Arusha, Friday and Saturday, February 24 & 25, 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.

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.

me, Maria, Elizabeth

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

At the entrance to the courtyard

Stuffing toy elephants.

Stringing beads for jewelry

The glass furnace

Creating in glass

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!

Fording the raging river

Posing at the newly named Yoder Waterfall

Climbing out of the ravine

Hillside garden

Carrying food for cattle

Broccoli?

View from the top

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.

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.

Entrance of the kiln area

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.

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.

Church ladies

Dr. Wendy, a surgeon

Bouquet #1

Bouquet #2

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.

Noriko chatting with a new friend after church.

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.

Sunday lunch at George's with Noriko

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.

Arusha, Friday and Saturday, February 17 & 18, 2017


For me, Friday was “The Day After.” I really did not want to do anything special or go anywhere out of Kundayo. So, even though John went out on one of his usual walks of exploration propelled by our need for more bread and some tomato paste, I spent my time at Kundayo doing the usual reading, laundry, and fighting with the internet. I also made a great batch of spaghetti sauce using some of the wine Mazo had given me for Valentine’s Day.

The only excitement came after dark, when Mazo and his workers gathered under a metal sun awning.  A worker would climb up a ladder and then bang wildly at the struts attaching the awning to the building.  At least that what it looked like to me.  The banging stopped for a while and then began again about 10:00 p.m.  I went outside to see what was happening and saw a worker on the porch hand up a big machete to the guy on the ladder, who then gave three loud whacks with it. I still had no idea what had taken place, but the next morning, Mazo told us that they had killed a horrible chicken-killing ferret (che che) of some sort. They come out to hunt at night, and one had gotten up in the structures under the awning. Then, I noticed the paw prints on the wall under our kitchen window. It had tried to escape into our apartment!  Fortunately, I always close that window after dark because of mosquitoes.

Wild ferret paw prints

Aly, the hair magician

I had tried to get an appointment for a haircut over a week ago, but my favorite hairdresser in the world, Aly Sharrif, got sick and had to cancel. I texted him soon after I got up Saturday, and he texted back saying he had an opening at 1:30. I was ecstatic!  My hair had gotten so shaggy that I had actually taken my little Dollar Store elementary school scissors and attempted to trim some hair above my ears and on the sides with rather disastrous results. Right after lunch, Ray took me to Aly’s house, and I once again entered a fascinating other dimension. Just entering the house is perilous as the front awning is hung with dozens of wind chimes which clang and sing as one bumps them trying to get to the front door. Getting through the front door is also a challenge because it is probably no wider than 18 inches. Aly himself must never use it. I can get through it only by slipping in sideways.

I had my iPad with me, so as I waited for my turn, I tried surreptitiously to snap a couple photos of Aly. He is difficult to describe with his unique face and long hair loosely coiled on his head. I always think of him as dancing around on his toes though I don’t see him actually doing that. He is a member of the small Ismaili Muslim community here in Arusha, and seems to know all of the non-missionary wazungu. (Ismaili is the sect of the Aga Khan and are pacifists.) I love talking with him about his mother in Vancouver, B.C., who shops for him at Costco, the new restaurants that have opened since last year, and the history of the Ismailis leaving Tanzania during the nationalization of businesses by Nyerere after independence. There are five Ismaili mosques in Arusha, but only one is used now and even that one has parts partitioned off because it is too large for the congregation. All of this would make Aly enough of a gift to me, but he also gives one heck of a good haircut.  As I left, I told him I would see him again in February 2018,  Inshallah.

While I was at Aly’s, John was at the AirTel office trying to get my modem to work with my computer. For some incomprehensible reason, getting a phone or a modem to work takes a minimum of three visits to the service’s office before functionality is achieved. It makes me want to shriek until I think about how amazing it is that we have this level of technology in Africa—if/when it works. They weren’t able to activate my modem, so we’ll need to make another trip back come Monday. Oh, and this is the third phone/internet service I am using this year: I have Tigo and Vodacom on my phone and now AirTel for my modem, just so I can send these posts to you. It’s nuts.

