Anita's New School

Arusha, March 7, 2018, Wednesday

Less than two weeks before we leave Arusha for Spokane. As always our time here has gone by far too quickly. Also, as usual, I have left several things I absolutely need to get done undone until the last minute. That’s always the way it is though. I think I have plenty of time to do certain errands or small tasks and then leave them until the last minute. Oh well. There’s always next year.

It was downright chilly during the night, and for the first time it made sense to me that there is a light comforter on our bed. Usually, I think of it as a decoration which must be folded away each night at bedtime, but last night, about 2:00 a.m., I crawled out from under the mosquito net and got it to cover me. The electricity which had been off more than on all evening, was on when I got up, so I had a long, lovely, hot shower to warm up.

With John gone, I tend to lose track of time. Ray had told me he was coming at 10:00 this morning to take me to visit Anita’s school, but it wasn’t until he texted me at 9:25 to tell me he would be here at 9:45 that I realized I needed to get dressed and ready to go. This definitely seemed like a skirt occasion to me, so I put on my most conservative black and white skirt and black top. Ray seemed to approve as when he doesn’t, he sometimes lets me know in question form, e.g., Is that what you are wearing? Do you like your hair that short? This morning he was silent except for the traditional morning greetings.

The school’s location wasn’t where I had thought it was. That’s because the Prime Secondary School is near us, and the Prime Primary School, where Anita goes is not. We drove in a very different section of Arusha in and among very nice compounds and shops. When we entered the gates of the school, the children were all outside on a break, happily running around or playing on genuine, nicely maintained play equipment. I was already seeing some enormous differences between this school and the former one where Anita had been.

Buildings for the lower grades

Part of the playground

First, Ray took me to the director’s office, where we made our formal introductions, and then director took me on a tour. I had already noted that the grounds were far better kept than the norm, and all the buildings were spotlessly painted. It’s difficult to maintain exterior paint in this climate, so extra care had to be given here. There were African and Indian students, and many of the girls were obviously Muslim. However, almost all the play groups I saw were mixed, not segregated by race or culture. Also, even the littlest children came up to me and greeted me in English, instead of hanging back and just peaking at me as usually happens in school situations. This is the school that Sidney Kundayo attends, and he was very surprised when I suddenly appeared.

The director was very proud to show me the different classrooms from nursery (age 3+) to 7th form (maybe equivalent to our 7th grade). Every single classroom was spacious, bright, and very well decorated. I had never seen anything this nice at any other African school here—not even St. Margaret’s, which is frightfully expensive. Only very expensive international private schools have such classrooms. However, the absolutely most impressive thing was that every single classroom is limited to only 30 students. This year 40 students were admitted to the 6th form, so the group was split into two groups of 20 each even though that meant the expense of hiring another teacher. That’s better than the classroom ratio some of our American teachers have!

Anita's old school, a private Lutheran one. Anita is the tiny girl far in the back corner in a red and white hat.

Anita's new classroom and teacher

Notice the nice desks and the decorated walls.

They are still building a second story onto the classrooms for the higher grades, but they already have a computer room in place. I didn’t climb the stairs to see it, but based on what I had already seen, I am sure it has real computers which actually function. The Indian community here values good education, and by making certain their children get it, they also give Tanzanian students who can afford it, the same opportunity. The fees are expensive, but here Anita will be offered a real education, not just a place to sit and parrot back all day.

Anita in her new uniform

I tried to be careful while taking photos. I would have loved some closer shots of the different students. Most interesting to me were the little Sikh boys with tiny training knots on top of their heads. These looked like small buns covered by white or blue hankies. The little Muslim girls in their hijab made me nostalgic for Fadhila’s daughters. We miss out on so much without such diversity at home.

After we left the school, Ray wanted to take me to see a restaurant he thought I should know about as they serve authentic African food. This place is actually next to the curio shop I usually shop at each year, but have avoided this time. I actually ducked down so the men inside wouldn’t see me pass by. The restaurant totally amazed me: it was like walking back into the colonial years, with big fake tusk arches over the entry path and a huge thatched covered dining area. I asked to see a menu, and was surprised that the prices were very reasonable. This is where John can go to get his fix of goat meat.

