2:00 p.m. At 3:00, she and a friend, Maria, finally appeared, and we settled down for a good visit. I had never seen Maria before and hadn’t a clue who she might be, but we pulled up an extra chair, and over tea and cookies I learned that she had just returned from living in Japan for four years. her husband is some sort of business attaché and is still in Tokyo. So, our conversation zig-zagged back and forth between life and experiences in Japan, current events in Elizabeth’s Masai boma, and the state of Elizabeth’s watermelon crop. Maria was just as surprised as I to discover someone who had experience in Japan. Elizabeth is till worried about her melons being stunted because they lacked water for so long and now have been attacked by a fungus. Elizabeth had recently been back to the boma for one of her uncle’s funeral and feels she can handle being there again in spite of what he father did with Ngaisi.
Near the beginning of all this conversation I realized I should probably be a better hostess and asked the important question of whether they had eaten anything since morning. They had not, so John heated up some of our leftover beef stew, added some pilipili, and served them heaping plates of hot stew with bread. Mazo passed by and joined in a bit, telling Elizabeth that he had grown a field of watermelons last year but didn't get the yield or profit he had hoped for. Now, he has begun planting and growing papaya trees, which he thinks will do much better. All of a sudden, it began to pour—really, really pour—rain. Elizabeth worried about getting into town quickly enough to buy the fungicide she wanted and still return home yet today. Fortunately, the rain stopped fairly soon, and we all double-kissed good-bye until next year.
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| me, Maria, Elizabeth |
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| Enjoying some stew |
Once Elizabeth and Maria left, it was time for Mama Kundayo’s promised nyama choma (roasted meat). During one of our chats, I had mentioned that John loved eating nyama choma when he lived in Kenya. She said they had the best nyama choma roaster was just down the road and she would have him make some for John sometime. Today turned out to be that time. Just before Elizabeth showed up, Mazo came running to our apartment and told John to get his camera and follow him. Somewhere back behind the garden, the meat roaster had a whole goat on a spit slowly roasting. I didn’t go to see it myself, but I was astonished that Mama was having a whole goat roasted right on the Kundayo grounds. I was thinking more along the line of take-out meat like we get at our kuku shack.
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| Becoming nyama choma |
Just before 6:00, Mazo showed up at our door again with a big lidded casserole full of goat meat and roasted green bananas, roasted potatoes, and the onion, sweet red peppers and tomato salad which accompanies the meat as a relish. The amount of food was staggering, and the goat meat was absolutely the best I have ever eaten. We gorged ourselves and still had enough left over for another day. This has to have been one of the best days ever for incredible food.
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| A delicious nyama choma dinne |
I wasn’t paying attention to my computer’s battery, so I was caught unaware when the electricity went off again and it was at only 16%. However, I was very lucky because the electricity came back on in less than an hour, and I am now recharging. John is having fun rinsing and wringing out another bucket of underwear. That’s one chore neither of us will miss when we are back in Spokane!
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Arusha, Thursday, February 23, 2017
How did Thursday arrive so quickly? For as slow-paced as our live can be here, the passage of time never seems to slow down. Only two more weeks until we’ll have to leave and return to Spokane. I feel like the Pushmi-Pullyu in Dr. Dolittle. If only one could have some form of time and space travel between places; I’d be in Spokane on many weekdays, but always in Arusha on Sunday—or when I wanted to eat out.
I spent the entire day doing absolutely nothing unusual. How exciting can a 5-gallon bucket of soapy socks be? John at least did one of his walks to a market to buy us some bananas (I like the Morongoro bananas best.) and eggplant, so I could make Congolese eggplant stew for dinner. I am very grateful for all the culinary survival skills I learned in the Congo, as now those simple recipes form my basic cuisine here. Better yet, John loves these dishes.
Before starting dinner, I went out to visit a bit with Mama Kundayo, who now seems to expect me to always show up when she is sitting outside. This evening, she wasn’t as regally dressed as she often is, but I always love the color and flow of her outfits as well as the style of her headdresses. We discussed my visit to Shanga yesterday and what I liked and did’t like. Beatrice was nearby to help with some translation, but when I got to the glassblowers, she had no idea what I was talking about. I promised to bring my computer with photos the next day. Just at that point, it began to rain, so I ran back to our terrace.