It was definitely time for another kukuna na chipse dinner from up the road.

Arusha, Wednesday 7 Thursday, February 15 & 16, 2017

Wednesday was simply “The Day Before,” as I became totally focused on the coming meeting of the ACC women’s group on Thursday.  Mazo and his kitchen crew had the luncheon menu: vegetable curry, rice, chapatis, tomato and avocado salads, mixed fruit salad, coffee, tea, fruit juice, and bottled water. My main worry was the nearby road construction and if it would impede access to Kundayo. The configuration of the makeshift on and off exits seemed to change by the hour, so John did a reconnaissance walk in the morning and then another one in the late afternoon and reported that he thought the women would be able to find their way here. I continued to worry.

I had brought a packet of Betty Crocker Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies mix with me from home and planned to bake them for the luncheon.  However, the electricity went off right after lunch, so I felt liberated from that task. I wasn’t sure how well the little poorly insulated oven in our cooker and the flimsy cookie sheet I had bought in a Dollar Store would work anyway. Without electricity, there was no fan in the apartment, so I spent the afternoon out on the veranda,

As luck would have it, the electricity came back on just before dinner time, so we had Russian sausages, boiled potatoes, fresh green beans, and ice cream with mango slices for our meal.  Then, I felt an uncontrollable urge to bake the cookies, which I did from 9:00 to 10:00 p.m. They browned a bit more quickly on the bottom than I wished, but in general they were fine, and there were 3 dozen of them, more than enough.

I awoke early on “The Day,” and made sure our apartment was in fairly decent shape in case anyone peeked inside. John helped me arrange the chairs in the Moto Lounge, our meeting place, and then went off to check the state of the road construction.  He returned with a favorable report, and then went back to stand at the side of the road where he would be seen. Right at 9:30, Deborah drove in and soon after Margaret and Grace arrived.  Then, we waited and waited. Finally, just as Deborah was about ready to begin the meeting, Linda arrived with Eunie, and that seemed to be all who were coming. This was the smallest group ever in my three years as a member. One regular member had had to take her son to the hospital, another had food poisoning, two were known to be traveling, one had just returned from a trip the night before, and so the list of those missing added up. Oddly, even though I was disappointed, I was not as obsessed about the smallness of the group as I thought I might be. My five favorite members were present, and we had a great time until noon.

Left to Right: Grace, Margaret, Linda, Eunie, Me, Deborah

The Kundayo cook had prepared a beautiful buffet for a dozen or more, so the women insisted that John join us, too. He had a fine time getting to know just who was who and learning more about each of them.  Eunie regaled him with stories of the long past days in the bush and how she survived a terrible plane crash in the Rift Valley. Margaret described the work of her school for children with autism, the only one of its kind in Arusha. Mary talked about life as a retired midwife and her husband’s continued work as a fertility specialist. And, Linda flitted here, there, and everywhere as usual.  Poor Deborah had to eat and run because she had another meeting at the church at 12:30. People seem to linger much longer than usual, and some of them remarked that the Kundayo garden would be a lovely place to return to for other meetings. The morning was perfect with bright sun and a soft breeze, and everyone seemed very happy to be here together.

Linda at her best.

In spite of the very small turnout, I was very content with how the morning had gone.  I generously tipped the cook and Beatrice, our server, and thanked Mazo for everything. Later in the afternoon, Beatrice brought the bill, and I was amazed that the whole lovely buffet cost only $5 per person. I may try something like this again if I have a gathering of friends here, as my tiny kitchen with its two saucepans and one small skillet cannot really handle much cooking.

Within a half an hour of the women leaving Kundayo, thunder rolled and the clouds burst.  We had continuous showers, some of which were quite heavy, all afternoon. John kept saying how glad he was that he hadn’t gone out for a walk. I was grateful for the cooler temperature and the cleaner air, as well as thankful for the help this would be to farmers. Elizabeth had just sent me a photo of her dying watermelons, so I hope some of this rain fell on them, too.

