In the Neighborhood

Views around the neighborhood today. John won't take photos of people.

We haven't had any rain for several weeks and need it badly now.

One of our nicer neighborhood bars.

The Adventist church is one of many churches behind Kundayo, and we see their  well dressed members pass by every Saturday.

There are small market stands all along the streets.

Revivals are very popular, and often from late afternoon or early evening, dueling loudspeakers blare from several sides of Kundayo.

Kitamu

Arusha, February 23, 2018, Friday

Finally my bout of stomach sickness seemed over, so I wanted to get out and see something new in town. At some time during my jumping about on line, I had seen an ad for a little cafe, Kitamu Coffee, and decided I wanted to check it out. One never knows what reality will be, so John and I, while hopeful, were not very sure if this would turn out to be a good lunch spot or not. However, since this establishment is a member of the International Women's Coffee Alliance (IWCA), which “works for women's empowerment in the international coffee industry,” I wanted to find out more about it.

Goliondoi Street

Kituma Coffee's very attractive exterior

After a morning of working on our computers and reading, we called Ray to drive us downtown. Since Kitamu is on the same street as Meat King, we had no trouble finding it. I’m not sure how I have missed seeing it before. It had a very clear windowed front and attractive signage and menu postings. The inside space, while small, was not crowded, and the use of bright, African fabrics on the chairs made for a very attractive dining space. The menu, like the customers, was a mix of African and European dishes, with an extensive list of coffee drinks and baked goods as well. We had obviously found a jewel.

The only other customer when we arrived

A very colorful decor

There were only two other customers when we entered at 1:30, but in the next half hour, people poured in, both Tanzanian at wazungu. I spoke a bit with two young Korean girls who were being chaperoned by an older woman. They were from a university near Seoul, and seemed pleased that I had traveled to Korea several times. We were very happily surprised when our friend Eric Rowberg came in and sat at our table. Eric knew and greeted many of the other Tanzanians who came in. It didn’t seem to be an absolute divide, but the Tanzanians ordered African food, e.g., ugali, greens, meat, and the wazungu chose more western dishes such as my Greek salad wrap and John’s beef stroganoff. Even Eric ordered a grilled tuna/cheese sandwich. I also had a side of excellent chips, and ended with pressed coffee. John had a nice piece of carrot cake.

I watched a young Tanzanian man in a blindingly white long-sleeved shirt eat his ugali and greens in the usual way with his hand. Every Tanzanian cafe or restaurant has a place for washing hands, so first he did that. He didn’t roll up his sleeves nor drop a bit of food. John and I would have dropped food with every bite and ended up being lucky to have gotten 50% in our mouths. When the young man had cleaned his plate, he walked back to the sink in the corner and washed his hands again. His shirt was still spotlessly white.

Another middle-aged couple came in—he African, she American. It turned out that Eric and the man had taught high school together here in Arusha years ago. Both Eric and this gentleman were so soft spoken that I didn’t catch the new names when we shook hands. According to Eric, this couple spends six months in LA and then six months in Tanzania each year. Later after the men left for various reasons, the LA wife told me that her husband is Masai and comes each year to check his cows and visit his family. She comes and lives with the family in their boma far out from town, but she said her house is made of stone, and has a solar energy system and a specially built water collection system. Also, she doesn’t always stay the full six months. Soon a teenage boy came to fetch her, and she introduced me to one of her “kids,” a nephew who was obviously very fond of her. What a life! I sometimes have trouble with the switching back and forth between Tanzania and Spokane, but I can’t imagine handling the complex split between a Masai boma and LA.

Soon, I was nearly alone in the cafe (John had gone to Meat King to buy yogurt.) so I chatted a bit with the waitress. The coffee they use and sell at Kitamu is grown by women in the Moshi region, in the shadow of Mount Kilimanjaro, as they like to say. I assured her that I would be back to buy some beans before we leave in March. What could be better than enjoying some cake and coffee while supporting a growing network of self-organized, self-governing, women-led coffee co-ops?

Settling back to Normal

Arusha, February 17 - 18, 2018, Saturday & Sunday

Saturday was a day to settle back into life at Kundayo and recover from the activities and travels of our Iringa experience. We are very, very glad we took the trip, bumps and all, but happy to be back in our usual home here in Tanzania.  Mama Kundayo walked over to welcome us home, and I agreed to tell her all about our experiences after we had gotten some rest.