Noriko passed by during our dinner and said she couldn’t go to church with us this coming Sunday but would be there the next week, our last Sunday at ACC this year. I just received ACC’s annual general meeting minutes and was stunned to read that their attendance has dropped 60% in the last several years. When the UN and the International Criminal Tribunal left Arusha over 5 years ago, that was a big economic and wazungu blow for all Arusha. Since then mission organizations and other NGO programs have been cutting foreign staff, some of whom would have been participants at ACC. I’ve noticed the attrition in the women’s group, but hadn’t paid much attention to the attendance on Sunday, as there are always lots of visitors and wazungu groups passing through who come. I hope that the church can weather the current changes and remain the uniquely diverse group it is.
How did Thursday arrive so quickly? For as slow-paced as our live can be here, the passage of time never seems to slow down. Only two more weeks until we’ll have to leave and return to Spokane. I feel like the Pushmi-Pullyu in Dr. Dolittle. If only one could have some form of time and space travel between places; I’d be in Spokane on many weekdays, but always in Arusha on Sunday—or when I wanted to eat out.
I spent the entire day doing absolutely nothing unusual. How exciting can a 5-gallon bucket of soapy socks be? John at least did one of his walks to a market to buy us some bananas (I like the Morongoro bananas best.) and eggplant, so I could make Congolese eggplant stew for dinner. I am very grateful for all the culinary survival skills I learned in the Congo, as now those simple recipes form my basic cuisine here. Better yet, John loves these dishes.
Before starting dinner, I went out to visit a bit with Mama Kundayo, who now seems to expect me to always show up when she is sitting outside. This evening, she wasn’t as regally dressed as she often is, but I always love the color and flow of her outfits as well as the style of her headdresses. We discussed my visit to Shanga yesterday and what I liked and did’t like. Beatrice was nearby to help with some translation, but when I got to the glassblowers, she had no idea what I was talking about. I promised to bring my computer with photos the next day. Just at that point, it began to rain, so I ran back to our terrace.
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| Mama Kundayo looking fine |
Noriko passed by during our dinner and said she couldn’t go to church with us this coming Sunday but would be there the next week, our last Sunday at ACC this year. I just received ACC’s annual general meeting minutes and was stunned to read that their attendance has dropped 60% in the last several years. When the UN and the International Criminal Tribunal left Arusha over 5 years ago, that was a big economic and wazungu blow for all Arusha. Since then mission organizations and other NGO programs have been cutting foreign staff, some of whom would have been participants at ACC. I’ve noticed the attrition in the women’s group, but hadn’t paid much attention to the attendance on Sunday, as there are always lots of visitors and wazungu groups passing through who come. I hope that the church can weather the current changes and remain the uniquely diverse group it is.
Arusha, Wednesday, February 22, 2017
We awoke to heavy rain, which would have been welcomed on most days. However, this was the day on which John had arranged to go for a long hike with Rogers. They were to meet at 8:00 and then spend the day out in the small hill/mountains which form little peaks below big Mount Meru. After a telephone conference, they postponed the start of the hike until 9:30, and fortunately the rain stopped just about then. Of course, John hadn’t considered such things as rain boots or hiking shoes, so he went off in his everyday scuzzy shoes, without a walking stick or any sort of appropriate gear.
After John left, I decided to treat myself to an outing as well. I called Ray and asked if he could drive me out to Shanga-Shangaa, the organization which hires and trains people with various disabilities to do appropriate crafts, e.g., weaving, bead work, tinga-tinga painting, and my favorite, glassblowing. The men who work with glass are deaf, and it’s amazing to see them sign while they are whirling around globs of hot glass.