Mazo had added mandasis, triangular, holeless donuts, to the menu, but the women were far more interested in my cookies. As they left, most of them took several cookies home with them for their husbands or a friend. Later Mazo had the plate of mandasis sent to our apartment, and I have been eating them with my coffee and tea breaks. At 7:00 p.m., when I would normally be thinking about making dinner, I still felt too full to eat again. Eventually, John heated up the leftover chicken pasta and sliced a cucumber for us. Then I had another mandasi with a cup of tea.  They are delicious!

Valentine's Day

Arusha, Tuesday, February, 14, 2017

John takes a long walk almost every day. People here are amazed at how active Mzee, the old man, is.  I sometimes wonder if Ray doesn’t see John’s walks as taking away revenue from him.
Not long after John returned from today’s morning walk, I went back to our apartment from the garden veranda, where I had been sitting, and there was a big bouquet of roses, red and yellow.
There are enormous greenhouse operations just outside Arusha, and a huge volume of flowers are flown out to Europe every day. Leftover roses are then sold to vendors who sell them for incredibly low prices at almost every street corner in the downtown area. I hadn’t indulged myself with any flowers so far this year, so John’s Valentine’s gift was perfect.

Later on, Beatrice, one of the two on serving staff, came to our door with two wine glasses and a bottle of wine from Mazo. I was very, very pleased that we were given merlot and not the incredibly sweet wine we had the other year. John drank some, but most of the bottle was mine to finish over the next several days.

Still later in the afternoon, I told John that I wanted to go back to the shoe workshop and see if there would be some for sale.  So, we called Ray, who drove us back to where we had gone the day before, and this time, there were many shoes for sale, but the men were no longer cutting and gluing the sandals. The women were still working on their bead work, so we took some photos of them, and then bargained for three pairs of sandals.  I had a hard time choosing among all the many different beaded tops, but finally I chose two and John chose a pair of men’s sandals which are not beaded. Then, we all shook hands, and gave many good-byes and promises of returning. I really did not bargain much at all since the first price was already just about half of what I would have paid for the same sandals in a small shop, and far, far less than that in a tourist shop such as Blue Heron.

Women beading for the sandals

Finished sandal tops

Checking sizes

Making choices

On the short drive back to Kundayo, I stopped at two small shops and bought some cloth at each.  The first fabric is the cheaper kitengi cloth, but the second piece was a wax print for which I had to pay far more, almost $14 for 6 yards. Then, we walked—or perhaps I should say climbed and stumbled—back into the small alley entrance to our neighborhood tailor’s shop. I explained to him what I wanted sown, and he made the necessary measurements.  There are never any patterns involved. Because the one piece of cloth was 6 yards, the tailor insisted that he needed to make a shirt for John as well. At first, John said no, but eventually he gave in, and so next week sometime, I’ll have two new dresses and John will have a new shirt.

At the local fabric shop

Our neighborhood tailor

After all that investment in our local economy, John and I retreated to Kundayo for the remainder of the day.  For dinner, I made Chicken Alfredo with a sauce mix I had brought from home. And even though it might not have been quite an appropriate match, I enjoyed two glasses of merlot with my pasta.

Masai sandals

Tanzanian raspberries and Tanzanian ice cream

Arusha, Monday, February 13, 2017

It was time to do some restocking, so we called Ray to take us to town so we could grocery shop at Nakumatt, the big supermarket and Meat King.  Nakumatt is fairly far away, and I always enjoy the scenes I see along the way.  had I been 20 years younger, I would have told Ray to stop numerous times so that I could check out interesting inventory in many of the small shops, bargained over cloth hanging on fences, bought some plastic containers in the market, and spent time exploring what was available further back in the maze of market stalls. There are so many things I glimpse only in passing that pique my curiosity. Carts full of second hand shoes are everywhere.  Some specialize: a cart only with  high heels, another full of athletic shoes, and still others offering flip-flops and athletic sandals. Right next to the carts of shoes will be other carts with second hand tee-shirts or blue jeans. The castoffs of the western world are everywhere here.