Then, around 6:00, Emmanuel came to tell us that a man was here asking for us. Surprise! Coleman Msoka, the sociology professor from the University of Dar es Salaam who was a Fulbright professor at Whitworth in 2016-17, had taken a bus up to see us. Since I had nothing on hand except some frozen leftovers, we ordered dinner from Kundayo’s restaurant and had a wonderful three hours together. At 9:00, Coleman excused himself for the night, as he needed to be up by 5:00 a.m. to make the 9 hour bus trip back to Dar. We felt very honored that Coleman was willing to put in 18 hours of bus travel just to be with us for 3 hours. He stayed in the unit next door to us, but we didn’t hear him when he left the next morning.

As always Sunday began with church at ACC. The attendance was once again back to normal, and no one seemed very sure about a possible reason for the abnormally small group last Sunday. After the service, I checked in with all my “sisters” and took my usual photo of the flowers. At the mixing and mingling out on the terrace, a very small boy asked me to help him open one of the big thermoses of chai, which I did. He insisted on pouring his own cup of tea even though his little arms shook. He only got about half a mug poured before he had to put the thermos down. Then, I watched as he put 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 teaspoons of sugar in his mug, stir his tea, and sip and smile. No wonder there are sugar shortages here from time to time.

Sunday's bouquet

After church sign up for some activity

Then, Sharon Mkisi, the Tanzania MCC Country Director, asked if we wanted to join her and Terry Morton for lunch, and, of course we said yes. George’s seemed the best choice, and following our usual habit, we ordered pizzas and a big salads. John and I got one of each and shared between ourselves. For dessert, all four of us decided to share a chocolate mousse. It was both beautiful and delicious, and we each got about four bites. For some reason everyone was very talkative, so it was 3:30 before Sharon dropped us back at Kundayo.

Sharon and Terry

George's delicious chocolate mousse

I had awaken feeling rather punk, and by early evening, I was feeling even worse. I am always resistant to stomach bugs and diarrhea, so I hadn't bothered to bring any appropriate medication for that with me. John said he had, but the expiration date on his bottle of pills was 2013. I’ll just go on a diet of liquid and toast for a day or so and see if I improve—or not.

Back to Arusha

Iringa, February 16, 2018, Friday

it was difficult to pull ourselves out of bed at 4:30, but we quickly dressed, did an inventory of our baggage (too many items!), and went to eat the breakfast the staff had prepared early just for us. (The honey crepes were the best thing we had had at Sunset.) Andrew appeared right on time at 5:30 and we were off to the bus station. This time it wasn’t so difficult to find out bus, so we were easily loaded and ready to go at 6:00 a.m.

The bus driver pulled out right on time and for the first very hilly stretch of road drove like the proverbial bat out of hell. At the point the road is only two lanes, but because of the steep inclines there was almost always a third land for the traffic coming up hill. Our driver used the full three lanes to weave back and forth so as to take the curves at a higher speed. I had to hang on, and every time we went over a speed bump, I thought I would be flung to the ceiling. Fortunately, this wild driving did not last the entire trip, and once we had descended the hills outside of Iringa, the driver slowed to a normal speed, which he maintained for the rest of the trip.

Some cornfields looked great

New housing

It was nearly impossible to doze because of the many speed bumps, but I’m sure I nodded off from time to time. It was great to see all the baobab trees again, and I tried to look for baby trees to see if they are still regenerating. However, we passed by too quickly for me to be sure of what I may have seen. We saw the vineyards outside Dodoma again, and when we pulled into the Dodoma bus station, some of the market women were selling grapes. Of course, John had to buy some from a boy who came onto the bus with grapes to sell.

Dodoma bus station

Grape selle

All along the road, our trip was regularly interrupted by police stops and passengers who got on to ride the bus for short distances. Adding short ride passengers caused some occasional overcrowding, with people riding in the door way and up by the driver.
Vendors such as the fish lady near the reservoir, or young boys selling warm soft drinks, nuts, and potato chips hopped on and off as we continued along our route. The whole passenger system seemed pretty porous. Each vender slipped the driver or bus attendant a sample of his/her wares, and nothing more was required.

After 9 hours on the road, as we approached Babati, the driver turned into the same rest stop we had been at on our way to Iringa. Even though I knew that there would only be squat toilets, I decided to go to the women’s restroom. It was reasonably clean, but the earthy sweet odor of excrement was a hard punch to the nose. I entered a stall and decided I would be best off if I wedged myself between the water barrel (for washing) and the front wall. Strategically positioned, I made something similar to a deep curtsy and proceeded. Straightening up again took a bit of struggle, but the whole operation was a great success.

Bus stop with restrooms and food.

John went off to the fast food shop at this stop and bought us some chipsies and kuku. We had each eaten about 6 cookies and two wedges of horrible Laughing Cow much earlier, so now we were really hungry. Even though they were cold and needed salt, the chipsies tasted delicious. The kuku was more problematic: it was very greasy and super tough. Getting a bite of meat was a battle. Eventually, I gnawed my way through one thigh.

