Thursday, January 17, 2019
The monkeys came to play in our garden this morning. There were six or seven of them, mothers and babies, and while the adults stayed pretty much on the wall, the little ones jumped onto trees and bushes. I threw some shelled peanuts out on the lawn for them, but they were spooked by our gardener and ran away. They’ll likely be back soon.
Our gardener and two other men began whacking on the huge tree which provides shade for Mama Kundayo sits outside in the late afternoons. At first I was fearful that they were cutting it down; however, it turned out that they were only trimming it. Their only tools were their machetes with which they hacked off huge branches, some at least 10” in diameter. It took them at least 5 hours to get the tree in the shape they wanted. I think it looks a bit shorn now, but Maso says this tree grows out again very fast and will look full once more soon.
Late in the morning, John decided that we should go into town. Mary Lou had been repeatedly asking whether the skirts she and I had ordered last week were finished as sort of promised. John thought it would be good for us to go to Shoppers, the large supermarket which used to be Shop Rite before it became Nakumatt and now Shoppers. This seemed a wee bit odd since Shoppers is fairly far from us and out of the way if we were going to FiFi’s for our skirts. Still, I hadn’t yet been inside Shoppers and was curious. It was only after we arrived at the store that I realized that John wanted to buy samosas there. He craves them almost as much as he does chocolate, and the ones from Shoppers are excellent. (It’s owned and operated by Indians, so they should make excellent samosas.) Once we got home, I discovered John had bought 10!
Shoppers has almost everything anyone could want, even dental floss, which I had never seen before in Arusha. The inventory was huge, and there was a whole section of kitchen utensils, where I found a vegetable peeler just like the one John had just broken while peeling mangoes.
I wavered but finally decided I would pay about $5 for the peeler so I would not cut myself all the time with a paring knife.There was also an area of bulk dry items which offered all sorts of spices, grains, and fruits. I passed on the dried blueberries but did get a small amount of yellow raisins to use in my Oatibix oatmeal.
After we had finished exploring Shoppers, we had Ray take us across town to FiFi’s. There we discovered that our skirts were not completed—no big surprise—but might be the next day. “Might be” is the operative phrase. Mary Lou keeps thinking time and schedules will be exact here, but she’s discovering how unreliable such an expectation is.
So, we piled back into Ray’s taxi and headed toward Meat King and home. It seems so odd to me to shop for dairy products and meat in a lovely big colonial type house. However, the shopping area is well laid out and the service impeccable. I ordered two more Russian sausages, some beef haché and stew meat, and a whole beef tenderloin (just over 1 kg). While ordering fillet may seem extravagant, it costs less than $5 a pound here and is well worth it.
Upon our return to Kundayo, we tried again unsuccessfully to connect to the internet. Even my Smile gizmo didn’t link into whatever it connects to, so obviously the big overall internet thing for Arusha was kaput. (That’s the best I can do with technical terms.) It poured rain for a while in the late afternoon, which likely added to any infrastructure problems, and we had to resort to reading to pass the time. I am currently reading “Gutenberg’s Apprentice,” which may be good; it is certainly interesting. To break up the time a bit more, I also went out looking for slugs and found dozens of them. Life here isn’t all that interesting all the time.
Sunday, January 20, 2019
Saturday, January 19, 2019
Rain, Rain Go Away
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
Rain began to fall in the night and continued all morning and into the afternoon. With the rain came much cooler temperatures, and the official high for today was 72º, about 10 - 12 degrees cooler than normal for this time of the year. I thought of putting on the one sweater I brought with me, but decided that would be too weird. The rain was too heavy for me to think of going out anywhere, so I spent the morning reading, downloading photos, and getting my blog posted. Those seem to be daily tasks here.
Even when the rain subsided in mid-afternoon, I stayed at our apartment, taking advantage of the cooler temperature to bake some peanut butter cookies. Lest that sound very adventurous to you, I must admit that I used a pouch of cookie mix I had bought at the Dollar Store in Spokane. Still, I had to turn on the oven, add oil and water, make and squash little balls of dough, and bake them. Unfortunately, I got distracted by a big snail I saw in the plants in front of our place and let the cookies bake too long. Even slightly burned, they taste pretty good. I gave one to Ray when he stopped by to visit.
