Arusha, Thursday, February 2, 2017

My day began earlier than usual because I needed to be up by 7:30 to be certain I would be ready to go to the Impala Hotel before 9:00. It was time for another women’s group meeting, and Margaret, my friend from Uganda, was going to pick me up at the Impala for the drive to Mary Bura’s house. Ray got me to the Impala in plenty of time, and soon Margaret and I were on our way, stopping by Miriam’s house to pick up Grace (Don’t ask about that.) and then braving the anarchy on the Nairobi-Moshi Highway, where the construction makes for new adventures every day.

I had been to Mary’s a week before with Colette, so I thought I knew the basic landmarks on the way.  Margaret had been there sometime ago but thought she also had a general idea of where we were going. We also had the directions Linda had sent out to all the women:

To get to Mary's house,. Come on the Moshi-Nairobi road towards Nairobi.  Pass the two lights and the technical college road.  Then look on your right for the BP gas station and the AAA night club.  Turn right immediately up the mountain just after triple A.  Follow this road until you get to the white rose garden hotel on the right, pig slaughter house and water tank.Go until there is a grinding mill and a sign for Chadema club (this area is called Mangulueni). Here you turn left (if you get to the Elkuirei church and primary school, you have gone too far) and go to the second left and turn again. There is a big gate on the left and we will try to have the guard there to look for you.

The turn off from the highway wasn’t hard to find, but getting onto the road was, as we had to drop down sharply to a makeshift bridge to get across a deep excavation. Margaret uttered a prayer for her car—and I suppose for us as well—and we banged down and then climbed up onto the regular road, which is ungraded dirt and very narrow.  There were no thoughts of zoning or access to properties when the various houses and shops were built, and so the road has to wind and turn between buildings however it can. Some homeowners cannot access their houses with their vehicles. And, of course, there are no street names or house numbers. Between the two of us, Margaret and I spotted all the landmarks (at one place, it was a large rock that Margaret remembered she had almost hit the time before), and we arrived at Mary’s without any detours or backtracking.


Perhaps because of location, not as many of the women as usual were present, but we still had a great time catching up on everyone’s news, and even spending a bit of time looking at the first six beatitudes in Matthew 5. From time to time someone would contrast the beatitudes with Trump’s behavior. Mainly, however, the women reflected on how the various “belesseds” were or were’t reflected in their own lives. It’s humbling for me to hear all of the burdens or difficulties many of the women have had.  Margaret is still struggling to get her South Sudanese husband to return to Tanzania. Linda is worn thin from all the hassles her husband has been having as a hospital administer with government regulations, absurd tax demands, and the hassle of getting supplies out of the port. Angela does not know if she and Stephan will be allowed to stay in Tanzania for another year or two or will have to return to Germany because of program changes and visa issues.  They’ll find out next week. Others had concerns about children or grandchildren. Everyone continues to pray for Carol, who is in South Africa receiving chemotherapy for a very aggressive form of leukemia. I then discovered that the “little girl” at church with Down’s syndrome, Marissa, is actually 22 years old and the daughter of Carol, the woman in South Africa. Marissa has been left in the family home with the housekeeper so that she can stay in her school, and, as I had noted on Sunday, people in the church make sure to monitor and take care of her, too.  In this community, everyone depends on each other to cover any emergencies or needs. It’s one of the things I like best about them.


After the discussion, we had our usual light lunch.  Mary had made a fruit salad with watermelon, bananas, and pineapple and had bought vitumbua, delicious deep fried fritters made with rice flour. She also had cashews, peanuts, two kinds of baked tubers (potatoes?), white and yellow. I decided that even though they looked dreadfully dry and tasteless, I would try the yellow one; to my surprise it was quite tasty, so I went back for a second serving. As always there was fruit juice, coffee, and milk chai. I’m still trying to figure out what I’ll serve on the 16th, when they all show up at Kundayo.

Margaret dropped me back at Kundayo, and then Ray came to bring me the rest of the way home.  I told Ray how much I loved the vitumbua (I didn’t mention that I had eaten three), and he said they are made by Swahili women who sell them at little stalls around town. I shall certainly look for them from now on.

The rest of the day was dedicated to reading, perusing the internet, and heating up leftover beef stew for dinner. Simple, and relaxing. Life is good here in Arusha.