Babati was our last stop at a bus station, and more people got on for Arusha. We were on time to arrive in Arusha at 6:00 pm. However, as we approached the city, traffic increased significantly, and we were caught in a big jam. We eventually reached the bus lot sometime after 6:30. Ray had been waiting for us, so once we found each other in the chaos  among the buses, he loaded us into his taxi and brought us back to Kundayo. We are very fortunate to have someone as loyal and helpful as Ray watching out for us.

We ordered dinner from the Kundayo restaurant and and dumped all of our dirty clothes on the floor. After dinner, I sent many of our clothes to be laundered. Then, we took showers and crashed in bed. In spite of feeling exhausted, we were very happy we had gone to Iringa, and also happy to be safely back at Kundayo.

Homage to Chief Mkwawa

Iringa, February 15, 2018, Thursday

This would be our final day in Iringa, and, as far as I was concerned, we had saved the best for last. I had long wanted to visit Iringa to see a different part of Tanzania, but more compelling than that was my desire to see the skull of Chief Mkwawa, a Hehe leader who fought back against the Germans when they invaded his territory in the 1890s. In his first and most successful battle, his troops killed some 300 German led troops, which was most upsetting for the Germans, who thought that Africans wouldn’t be intelligent enough to plan and carry out such a successful attack. On the other hand, the Hehe were also amazed, as they had believed it would be impossible to kill white men. To prove that wazungu could die, Chief Mkwawa had their heads cut off and carried back to his court.

Soon after that battle, the Germans attacked and destroyed Chief Mkwawa’s walled fortress, which had a wall 12 feet high and 8 miles long. The chief and some of his warriors escaped into the forest, from where they launched guerrilla attacks against the Germans for 4 years. At the end, not wanting to be captured, Chief Mkwaka shot himself. When the Germans found his body, they cut off his head and sent it back to Germany, where it was studied for clues to his intelligence. Finally, in 1954 the skull was returned to the Hehe and placed in a small museum at Kalenga, about 20 kms outside Iringa. This place was the focus of my pilgrimage to pay homage to the leader of the “fierce Hehe.”

Here are some notes on Chief Mkwawa:

   “ The Germans had occupied Hehe country and following the massacre of a delegation sent by Mkwawa, he retaliated in 1891 by ambushing in Lugalo an armed column headed by Lieutenant von Zeiewski. He seized enough weapons and ammunition to keep up resistance for nearly 3 years during which the Germans prepared their assault: in October 1894 a well-organised expeditionary force under the command of Tom Prince, an English-born German officer, stormed Kalenga, the court town of the Hehe, defeated them and captured the town. Mkwawa escaped and in spite of an enormous reward of 5,000 rupees, he was not betrayed and continued harassing German troops with guerilla actions for 4 years until 1898. Trapped, he shot himself.

    The Germans' exultation at this hard-won victory ran so high that they cut off Mkwawa's head which was sent for display to the Bremen Anthropological Museum in Germany, his body being returned to his people for ritual burial. In June 1954 his head was returned and handed over to Mkwawa's grandson. Chief Adam Sapi, who was to become the First Speaker of the independent Tanzania Parliament.”

The ride out to the museum was the usual bumpy trip past the usual cornfields, mud brick houses, and small shops. However, the museum, which had been built by the British in 1953, was an oasis of beauty and calm. The building is very small, but well designed, and the garden around it and the graves there are meticulously maintained.

The Chief Mkwawa National Museum

Inside, was not only the famous skull but also various weapons and artifacts used by Mkwawa. His rifles were in a case, and another case held special clay vessels, one of which Mkwawa used as a compass and another which he used to discern if any of his 62 wives were unfaithful. Both vessels would have special liquids poured into them and if there was a bubbling effect, then with the compass, one would know directions, and with the other vessel one would know if a wife had cheated. Apparent wives number 8 and 13 had been unfaithful, so their ears were cut off.

Chief Mkwawa's Skull, returned to the Hehe in 1954

Chief Mkwawa's guns. The one at the bottom was given to him by an Arab; the one at the top he made himself.

Divination tools. The center one is Mkwawa's compass, and the red and blue one discerns unfaithful wives.

Hehe weapons. The bow and stool are Mkwawa's. The shield and other weapons are not.

On the grounds were the graves of the Hehe chiefs who followed after Mkwawa. The current chief, whose father died relatively young is only 16 years old and attends the Iringa International School. Until he is older, his uncles rule on his behalf though the young chief himself must agree with their decisions, and only he can perform certain ceremonies.

