Albino Peacemakers' Farewell

Friday, March 22, 2019

The end of our time in Arusha always takes me by surprise. It’s difficult for me to prepare for leaving until the very last minute, so even though I should have begun sorting discarding, and packing our belongings for the return to Spokane, I sat on the terrace and read instead. MaryLou was at her last day with the albino women’s sewing group, so I expected a long quiet day here at Kundayo. However, around 11:00, MaryLou called and said the women wanted me to join them for lunch around 12:30.

After readjusting my inner and outer plans, I called Ray to take me to the sewing workshop, where I found all the women in unusually festive dresses—ones they had designed at had sewn especially for themselves for other occasions. Half of them wore a kitenge pattern on a teal background, and the others wore a very unusual kitenge with a majority of red background but then swatches of a pinkish flowered pattern interrupting the main part. That second kitenge was both striking and unsettling. I’d never seen anything like it before.

Of course, this being Africa, nothing much was happening, and at 12:30 there was no lunch because we needed to wait for Terry and a big donor from France who was in town. Sometime after 1:30, Terry and Chantelle arrived and there were greetings, discussions of what the women had been doing recently. Chantelle took time to look at all the items the women had on display for her and chose what she wanted to buy for herself personally and what she would take back with her to France and try to sell there. Finally—maybe just after 2:00—lunch was served. The women had used their own funds to proved us all with a delicious lunch of grilled kuku (chicken), deep fried bananas, vegetables, and soft drinks. The kuku was especially tasty and the bananas were perhaps the best I have had. (These are not our sweet bananas but rather ones for cooking.)

Our lunch was delicious.

After lunch, the women gathered for some group photos, and I got to see a much more playful side of them. They really have bonded as a group, and MaryLou’s work with them on English has strengthened their sense of community. She has spent hours helping them learn better how to interact with their tourist customers and respond to their questions. They have also each learned how to introduce themself and tell something about why they are in this group. Not all are albinos themselves, but they all have albino children or other albino family members they care for.

The women with MaryLou.

Sauda decided to lift up Judith.

Onzirani has been the shyest of the group, so I value this photo.

After all the photos, we regathered for a more formal meeting. The women had prepared speeches to thank MaryLou for her work with them, and they gave her very special cards of  thanks as well. Then, they thanked me for having MaryLou come to them and presented us both with Masai shukas and khangas. They also gave MaryLou a beautiful set of placemats and napkins they had sewn for her. They will obviously miss MaryLou very much once she returns to Spokane, as she has not only taught them better English but also has given them a much greater sense of self-confidence. She has been a priceless gift to them.

Arafa with her son, Yadin.

Siwema always looks regal.

 Just as I was sure the long afternoon had come to and end, we got word that Sister Martha, the founder and top head of all the Albino Peacemaker projects in Tanzania, was on her way. She apparently wanted to greet MaryLou, who had never seen her before, and Chantelle, the big donor. So, we stayed put until Sister Martha arrived and then even longer while the women did new some of their English presentations.  Finally, I called Ray, and after 15 or more minutes, we excused ourselves and left. I was exhausted and could only imagine how MaryLou felt since this was the final time she would be with these women.

Left to Right:Judith, Stella, Sauda

Left to Right: Arafa, Onzirani, Siwema, Dorcas

In the evening, we went to visit with Mama, who looked great again, and she asked a lot of questions about the events of our day. Sydney, the grandson who lives here, did the translation for us and asked many of his own questions about albinism. It was obvious that he knew very little about albinism and what causes it, so we had a good lesson on genetics and the reasons albinos have certain physical problems. Since Tanzania has the highest incidence of albinism in the world, what Sydney asked about and learned should be taught in every school here. There is still a lot of ignorance about and prejudice against albinos here.

Our Last Week

Last Week: March 18 -

On Monday I panicked. There was only one more week until we drove out to Kilimanjaro International Airport and began our return to Spokane. Since this year, I insisted that we fly on KLM, our flights and transfers should be low-key and easy. However, I don’t feel ready to re-enter the amped up life back in the States. If it weren’t for children and grandchildren, I would never return. Life here is often inconvenient by our First World standards: the electricity often goes off; the internet is very spotty; finding certain items in stores is random and even impossible; nothing happens on time; the traffic regularly ignores the usual rules of the road; police regularly stop vehicles just to hassle drivers and get “money for chai,” etc. But, in general, the people are extremely friendly and hospitable, and life is far more connected and communal than it is in the States. I never feel anxious or stressed here.