I’d also like to explore the mall of specialty shops that are next to Nakumatt, but the heat and required walking are too challenging for me. So, as usual, I slipped into Nakumatt, got a cart, and began searching the aisles for the items on my list. I found pretty much everything I wanted, and then the issue became one of being willing to pay the high prices of some things.  For example, was I willing to pay nearly $5 for a small jar of peanut butter (yes) or over $3 for a 15oz. can of tomato paste (no)? I was particularly happy to find a brand of yogurt that was half price of what I had paid before: only $4 for about a pint instead of the $7 that amount usually costs. Then, I decided to check the liquor shelves to see if I could find Dodoma wine.  Eureka! Both red and white were available, so I bought a bottle of each at $5. John loaded up another cart with 10 liter bottles of water, and we were ready to check out.

From the label on the Dodoma red: The distinctive characteristics of the organic soil enhance the quality and flavor of this wine, ruby red, well balanced and full bodied with hints of fruits, chocolate, and apricots. Excellent with grilled meat, “nyama choma,” game meat, and mature cheese.

From Nakumatt we drove back into central Arusha to Meat King, where we got our usual order of 1 kg. hamburger. ½ kg. beef stew meat, 1 chicken breast, and two Russian sausages. I no longer try to figure out the exact prices for meat, but I know that except for the chicken it is all much cheaper than at home. John also picked up a small box of raspberries, which one can find here occasionally. Since it was Post-Birthday Day, I let his extravagance pass.

John wanted to get a haircut at a nearby barber, so Ray drove me home alone. But before Ray helped me carry everything into our apartment, he said he wanted to show me something, so we drove a very short distance further up the main road and then turned onto a tiny dirt road and back into an area of shops and workshops one never sees from the road. I was surprised when we turned into a dead end yard, and Ray led me over rough ground and back to a partly built house in which there was a “shoe factory.”  There were half a dozen men sitting on the ground cutting out soles and glueing together the very colorful “Masai sandals" one sees sold in almost every gift shop in this region. Back behind the men, 8 women sat at tables in a dim room doing the beadwork that decorate these sandals. At the end of there work day, someone comes and buys the finished sandals and then delivers them to the merchants who sell them to the public. The man who began this workshop has two more in other parts of Arusha, too. Since we had arrived relatively early in the day, there were not any sandals ready for me to purchase, so I said I would return for that another day. Also since I had no camera with me, I wanted to return to take some photos.

John walked back after his haircut, and for dessert in the evening, we had Azam vanilla ice cream with raspberries. Who would have imagined this in Tanzania?

Arusha, Sunday, February 12, 2017

John’s birthday!  This is the 5th time he has celebrated a birthday in Tanzania, and at least the 10th in Africa somewhere. The only times he had a cake were the two birthdays he had in Zanzibar, where Fadhila and the little girls insisted I buy one for him—or maybe it was really for the little girls. Today would be another cakeless birthday, but it would still be a special day.

Because it was Sunday, Ray came as usual at 10:00 to take us to church. The service was nothing much of note, but as always, I felt wonderful being with such a variety of people whom I now know as friends. Hearing my name during the announcements was a new experience for me, and I realized how entwined I have become with this group of people.  I will be hosting the women’s Bible study here at Kundayo on Thursday.  Now, we all need to pray hard that the ongoing road construction won’t interfere with access to our road.

After church, John spent most of his time talking to Rogers and discovered that he leads hikes and tours in this area. John hopes to set up a hike for himself to discover what there is near us and then maybe suggest a tour for the Whitworth students when they come in March. I visited with friends and then Elaine,one of the two elderly white women who have returned to Tanzania to live with their children here, motioned for me to sit beside her. She’s the lady I met as we changed planes in Amsterdam, and after she discovered I was from Spokane, we had a real bond because she lived in Bonner’s Ferry for years after she and her husband retired. I cannot imagine how many stories she and Eunie, the other woman, must have of living out in remote areas and raising their families. In both families, the majority of the children have stayed in Tanzania, and the mothers have now returned to live with them.