John got cabin fever and took off for a walk and to buy some bread. Along the way, our friend Eric spotted John and picked him up. They went to my favorite spot, Kitamu, for coffee and to catch up on things. I noticed that John was gone a long time, but I figured he had gone further than he had first planned and didn’t worry. When John did get back, he asked if I had been worried and seemed a bit taken aback that I had not. But this is Africa, so I probably wouldn’t think about worrying until it got dark. More curious is that I never did ask if he had gotten any bread. I’ll find out tomorrow morning when there is or isn’t toast for breakfast.
The electricity went off and on today, but it was never out for longer than an hour or so each time. Short outages like the ones today are no bother. It’s only when the electricity is off for a day or more that I get cranky, especially if it’s hot. I hate it if we can’t have a fan on at night, and John gets upset if he has bought ice cream and it melts because the refrigerator is off. Today we needed no fan, and John’s Azam ice cream was just fine.
I thought I would post a photo of one of the local seamstresses who sit outside waiting for people to bring them alteration or mending jobs. John took this woman a pair of pants which he had somehow torn near a pocket. The legs were also too long. So, he had the woman mend the tear and shorten the legs, for which he had to pay her 3000 TZsch. ( $1.30). Now, I wish I had remembered to bring my pair of slacks that need to be shortened.
Rain began to fall in the night and continued all morning and into the afternoon. With the rain came much cooler temperatures, and the official high for today was 72º, about 10 - 12 degrees cooler than normal for this time of the year. I thought of putting on the one sweater I brought with me, but decided that would be too weird. The rain was too heavy for me to think of going out anywhere, so I spent the morning reading, downloading photos, and getting my blog posted. Those seem to be daily tasks here.
Even when the rain subsided in mid-afternoon, I stayed at our apartment, taking advantage of the cooler temperature to bake some peanut butter cookies. Lest that sound very adventurous to you, I must admit that I used a pouch of cookie mix I had bought at the Dollar Store in Spokane. Still, I had to turn on the oven, add oil and water, make and squash little balls of dough, and bake them. Unfortunately, I got distracted by a big snail I saw in the plants in front of our place and let the cookies bake too long. Even slightly burned, they taste pretty good. I gave one to Ray when he stopped by to visit.
John got cabin fever and took off for a walk and to buy some bread. Along the way, our friend Eric spotted John and picked him up. They went to my favorite spot, Kitamu, for coffee and to catch up on things. I noticed that John was gone a long time, but I figured he had gone further than he had first planned and didn’t worry. When John did get back, he asked if I had been worried and seemed a bit taken aback that I had not. But this is Africa, so I probably wouldn’t think about worrying until it got dark. More curious is that I never did ask if he had gotten any bread. I’ll find out tomorrow morning when there is or isn’t toast for breakfast.
The electricity went off and on today, but it was never out for longer than an hour or so each time. Short outages like the ones today are no bother. It’s only when the electricity is off for a day or more that I get cranky, especially if it’s hot. I hate it if we can’t have a fan on at night, and John gets upset if he has bought ice cream and it melts because the refrigerator is off. Today we needed no fan, and John’s Azam ice cream was just fine.
I thought I would post a photo of one of the local seamstresses who sit outside waiting for people to bring them alteration or mending jobs. John took this woman a pair of pants which he had somehow torn near a pocket. The legs were also too long. So, he had the woman mend the tear and shorten the legs, for which he had to pay her 3000 TZsch. ( $1.30). Now, I wish I had remembered to bring my pair of slacks that need to be shortened.
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
What's Cooking?