We’ll once again pack a large box of the items we leave behind to await our return the next year.  I traded 3 large tubes of sunscreen for a large plastic tub, which we hope will be more rat proof than our previous box. I’ve bought some items for gifts, but we bring gifts, too, and we pack many items we use up here, so we should have plenty of room in our 3 suitcases for all we are hauling home. I also give away some of my clothes each year, which helps keep our return luggage light. — OH! I just remembered that I am planning on packing some rocks. John has the luggage scale here, so I’ll know if I get over the weight limit.

The only real excitement we had on Monday was late in the evening when a neighborhood cat came into our kitchen looking for food. We were watching a bit of MSNBC before going to bed and heard a strange noise in the kitchen. John went to see who/what was there and bravely chased away an invading cat. I hadn’t ever seen a cat at Kundayo before, so I can’t imagine how it got to our apartment.

We planned to take MaryLou with us to Uzunguni City Park restaurant this day. That meant we had a nice free morning to do whatever we wanted at Kundayo before going for lunch. John wake down to a nearby photo shop and had prints made of photos I had taken of Mama and others on the staff here at Kundayo. I always give out photos each year before I leave. I stayed behind on the garden terrace and became acquainted with a young man who had checked in on Monday.

Alex looked African but said he was from Denmark, so I assumed he was from an immigrant family. In fact, he was adopted by a Danish couple when he was 7 years old. His biological parents were Ethiopians working in Iringa when Alex was born. He didn’t mention why he wasn’t kept with his birth family, but he spoke strongly about the love and opportunity his Danish parents have given him. Now, Alex and one of his brothers are in Tanzania attempting to start up a niche coffee company to compete with the big companies which are already in Denmark. We strongly bonded with our mutual dislike of Dar es Salaam.

Around 1:00, we had Ray drive us to Uzunguni for lunch. It is a big sprawling complex of grilling spaces and three separate dining areas set in a lovely garden. There is a constant flow of vehicles in and out, and the place always seems full. We chose to sit in the terrace under an awning cover so we could look out at the garden. This is a truly African place with dishes not on most other menus at the places wazungu frequent. In fact in the 2 hours we were there, we were the only wazungu we saw.. The clientele are business and other professional people, so we were very casually dressed compared to those around us.

John ordered grilled goat; MaryLou got a chicken plate; and I had tilapia mkenga. We also ordered mboga, which we definitely did not need. There was so much food! There was also a lovely breeze, and it was wonderful to just sit and take in the whole scene of people coming and going nonstop. Restaurants here always have a set up for washing hands since most Africans eat with their hands. At a large, busy place such as Uzunguni, there are wash stands all over. We washed out hands both before eating and, of course, after.

MaryLou at a washstand.

My tilapia

John had called Ray to come for us, but MaryLou wanted to explore the curio shop next to the restaurant. I visit there every year, so the guys inside know me well and always ask if I am bringing them another group of customers. This year it was only MarLou, who wasn’t all that interested in buying more gifts or souvenirs. However, the prices at this shop are very tempting, so she finally gave in and bought a long flowing dress for herself and another small item for a gift. I unfortunately bought more, but I justify it as a way to support local craftspeople.

After we had been back at Kundayo for awhile, MaryLou put on her new dress, and Beatrice took a shawl and wrapped it around MaryLou’s head. Wow! what a transformation! Such a costume would not fit in back in Spokane, but it certainly looks great here.

Beatrice decided to use MaryLou's hawl as a headtie.

The new MaryLou

 Wednesday was another day with the albino women for MaryLou. John and I waited until after 10:00 a.m. to walk up to Terry African Design to pick up the dresses Terry was sewing for Peri and me.  They were finished, but I thought the sleeves on mine needed to be altered a bit. So, while I waited for that to be done, John walked to where the sandals are made and got the last pair we had ordered there. Before we left Terry’s shop, I gave her my favorite bag/purse, which had a broken zipper and asked her to repair that if possible. Of course, she could do that for me. I’m very happy to have my usual purse here restored for use again.

Terry is making a slight alteration to my dreaa.

 Closer to noon, we took a taxi into town to have lunch at Kitamu one more time. I also wanted to finalize the refund of a double charge on my credit card. That happened last Friday when we made repeated tries to get our credit cards approved and were constantly denied. Apparently, there was more than one approval on mine. The ever helpful women at Kitamu assured me that they would have their bank refund to my account. John wanted to try the wonderful stuffed chicken breast MaryLou had ordered last week, and I ordered the avocado salad with chicken strips. Both were very delicious. My salad was so large that I ate less than one half of it, so we have that to be our lunch tomorrow, too.