S-S used to be located on the Burka Coffee Plantation, with its workshops spread out among trees and walk ways. There was a lush, green lawn where one could sit and drink fresh fruit juice and watch monkeys play in the nearby tree. It was beautiful and very restful. A couple of years ago, the whole operation moved across the main road and onto the grounds of the Arusha Coffee Lodge, an upscale tourist hotel. Perhaps this is more financially advantageous for S-S, as there is a constant stream of wealthy tourists filing through, but I was disappointed at how cramped and commercial things were now. The workshops and store are now configured like a mall around a very small, hot courtyard, and the coffee cafe looked entirely characterless. I saw no green area in which to relax and enjoy the setting. The only improvement I noted was the new shop, which is now completely open with well laid out displays. I was so disappointed with the changes that after a very quick walk by the crafters and a visit to the shop, I wanted to leave, so I cannot give a review of the coffee shop.
When I got back to Kundayo, I wanted to order some lunch from the Kundayo kitchen, so I asked for rice and red beans, which the cook makes for the workers. The first time I tried to order the workers’ lunch menu, the staff wasn’t sure I knew what I was doing, but now they accommodate my quirkiness without questions. The beans were especially tasty this time, and I had more than I could eat for less than $2.50.
John stumbled in about 4:00, wet and totally exhausted. He said all he wanted to do was take a shower and lie on the bed. So, he did. He had had a great time hiking through small shambas (garden farms) up on the slopes of the peak they had climbed and discovered a whole hidden world of Masai farmers who grow the vegetables that are brought into the markets each day. Potatoes, carrots, eggplants, corn, cucumbers, spinach, tomatoes, etc. are all carried down the steep slopes each morning. While the climb up the slope was taxing, it was the descent which really tested John’s stamina. I’m not sure he thought he could make at times, and his comment to me was that the hike had been so tenuous that he wasn’t sure the Whitworth students could do it. This from a man who just turned 75!
I made a nice beef stew for dinner, and after the meal and some vanilla ice cream with mango slices, we soon went to bed. John immediately fell asleep, but I stayed up and read for a couple of hours. I wanted to be done with the novel, The Secret Life of Emily Dickinson, which I wish i were still a secret to me.
We awoke to heavy rain, which would have been welcomed on most days. However, this was the day on which John had arranged to go for a long hike with Rogers. They were to meet at 8:00 and then spend the day out in the small hill/mountains which form little peaks below big Mount Meru. After a telephone conference, they postponed the start of the hike until 9:30, and fortunately the rain stopped just about then. Of course, John hadn’t considered such things as rain boots or hiking shoes, so he went off in his everyday scuzzy shoes, without a walking stick or any sort of appropriate gear.
After John left, I decided to treat myself to an outing as well. I called Ray and asked if he could drive me out to Shanga-Shangaa, the organization which hires and trains people with various disabilities to do appropriate crafts, e.g., weaving, bead work, tinga-tinga painting, and my favorite, glassblowing. The men who work with glass are deaf, and it’s amazing to see them sign while they are whirling around globs of hot glass.
S-S used to be located on the Burka Coffee Plantation, with its workshops spread out among trees and walk ways. There was a lush, green lawn where one could sit and drink fresh fruit juice and watch monkeys play in the nearby tree. It was beautiful and very restful. A couple of years ago, the whole operation moved across the main road and onto the grounds of the Arusha Coffee Lodge, an upscale tourist hotel. Perhaps this is more financially advantageous for S-S, as there is a constant stream of wealthy tourists filing through, but I was disappointed at how cramped and commercial things were now. The workshops and store are now configured like a mall around a very small, hot courtyard, and the coffee cafe looked entirely characterless. I saw no green area in which to relax and enjoy the setting. The only improvement I noted was the new shop, which is now completely open with well laid out displays. I was so disappointed with the changes that after a very quick walk by the crafters and a visit to the shop, I wanted to leave, so I cannot give a review of the coffee shop.
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| At the entrance to the courtyard |
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| Stuffing toy elephants. |
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| Stringing beads for jewelry |
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| The glass furnace |
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| Creating in glass |
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| Shop display |
When I got back to Kundayo, I wanted to order some lunch from the Kundayo kitchen, so I asked for rice and red beans, which the cook makes for the workers. The first time I tried to order the workers’ lunch menu, the staff wasn’t sure I knew what I was doing, but now they accommodate my quirkiness without questions. The beans were especially tasty this time, and I had more than I could eat for less than $2.50.