Tuesday, January 15, 2019
It seemed as if the only major event of Tuesday was going to be Mary Lou’s first solo walk to and from downtown. She had been studying the Arusha city map for almost a week and following each route we took whenever we went anywhere with Ray. So, her venture today was in effect her graduation from relying on John to guide her as she ventures out in the neighborhood and into downtown. The only problem that arose on her walk was a downpour, which trapped her under a wall overhang for about half an hour on her way home down Kinissa Road. Here at Kundayo, not very far away, we had only a light shower.
Our normal afternoon activities included doing more hand laundry, reading, downloading photos, and then deciding to cook some lentil soup with the yellow lentils I had bought from the shopkeeper on our walk on Monday. I picked out all the dried corn kernels which had somehow gotten mixed into my lentils, rinsed them as usual, and put them in a pot with water to cook. After about 45 minutes, I checked to see if the lentils were getting soft, but they weren’t. I waited a while longer to check them again, and while they had swelled in size, they were definitely not soft. I also noticed that they were not round, but more bean-shaped. After 4 hours of simmering them, I turned off the pot in frustration.
Mama Kundayo was out by the gate, greeting and chatting with the neighbors who passed by. I greeted her, and she said she’d be back in her usual spot to chat with me in an hour, or at 6:00. Well, 6:00 came and went and there was no sign of Mama, so I made dinner, and we sat down to eat. Just after we had finished our meal, Mama showed up and sat down for a short greeting time. I decided to ask her what was wrong with my lentils and got the pot to show her what was in it after 4 hours of cooking. She tasted the lentils and broth, and while she liked the broth, she was not positive about the still crunchy legumes—obviously not really lentils. And so the fun began.
Mama yelled loudly for the Kundayo cook and his assistant to come and check out what was in my pot. Immanuel, the concierge, also showed up, and the three composed a “committee” of tasters. They examined and ate some of the pot’s contents and said they didn’t know exactly what I had been cooking because it didn’t look like the beans they use in their bean stew. When I asked if it could be chicken feed, they just laughted. During all of this Mama kept interjecting comments until finally the chef asked if he could take the “soup” and run it through the bender in his kitchen. Of course, I agreed to this, and we soon heard a loud grinding noise in the next building. Then, the two cooks reappeared carrying a pot of purée, which upon being tasted by the “committee” was declared “nzuri sana,” very good. After their final judgement, Mama and the other taste testers dismissed themselves. Immanuel said he would visit the grain shop and find out what I had bought since it certainly was not lentils. I hadn’t laughed so much and so hard in a long time.
It seemed as if the only major event of Tuesday was going to be Mary Lou’s first solo walk to and from downtown. She had been studying the Arusha city map for almost a week and following each route we took whenever we went anywhere with Ray. So, her venture today was in effect her graduation from relying on John to guide her as she ventures out in the neighborhood and into downtown. The only problem that arose on her walk was a downpour, which trapped her under a wall overhang for about half an hour on her way home down Kinissa Road. Here at Kundayo, not very far away, we had only a light shower.
Our normal afternoon activities included doing more hand laundry, reading, downloading photos, and then deciding to cook some lentil soup with the yellow lentils I had bought from the shopkeeper on our walk on Monday. I picked out all the dried corn kernels which had somehow gotten mixed into my lentils, rinsed them as usual, and put them in a pot with water to cook. After about 45 minutes, I checked to see if the lentils were getting soft, but they weren’t. I waited a while longer to check them again, and while they had swelled in size, they were definitely not soft. I also noticed that they were not round, but more bean-shaped. After 4 hours of simmering them, I turned off the pot in frustration.
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| Mama dressed for greeting the neighbors. |
Mama yelled loudly for the Kundayo cook and his assistant to come and check out what was in my pot. Immanuel, the concierge, also showed up, and the three composed a “committee” of tasters. They examined and ate some of the pot’s contents and said they didn’t know exactly what I had been cooking because it didn’t look like the beans they use in their bean stew. When I asked if it could be chicken feed, they just laughted. During all of this Mama kept interjecting comments until finally the chef asked if he could take the “soup” and run it through the bender in his kitchen. Of course, I agreed to this, and we soon heard a loud grinding noise in the next building. Then, the two cooks reappeared carrying a pot of purée, which upon being tasted by the “committee” was declared “nzuri sana,” very good. After their final judgement, Mama and the other taste testers dismissed themselves. Immanuel said he would visit the grain shop and find out what I had bought since it certainly was not lentils. I hadn’t laughed so much and so hard in a long time.
