Arusha, Monday, January 23, 2017
When we awoke on Monday morning, Ron and Colette were already gone—off to connect with Mary from church and go on a cloth buying spree. It would never have occurred to me to ask Mary if she were a seamstress and if she would be willing to help me find some good African cloth and sew me a dress, but Colette has a way of connecting and finding out whatever she wants to know. So, the two ladies went to Mary’s favorite cloth shop and bought beautiful waxes, each 6 yards long. Then, they returned to Mary’s house, where Colette had her measurements taken, and the new dress will be ready by Friday. Here I am in the same women’s group as Mary, and I have been a guest in her house several times, but I had no idea she might be willing to sew a dress for me.
After Ron and Colette returned to Kundayo, she told me all about their morning and how she had bargained with the Yemeni shop owner, and then she brought out her five pieces of cloth and told me to choose one for myself. They were all beautiful, but there was one I liked more than the others, so I chose it even though I worried it might be Colette’s favorite, too. None of the cloth I see today is as rich and gorgeous as the Java waxes we used to get in the Congo, but the prints are pretty and some are very reminiscent of old designs. Today the wax prints I see come from Nigeria, Tanzania, or even China, but no longer Java.
Later in the afternoon, Agape, a former staff person here at Kundayo—my favorite, in fact—came to visit me. Maso left her go last August when he cut back staff because of lower bookings. I know better than to ask him why he let Agape go instead of Beatrice, but I personally think he made a mistake in doing so. Agape was by far the most mature and helpful staffer, and I am sad that she is now unemployed except for what jobs she can pick up plaiting hair. Agape is grateful that a friend has let her occupy a corner in her store so she has a set place for doing hair. So many good, competent people are having to piece together whatever they can for a livelihood.
The rest of the day was uneventful resting, reading, sending email, etc. For dinner, I heated up the eggplant stew I had made earlier and served that with rice and broccoli. Colette had returned not only with cloth but also with three enormous heads of broccoli and several purple avocados the size of small cabbages. For dessert we all enjoyed John’s signature fruit salad.
Friday, January 27, 2017
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Arusha, Sunday, January 22, 2017
Just before 10:00 a.m. I went up on the front veranda to wait until Ray came to take us to church, and there was Noriko Noda, a Japanese woman I had met briefly the Sunday before. At that time we have only exchanged names and told each other what we were doing in Arusha; she is a physics and mathematics teacher in a secondary school outside the city. When I excused myself and said I was going to church, she expressed interest, and I said she could join us the following week if she wished. I hadn’t spoken to her since, so I was surprised that there she was ready to go with us. Since Ray’s taxi couldn’t comfortably take all of us, we had already arranged for a second car, so adding Noriko was easy.
We were some of the very first ones at church, mainly because after all these years, I still take stated times for events as real times. Before more people arrived I took a photo of the flowers up front, as I love the arrangements different people bring. Noriko also decided to take a photo. I hadn’t asked Noriko about any religious affiliation I was pleased that she seemed very at ease. Gradually the church filled up, and the usual service began.
After the service, everyone always mixes and mingles over coffee or tea out on the brick terrace in front. Of course, there were people with whom Ron and Colette knew or were connected because of their many years in the Congo. Colette spotted on of the members of the women’s group who was wearing a spectacular dress and somehow got into a conversation about cloth and tailoring which lead to an invitation to go shopping the next day. In all my years of knowing Mary, I had never learned that she is an accomplished seamstress and her daughter is an international fashion designer.
As before, Sharon offered to take us somewhere to eat. Noriko needed to return to Kundayo to work on lessons, but the rest of us decided to try George’s, the place we were last Sunday again. We were joined by another couple and a young woman, Rachel, from Canada who is here working with the only program for autistic individuals that I know of in Arusha. Rachel is also a dancer and gives free ballet lessons to children in her spare time. One of the joys of being here is that there is always someone new and interesting to meet.
Ron, Colette, and John all decided to order the special grilled lamb with mashed potatoes, cooked greens, and a big Greek salad for 30,000 Tsch. The plates were huge as were the servings, so each brought about half of their food home for a meal on Monday. John was feeling very guilty for spending approximately $15 on his meal, but I asked him where he thought he could get such a dinner at that price at home, and he realized he couldn’t. I myself had modestly ordered one of the build-it-yourself salads, which was so huge, I brought more than half of it home with me. Everyone was having a terrific time and Colette commented on how many little children there were running about. There must have been 20 or more between the ages of toddler to 10 years, and they ran in and out (Georges is completely open on the garden side), playing on the swing set and with each other on the terrace. I had never seen so many families with small children in a restaurant before, and it was lovely to watch. No one fussed, cried, called for a parent, or threw a fit, and sometimes the bigger children picked up and carried the smaller ones. We were definitely not in America.