The graves of past Hehe chiefs

The present day chief

The guide at the museum was extremely well informed, and he and John had a great time discussing historical battles and examining the ruins of the high wall that had once enclosed the court. I enjoyed taking photos and sitting quietly in the courtyard. After nearly 2 hours, it was time to return to Iringa.

I had been asking the staff at our hotel about the Little Imported Goods Supermarket, which was mentioned in every hotel blurb I read online. Each hotel listed how many meters they were from this store, but no one seemed to know anything about it. I  googled, yahooed, and binged it without any success at all. However, on our way back into Iringa, Albert, an incredibly helpful young man from our hotel, had us stop at a supermarket which might have been at the correct location, and we bought some cookies and Laughing Cow for our bus ride. Then we were dropped off at Neema Crafts for lunch.

John's dessert at Neema Crafts

After a very leisurely lunch, once again on the terrace, we returned to our hotel to begin packing up for the trip back to Arusha. That didn’t take long, but the items I had purchased at Neema caused some difficulty in closing our one little suitcase, so I ended up with an additional plastic bag of stuff to carry on to the bus. We decided to stay at the hotel for dinner, which was far more convenient than delicious. Then, we turned in early since we would have to get up at 4:30.

Valentine's Day

February 14, 2018, Wednesday

Valentine’s Day in Iringa. It seems strange how far my life has spun out since I was a small child in Oregon, where perhaps the biggest event of my life was picking strawberries each June.  I’ve spent many Valentine’s Days in Africa in the past 50 years, but this one in Iringa is the best so far.

John decided that he wanted to visit the prehistoric rock paintings at Ipoleke this morning, so Andrew, our current taxi driver of preference, picked him up around 9:30.  That left me alone to work on photos and check out somethings on line. Meanwhile John was marveling at the paintings and also connecting with the guard/guide there, who happens to be a Mennonite pastor from Mbeya. He has moved to Iringa to start a church here. Go figure. Tanzania is full of Catholics, Lutherans, Anglicans and an assortment of pentecostal churches, but not Mennonite.

Bwana John on a rock.

The Ipoleke Rock

Fellow Mennonites

Prehistoric paintings

After visiting Ipoleke, John went to Commonwealth War Graves - Iringa War Cemetery, a WWI cemetery. There are both British and German soldiers buried there as well as a few more recent Europeans who died in Iringa. John found it very interesting that the Commonwealth still pays for the upkeep of this cemetery, as it does for other such sites in former colonies.

Iringa's Commonwealth cemetery

By the time John returned, it was lunch time, so Andrew took us to the Greek church where there is a small restaurant. All the tourist information we had read had led me to believe this would be a small, tucked away, sparkling clean place in Iringa town itself. In actuality, it was at a well-worn church in a large field, just outside of town.  Out on the terrace there were several very old men and a young American couple, who apparently had also read the same guide books as we had. John had to hunt down someone to take our order, Greek salads, which turned out to be alternating layers of sliced cucumbers tomatoes, and red onions, with some chunks of cheese, and a few olives on top. Not quite what we had expected. However, with a drizzling of balsamic vinegar and olive oil, the salads were tasty enough. The homemade rolls on the side were excellent.

The Greek Club

My Greek salad

After lunch Andrew brought us back to our hotel, where once again we read and napped until early evening. At 7:00, Andrew reappeared and drove us far to the other side of Iringa and out into the countryside where a well-reviews restaurant, Mama Iringa’s is located. John had actually gone there on his way back from Ipoleke in order to make reservations for dinner because of it being Valentine’s Day. I was very surprised at how far out in the cornfields this place was. It was after dark but when we arrived and entered into the central courtyard.  There were candles and other lights on at the restaurant, which is mainly out on a terrace, facing the center garden. Several guest rooms were around two other sides of the rectangle. It was quite a magical scene.

Since it was Valentine’s Day, we decided to indulge in several courses and some Dodoma white wine for me. We began with a very tasty bruschetta, followed by eggplant parmesan. Our main course was a large ham, olive, and artichoke pizza, with a perfect crust. Finally for dessert, John had homemade pistachio gelato, and I tiramisu. The food was much more subtly seasoned than our American Italian fare and absolutely excellent.

Enjoying dinner at Mama Iringa's

Who could imagine the disconnect in being out among the cornfields in a fine Italian restaurant with a crowd of Tanzanians and wazungu celebrating Valentine’s day? One very young couple, who just had to be Americans, walked in holding hands with the woman carrying a red rose. The young Italian family next to us kept busy entertaining their toddler and hushing their infant, who was incredibly vocal—not fussy, just trying out its voice. A Chinese couple we have seen elsewhere in Iringa was there as well. And there were several large tables with mixes of Africans and wazungu having a very happy time. How different from the blandness of Spokane!