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| Trying to figure out exactly what I was cooking and why it was still hard after 4 hours. |
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| The lovely purée made in Kundayo's blender |
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| The final tasting at which the soup was declared very good. |
Tuesday, January 15, 2019
Neighborhood Shops
Monday, January 14, 2019
It was cooler today than it has been up to now, so I decided to see how far I could walk on the pedestrian path along the big highway which now runs near Kundayo. The path is asphalted so it’s much smoother than the dirt side roads John loves to roam. I probably walked about a quarter mile to and back to the produce vendor whom John usually frequents. Along the way, we greeted the shop owners and stopped at several places to buy items such as mandazi (holeless donuts), a large plastic basin for laundry, some nice yellow lentils, and some potatoes, mangoes, avocados, and a watermelon from the produce lady. Here is a small sample of the places we passed.
A barber shop is one of the most common new businesses people establish, but duka la dawa (drugstores) are almost as ubiquitous.
The Kundayo family used to own--and maybe still do--a lot of land in this area. Baba Kundayo has a very prominent hardware store along the highway.
There we several other shops at which we stopped, but I didn't take photos of them all. Maybe another time.
It was cooler today than it has been up to now, so I decided to see how far I could walk on the pedestrian path along the big highway which now runs near Kundayo. The path is asphalted so it’s much smoother than the dirt side roads John loves to roam. I probably walked about a quarter mile to and back to the produce vendor whom John usually frequents. Along the way, we greeted the shop owners and stopped at several places to buy items such as mandazi (holeless donuts), a large plastic basin for laundry, some nice yellow lentils, and some potatoes, mangoes, avocados, and a watermelon from the produce lady. Here is a small sample of the places we passed.
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| Maso's brother, Joe Kundayo, has a workshop which produces cement bricks and iron fabrications, mainly beds. |
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| A worker cuts a metal sheet. Notice the lack of protective eyewear. |
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| Beds for sale out along the highway. Around $200 would pay for one. |
A barber shop is one of the most common new businesses people establish, but duka la dawa (drugstores) are almost as ubiquitous.
The Kundayo family used to own--and maybe still do--a lot of land in this area. Baba Kundayo has a very prominent hardware store along the highway.
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| This is where we purchased the toilet plunger we use to do our hand laundry. |
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| A dress shop with lots of fancy dresses for little girls. |
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| A larger than usual open air butcher shop. |
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| A feed shop for all sorts of animals. |
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| A grain shop, where I bought some lovely yellow lentils. This mama also sold popcorn. |
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| John's favorite produce vendor. We bought potatoes, mangoes, avocados, and a watermelon from her. |
Sunday Routine
Sunday, January 13, 2019
What else would we do on Sunday but go to church? Even if we wanted to sleep in, Ray would come and tell us we needed to go. He’s a very devout Lutheran, and he goes to an early service so he can be here at 10:00 to take us to ACC. Mary Lou came along, too.
Since ACC has no professional paid staff, the sermons are delivered by different pastors and seminary professors in the area and a few members of the congregation. Last year, I gave my first talk, and in spite of all my fears, it was well received. So, two days after we arrived, last Sunday, both John and I were put on the peaching schedule again. John will be in February and I in late March again. Since John has an M.Div., he has no excuse for not doing well; however, all I have to rely on is my current sense of what makes sense—at least to me. I got by with that last year and am hoping for the same tolerance this year, too.
The speaker of this morning was a Catholic priest, Father Oliver O’Brien, who had a lovely Irish accent. His topic was the Baptism of Jesus, but he wandered all over even getting as far afield as infant versus adult baptism and the sex scandal in the Catholic church. He had warned us that he is a sociologist, not a theologian, which I had thought might be in his favor, but apparently he has yet to learn how to focus on a topic. Still, in the end, he proclaimed that what God really wants is for us to love one another no matter what our culture, class, or religion. With that I could heartily agree.