From there, Ray drove me to Kitamu Coffee. I wanted to spend several hours outside Kundayo at a place where I could drink good coffee and read for a couple of hours. People came and went, but no one bothered me while I drank French press coffee, nibbled on mandazi, and read my current book, “It Can’t Happen Here.” I ordered some maharagwe (beans stewed in coconut milk) to take away, and returned to Kundayo about 1:00p.m.

I had barely gotten into my apartment, when Emmanuel appeared at the door with a tray with a big plate of baked chicken, rice, and greens, a dish of vegetable stew for the rice, and another dish of Swahili salad. When I expressed my astonishment, he told me that Mama Kundayo had ordered it for me. So, I put my humble maharagwe in the refrigerator, and had a delicious feast. Mama is something else!

The afternoon went by slowly, as I was waiting for John to return from Nairobi. The bus left there at 2:00 p.m. so I assumed if all went well, John would be back between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m. I was too juiced up from strong coffee to stay still or take a nap, so I pitter- patted around cleaning out the refrigerator, squaring the corners of book piles, and checking my Facebook and email. It poured rain for about an hour and then the sun reappeared

Around 8:30 John returned and we talked abut his experiences in Nairobi before finally going to sleep.

Tanzanite and Mud

Arusha, March 6 2018, Tuesday

The electricity came on again this morning for a while, and then it went on and off for a while before finally deciding to stay off for several hours this afternoon. Apparently all the rain we’ve been having plays havoc with our power grid or perhaps just the wiring somewhere nearby. Anyway, I didn’t need electricity to have my usual wonderful breakfast of Wheetabix and banana slices, and the milk was still cold.

Unlike my normal morning pattern, I did not go out to the terrace after breakfast. It was just too cool to be there without a sweater, which I failed to bring with me this year. The sky was a sullen gray, and instead of waiting until afternoon, the rain fell on and off all day. Maybe the farmers are happy with this weather, but I’m getting a bit grumpy about it. I’d like some more sunny, almost hot days before we leave.

John is still off in Nairobi, so I decided to meet up with a friend and do some tanzanite shopping. I’m not much of a jewelry person, but I had heard of a gem/jewelry merchant who sells some very affordable tanzanite rings. Tanzanite is both beautiful and very expensive, but if one opts for the second tier in color and a sterling silver instead of gold setting, it is possible to buy very attractive rings for just about $100. Most people back home will not note the slightly lighter color of a stone, so I found a ring which I liked for its simplicity and made the decision to buy it. It needs some slight sizing, so I won’t actually get it until later this week. (Maybe next year I should take orders.)

My photo does not capture the true color and brilliance of these stones.

Once the jewelry buying was complete, we went to a Chinese restaurant for lunch. It was pouring rain, and the road in front of the restaurant was piled high with dirt from a very deep trench. However, there was a board across the trench, so even though the roadside was a mini-river, we decided to enter the restaurant. A waiter came out with an umbrella and took my hand to help me across the moat. Still, I had to wade in water and nearly slipped in the mud. By the time I got inside, I was in a definite noodle mood and ordered a big plate of chicken fried noodles. My friend got a big bowl of chicken corn soup and egg rolls. The rain had stopped by the time we left, but the maneuvering back across the trench was almost as perilous. I am so glad John wasn’t present, as he would have had a fit about the possibility of me misstepping and falling into an 8-foot deep pit of mud.

I went back 3 days later when it wasn't pouring rain and took photos.

This was a waterfall on Tuesday.

Ray came to pick me up, and on the way back to Kundayo, I asked him about the proper colors to wear when mourning or attending a funeral.  He said that the usual choices are white and purple. So, yesterday Mama was wearing white for mourning, and I must have misunderstood about white being bright and cheery. She wasn’t out at all this afternoon, so I didn’t have an opportunity to quiz her.

On My Own

Arusha, March 5, 2018, Monday

We had to get up early this morning since John was catching a bus at 7:30 a.m. for his trip to Nairobi. It seemed better to me to have John turn on all the lights as he dressed, ate breakfast, and did his last minute packing than to let him stumble and bang about in darkness. He wanted to be considerate and let me sleep for another hour, but I was fully awake by the second time he crashed into something. Anyway, I didn’t want to sleep through his leaving and not say good-bye. Ray came at 7:15, and just like that I was here alone.