John and Rogers

Lifetime Tanzanians

When it was time to leave church, John and I decided to go to our favorite eatery, George’s, for more of their salads. They really are a wonderful change from the usual meat stew and rice or kuku na chipsie types of meals we usually have. Plus, the salads are so enormous that we can take half home and have another meal.

The birthday salad

George’s was pretty empty when we arrived, but it soon filled up, and a large group of American youth—18 in all—were seated at a long table to one side of us.  Within less than 5 minutes every one of this group was hunched over a cell phone. I wanted to stand up and get a photo of the group but restrained myself to a shot I could take from my seat. They no doubt had paid a lot of money to come here and instead of paying attention to their surroundings or talking about what they had been seeing or doing, they were engrossed in their individual electronic bubbles. It seemed clear that this wasn’t some sort of volunteer mission group, but beyond that, we couldn’t figure out who they were, and I didn’t want to ask.

Each in her bubble

Once we returned to Kundayo, John took a birthday nap, and the rest of the afternoon and evening passed uneventfully except for a brief and very windy rain shower. It has been thundering from time to time, but no significant rain has fallen for some time now.

Arusha, Saturday, February 11, 2017

For me there was nothing particularly unusual about the day until late afternoon when we went to the Blue Heron, a longtime outdoor eatery and social venue. The setting, as for many of the upscale restaurants in Arusha, is in the garden of an large older house, and the house itself is now a gift shop with ridiculously high priced inventory.  We’ve visited this place every year we have come to Arusha and enjoyed it’s calm, peaceful setting and fast internet connection.

John’s cousin Ron had told us about the Blue Heron’s tapas for two that he and Colette had enjoyed when they were here, so since this was Birthday Eve for John, we decided we’d have the tapas for our evening meal.  Ray dropped us off around 6:00, and after some initial beverage time reading and connecting on my iPad, we ordered the tapas. When the waitress brought our order, she was carrying a huge flat rectangle covered with various types of meat, and dishes of bruschetta, humus, guacamole, and cucumber salad. There was also a basket full of grilled focaccia bread slices. It was so amazing that we began eating and forgot to take a photo of it!  Barbecue ribs, mishitake (meat kebobs), grilled baby potatoes, grilled meatballs, and chicken wings loaded the platter. When I tried to move the platter, I found it was too heavy for me to slide; John thought it may have been a slab of polished stone. We left very little of the tapas for the waitress to wrap up for us to take back to Kundayo.

Before dinner, I had gone to check what was in the gift shop this year. As before, there were exquisite and extremely expensive handbags, bejeweled sandals, shimmering scarves, beautifully designed jewelry, carefully made Masai beaded boxes, gorgeous dresses, brightly colored cushions, and a few stuffed animals. In the past I had looked at the tiny beaded slippers for babies and thought how cute they were; this time I chose a pair for Peri. I also closed down the rational part of my brain and bought John a bar of Tanzanian chocolate which cost nearly $7.

We had expected the Blue Heron to be full of customers on a Saturday evening, but very few others were there, and at times, we were alone in the garden. The cushions on the seats and the tables seemed a bit shabbier than before, and I thought that perhaps George’s, which is close by, has lured away many customers who formerly frequented Blue Heron. Or perhaps Saturday evening isn’t a prime time for any eatery which doesn’t have TVs for football games.
We certainly had a lovely time, and even the odor of the kerosene lamp was a nice reminder of times in the Congo when that was our only source of light in the evenings.