It was mid-afternoon before we returned to Kundayo and took naps, after which we spent more time with Ron and Colette, catching up on family news and filling in the details of the years we have been apart. I feel sad that I missed so many years of being more closely connected with Colette, who truly is a remarkable woman.
Just before 10:00 a.m. I went up on the front veranda to wait until Ray came to take us to church, and there was Noriko Noda, a Japanese woman I had met briefly the Sunday before. At that time we have only exchanged names and told each other what we were doing in Arusha; she is a physics and mathematics teacher in a secondary school outside the city. When I excused myself and said I was going to church, she expressed interest, and I said she could join us the following week if she wished. I hadn’t spoken to her since, so I was surprised that there she was ready to go with us. Since Ray’s taxi couldn’t comfortably take all of us, we had already arranged for a second car, so adding Noriko was easy.
We were some of the very first ones at church, mainly because after all these years, I still take stated times for events as real times. Before more people arrived I took a photo of the flowers up front, as I love the arrangements different people bring. Noriko also decided to take a photo. I hadn’t asked Noriko about any religious affiliation I was pleased that she seemed very at ease. Gradually the church filled up, and the usual service began.
After the service, everyone always mixes and mingles over coffee or tea out on the brick terrace in front. Of course, there were people with whom Ron and Colette knew or were connected because of their many years in the Congo. Colette spotted on of the members of the women’s group who was wearing a spectacular dress and somehow got into a conversation about cloth and tailoring which lead to an invitation to go shopping the next day. In all my years of knowing Mary, I had never learned that she is an accomplished seamstress and her daughter is an international fashion designer.
As before, Sharon offered to take us somewhere to eat. Noriko needed to return to Kundayo to work on lessons, but the rest of us decided to try George’s, the place we were last Sunday again. We were joined by another couple and a young woman, Rachel, from Canada who is here working with the only program for autistic individuals that I know of in Arusha. Rachel is also a dancer and gives free ballet lessons to children in her spare time. One of the joys of being here is that there is always someone new and interesting to meet.
Ron, Colette, and John all decided to order the special grilled lamb with mashed potatoes, cooked greens, and a big Greek salad for 30,000 Tsch. The plates were huge as were the servings, so each brought about half of their food home for a meal on Monday. John was feeling very guilty for spending approximately $15 on his meal, but I asked him where he thought he could get such a dinner at that price at home, and he realized he couldn’t. I myself had modestly ordered one of the build-it-yourself salads, which was so huge, I brought more than half of it home with me. Everyone was having a terrific time and Colette commented on how many little children there were running about. There must have been 20 or more between the ages of toddler to 10 years, and they ran in and out (Georges is completely open on the garden side), playing on the swing set and with each other on the terrace. I had never seen so many families with small children in a restaurant before, and it was lovely to watch. No one fussed, cried, called for a parent, or threw a fit, and sometimes the bigger children picked up and carried the smaller ones. We were definitely not in America.
It was mid-afternoon before we returned to Kundayo and took naps, after which we spent more time with Ron and Colette, catching up on family news and filling in the details of the years we have been apart. I feel sad that I missed so many years of being more closely connected with Colette, who truly is a remarkable woman.
Arusha, Saturday, January 21, 2017
Saturday was very ordinary with our Wheetabix breakfast special and time trying to get some things done on the internet. I don’t remember many details because we were focused on the arrival of John’s cousin Ron and his wife Colette later in the day. They had been delayed several days so Ron could have some therapy in Nairobi on a broken finger. Finally, soon after 1:00 p.m. they pulled into Kundayo with Evans, our travel advisor friend. He had driven them all the way down from Nairobi and will drive them back this coming Saturday.
I hadn’t seen Colette for over 40 years and Ron for almost 10, so our reunion was wonderful. Ron has never seemed to change all that much, but Colette has become a very self-assured and formidable woman, whom I instantly liked more than ever. She has had an incredible life, mainly on her own raising 3 children and putting herself through nursing school, while Ron has been off in Africa working as a contractor for the UN or mining companies. Now she is retired, and Ron works in Guinea, six weeks on and three weeks off, so either he flies “home” to Kansas or Colette flies to Africa, where they meet up for time together. During this three-week time off, they chose to visit us here in Arusha, and we are very happy to be with them again. We share a lot of Congolese and African history and connections with them, which almost no one we know in the States can appreciate.
Once Ron and Colette were settled next to us in apartment W, my former favorite space at Kundayo, we spent the rest of the day talking and having dinner together at the Kundayo restaurant. We have a lot of catching up to do in the next few days.
Saturday was very ordinary with our Wheetabix breakfast special and time trying to get some things done on the internet. I don’t remember many details because we were focused on the arrival of John’s cousin Ron and his wife Colette later in the day. They had been delayed several days so Ron could have some therapy in Nairobi on a broken finger. Finally, soon after 1:00 p.m. they pulled into Kundayo with Evans, our travel advisor friend. He had driven them all the way down from Nairobi and will drive them back this coming Saturday.