Prior to this morning, I had bravely planned to set up a schedule full of activity and adventure. However, once John was off, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do except read, do some research on line, and think about napping.  Ray returned later in the morning to tell me that Priskilla’s glasses had broken and needed to be replaced. Obviously, he needed some assistance in order to do that, so I helped him out, and then decided to stay here for lunch instead of treating myself to something in town. It’s great that I have never lost my love of chicken ramen.

Mama was sitting outside before noon, dressed all in white. She seemed to have people with her most of the time, so I didn’t go out to greet her until nearly 2:00 p.m. It was then that I learned that she was going to pay her respects for a neighbor who had died. When I asked if white was the color for mourning, she said no, that one could wear any color, but she thought white was nice and bright. Maybe I missed something there. Anyway, we didn’t have time to sort it all out, so don’t take this as a new insight into Masai culture.

Because of all the rain lately, our TV service has been very sporadic, and the electricity is very unreliable. This afternoon sometime the electricity went out, and six hours later it hasn’t come on again. I hope it does before morning. Yet, when I stop and think about it, I would never have expected to have TV or even necessarily electricity at other places and times in Africa.

All day the sky looked as if it would pour rain at any minute. However, except for an occasional rogue drop, it remained dry until about 9:00 p.m. Then, it began to pour nonstop. John called from Nairobi and reported that there had been a lot of rain there as well. Maybe this is what they call the little rainy season. Whatever it is, the mosquito population seems to be increasing exponentially, and I am now using my last can of OFF! I should ask you to pray for the prey—me.

Rain at Last

Arusha, March 3 - 4, 2018, Saturday & Sunday

Once it began raining on Friday, the showers kept coming. Having a metal roof makes the rain sound much stronger than it actually is, but I saw some large puddles for the first time this visit to Arusha.  The farmers must be very relieved, as it has been dry here for about two months. Ray told us that last Sunday at church, they prayed for rain for the farmers, and it has come, so now he thinks they should pray for the taxi drivers. For us, the rain has caused power outages and a crash of the internet system here, but those are minor irritants. The cleaner air and cooler temperatures are big bonuses.

John was the speaker at church Sunday, so most of our Saturday was spent right at Kundayo, where John could focus on working on his sermon. I felt very successful in getting two red bucket loads of laundry done and making chili for dinner. It’s a relief to have such simple goals for a day. That’s possible because a worker comes in every morning to wash any dirty dishes, clean each room, make our bed, and leave us clean towels. If only this would happen back in Spokane!

The rain pounded on our roof almost all Saturday night. We were up and ready for church early because John had to meet with the others participating in the service. My review of the service was that John did very well, but the worship leader bumbled a couple of very important parts. One gets a continuum of ability in a lay-led congregation, but everyone is very generous in accepting what others do. I’m very supportive of not spending money on a big professional staff so the church can give over 50% of it’s offerings to groups who are active in social outreach in Arusha.

After church, we took a taxi out to Njiro mall, a place we used to frequent more in the past than we have this year. The best feature there is the big open air food court in the center, where waiters from as many as six or more restaurants converge on diners with their separate menus. One can order things from different restaurants, e.g., a main entree from one and a dessert from another. Usually, I order Indian food, but today, both John and I opted for Chinese. Then, we bought a loaf of freshly baked bread and a few other items from The Village Market, an outrageously stocked store with imported clotted cream and El Paso salsa, before taking another taxi back to Kundayo.

Seminar with Mama

Arusha, March 2, 2018, Friday

Mama was right. Today is Friday, and it rained during the night and then again this evening. By the time we were up and about, the rain had stopped, and though the ground was wet, there was no mud—at least not at Kundayo. There was thunder from time to time during the day, but no more rain fell until about 9:00 p.m. The day was much cooler than they have been, so even the occasional power outages didn’t bother us much. The electricity has been more sporadic than usual this past week, but never off long enough for everything in our teeny tiny freezer compartment to melt.