Arusha, Friday, February 10, 2017

John’s symposium was over, but not completely: They could all sign up for field trips on Friday, and, of course, John did. All I knew about it was that he would need to be at the big blue hotel even earlier than usual in order to get on a bus which would take a group out to an agricultural site. When he returned, I found out that they had visited AVRDC - The World Vegetable Center, the UN crop development center for Sub-Saharan Africa. It is one of six such centers in the world and its mission is to develop better strains of vegetables which can be easily grown, harvested, and eaten to reduce the malnutrition in the region.  They have a genetic repository and give farmers seeds for improved strains of crops. I’ve rarely seen Africans eat any vegetables other than manioc greens or a native spinach and yams, so getting people to include more vegetables in their diet is an excellent goal.

John had assured me that he would be back in town by 1:00, or at the latest 1:30, and said I should meet him then for lunch at FiFi’s.  I wasn’t overly excited about returning to FiFi’s, but since I had made a 12:30 appointment with Aly, my Arusha hair genius, I would be downtown anyway. Unfortunately, just before 11:00, Aly texted to say he was ill, and we would have to reschedule. Since John was out of phone reach, I couldn’t call him to cancel FiFi’s. So, I went as arranged, but less than five minutes after arriving, John called and said the group he was with had decided to add a visit to some far out—in both meanings—sustainable resort being built out on an almost impassable trail. The phone went dead before I could lodge my protest. I soothed myself with not only the day’s special, Chinese garlic pork and rice, but also an expensive strawberry milkshake, which wasn’t all that wonderful.

After lunch, I headed straight for the little grocery by the Naz Hotel entrance to buy a bottle of Dodoma wine. However, where the Dodoma wine had been only a day before was a gaping hole on the shelf.  Someone had come in and bought it all, red and white, sweet and dry. I think this might mean that it is actually very good, so I inquired when more might be available. Sometime next week—maybe.

Trying to get back to Kundayo was a nightmare due to the highway construction.  There was an enormous traffic jam where Ray normally turns toward Kundayo, so we had to back track and drive far out of our way in order to access a bumpy dirt track we could drive on.  There was a huge CAT shovel and two Masai women with four donkeys blocking our way, and yet somehow Ray managed to weave in between them and get me home.

Less than 10 minutes after I got home, John showed up. Fortunately, he had had the bus he was on drop him off at Kundayo Road instead of returning to the conference hotel, or he would have been caught in the traffic jam for hours. The best part of the day came when John reported on all he had seen and learned at The World Vegetable Center and told about the rather eccentric Finnish woman at the not-yet-ready-for-tourists sustainable resort they had jolted to off in the hills. She told the group that she had come to Tanzania on a safari from Martinique, where she had lived for many years with her husband, fell in love with her guide, and decided to stay here with him and build this resort. Not only is her resort not yet built but it will also be an enormous challenge for anyone to access it.  Who knows how long the much younger former safari guide will stay out in the boonies with her.

Arusha, Wednesday & Thursday, February 8 - 9, 2017


John has to get up much earlier than I want to in order to get to his conference before 8:00 a.m. when it starts; otherwise, he ends up on a chair in the back with no table on which to take notes. I continue to lie abed until at least 8:30, though I don’t always fall asleep again.  Furthermore, with John gone so early, I have to crumble my own Wheetabix into a bowl, slice a banana, and pour milk on it. Obviously, I have been severely spoiled.

As usual, I’ve spent my mornings over on the garden terrace trying to connect to the internet and then praying sites won’t time out instead of opening.  It’s a maddening exercise in hit or miss, with far more misses than I can handle at times. Still, as I listened to myself complaining about this to John, I suddenly had to stop and laugh since when I first experienced wifi in Africa in 2001, I thought the continent had been ruined and there would never again be a “real” Africa.
Now, even the Masai women out in the farthest bomas have smart phones in little pouches hanging around their necks. When Ron and Colette were here, we reminisced about the days when we had to make an appointment in advance at a big city post office in order to make a phone call home, and there was no such thing as regular mail delivery where we lived. Now, those seem like the good old days to us, but I wonder if I would enjoy living like that again.