I hadn’t seen Colette for over 40 years and Ron for almost 10, so our reunion was wonderful. Ron has never seemed to change all that much, but Colette has become a very self-assured and formidable woman, whom I instantly liked more than ever. She has had an incredible life, mainly on her own raising 3 children and putting herself through nursing school, while Ron has been off in Africa working as a contractor for the UN or mining companies. Now she is retired, and Ron works in Guinea, six weeks on and three weeks off, so either he flies “home” to Kansas or Colette flies to Africa, where they meet up for time together. During this three-week time off, they chose to visit us here in Arusha, and we are very happy to be with them again. We share a lot of Congolese and African history and connections with them, which almost no one we know in the States can appreciate.
Once Ron and Colette were settled next to us in apartment W, my former favorite space at Kundayo, we spent the rest of the day talking and having dinner together at the Kundayo restaurant. We have a lot of catching up to do in the next few days.
Friday, January 20, 2017
John needed to do some errands, so he took a dolla-dolla (taxi van) downtown and i agreed to meet him at Africafe at 1:00 for lunch. Usually, I eschew frequenting Africafe since it is an over-priced, Americanized coffee shops always crammed with wazungu. However, I wanted a decent loaf of bread and felt the need to spoil myself on this dreaded inauguration day. So, I called Ray to pick me up just before 1:00, and we headed downtown.
Unfortunately, on the street Ray chose, there was a posse of five or six policemen, one of whom was the same man who had treated Ray so rudely a short time before, He stepped out into the road and began hassling Ray, who had a paper showing he had paid his fine and had 21 days to fix his tail-light. The policeman grabbed the paper out of Ray’s hand, wadded it up, and threw it into the bushes. Ray couldn’t stay where he was because of traffic, so he pulled through the intersection, parked, and told me to stay put. I was afraid what would happen as Ray walked back toward the group of police, so I got out of the car and made sure to stand very conspicuously beside the street. There was some shouting and fist-waving between Ray and the policeman, but Ray was able to recover his paper, and we made it to Africafe only a little late. I was so totally steamed by what had happened that I jumped out of the car without paying Ray, but I knew I could make that up on the way back to Kundayo later.
John was waiting for me inside. Surprisingly, the place was fairly empty, and most of the patrons were African. Perhaps this is another indication of how much Tanzania’s tourist industry has fallen recently. The new government has foolishly sought to gain revenue from higher taxes on safari companies, increased fees to enter game parks, and taxes on all sort of commodities. When Tanzanian safari companies raised their prices to cover these new costs, cancellations poured in. And so while Tanzania suffers, Kenya profits from increased tourist business because of its lower fees and streamlined imports and services for safari companies. No wonder so many people here are upset with President Magafuli.
Once I had settled down, we ordered lunch: John got a chicken salad, and I ordered a cheese, ham, and mushroom omelet, plus a café au lait. Africafe has free wifi, but no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get any connection. This happens more and more around town, so I wonder what is happening with the internet in this area. In addition, after over a week and a couple of visits to deal with the phone company (Tigo), my phone still was not functioning. I can do without most first world conveniences, but being without a phone in Arusha is not acceptable—or safe. So, in spite of being in a relatively posh, western style coffee shop, I was grumpy.
Eventually, John called Ray to come pick us up and went outside to stand on the sidewalk to wait for the car. Almost immediately he was accosted by Gary, an old friend of one of the Whitworth students who came here with us in 2012 (You know who you are, Kate.) who always seeks to find out what we are doing and how he can help us do it. Ray took a long time coming, so John and Gary had a long conversation before we finally got away. i have little doubt that Gary is a good guy, but it’s difficult to know what to say to, and more important, what to do with all the young unemployed, or under employed, people in a place like Arusha.
The rest of the afternoon and evening were uneventful until about 8:00 p.m. when the ceremony for Trump’s inauguration began. We can get MSNBC here at Kundayo, so we watched the pageantry, but for me the focus was on the Obamas and how incredibly stoic and controlled they were throughout the swearing in, Trump’s dismal speech, and their departure from the Capitol. It still seems unreal to me that such capable, decent people are being replaced by a narcissistic, misogynistic, compulsive liar. As a Christian, I think of scripture such as Galatians 5: 22 - 26 and think that no matter what one may claim as a reason for voting for Trump, they chose to do so in spite of the fact he has never demonstrated that he has any moral center. So I was disconcerted to watch a man who has demeaned women, mocked the disabled, and bragged that he could shoot someone and his supporters would not care take office as the American leader. People here in Tanzania cannot understand why this has happened and often extend their condolences to us. We ended the day on a very sober note.
