Being a Mzungu

Saturday, February 2, 2019

This was a day focused on pleasure. It was Sharon Mkisi’s birthday, so a group of us was going to drive out to Usa River, about 19 kms east, to Rivertrees, a high-end resort, for lunch. Since Kundayo is only the highway going east, Sharon planned on stopping to pick up Mary Lou and me. That was to happen at 12:10, but as one might expect did not occur until 12:35. While we waited, I amused myself by playing with a goat tethered to a pole. The young piki-piki drivers found that amusing.

My new friend.

However, all good spirits left when Sharon pulled up and slightly side-the swiped one of the piki-pikis which was partially out on the road itself. Everyone got very animated though no one was hurt, and  the helmet which had rolled under the front wheel was undamaged. There was a dent in the fuel tank, but nothing to prevent normal operation. I told the driver that he should not have had his bike out on the road, and Sharon ordered us to get in the car quickly. Once we did so, she drove away. I was uncomfortable with leaving so abruptly, but I know that here small incidents like this can quickly escalate into ugly mobs. Also, when wazungu are involved, threats and extortion are not uncommon. Still, the incident left me feeling unsettled— especially since we pass the piki-pikis each time we leave or enter Kundayo Road.

It was difficult for me to regain a celebratory spirit even though the drive out to Usa River was interesting and the Rivertrees resort proved to be a lovely old colonial thatched lodge type of place. I was told that rooms there cost $300 and above overnight and that its guests have included the Clintons and other notables. I didn’t see anything to merit that high charge, but I did spy wazungu wandering about the beautifully treed grounds in perfectly matched safari outfits, which were likely purchased at specialty companies. There were also a lot of vervet monkeys swinging in the trees and jumping and tussling on the lawn. The bright blue balls of the males flashed like special party lights.

Rivertrees' main dining area.

There were only 7 of us for lunch, and I realized that this was the first total wazungu affair I have been to this year—or maybe for several years. In fact, I was rather taken aback by the monochromatic nature of the group, but perhaps if Tanzanians were invited, they thought the venue would be too expensive for them. Whatever the reason for our composition, it made me newly uncomfortable. Also the menu was slightly high-priced, but considering the price of staying in a room, not all that extreme. Both Mary Lou and I ordered the “Sweet Roots Salad” which featured beets, both sweet and white potatoes, and sliced pork tenderloin on a bed of lettuce. It was only $ 8.50, but then we ordered French press coffee and the homemade ice cream, so our bill went higher. Finally, to pay my bill and help cover Sharon’s lunch and the tip, I just dumped out all my money on the table and went home $21.75  poorer.  Not bad for a good lunch at a posh resort.

The birthday bunch. Sharon is the second from the left.

Mary Lou with a Sweet Roots Salad.

Another salad option was the Riverstrees version of a Chef Salad.

Christy Miller had baked a cake, which she claimed was a Pinterest failure, but with sour cream, brown sugar, and nuts in it, it was absolutely delicious. I have seen brown sugar here before but never sour cream. Christy said that in most stores the most common round container labeled “cream cheese” is really sour cream, so now I guess I could make tacos—if I ever wanted to.

The birthday cake decorated with edible flowers.

It was late afternoon until we left to return to Arusha. When we got near Kundayo, Sharon let us off on the opposite side of the double carriage highway from the piki-pikis. I wasn’t certain how a confrontation with them might go, but then Ray appeared and walked us across the highway past them and all was well. Still, I am troubled by how that incident was handled. Sharon has been in Africa many years and was even married to a Tanzanian for a while, so I trust her to know how to judge a situation better than I might, but from my personal view, I would have preferred to see if there was some way to recompense the driver of the damaged bike without getting into a bottomless pit of demands and complications. However, maybe because of differences in cultures and economic stereotypes, this is not possible.  Still, it clouds an otherwise pleasant day for me.