Mark Jacobson, the former head of Arusha Lutheran Medical Center, was back in town for the graduation of the first doctor from ALMC’s residency program. In fact, a whole delegation of people flew in from Minnesota to attend the graduation ceremony for this one doctor. Mark’s a lovely person, but seeing him made me miss his wife, Linda, more than ever. She always added such vitality to everything here and was the heart of the women’s group I loved to attend. Without Linda, the group has crumbled a bit, and we haven’t met once yet since I arrived. Mark said Linda would return in February, so I may have six weeks to enjoy her energy and zany take on life.
John and I had planned on going out to Njiro for lunch and then a bit of shopping in The Village Market there. When we first came to Arusha, Njiro had the one and only mall in the area, and even though it was terribly small, it was sort of exciting, with its grocery store offering insane items such as lemon curd, marshmallows, Kraft macaroni and cheese, etc. The little shops on the second floor provided goods and services such as photography, hair styling, locally made clothing, and pet supplies. A big British Woolworth’s is still there with its stock of outrageously priced western clothing, but most all the other shops are now empty. Fortunately, the courtyard with its many restaurants still exists, and the second we sat down, four or five waiters were there to offer us the menus from the various businesses. It can be incredibly overwhelming as one must choose among Chinese, Indian, Australian, and other cuisines. I already knew that I wanted Chicken Saagwala, and, of course, John had to order something mutton. After much pondering, Mary Lou chose what I had ordered and was as enthusiastic about it as I always am.
http://www.greatcurryrecipes.net/2012/02/01/how-to-make-british-indian-restaurant-style-chicken-saagwala/
The remainder of the day was spent relaxing, reading, and being happy that we are here.
What else would we do on Sunday but go to church? Even if we wanted to sleep in, Ray would come and tell us we needed to go. He’s a very devout Lutheran, and he goes to an early service so he can be here at 10:00 to take us to ACC. Mary Lou came along, too.
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| The Sunday flowers are always lovely. |
The speaker of this morning was a Catholic priest, Father Oliver O’Brien, who had a lovely Irish accent. His topic was the Baptism of Jesus, but he wandered all over even getting as far afield as infant versus adult baptism and the sex scandal in the Catholic church. He had warned us that he is a sociologist, not a theologian, which I had thought might be in his favor, but apparently he has yet to learn how to focus on a topic. Still, in the end, he proclaimed that what God really wants is for us to love one another no matter what our culture, class, or religion. With that I could heartily agree.
Mark Jacobson, the former head of Arusha Lutheran Medical Center, was back in town for the graduation of the first doctor from ALMC’s residency program. In fact, a whole delegation of people flew in from Minnesota to attend the graduation ceremony for this one doctor. Mark’s a lovely person, but seeing him made me miss his wife, Linda, more than ever. She always added such vitality to everything here and was the heart of the women’s group I loved to attend. Without Linda, the group has crumbled a bit, and we haven’t met once yet since I arrived. Mark said Linda would return in February, so I may have six weeks to enjoy her energy and zany take on life.
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| Linda Jacobson |
John and I had planned on going out to Njiro for lunch and then a bit of shopping in The Village Market there. When we first came to Arusha, Njiro had the one and only mall in the area, and even though it was terribly small, it was sort of exciting, with its grocery store offering insane items such as lemon curd, marshmallows, Kraft macaroni and cheese, etc. The little shops on the second floor provided goods and services such as photography, hair styling, locally made clothing, and pet supplies. A big British Woolworth’s is still there with its stock of outrageously priced western clothing, but most all the other shops are now empty. Fortunately, the courtyard with its many restaurants still exists, and the second we sat down, four or five waiters were there to offer us the menus from the various businesses. It can be incredibly overwhelming as one must choose among Chinese, Indian, Australian, and other cuisines. I already knew that I wanted Chicken Saagwala, and, of course, John had to order something mutton. After much pondering, Mary Lou chose what I had ordered and was as enthusiastic about it as I always am.
http://www.greatcurryrecipes.net/2012/02/01/how-to-make-british-indian-restaurant-style-chicken-saagwala/
The remainder of the day was spent relaxing, reading, and being happy that we are here.