John needed to do some errands, so he took a dolla-dolla (taxi van) downtown and i agreed to meet him at Africafe at 1:00 for lunch. Usually, I eschew frequenting Africafe since it is an over-priced, Americanized coffee shops always crammed with wazungu. However, I wanted a decent loaf of bread and felt the need to spoil myself on this dreaded inauguration day. So, I called Ray to pick me up just before 1:00, and we headed downtown.
Unfortunately, on the street Ray chose, there was a posse of five or six policemen, one of whom was the same man who had treated Ray so rudely a short time before, He stepped out into the road and began hassling Ray, who had a paper showing he had paid his fine and had 21 days to fix his tail-light. The policeman grabbed the paper out of Ray’s hand, wadded it up, and threw it into the bushes. Ray couldn’t stay where he was because of traffic, so he pulled through the intersection, parked, and told me to stay put. I was afraid what would happen as Ray walked back toward the group of police, so I got out of the car and made sure to stand very conspicuously beside the street. There was some shouting and fist-waving between Ray and the policeman, but Ray was able to recover his paper, and we made it to Africafe only a little late. I was so totally steamed by what had happened that I jumped out of the car without paying Ray, but I knew I could make that up on the way back to Kundayo later.
John was waiting for me inside. Surprisingly, the place was fairly empty, and most of the patrons were African. Perhaps this is another indication of how much Tanzania’s tourist industry has fallen recently. The new government has foolishly sought to gain revenue from higher taxes on safari companies, increased fees to enter game parks, and taxes on all sort of commodities. When Tanzanian safari companies raised their prices to cover these new costs, cancellations poured in. And so while Tanzania suffers, Kenya profits from increased tourist business because of its lower fees and streamlined imports and services for safari companies. No wonder so many people here are upset with President Magafuli.
Once I had settled down, we ordered lunch: John got a chicken salad, and I ordered a cheese, ham, and mushroom omelet, plus a café au lait. Africafe has free wifi, but no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get any connection. This happens more and more around town, so I wonder what is happening with the internet in this area. In addition, after over a week and a couple of visits to deal with the phone company (Tigo), my phone still was not functioning. I can do without most first world conveniences, but being without a phone in Arusha is not acceptable—or safe. So, in spite of being in a relatively posh, western style coffee shop, I was grumpy.
Eventually, John called Ray to come pick us up and went outside to stand on the sidewalk to wait for the car. Almost immediately he was accosted by Gary, an old friend of one of the Whitworth students who came here with us in 2012 (You know who you are, Kate.) who always seeks to find out what we are doing and how he can help us do it. Ray took a long time coming, so John and Gary had a long conversation before we finally got away. i have little doubt that Gary is a good guy, but it’s difficult to know what to say to, and more important, what to do with all the young unemployed, or under employed, people in a place like Arusha.
The rest of the afternoon and evening were uneventful until about 8:00 p.m. when the ceremony for Trump’s inauguration began. We can get MSNBC here at Kundayo, so we watched the pageantry, but for me the focus was on the Obamas and how incredibly stoic and controlled they were throughout the swearing in, Trump’s dismal speech, and their departure from the Capitol. It still seems unreal to me that such capable, decent people are being replaced by a narcissistic, misogynistic, compulsive liar. As a Christian, I think of scripture such as Galatians 5: 22 - 26 and think that no matter what one may claim as a reason for voting for Trump, they chose to do so in spite of the fact he has never demonstrated that he has any moral center. So I was disconcerted to watch a man who has demeaned women, mocked the disabled, and bragged that he could shoot someone and his supporters would not care take office as the American leader. People here in Tanzania cannot understand why this has happened and often extend their condolences to us. We ended the day on a very sober note.
Monday, January 23, 2017
Arusha, Wednesday, January 18, & Thursday January 19, 2017
Wednesday was a day of waiting. John’s cousin Ron and his wife, Colette, were scheduled to arrive by bus from Nairobi, but they never showed up. This was nothing to be alarmed by, as schedules are usually quite fluid in Africa. However, John spent a lot of his day going to the bus drop off point to meet them if they came on the 1:30 or 7:30 p.m. bus. I spent my time at Kundayo doing very little at all. It’s so odd that in past years we used to think we simply had to go places and see things, but now that we have pretty much covered the Arusha scene, I’d rather sit out in Kundayo’s garden area and read or simply float away in my thoughts. Maybe I am finally getting to the stage where I understand what a vacation means.
Later in the evening, John got an email from Ron telling us that they were delayed in Nairobi because he needed to have some rehab therapy on a finger he had broken in Guinea just before he left there. He hasn’t told us how he broke the finger but there is likely to be an interesting story connected to it, as in his past he has been in a Congo jail as a suspected diamond smuggler and was once kidnapped by an Eastern Congo warlord, held for three weeks, and then inexplicably released. There isn’t much in Central Africa that he hasn’t seen, done, or escaped from. The last time we saw him was almost 10 years ago when he flew down to South Africa to meet us there, so we have a lot of catching up to do.