John stumbled in about 4:00, wet and totally exhausted. He said all he wanted to do was take a shower and lie on the bed. So, he did. He had had a great time hiking through small shambas (garden farms) up on the slopes of the peak they had climbed and discovered a whole hidden world of Masai farmers who grow the vegetables that are brought into the markets each day. Potatoes, carrots, eggplants, corn, cucumbers, spinach, tomatoes, etc. are all carried down the steep slopes each morning. While the climb up the slope was taxing, it was the descent which really tested John’s stamina. I’m not sure he thought he could make at times, and his comment to me was that the hike had been so tenuous that he wasn’t sure the Whitworth students could do it. This from a man who just turned 75!
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| Fording the raging river |
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| Posing at the newly named Yoder Waterfall |
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| Climbing out of the ravine |
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| Hillside garden |
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| Carrying food for cattle |
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| Broccoli? |
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| View from the top |
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| Looking across to another smaller hill |
I made a nice beef stew for dinner, and after the meal and some vanilla ice cream with mango slices, we soon went to bed. John immediately fell asleep, but I stayed up and read for a couple of hours. I wanted to be done with the novel, The Secret Life of Emily Dickinson, which I wish i were still a secret to me.
Thursday, February 23, 2017
Arusha, Tuesday, February 21, 2017
So we had an ordinary day with me sleeping until 9:00 a.m. and then John served me my Wheetabix and half the pumpkin muffin he had bought at FiFi’s when he got bread there yesterday. It’s so nice to have a spouse who cannot resist buying me little treats. However, I noticed that he had also given in to the temptation to buy a chocolate muffin for himself, so maybe my muffin was really just a cover for his muffin. No matter. Mine was delicious.
Maso came to check out our mute TV, and like me, he banged on it a bit and randomly pushed buttons on both of the remotes. Then, he pushed buttons on the TV itself, and somehow with all that banging and button pushing, the TV began to speak again. However, we didn’t have any desire to watch it then. We get the late night MSNBC shows here in the morning and Morning Joe comes on at 2:00 p.m. If I can catch a bit of Rachael Maddow during breakfast and some Morning Joe at nap time, I’ve pretty much heard all I want to from U.S. news sources. BBC, Al-Jazeera and the many European news channels give us real world news that isn’t obsessed with 24-hour coverage of Trump.
We were really looking forward to the evening when we would be going for dinner at a friend’s home. I guess Eric qualifies as John’s friend since I had only met him once before, but he grew up in Spokane Valley, and we have many people connections in common. However, we had never met his wife, who is Tanzanian, or his daughter, who is both Tanzanian and American, so I was excited about finally meeting them. Ray took us to the Impala Hotel, where Eric picked us up soon after 6:00. He also had a woman named Sig along with him. Sig is doing sustainable agricultural research here this year and went to WSU as an undergraduate. WSU is one of the schools Eric’s daughter, Nshashe, is considering for next year since she is also interested in studying sustainable agriculture.
The ride to Eric’s house was like most ventures into the hills toward Mount Meru: very rough.
Once we got back away from the main road and shops and into a more forested area, we came to Eric’s land and the incredible brick kiln he built and which now employs 7 Tanzanians. At the top of the kiln is a large brick house Eric built and now rents out. He showed us around and talked about all the research and trial and error that has gone into producing the quality of bricks he manufactures and the ecological fuel he uses in his kiln burns. It was all very impressive. Since he came to Tanzania as a volunteer in the 1970s, Eric has been a farmer and involved in a number of other enterprises and now runs a very successful computer internet service for businesses.
From the kiln, we drove onto his house which was further away up a higher hill. As with most such homes, there was a tall wall surrounding the whole compound of house and garden with a large double gate for entry. We parked at the gate and walked in to the house. It was getting too dark for me to see much or take any photos, but I could see a variety of trees and plants along the path. I couldn’t see the whole house at all.
