Arusha, Saturday, January 14, 2017

We are both still struggling with debilitating jet lag, which has seemed to become worse as we age.  John fights falling asleep any time he sits down, and I struggle with being unable to sleep either during the night or day. Either way, we misspeak, misread, and just plain fall to stay focused. I’m hoping this will all be behind us by the middle of the coming week.

This morning, we had our beloved Wheetabix and sliced banana breakfast, as well as some mango jam on toast. Then we sat outside and pretended we were working on email and other computer activities while we were really just zoning out and enjoying the garden terrace. Around 10:00, I reminded John that Ray had mentioned that he’d like to look at some more refrigerators, so we called him and were soon on our way downtown again. It soon became obvious that Ray wanted a refrigerator delivered before 1:00 p.m. because his two oldest children, Priskilla and Good Luck, were leaving for their boarding schools in the afternoon, and he wanted them to see their mother’s surprise before they left.

Ray had another appliance store he wanted to check out, and while it had a really lovely little refrigerator within our budget, John did a quick check and found out that the brand, Boss, was faulted for compressor problems. So, we returned to Benson’s, and after a bit of opening and shutting doors and comparing freezer compartment sizes, chose a nice little Westinghouse with a 2-year guarantee and free delivery. Ray was so proud as the workers took the refrigerator out and loaded it on their truck.  He gave directions to his house, and we all took off for the delivery.

The shiny bubble of happiness was soon partially deflated by a policeman who stopped Ray and yelled at him about his taillights. Maybe Ray was in violation, but the policeman was very, very aggressive and rude and seemed set on embarrassing Ray in front of the wazungus (us). When a bystander made a comment of some sort, the policeman leapt toward him, throttled him round the throat, and shook him angrily. At that point, I had had enough, so I got out of the car—John was in a shop and couldn’t stop me—and walked toward the policeman and said, “You are not being polite.” Tanzanians place a high value on politeness and respect, so I just kept saying, “You are not being polite” over and over until he left. Poor Ray was incredibly upset. I gave him the 30,000 TZsch he needed for the fine (less than $15), and we drove off. Shaming people is a way of showing power in this culture, and it is dreadful how hurtful it can be.

When we finally got to Ray’s house, the delivery truck was already parked in front waiting for us. You need to envision a row of small shops with very narrow dirt walkways in between which lead back to a scramble of cement brick “houses” with outside spaces for laundry and cooking here and there.  Ray’s house was an extremely small unit in a sort of quadraplex. In the big front room, which was perhaps 12’ x 12’, there were bunk beds along one wall, a China cabinet on the opposite wall which also had a window, and then a sofa and three large overstuffed chairs crammed around a coffee table in the middle. As is always the case in respectable households, there were decorative doilies on the backs of the sofa and chairs. While Ray is not at the bottom economically, his poverty always pains me. Think of a family of five living in two very small rooms that the landlord does not maintain, and still maintaining their dignity and hope for a better life in the future.

Anyway, the men carried the refrigerator down between the buildings and placed it just inside the door of the main room. News travels instantly, and soon an aunt and her best friend showed up to observe the big event,  We sat with bottles of ceremonial soft drinks on the coffee table, visiting while we waited for Ray’s wife to return from her errands and discover the big surprise. Poor Honorine. She went into shock, and Ray kept having to tell her what was happening. Then, one of the aunties told us that the electricity had been disconnected from all the homes in Ray’s neighborhood because the landlords haven’t paid their bills. I was poised to shriek and ask what good a refrigerator would be without electricity when Ray told us that it would be carried to a nearby house of a neighbor/friend who has power. The coalition of assistance among the poor always touches me. After we took some photos, most of which did not turn out well, Ray drove us back to Kundayo. As we got out of the car, I leaned up to Ray and told him that no matter what the policeman had said, I knew he was a very good man.  He took my hand and kissed it.

I felt overwhelmed for the rest of the day.  Why do I deserve such riches while people like Ray and his family live in such minimal circumstances? I’m sure that Ray didn’t fully realize that giving the refrigerator gave me as much joy as Honorine felt in getting it. It was a moment of euphoria for all of us. I look forward to learning how she and her women’s cooperative continue to find ways to build more economic power.

Later in the afternoon, the parents of a former Whitworth student’s host family dropped by. The former student, Kate Sowers, had given us some small gifts to pass on to them, so while they and John chatted, I burrowed under our bed to find where I had put things. Finally, I discovered where all had been secreted—Gosh, I am good at hiding things!—and passed on the presents. I loved having another small moment of sharing affection between those of us who have been fortunate enough to become friends with some of the remarkable people here in Tanzania.