My day was brightened by the announcement that our women’s group would be meeting on Thursday morning. That meant that I had to get up a tad earlier than usual and have Ray take me to the Impala Hotel to be picked up there at 9:00. Of course, it was nearly 9:20 before Deborah drove in with another woman, Bethany, who was in town for her monthly shopping. Bethany and her husband live way out in Masai land, where he oversees several small rural clinics. With the recent dry weather here, I imagine that Bethany lives in a hot dusty place I couldn’t begin to cope with. With no crops growing and livestock suffering, rural people—especially the children—are now beginning to suffer from hunger, and it will only get worse if the rain doesn’t come soon. I have never met anyone in Tanzania who doubts that climate change is real. Many live and die by the climate, and they have seen the way in which the rains have changed.
The three of us then went to Grace’s house, the very same house in which I first met this unique group of women. Grace’s husband is a doctor specializing in fertility issues, and after many years in the UK, they decided to return to Tanzania, and he now practices here in Arusha. So, while Mary gets to live in a lovely big house, she is separated from her grandchildren, all of whom are in the UK now. The splits and scatterings in international families are often difficult for older parents to handle. Other couples we know have married children living in not only other African countries or Canada, the UK, or the USA, but also India, Malta, and various European countries.
I think it’s bad enough having a daughter and grandchild living in Florida!
Since this was the first group meeting since the big Christmas holiday break as Linda was extremely late getting the announcement sent out, there were only ten of us present. Still, we had a grand time catching up on news and discussing current events both here in Tanzania and the USA. There seem to be some unfortunate similarities in what the current Tanzanian president, Magufuli, is doing and what Trump says he will do. There wasn’t a single woman present who supported either leader. However, there is a fear of speaking out against the Tanzanian president, as he has already put critics and political opponents in jail and threatens to continue to do so. The women kept cautioning, “This is only for inside this room,” when they spoke of current events. And, what they see already happening in Tanzania, they fear will soon happen in America. To hear this from a group of European, American, and African women, all of whom would likely be categorized as “evangelical Christians” back home, was sobering.
Cheryl, a very snazzy older woman I had never seen before, was also present as she is now in Arusha for a short visit to check on a new school her foundation is building. I didn’t get many details on her, but she and her husband (now dead) used to work in Tanzania, and now she wanders among her several houses doing her version of “good.”
We were supposed to be studying Psalm 104, a beautiful song about the wonders of nature, but as usual the discussion focused on current issues and pressing social problems. The lack of rain is paramount in everyone’s mind at the moment, so we heard about which mission stations needed food immediately. Bethany had brought along a box full of beaded animals the women in her area had made to sell for immediate food money. A couple of us bought some of these items, which I thought were nicer than average. However, selling a few craft items will not solve the problem of adequate food supplies and distribution. The government has been very negligent in keeping emergency food stored, and the situation for both the agriculturalists and pastoralists could be extremely critical very soon.
The woman we had all given money to last year so she could have chemotherapy treatments in Dar is still there but not doing as well as we had all hoped. Another member, whose daughter was murdered last fall, is now in South Africa fighting a very aggressive form of leukemia. None of the personal news, local news or international news was encouraging, so it was only when attention turned to new grandchildren that several of us now have that the mood lightened. As usual, Grace had prepared a light lunch of mtoke (cooked mashed bananas), aubergine stew, curried beans, avocado and tomato salad, watermelon, and banana bread. Of course, coffee, tea, and fruit juice were also available. Since I am officially scheduled to host this group on February 16, I need to pay attention and make notes on what I will be expected to serve for lunch here.
After our gathering ended, I rode along with Linda Jacobson, the powerhouse behind almost everything, along with Cheryl and a very young woman whose husband is doing a two-month medical rotation here toward Njiro. Linda stopped at Pik ’n Pay, a small grocery store I had never been in before. It carried the usual assortment of basic goods and the prices seemed reasonable. I didn’t have enough cash with me to buy anything more than some shampoo for John and some curry powder for me. Linda picked up some vile looking white yam chips, which she warned me not to buy. When I asked why she was buying them, she said she was serving them to guests from the States.
Linda insisted on bringing me clear to Kundayo, so everyone in the vehicle got completely jarred to bits and thoroughly covered in dust.
The rest of the day was all downhill until John ran over to the nearby little hole-in-the-wall cookshack and bought us kuku and chipies for dinner. I am so glad that there is no health department checking on these open air stands because there is no better chicken on earth.
Wednesday was a day of waiting. John’s cousin Ron and his wife, Colette, were scheduled to arrive by bus from Nairobi, but they never showed up. This was nothing to be alarmed by, as schedules are usually quite fluid in Africa. However, John spent a lot of his day going to the bus drop off point to meet them if they came on the 1:30 or 7:30 p.m. bus. I spent my time at Kundayo doing very little at all. It’s so odd that in past years we used to think we simply had to go places and see things, but now that we have pretty much covered the Arusha scene, I’d rather sit out in Kundayo’s garden area and read or simply float away in my thoughts. Maybe I am finally getting to the stage where I understand what a vacation means.