Monday, January 14, 2019
FiFi's and AfriLeo
Saturday, January 12, 2019
There’s not much excitement in writing about doing laundry by hand nor even about eating delicious mangoes, pineapples and bananas. This is especially true since I have been writing about these things and all the rest of our lives in Tanzania each year. This year we have been here in Arusha for just a little over a week no, and unless I really concentrate and try, I just do not see much that is unusual or unique. The shops, markets, street vendors, crazy traffic patterns, and people are as familiar to me as those in Spokane usually are. Surprise and wonder do occur, but not every day anymore. Is that good or not?
So, we had a very ordinary Saturday morning, doing laundry, reading, and trying to get on the internet. However, mid-afternoon, I decided that I needed to go to FiFi’s, a popular cafe for wazungu and hip Tanzanians, and order a new skirt for myself. A young woman sells crafts and clothing at FiFi’s and creates custom clothing under the name of “Afrileo Collections,” which you can find on Facebook. She made some outfits for my granddaughter Peri last year, and I like her designs. I took my trusty tape measure with me and, after being measured, ordered one skirt. If that fits me well, I’ll order one or maybe two more to replace what the rats chewed up. One skirt including the African fabric and sewing will cost me about $15—a real bargain, I think.
Mary Lou had tagged along with us and also ordered a skirt. After placing our orders, we all sat at Fifi’s enjoying cool drinks—or in John’s case chocolate ice cream—until we thought we might as well return to Kundayo. I bought a lovely loaf of seed bread at FifFi’s and Ray stopped along the way back so John and Mary Lou could buy huge bottles of water. Having enough drinking water on hand is very important.
The other day, I had noticed that the newer FiFi’s across from AfriCafe was closed and looked very abandoned and shabby. (That was where we found the most amazing fruit salad ever, which we often got as take-away because it was large enough for two lunches.) Many of the shops that were between Phillip’s Corner and Kundayo are now closed, too. Perhaps I haven’t seen enough yet to make a generalization, but it feels to me as if there is a sense of recession here. Certainly tourism has been down, prices have risen very noticeably, and no new businesses are apparent. If all this is bad for people like us, it is definitely far worse for the Tanzanians.
Just after it turned dark, at 7:00 p.m. here, we initiated a FaceChat session with little Peri, who was already up at 8:00 a.m. in Spokane. She seemed a bit unsure about how we were inside a computer and squealed more than talked. After maybe 10 minutes of very good video connection, our connection just quit. Still it is amazing to me that we can see and speak directly with people at home so easily.
There’s not much excitement in writing about doing laundry by hand nor even about eating delicious mangoes, pineapples and bananas. This is especially true since I have been writing about these things and all the rest of our lives in Tanzania each year. This year we have been here in Arusha for just a little over a week no, and unless I really concentrate and try, I just do not see much that is unusual or unique. The shops, markets, street vendors, crazy traffic patterns, and people are as familiar to me as those in Spokane usually are. Surprise and wonder do occur, but not every day anymore. Is that good or not?
So, we had a very ordinary Saturday morning, doing laundry, reading, and trying to get on the internet. However, mid-afternoon, I decided that I needed to go to FiFi’s, a popular cafe for wazungu and hip Tanzanians, and order a new skirt for myself. A young woman sells crafts and clothing at FiFi’s and creates custom clothing under the name of “Afrileo Collections,” which you can find on Facebook. She made some outfits for my granddaughter Peri last year, and I like her designs. I took my trusty tape measure with me and, after being measured, ordered one skirt. If that fits me well, I’ll order one or maybe two more to replace what the rats chewed up. One skirt including the African fabric and sewing will cost me about $15—a real bargain, I think.
