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!