Later in the evening, John got an email from Ron telling us that they were delayed in Nairobi because he needed to have some rehab therapy on a finger he had broken in Guinea just before he left there. He hasn’t told us how he broke the finger but there is likely to be an interesting story connected to it, as in his past he has been in a Congo jail as a suspected diamond smuggler and was once kidnapped by an Eastern Congo warlord, held for three weeks, and then inexplicably released. There isn’t much in Central Africa that he hasn’t seen, done, or escaped from. The last time we saw him was almost 10 years ago when he flew down to South Africa to meet us there, so we have a lot of catching up to do.
My day was brightened by the announcement that our women’s group would be meeting on Thursday morning. That meant that I had to get up a tad earlier than usual and have Ray take me to the Impala Hotel to be picked up there at 9:00. Of course, it was nearly 9:20 before Deborah drove in with another woman, Bethany, who was in town for her monthly shopping. Bethany and her husband live way out in Masai land, where he oversees several small rural clinics. With the recent dry weather here, I imagine that Bethany lives in a hot dusty place I couldn’t begin to cope with. With no crops growing and livestock suffering, rural people—especially the children—are now beginning to suffer from hunger, and it will only get worse if the rain doesn’t come soon. I have never met anyone in Tanzania who doubts that climate change is real. Many live and die by the climate, and they have seen the way in which the rains have changed.
The three of us then went to Grace’s house, the very same house in which I first met this unique group of women. Grace’s husband is a doctor specializing in fertility issues, and after many years in the UK, they decided to return to Tanzania, and he now practices here in Arusha. So, while Mary gets to live in a lovely big house, she is separated from her grandchildren, all of whom are in the UK now. The splits and scatterings in international families are often difficult for older parents to handle. Other couples we know have married children living in not only other African countries or Canada, the UK, or the USA, but also India, Malta, and various European countries.
I think it’s bad enough having a daughter and grandchild living in Florida!
Since this was the first group meeting since the big Christmas holiday break as Linda was extremely late getting the announcement sent out, there were only ten of us present. Still, we had a grand time catching up on news and discussing current events both here in Tanzania and the USA. There seem to be some unfortunate similarities in what the current Tanzanian president, Magufuli, is doing and what Trump says he will do. There wasn’t a single woman present who supported either leader. However, there is a fear of speaking out against the Tanzanian president, as he has already put critics and political opponents in jail and threatens to continue to do so. The women kept cautioning, “This is only for inside this room,” when they spoke of current events. And, what they see already happening in Tanzania, they fear will soon happen in America. To hear this from a group of European, American, and African women, all of whom would likely be categorized as “evangelical Christians” back home, was sobering.
Cheryl, a very snazzy older woman I had never seen before, was also present as she is now in Arusha for a short visit to check on a new school her foundation is building. I didn’t get many details on her, but she and her husband (now dead) used to work in Tanzania, and now she wanders among her several houses doing her version of “good.”
We were supposed to be studying Psalm 104, a beautiful song about the wonders of nature, but as usual the discussion focused on current issues and pressing social problems. The lack of rain is paramount in everyone’s mind at the moment, so we heard about which mission stations needed food immediately. Bethany had brought along a box full of beaded animals the women in her area had made to sell for immediate food money. A couple of us bought some of these items, which I thought were nicer than average. However, selling a few craft items will not solve the problem of adequate food supplies and distribution. The government has been very negligent in keeping emergency food stored, and the situation for both the agriculturalists and pastoralists could be extremely critical very soon.
The woman we had all given money to last year so she could have chemotherapy treatments in Dar is still there but not doing as well as we had all hoped. Another member, whose daughter was murdered last fall, is now in South Africa fighting a very aggressive form of leukemia. None of the personal news, local news or international news was encouraging, so it was only when attention turned to new grandchildren that several of us now have that the mood lightened. As usual, Grace had prepared a light lunch of mtoke (cooked mashed bananas), aubergine stew, curried beans, avocado and tomato salad, watermelon, and banana bread. Of course, coffee, tea, and fruit juice were also available. Since I am officially scheduled to host this group on February 16, I need to pay attention and make notes on what I will be expected to serve for lunch here.
After our gathering ended, I rode along with Linda Jacobson, the powerhouse behind almost everything, along with Cheryl and a very young woman whose husband is doing a two-month medical rotation here toward Njiro. Linda stopped at Pik ’n Pay, a small grocery store I had never been in before. It carried the usual assortment of basic goods and the prices seemed reasonable. I didn’t have enough cash with me to buy anything more than some shampoo for John and some curry powder for me. Linda picked up some vile looking white yam chips, which she warned me not to buy. When I asked why she was buying them, she said she was serving them to guests from the States.