Mary Lou had tagged along with us and also ordered a skirt. After placing our orders, we all sat at Fifi’s enjoying cool drinks—or in John’s case chocolate ice cream—until we thought we might as well return to Kundayo. I bought a lovely loaf of seed bread at FifFi’s and Ray stopped along the way back so John and Mary Lou could buy huge bottles of water. Having enough drinking water on hand is very important.
The other day, I had noticed that the newer FiFi’s across from AfriCafe was closed and looked very abandoned and shabby. (That was where we found the most amazing fruit salad ever, which we often got as take-away because it was large enough for two lunches.) Many of the shops that were between Phillip’s Corner and Kundayo are now closed, too. Perhaps I haven’t seen enough yet to make a generalization, but it feels to me as if there is a sense of recession here. Certainly tourism has been down, prices have risen very noticeably, and no new businesses are apparent. If all this is bad for people like us, it is definitely far worse for the Tanzanians.
Just after it turned dark, at 7:00 p.m. here, we initiated a FaceChat session with little Peri, who was already up at 8:00 a.m. in Spokane. She seemed a bit unsure about how we were inside a computer and squealed more than talked. After maybe 10 minutes of very good video connection, our connection just quit. Still it is amazing to me that we can see and speak directly with people at home so easily.
Sunday, January 13, 2019
Rushda and Rats
Our internet service has been horrible today. For some reason, Kundayo’s usual slow, but functioning, system just would not connect strongly enough for me to upload or send anything. And, worse yet, my Smile hotspot gave out. Apparently, John had bought only a week’s worth of service. I guess his brain really was not alert at all when he did that. Anyway, I got really frustrated and then mad at myself for caring so much about internet in the first place. I’ve been ruined by the instant connection life we all seem to rely upon now. (Breathe, I tell myself, Breathe deeply, and let it go.)
Today, we decided to go downtown to Rushda, a very small, crowded grocery store stuck in the middle of an Indian section. Right across the street is the best spice store in Arusha, and on the corner is Dolly’s Patissierie, where John likes to buy samosas. To enter or exit Rushada, one must run a gauntlet of market women trying very eagerly to sell their mangoes, onions, bananas, papayas, or whatever. This time some were even selling strawberries and raspberries, which actually looked very good and really weren’t obscenely expensive. I did not buy any if the berries but rather got two beautiful mangoes.
Inside the store, which was perhaps the size of a large master bedroom, had close set aisles stocked with almost anything one would ever need. There was even a section of Pampers, and I was able to find a silicone spatula, which I had forgotten to pack. The pasta and sauces aisle had the most variety, and there were even many kinds of cheeses in the cooler. I even look at the knew better than to look at the cheese prices, which are usually on par with gold prices. So, I focused on items such as pasta, tomato paste, oil, vinegar, dish soap, etc. I even got 2 frozen chickens, and John bought a small container of Azam ice cream. All for very reasonable prices.
Once done at Rushda, John and Mary Lou walked to the corner to buy samosas for our lunch. Ray and I returned with all our goods, leaving the other two to walk all the way back. On our way back to Kundayo, I asked Ray to make a small detour to Meat King, which has moved from its space downtown to a big house in a compound near The Blue Heron. It seemed odd to enter a former luxury dwelling to buy stew beef.
Back at Kundayo, Maso and other workers were emptying out the storage room in a move to make sure they banished all rats. It looked as if they were setting up for a garage sale, but they were just going through all the boxes and sacks of items people have left behind when they intend to return. I forgot to ask Maso if they found more damage or if we had been the only victims of rat rage.
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| Hunting for rat damage. |
After lunch and a rest, I spent much of my time futilely fighting with a noncooperative internet system. Here at Kundayo, I am liberated from most housework. A young woman comes every morning to make our bed, change our towels, clean our floors, and even do the dishes if we don’t. Also because we can only do hand laundry in a big plastic bucket with a plunger, anything other than underwear and socks is washed by the Kundayo staff and returned neatly pressed and folded. Life is very good here.
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| Agnes cleans and our room every morning. |
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