When we entered, I immediately noticed the huge timbers that upheld the upper floor, and the hewn timbers in the ceiling and around the deeply inset windows. The effect was somewhat like a meld of an Elizabethan cottage and a Swiss hunting lodge, except for the flooring, which as in all the more expensive Tanzanian homes was tile. Eric began work on this house when he was a young man, long before he married his wife, Bernice, and so he put almost thirty years into its construction. He tries to live as sustainably as possible and has huge cisterns in which he collects rain water, and I noticed that all the lighting was LED and probably linked to solar panels.
We had a delicious meal of Tanzanian red beans, chicken stew, rice, sweet potatoes, and fruit salad, with plentiful wine and finally Tanzanian tea. Eric and Nshashe asked lots of questions about making best choices among universities, likely course requirements, etc. Sig was the one who knew which programs would be best and what similarities and differences would be in their sustainable ag programs. Nshashe is currently considering the University of Minnesota, WSU, Evergreen, and maybe Penn State. They all have good programs in her area of interest, but I soon began to think that Evergreen might be her best choice. She’s a lovely, tall girl and has likely been exposed to many differences among her classmates at the international school she attends, but she seems a bit shy and is very soft spoken. She’s also a gifted artist and would like to pursue art as a minor. We discussed the differences between undergraduate and graduate studies and the advantage of having a close cohort of fellow students and smaller classes. Getting a solid undergraduate foundation at Evergreen would prepare her well for graduate studies at any of the larger universities.
Bernice didn’t say much for most of our conversation, but near the end, she asked John and me about a mutual friend, and it was only then that I learned that she worked at WorldVision. Eric was getting ready to drive us all back into Arusha, so I didn’t have an opportunity to find out exactly what Bernice does at WV and many other things I would like to know about her. Maybe next time we are in Arusha, I can find a way to connect with her again.
I began raining while we were having dinner, but the drive back to Kundayo wasn’t difficult at all. Eric usually rides his bike from his house clear into the center of town where his offices are, and Nshashe rides bike to her school out by the airport, as that is not only more ecological but also, according to Eric, safer than driving in Arusha traffic. Today, however, the highway construction had altered the road to favor us and our access to Kundayo. So ended another wonderful day.
So we had an ordinary day with me sleeping until 9:00 a.m. and then John served me my Wheetabix and half the pumpkin muffin he had bought at FiFi’s when he got bread there yesterday. It’s so nice to have a spouse who cannot resist buying me little treats. However, I noticed that he had also given in to the temptation to buy a chocolate muffin for himself, so maybe my muffin was really just a cover for his muffin. No matter. Mine was delicious.
Maso came to check out our mute TV, and like me, he banged on it a bit and randomly pushed buttons on both of the remotes. Then, he pushed buttons on the TV itself, and somehow with all that banging and button pushing, the TV began to speak again. However, we didn’t have any desire to watch it then. We get the late night MSNBC shows here in the morning and Morning Joe comes on at 2:00 p.m. If I can catch a bit of Rachael Maddow during breakfast and some Morning Joe at nap time, I’ve pretty much heard all I want to from U.S. news sources. BBC, Al-Jazeera and the many European news channels give us real world news that isn’t obsessed with 24-hour coverage of Trump.
We were really looking forward to the evening when we would be going for dinner at a friend’s home. I guess Eric qualifies as John’s friend since I had only met him once before, but he grew up in Spokane Valley, and we have many people connections in common. However, we had never met his wife, who is Tanzanian, or his daughter, who is both Tanzanian and American, so I was excited about finally meeting them. Ray took us to the Impala Hotel, where Eric picked us up soon after 6:00. He also had a woman named Sig along with him. Sig is doing sustainable agricultural research here this year and went to WSU as an undergraduate. WSU is one of the schools Eric’s daughter, Nshashe, is considering for next year since she is also interested in studying sustainable agriculture.
The ride to Eric’s house was like most ventures into the hills toward Mount Meru: very rough.
Once we got back away from the main road and shops and into a more forested area, we came to Eric’s land and the incredible brick kiln he built and which now employs 7 Tanzanians. At the top of the kiln is a large brick house Eric built and now rents out. He showed us around and talked about all the research and trial and error that has gone into producing the quality of bricks he manufactures and the ecological fuel he uses in his kiln burns. It was all very impressive. Since he came to Tanzania as a volunteer in the 1970s, Eric has been a farmer and involved in a number of other enterprises and now runs a very successful computer internet service for businesses.