Linda insisted on bringing me clear to Kundayo, so everyone in the vehicle got completely jarred to bits and thoroughly covered in dust.
The rest of the day was all downhill until John ran over to the nearby little hole-in-the-wall cookshack and bought us kuku and chipies for dinner. I am so glad that there is no health department checking on these open air stands because there is no better chicken on earth.
Arusha, Tuesday, January 17, 2017
I have been trying to watch some of the interregnum action on MSNBC and our wifi connection has been spotty, so I have not written as much for my blog as usual. Here's the latest, however.
During the night, we were disturbed by the sound of large trucks rumbling on the little, dirt road in front of our compound. There were other loud noises as large loads of something was being dumped out onto the ground. This made no sense as our road is so narrow that two cars can barely pass each other without scraping the side walls. Neither of us got up to check what was happening, so it was the next morning before John discovered that large mounds of broken concrete now were strewn here and there on our road. Some of the business owners on Kundayo Road had gotten the discarded concrete from the big highway project near us and brought it to our road as "repavement". They hired men to spread the rocks more evenly on the road surface and said the chunks would eventually break down and make a better covering with less dust. For today, however, driving on it looks like an axle breaking activity to me.
Our paradise has been a bit blighted this year by the huge road construction project taking place nearby. The Chinese are changing a nice, two-lane, tarmac road into a four-lane, divided highway. While this will certainly help with all the truck traffic to and from the airport, it will also make it much more difficult for people to get across the road and cut off many little shops from their customers. What I personally dislike most is that all the lovely green space and landscaping which used to be along the road is now gone and there will be no space in which to replace it. Development and “progress” are often not as wonderful as touted.
The construction also stirs up massive clouds of dust which settles on everything; our computers, dishes, tables, chairs, etc. John came with a bad cough which is now exacerbated by the dust. He won’t wear a mask because it looks threatening to others, so he coughs, and coughs, and coughs. Today, in a effort to get some relief, we had Ray take us out to Njiro, the nearby suburb with a mini shopping mall. I was looking forward to two things we always do at Njiro: shopping at the Village Grocery Store, which carries everything from cupcake papers to Pringles, and eating my favorite chicken saagwala from the Curry Pot.
In the Village Grocery Store, I noted both higher prices and the absence of usual commodities such as curry powder and Pear’s soap. The bakery was still the same with wonderful breads, pastries, and samosas. I had wanted to buy some yogurt, but at $7 a pint, I passed it by. Also, there was no Stoney Tangawizi, so we bought boxed milk, more Wheetabix, bread, jam, gingernuts (cookies), plus a few other items. Another change was that we were to have reusable shopping bags, as they no longer use plastic. While I applaud this change, it meant that we had to buy cloth bags which we cannot use for our garbage at Kundayo. This wasn’t the entertainment shopping that I had been anticipating.
When we went out into the central open area for lunch, we learned that the Curry Pot had closed just a week ago, so there would be no chicken saagwala for me. I was devastated. I love that dish as the C. P. made it more than any other Indian food I’ve ever had. My consolation was that Chinese Whispers, a fairly new establishment in Arusha, now has a branch in Njiro, so I ordered cashew chicken from them. While the food was delicious, I still wished I could have had my saagwala
I have been trying to watch some of the interregnum action on MSNBC and our wifi connection has been spotty, so I have not written as much for my blog as usual. Here's the latest, however.
During the night, we were disturbed by the sound of large trucks rumbling on the little, dirt road in front of our compound. There were other loud noises as large loads of something was being dumped out onto the ground. This made no sense as our road is so narrow that two cars can barely pass each other without scraping the side walls. Neither of us got up to check what was happening, so it was the next morning before John discovered that large mounds of broken concrete now were strewn here and there on our road. Some of the business owners on Kundayo Road had gotten the discarded concrete from the big highway project near us and brought it to our road as "repavement". They hired men to spread the rocks more evenly on the road surface and said the chunks would eventually break down and make a better covering with less dust. For today, however, driving on it looks like an axle breaking activity to me.
Our paradise has been a bit blighted this year by the huge road construction project taking place nearby. The Chinese are changing a nice, two-lane, tarmac road into a four-lane, divided highway. While this will certainly help with all the truck traffic to and from the airport, it will also make it much more difficult for people to get across the road and cut off many little shops from their customers. What I personally dislike most is that all the lovely green space and landscaping which used to be along the road is now gone and there will be no space in which to replace it. Development and “progress” are often not as wonderful as touted.