“Mama Iringa" herself, an actual Italian woman, was circulating among the guests, most of whom seemed to be good friends with her as well as with each other. It was good that John had made reservations, as the place was full.. It was well after 9:00 p.m. until we were ready to leave and bump through the darkness, back across Iringa and to our hotel for the night. This was definitely a Valentine’s Day to remember.

Discovering Iringa

February 13, 2018, Tuesday

What a wonderful day. After the long, grueling bus ride of yesterday, I expected we would sleep in this morning and perhaps not go exploring until the afternoon. Instead, we woke up and 7:00 and after a quick breakfast—not great, but okay—we took a taxi down the hill into town to Hasty Tasty, a small African cafe we had read about. The place was much smaller than I had imagined it, and we were the only wazungu in sight. However, they had press coffee and wonderful little mandazi-like balls to accompany it.

Enjoying coffee at hasty-tasty.

Unfortunately, there was also a very pushy, English-speaking man who decided we needed his company as well. First, he tried to sell us some baskets, which I definitely do not need or want, and then he reappeared with cloth bags. Those were quit well made and one in particular caught my eye. So, I bargained for it and another smaller bag which somehow had become part of a package deal, and while the final price was okay, it was definitely not a “special morning price” as promised. Soon after this deal, John left me to finish my coffee while he walked to the old German boma, the administrative center for the Germans from 1895 to 1917. Once this had all been German territory, and vestiges of that history still remain. I was sharing outside space with two lovely young women who allowed me to take their photo.

The German boma

When John returned perhaps an hour later, so did our unwanted friend. Such folks are almost impossible to shake unless one is really rude, which John never is. So, in spite of the fact that we knew our way to the Neema Crafts Center, he continued to act as if he were our special guide. Neema Crafts provided employment and training for disabled people and has a cafe in which all the wait staff are deaf. (https://www.neemacrafts.com/history.php) We looked at what was offered for sale and then decided since it was too early to have lunch in the cafe upstairs, we would see how far I could walk on the nearby main street.

Somehow, we freed ourselves from our “guide” by the time we reached the Iringa clock tower and were able to walk unescorted down toward the center of town. I was struck by how clean the streets were. None of the dirt and trash which line the streets in Arusha. Also, the sidewalks were smooth and unbroken, which made walking so much easier for me. Perhaps because of the many hills in and around it, there aways seems to be a soft, cool breeze blowing. It was a treat for me to walk along the street and see the many market areas and sidewalk vendors. John stopped to have his shoes shined by a man who was dressed in a very nice jacket and tie. I took photos of the large green park and as many other areas and people as I could. Most of the little shops were too small and dark for good photos, and some people looked uneasy when they spotted my camera, so those photos were not taken.

Getting a shoe shine.

Uhuru Park

Typical view down a side street

Small shops along main street

View toward city center.

We were walking slightly downhill all the way, and I knew I could not return the whole distance uphill. So, John got a 3-wheeler to carry us back to Neema Crafts. I had always wanted to ride in one of these little three-wheel vehicles, and I finally got my wish. I hope I can ride another before we leave Iringa, as they are not prevalent in Arusha.

Back at Neema, we went upstairs—all 16 steps—to the cafe, which was reputed to have very good food. The waiter took us to a table out on the terrace and motioned for us to write down our order since he was deaf. I decided to have chicken curry, while John selected lasagna. The narrow terrace overlooked a peaceful tree-lined street and was a perfect place to have a relaxing lunch. I even treated myself to carrot cake with ice cream.

Lunch at Neema Crafts

View from Neema's terrace cafe

Street scene

After lunch, John fetched a taxi, while our hanger-on tried to engage me in conversation again. He may be a very good person, but people who latch on to wazungu like this are very, very annoying. Fortunately, the taxi came soon, and we drove back to the hotel. After a brief rest, John decided to climb on the huge rocks behind the hotel. The guard/guide at the site took John up to the top, where he had a stunning view of Iringa far below and imaged how the Hehe warriors felt when they spied on the German colonialists they fought against in the late 1890s.

The road past our hotel

Huge rock formation

The way to the top

John overlooking Iringa

Once John returned, we got in still another taxi and went to Sai Villa for dinner.  From the veranda there, we have a wonderful sunset view of Iringa. I was happy because I cannot make it up to the terrace here at the hotel. it is built high up on a large rock formation, and John reports the view from up there is spectacular, too.  I am very glad we came here.