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| Entrance of the kiln area |
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| Sig, Eric, and me being dwarfed by the huge two-story kiln. |
From the kiln, we drove onto his house which was further away up a higher hill. As with most such homes, there was a tall wall surrounding the whole compound of house and garden with a large double gate for entry. We parked at the gate and walked in to the house. It was getting too dark for me to see much or take any photos, but I could see a variety of trees and plants along the path. I couldn’t see the whole house at all.
When we entered, I immediately noticed the huge timbers that upheld the upper floor, and the hewn timbers in the ceiling and around the deeply inset windows. The effect was somewhat like a meld of an Elizabethan cottage and a Swiss hunting lodge, except for the flooring, which as in all the more expensive Tanzanian homes was tile. Eric began work on this house when he was a young man, long before he married his wife, Bernice, and so he put almost thirty years into its construction. He tries to live as sustainably as possible and has huge cisterns in which he collects rain water, and I noticed that all the lighting was LED and probably linked to solar panels.
We had a delicious meal of Tanzanian red beans, chicken stew, rice, sweet potatoes, and fruit salad, with plentiful wine and finally Tanzanian tea. Eric and Nshashe asked lots of questions about making best choices among universities, likely course requirements, etc. Sig was the one who knew which programs would be best and what similarities and differences would be in their sustainable ag programs. Nshashe is currently considering the University of Minnesota, WSU, Evergreen, and maybe Penn State. They all have good programs in her area of interest, but I soon began to think that Evergreen might be her best choice. She’s a lovely, tall girl and has likely been exposed to many differences among her classmates at the international school she attends, but she seems a bit shy and is very soft spoken. She’s also a gifted artist and would like to pursue art as a minor. We discussed the differences between undergraduate and graduate studies and the advantage of having a close cohort of fellow students and smaller classes. Getting a solid undergraduate foundation at Evergreen would prepare her well for graduate studies at any of the larger universities.
Bernice didn’t say much for most of our conversation, but near the end, she asked John and me about a mutual friend, and it was only then that I learned that she worked at WorldVision. Eric was getting ready to drive us all back into Arusha, so I didn’t have an opportunity to find out exactly what Bernice does at WV and many other things I would like to know about her. Maybe next time we are in Arusha, I can find a way to connect with her again.
I began raining while we were having dinner, but the drive back to Kundayo wasn’t difficult at all. Eric usually rides his bike from his house clear into the center of town where his offices are, and Nshashe rides bike to her school out by the airport, as that is not only more ecological but also, according to Eric, safer than driving in Arusha traffic. Today, however, the highway construction had altered the road to favor us and our access to Kundayo. So ended another wonderful day.
Arusha, Monday, February 20, 2017
The electricity went off in the early morning, and we remained without power most of the day. Last year, Mazo had bought a lovely little cooker with only one electric burner and three gas burners, so even when the power is off, we can boil water and cook. It’s an incredible luxury; I can have my cup of coffee when I wake up, which makes the whole day go better. The main problem with a power outage is that it seems to affect the internet connection here as well, so often we have that to whine about, too.
Soon after breakfast, we decided to go back to the Airtel office downtown in another effort to figure out what is not working with my stick modem. Ray drove us to the office and waited while we went in. By now they know us well there, so our favorite technician met us at the door and took us aside to check out my computer and the modem. He concluded that it was the old modem stick into which John and put the new chip that was the problem. So, we ended up buying a new modem stick, and after some frustrating efforts to get everything installed, our problem seemed solved. Having the stick means that I should be able to be online even when the internet here at Kundayo is off and that I can connect to the internet from inside our apartment, which I cannot do otherwise.
There is a mini Masai market on the sidewalks outside the Airtel office, and as we stepped out to look for Ray, we were besieged by vendors. I hate having to brush aside people who are just trying their best to make a marginal living, but one cannot give in and buy something from everyone every time, of course. One older man told me his name was Isaiah Paul, and he needed to sell me a batik so he would have money to buy food. Another older woman who was selling Masai beads sandals called for me to “help support” her. Since I already have more bad African batiks than I can use or give away, I turned to the woman and began bargaining for sandals. In the end, I paid her about 50% more for a pair than it would have cost me at our neighborhood sandal workshop, but the money she got from me may have been the only money she earned all day.
