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?