John seemed to enjoy his second day at the ECHO symposium as much as the first, and he returned home full of information about low tillage, water problems, and efforts to create better seeds. His day began with an amazing small-world happening; each morning, a sign-in sheet is passed around, and John noticed that the young man sitting next to him was named Jacob Yoder. When John asked Jacob where he was from, he answered ”Iowa,” and they soon discovered that Jacob had grown up near John’s hometown of about 2,500. Furthermore, John’s brother was Jacob’s high school physics teacher, his best friend is the son of one of John’s cousins, and John went to grade school with many of Jacob’s aunts and uncles. Now, Jacob is in Burundi doing agricultural work with Mennonite Central Committee. I’m always amazed how many current and former MCCers there are in international development work.

While John was having his exciting day, I called Ray and asked him to drive me to the Lutheran bookstore, only I discovered that it isn’t the Lutheran’s anymore. There was not nearly as much to look at and think about buying. I had told Ray that I would have lunch somewhere downtown and then call him to take me back to Kundayo. I fully intended to go to the Naz Hotel for their lunch buffet, which is fairly cheap, but I ended up at the nearby Bamboo FiFi’s, which is new and not cheap at all.  Shocked at the thought of paying 18,000 Tsch. for a sandwich, I decided to buy a fruit salad (6,000 Tsch.) and chipsie mayai, best described as a french fry omelette (7,000 Tsch.). The fruit salad turned out to be huge and incredibly delicious with mango, papaya, apple, grapes, watermelon, pineapple, and banana in it. I ate half and had the rest boxed up to take with me.  Then the chips mayai came, and I thought I would choke.  It, too, was huge and had a small green salad as a side. I ate the salad and managed to stuff in about a third of the c.m. When the waiter asked if I wanted to box up the rest, I gave an emphatic no.

The wifi connection at the cafe was excellent, and since I had my iPad along, I caught up on Facebook and email before I left. Then, I walked over to the Naz and visited the tiny grocery store at its entrance. Every store has one or two items that aren’t found elsewhere, and here it was Pear’s soap and wine from Dodoma, the capital of Tanzania. The flowery description of the red wine I examined remarked how well it paired with wild game. Because I didn’t want Ray catching me with a bottle of wine, which would cost more than he makes on a good day, I left it on the shelf. However, I may give into temptation and buy it before we leave.

After I called Ray to come and retrieve me, I walked back into the Naz and looked at their buffet. It looked pathetic with very few choices, so I felt better about not eating there after all. On the way back to Kundayo, we stopped so I could buy some bananas, and as I stayed in the car, a half dozen hands reached in shoving bananas at me. If I am out in a market, I can handle the confusion of women trying to get me to buy their produce, but in a car, I am trapped, so I took the first bunch shoved into my hand, paid the lady—a bit too much, I think—and told Ray to escape quickly. I could tell that he was not convinced I had bought the best bunch, and he was most likely right.

On Thursday, the third day of the Echo symposium began as the former two: too early for me.  In addition, something had gone awry with the cable TV during the night, so I could not find out what the judges had or hadn’t decided about Trump’s travel ban or it Nordstrom was going bankrupt because of Trump’s tweeting.  In addition, I had less than an hour of wifi access before it, too, disappeared. So, there was nothing to do but read and do launder more socks in the big red bucket. After that, I decided since John got two tea breaks with snacks and a lunch each day, I would again eat out again by ordering something from the Kundayo restaurant. Unfortunately, unless one orders a day ahead, it’s hard to get a real salad here. So, I ended up with a hamburger and more fries. The hamburger was good, but the fries I couldn’t handle.

John surprised me by coming back early.  He said he was tired and wanted to rest a bit before returning for the symposium's closing banquet. I felt so sorry for myself being left again that I poured some cooked red beans the cook had given me to taste and poured them over the french fries left from lunch and then heated it all up in the microwave for my dinner. That tasted about as good as my mood was.