After lunch, the electricity came back on, so I was feeling very positive about life and decided to see if Morning Joe was on MSNBC. It was, and just as I was beginning to tune in to what the news stories for the day were, the TV went mute. We tried every trick we could think of with the remotes and connections, but there was no more sound. The picture was fine, so we read crawlers for awhile, but a lot is not said in those crawlers and we cannot read lips. John thinks the TV itself is broken, so we will have to see if Mazo can exchange ours for one that is still functioning.
Dinner was chicken and noodles à la Janet, made with ramen noodles and a special broth/sauce, and sautéed zucchini, which John had bought thinking they were cucumbers. The TV was still mute, but the electric refrigerator was running, and I thought about how many things we now feel we need which we never even knew about for most of our years in Africa. Maybe I’m just being nostalgic, but I truly think I enjoyed the simpler life in the Congo more than I do this quasi-modern society. I doubt, however, that John and I will ever be able to live so remotely again.
The electricity went off in the early morning, and we remained without power most of the day. Last year, Mazo had bought a lovely little cooker with only one electric burner and three gas burners, so even when the power is off, we can boil water and cook. It’s an incredible luxury; I can have my cup of coffee when I wake up, which makes the whole day go better. The main problem with a power outage is that it seems to affect the internet connection here as well, so often we have that to whine about, too.
Soon after breakfast, we decided to go back to the Airtel office downtown in another effort to figure out what is not working with my stick modem. Ray drove us to the office and waited while we went in. By now they know us well there, so our favorite technician met us at the door and took us aside to check out my computer and the modem. He concluded that it was the old modem stick into which John and put the new chip that was the problem. So, we ended up buying a new modem stick, and after some frustrating efforts to get everything installed, our problem seemed solved. Having the stick means that I should be able to be online even when the internet here at Kundayo is off and that I can connect to the internet from inside our apartment, which I cannot do otherwise.
There is a mini Masai market on the sidewalks outside the Airtel office, and as we stepped out to look for Ray, we were besieged by vendors. I hate having to brush aside people who are just trying their best to make a marginal living, but one cannot give in and buy something from everyone every time, of course. One older man told me his name was Isaiah Paul, and he needed to sell me a batik so he would have money to buy food. Another older woman who was selling Masai beads sandals called for me to “help support” her. Since I already have more bad African batiks than I can use or give away, I turned to the woman and began bargaining for sandals. In the end, I paid her about 50% more for a pair than it would have cost me at our neighborhood sandal workshop, but the money she got from me may have been the only money she earned all day.
After lunch, the electricity came back on, so I was feeling very positive about life and decided to see if Morning Joe was on MSNBC. It was, and just as I was beginning to tune in to what the news stories for the day were, the TV went mute. We tried every trick we could think of with the remotes and connections, but there was no more sound. The picture was fine, so we read crawlers for awhile, but a lot is not said in those crawlers and we cannot read lips. John thinks the TV itself is broken, so we will have to see if Mazo can exchange ours for one that is still functioning.
Dinner was chicken and noodles à la Janet, made with ramen noodles and a special broth/sauce, and sautéed zucchini, which John had bought thinking they were cucumbers. The TV was still mute, but the electric refrigerator was running, and I thought about how many things we now feel we need which we never even knew about for most of our years in Africa. Maybe I’m just being nostalgic, but I truly think I enjoyed the simpler life in the Congo more than I do this quasi-modern society. I doubt, however, that John and I will ever be able to live so remotely again.
Monday, February 20, 2017
Arusha, Sunday, February 19, 2017
Another Sunday! Not particularly a day I look forward to at home, but definitely my favorite here. I never know whom I will see or meet at Arusha Community Church or what the service will be like. A congregation operating with only laity and elected committees is truly a great model. Many members have to invest large amounts of time in order to make sure everything runs well, and so most members feel heavily invested in the church. There is no such thing as spectator religion here.