As usual, John made a trek to the city center to buy bread, liquid dish soap, a frozen chicken, etc. He also made sure that he bought some samosas for his lunch as well. I don’t know how he will manage without them when he returns to Spokane. I had a big juicy peanut butter, tomato, and avocado sandwich for my lunch. I don’t know how I will manage without perfect, cheap avocados when I return to Spokane. Now that it is March, thoughts of returning to Spokane have new import for us.

Mama was out in her spot early today, and she was ready to continue the discussion of men and marriage which we had begun yesterday.I am ambivalent about what I should or shouldn’t report because a lot of what she said was extremely personal. She’s not your average Masai wife, that’s for sure. She was raised in town as the daughter of an entrepreneur, and got married at age 17. (I have yet to discover the details of the match and marriage.) She has always had her own money, so she and Mr. Kundayo own their property jointly, which gives her an unusual amount of power for a wife. We got into discussing names, and I found out her given name is Julianna. Just perfect for such a regal woman. Then, we discussed the choosing of names for children, and if I understood correctly, their custom is for the husband and wife to alternate between a name from the husband’s family and then the wife’s. Mama’s first child was a girl and was to be named Rachel after someone from Baba’s family. However, Mama didn’t like that person and changed Rachel to Lillian. In the same way, Martha (after Baba’s sister) became Nancy, and Wilson (Baba’s namesake) became Allen. Only Maso’s name was not changed. When I asked how she could do that, she said her husband didn’t pay attention when she filled out the government forms, so she wrote the names she wanted. That made me laugh so hard that Mama laughed and laughed, too. John came out to see what was going on, and stayed to hear what else we might get into. Mama provides me with an amazing view of reality in at least one modern, middle class Tanzanian family.

Mama does enjoy palmiers.

I had taken out a plate with cookies for a treat, and once those were gone, and we had more or less worn ourselves out talking and laughing, Mama excused herself saying she had to go to church. She attends the same big Lutheran church that Ray does, and he’s told us she’s the only one in the family who ever shows up. She must be pretty faithful, as she has a women’s group as well. Still she has a healthy respect for traditional magic, as I would too if I lived in her shoes. One of the nicest moments of the afternoon came when she told me that she likes it that I don’t judge or criticize cultural differences. How could I with such a fascinating woman?

Moses

Arusha, March 1, 2018, Thursday

This was a special day, in which our former Whitworth student Moses Pulei came to visit us. Moses is one of the most complexly busy individuals I have ever known. He’s connected and to involved with international businesses and the governments of several African countries, most obviously Tanzania, Kenya, and South Sudan. He has recently extracted himself from negotiating millions of dollars in food aid for South Sudan since to do so would have meant he’d have to bump back 50% of the budget to Sudanese officials. For $500 million, that’s a huge chunk of money going to government sycophants instead of starving children.

Moses had said he’d arrive at 11:00, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen, and I was right. However, this time the delay was the fault of a piki-piki (motorcycle taxi) driver who ran into a cow and caused a big jam on the road coming into town.  Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt—not even the cow—and all was cleared up in just over an hour. So we had a couple hours to catch up with each other before going to lunch at Picasso’s. John has somehow brokered a connection between an American businessman and Moses for the sale of corn to be shipped to Kenya. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember Moses saying it would be 90,000 tons.  How in the heck did John know someone who could do that?

Moses Pulei, Ph.D.

Masai Moses choosing a goat for dinner.

John also would like Moses to set up a meeting for him with another former student, Alfred Mutua, who is now the governor of Machakos County, Kenya. Alfred has just announced that he will run for president in 2022, which is a very credible candidacy as he is extremely popular as a governor. (https://citizentv.co.ke/news/im-still-in-the-2022-presidential-race-says-governor-mutua-192218/) John plans it be in Nairobi for the first part of next week, and he’d like to see Alfred if possible. We’ll see.

Mama Kundayo reappeared and sent us a dish of chicken stew. I went out to talk with her and learned that she had spent Tuesday and Wednesday at a cousin’s funeral. Somehow that led Mama to her usual criticism of African men being unfaithful bastards. According to her, African men are no good because they have a main wife in town and then other “wives” and children in different villages. All the wives usually ignore each other because, if any jealousy or rivalry is shown, it could lead to poisoning or very bad witchcraft. When such a man dies, the legal, main wife inherits from him, and the other wives and children are left destitute. “No good,” says Mama. Papa Kundayo still lives in the family compound, but we never ever see him anymore, so maybe he has become persona non grata because of bad behavior.