The construction also stirs up massive clouds of dust which settles on everything; our computers, dishes, tables, chairs, etc. John came with a bad cough which is now exacerbated by the dust. He won’t wear a mask because it looks threatening to others, so he coughs, and coughs, and coughs. Today, in a effort to get some relief, we had Ray take us out to Njiro, the nearby suburb with a mini shopping mall. I was looking forward to two things we always do at Njiro: shopping at the Village Grocery Store, which carries everything from cupcake papers to Pringles, and eating my favorite chicken saagwala from the Curry Pot.
In the Village Grocery Store, I noted both higher prices and the absence of usual commodities such as curry powder and Pear’s soap. The bakery was still the same with wonderful breads, pastries, and samosas. I had wanted to buy some yogurt, but at $7 a pint, I passed it by. Also, there was no Stoney Tangawizi, so we bought boxed milk, more Wheetabix, bread, jam, gingernuts (cookies), plus a few other items. Another change was that we were to have reusable shopping bags, as they no longer use plastic. While I applaud this change, it meant that we had to buy cloth bags which we cannot use for our garbage at Kundayo. This wasn’t the entertainment shopping that I had been anticipating.
When we went out into the central open area for lunch, we learned that the Curry Pot had closed just a week ago, so there would be no chicken saagwala for me. I was devastated. I love that dish as the C. P. made it more than any other Indian food I’ve ever had. My consolation was that Chinese Whispers, a fairly new establishment in Arusha, now has a branch in Njiro, so I ordered cashew chicken from them. While the food was delicious, I still wished I could have had my saagwala
Arusha, Monday, January 16, 2017
What a lovely day. I stayed in the Kundayo compound and tried to catch up with my email, read, cook, and do some laundry. John can’t stay still for long, so he went out on a hunt for a small plunger to use as an agitator when we wash clothes in the 5-gallon bucket. He ended up needing to go to four or five shops until he found one, but he returned triumphant and did a bucket of socks for us. He was also covered with dust and coughing badly, so he gave in and finally wore a face mask for part of the day. The nearby road construction and lack of rain have made the air quality here much worse than usual.
I had a lot of difficulty getting into my Hotmail and wasted far too much time trying to solve the problem. For some reason the wifi here does not like Macs as much as it does PCs, and I finally have to give in and use John’s computer. I hate that because he always makes remarks about how my wonderful Mac isn’t doing so well. Today my connection seems better.
My only big project was making beef stew for dinner. Because the burners on our stove do not have a genuine low setting, we kept having to turn the burner on and off to keep the pot from boiling all the time. In the end, however, the meat and vegetables turned out perfectly. Except for occasional quirks in food preparation or cooking, it’s fairly easy to make meals here. We have a lot of stews, often with rice. There is always plenty of wonderful fruit for dessert.
For those of you who have been reading my postings in past years, I have great news. The incredibly LOUD next door neighbor we had in 2015, Marjoline (sp?), showed up here yesterday. We heard her out on the road long before she entered the gate. We greeted each other and caught up on her NGO which does something with sports for youth. I’ve always suspected it may do more for Marjoline than Tanzanian youth, and indeed she said she had been back and forth to the Netherlands four times last year. I was pleased to notice that she was rather conservatively dressed and not wearing her favorite cut-off jeans with the metal crosses riveted all over. And, I actually felt regret that she was not our neighbor again.
What a lovely day. I stayed in the Kundayo compound and tried to catch up with my email, read, cook, and do some laundry. John can’t stay still for long, so he went out on a hunt for a small plunger to use as an agitator when we wash clothes in the 5-gallon bucket. He ended up needing to go to four or five shops until he found one, but he returned triumphant and did a bucket of socks for us. He was also covered with dust and coughing badly, so he gave in and finally wore a face mask for part of the day. The nearby road construction and lack of rain have made the air quality here much worse than usual.
I had a lot of difficulty getting into my Hotmail and wasted far too much time trying to solve the problem. For some reason the wifi here does not like Macs as much as it does PCs, and I finally have to give in and use John’s computer. I hate that because he always makes remarks about how my wonderful Mac isn’t doing so well. Today my connection seems better.
My only big project was making beef stew for dinner. Because the burners on our stove do not have a genuine low setting, we kept having to turn the burner on and off to keep the pot from boiling all the time. In the end, however, the meat and vegetables turned out perfectly. Except for occasional quirks in food preparation or cooking, it’s fairly easy to make meals here. We have a lot of stews, often with rice. There is always plenty of wonderful fruit for dessert.
For those of you who have been reading my postings in past years, I have great news. The incredibly LOUD next door neighbor we had in 2015, Marjoline (sp?), showed up here yesterday. We heard her out on the road long before she entered the gate. We greeted each other and caught up on her NGO which does something with sports for youth. I’ve always suspected it may do more for Marjoline than Tanzanian youth, and indeed she said she had been back and forth to the Netherlands four times last year. I was pleased to notice that she was rather conservatively dressed and not wearing her favorite cut-off jeans with the metal crosses riveted all over. And, I actually felt regret that she was not our neighbor again.
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