This morning, Erwin Kinsey, a German agronomist, was the worship leader. Jimmy and Christine Ebong, who are from Uganda, were in charge of the music. And, Lemburis Justo, a Tanzanian Lutheran minister, gave the sermon, which was a wonderful message about what it means to love one’s enemy. The ushers were two teenagers, Godlisten Solomon and Martin Matthews, and Irene Mchomvu, whom I do not know, brought the flowers, two very different bouquets this time. The incredible diversity of this congregation thrills me every Sunday.
One of our neighbors at Kundayo, Noriko Noda, went to ACC again with us, and after church she had a good time meeting and connecting with people. Noriko teaches physics and mathematics at a secondary school outside of Arusha, so she leaves Kundayo early every morning and usually doesn’t return until dark. She is so super conscientious that she even goes to the school to tutor on Saturdays, so we rarely see her during the week. Several years ago, Noriko spent three years in Tanzania, near Iringa, as a teacher in the Japanese equivalent of the Peace Corps, so she speaks fluent Swahili. Now she is back for at least another year with a Japanese NGO. She said her parents want her to stay home and get married, but I think she will always be a free spirit.
After church, Noriko wanted to go out for lunch. She had been to no place in Arusha at all —except to church with us—for the entire month she had been here. So, we took her to George’s, where an order of one pizza and one salad was plenty for all three of us. Soon after we had ordered, other friends from church arrived, so we just pushed our tables together and had a bigger party. We all enjoyed ourselves so much that it was after 3:00 p.m. until we got back to Kundayo. Noriko said she was already looking forward to next Sunday and happily carried the two slices of leftover pizza and a small amount of salad back to her apartment.
Almost immediately after we arrived back, it began to rain, and there were heavy showers for several hours. It’s wonderful that the farmers get some moisture, but I am selfishly aware that we get cooler temperatures. The increase in mosquitoes, however, is a very negative result for me. Even though I apply repellent heavily and often, the mosquitoes find places between my fingers or near the bottoms of my feet to bite.
Toward evening, I spent some time out in the courtyard visiting with Mama Kundayo, who loves to hear about what we do. It was the first time I had ever seen her dressed in anything other than African material; she was all in pink, which, while pretty, did not have the same pizzazz as her other ensembles. She was pleased to discover that I am having my dresses sewn by the same tailor she has used for over 30 years.
John made us a dinner of hamburgers and avocado and cucumber slices, with bowls of fruit salad for dessert. We finally had a decent internet connection after dinner, so a good day ended on a happy note.
Another Sunday! Not particularly a day I look forward to at home, but definitely my favorite here. I never know whom I will see or meet at Arusha Community Church or what the service will be like. A congregation operating with only laity and elected committees is truly a great model. Many members have to invest large amounts of time in order to make sure everything runs well, and so most members feel heavily invested in the church. There is no such thing as spectator religion here.
This morning, Erwin Kinsey, a German agronomist, was the worship leader. Jimmy and Christine Ebong, who are from Uganda, were in charge of the music. And, Lemburis Justo, a Tanzanian Lutheran minister, gave the sermon, which was a wonderful message about what it means to love one’s enemy. The ushers were two teenagers, Godlisten Solomon and Martin Matthews, and Irene Mchomvu, whom I do not know, brought the flowers, two very different bouquets this time. The incredible diversity of this congregation thrills me every Sunday.
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| Church ladies |
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| Dr. Wendy, a surgeon |
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| Bouquet #1 |
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| Bouquet #2 |
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| Noriko chatting with a new friend after church. |
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| Sunday lunch at George's with Noriko |
Toward evening, I spent some time out in the courtyard visiting with Mama Kundayo, who loves to hear about what we do. It was the first time I had ever seen her dressed in anything other than African material; she was all in pink, which, while pretty, did not have the same pizzazz as her other ensembles. She was pleased to discover that I am having my dresses sewn by the same tailor she has used for over 30 years.
John made us a dinner of hamburgers and avocado and cucumber slices, with bowls of fruit salad for dessert. We finally had a decent internet connection after dinner, so a good day ended on a happy note.
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