While we were talking, Mama decided that John and I needed ugali to go with the chicken stew, so she yelled her order to the kitchen staff. That meant that John and I had a pretty complete meal. John steamed some broccoli, sliced an avocado, and we were ready to eat. For dessert, we had a perfect mango on vanilla ice cream. Life can be wonderful.

Life Goes On

Arusha, February 26 - 28, 2018, Monday - Wednesday

There has been no rain for three weeks or more. Sometimes we hear thunder, and several times scattered raindrops have fallen for a minute or two, but an actual shower never falls. So, now everything is very, very dry, and a thin film of dust covers everything. Our rooms are cleaned each morning, and yet by afternoon, everything feels gritty. I dust off my computer often and wonder how much dirt shifts into its innards. A good downpour would feel wonderful. Mama told me that it will rain on Friday; we’ll see.

Mama has been a tad illusive. She hasn’t been out at her tree much at all this week. On Sunday evening, she sent us a plate of nice warm chapatis—many more than we could eat. Then, Monday evening she had her grandson Sidney bring us a couple ears of steamed and buttered corn. It’s very common to see women along the streets selling big ears of roasted corn, which is very hard and chewy, but I had never had the Tanzanian version of corn-on-the-cob before. It was like very overripe corn, but not as hard as the roasted ears. If a Tanzanian eats our version of corn-on-the-cob, he/she must think we forgot to let the corn ripen and there’s not much to chew.

Monday evening, Mama, one of her neighbors, and I were sitting over on the garden terrace, passing some time together.  The friend spoke more English than Mama, so we managed to have some satisfactory conversation. Mostly, however, I just sat and watched three young women doing yoga on the lawn, while Mama and her friend spoke to each other in Swahili. Then, for some silly reason, I stood up, bent over and planted my hands full palm down on the concrete. Mama hooted, so the friend got up and tried to do the same, only she spread her legs far apart to do it. When I told her that she had to keep her legs together, she couldn’t do it, which made Mama collapse in laughter. I tried to explain that my shorter than proportional legs were my secret. They may not have understood, but Mama kept laughing. At that point, I offered my good-byes and left to make our dinner.

On Tuesday—just yesterday—John asked Ray to take us to Fifi’s for lunch, after which John wanted to run some errands while I stayed behind and read. When we first came to Arusha years ago, I avoided Fifi’s like the plague since it seemed the essence of all I found distasteful about the ex-pats in town: fancy food at high prices, lots of fancy coffee drinks, free wifi, and many culturally awkward wazungu students or backpackers trying to look cool and at ease. Eventually, I gave in because Fifi’s is so centrally located to all the places John needs to go when he does downtown business. I wonder if the place has changed ownership, however, because now many more of the customers are Tanzanian, and only once this year have I seen a large group of young white people there. Unfortunately, I don’t think their food is as good as it used to be, but they still make and sell fantastic bread.

John was having trouble loading more time on his Tanzanian phone and asked Emmanuel, one of the two duty clerks here, to help him. Having a staff like Emmanual and his counterpart, Beatrice, on call 24/7, is a a real asset for us. They act as wonderful concierges, and add to the family feel Kundayo has for us. Mazo and Mama have become like extended family, and the grandson, Sidney, adds another dimension to the community. He’s great at running errands for his grandmother, and I enjoy surprising him with gifts such as a headlamp or pack of gum.

Again this afternoon there was thunder and for a short minute or two some drops of rain pounded on our metal roof. However, once again no serious rain fell, and there wasn’t any cleaner or cooler air. I cannot understand how the mosquitoes manage to exist when it seems so dry now, but they are definitely on the prowl and always able to find me just as my layer of repellent wears off in the evening. So far, I have gone through 5 big aerosol cans of OFF! and have one and a half cans left. I hope that’s enough to keep me relatively bite free until we leave for Spokane.