We took a bjaji back to Kundayo. Instead of lying down to rest as John did, I walked over to Mama’s courtyard to visit with her. She is now well enough to come outside in her private garden area, but not out to the main courtyard, where we usually visit. Beatrice came to translate, and we had a long chat. I gave Mama all the photos I had taken of her since January as I do every year at the end of our stay here. She always laughs at how I memorialize her costumes.

However, most of our conversation focused on the Ngaisi saga. We have heard nothing at all from her, and the hospital has privacy laws which prevent us from finding out if/when she is there. Mama had a hard time understanding why there would be such laws since this is Africa where everyone wants to know everyone’s business. She must think it’s just another crazy mzungu idea, and perhaps it is in this culture.

We have Ngaisi's layette ready to go.

 When I awoke and realized it was already Thursday, I had a moment of panic. I’ve done absolutely nothing to begin sorting and packing our things. It’s as if I’m frozen and unable to prepare to leave Arusha and return to Spokane. I wish I could have both: live in Arusha and then take a short drive to Spokane whenever I wanted to visit there.  Some day far in the future, if we don’t all become extinct, something like that will likely be possible, but it won’t be in time for me to enjoy the benefits.

John and MaryLou both had errands downtown, so they took off on a dalla-dalla about 10:00. I stayed behind in the garden terrace and read, worked on my Facebook and email accounts, and chatted more with Alex, the young Ethiopian man from Denmark. He’s very interesting and very open in talking about himself and his experience here in Arusha. We know we must be careful about what we say these days, but we also both love Tanzania and hope it will continue to have peace and a bright future.

Later in the early evening, after a dinner of kuku na chipsie, I walked over to Mama’s private compound to have a chat. MaryLou had gone over earlier and when I arrived was eating a plate of rice and cooked cabbage Mama had given to her. It was nice to be together again, telling stories and laughing. It was very good to see Mama looking so much better. A few afternoon showers had cooled the air and the stars were bright. it was a lovely end to the day.

Sunday Sermon

Sunday, March 17, 2017

It was Saint Patrick’s Day, but I wasn’t paying much attention to that. It’s also our daughter Rebecca’s Homecoming Day, the day we brought her home from The Cradle in Evanston, IL. That was an incredible day, which changed our lives forever. Now, she is a mother herself with a young adult daughter of her own. I wish that we didn’t live so far apart, but we try to get together every year, either with them coming to Spokane or us flying down to Tampa. On March 17, Saint Patrick always takes second place to Homecoming.

Next on my mind was the fact that I was to speak in church this morning. Since ACC has no professional paid clergy or staff except a part-time church secretary, everyone has to pitch in to take care of everything from the flowers, music, ushering, leading the services, and serving communion, to giving the sermons. John and I are not formal members of ACC, but we come to Arusha every year, so I think the folks at ACC see us as “relief players.” John spoke last month, and today it was my turn.

I love the Sunday flower arrangements.

Before the service began, while the musicians for the morning were practicing, a tiny boy with a drum joined them and played along. John and I thought he was doing a pretty good job of staying in rhythm, but the musicians did not and had him taken away. I was disappointed.

Pre-service practice group

The tiny drummer boy

I had carefully chosen the text Luke 9:18-26, in which Jesus asks his disciples two questions: Who do people say I am? and Who do you say I am? Those are questions both non-Christians and Christians should ask. The more time I spent thinking about this text, the more interesting and textured it became to me. I had to think about all the people in my life who do not share my faith and wonder why I am so committed to following Jesus when so many others aren’t even curious about him. Also, why do I have an understanding of my faith that I it seems the majority of self-labeled Christians do not. I wasn’t at all certain how the audience would respond to what I said, and was very relieved when people came up to me after the service and told me that I had voiced what they also believed. Most surprising was a very elderly little woman who asked if I would print a copy for her. Of course I will.

With that assignment out of the way, I was ready to relax and enjoy a great Sunday dinner somewhere nice. Our friend Sharon asked where we would like to go, and I chose George’s, a favorite with us. MaryLou and Terry Morton also came along. As always, the setting at George’s was lovely, and there was enough of a breeze to make eating outside very pleasant. As he does often, John chose the day’s special, which this Sunday was braised, grilled beef ribs. I decided to go very rogue and ordered the Greek Grilled Red Snapper. Mary Lou ordered slow roasted lamb shanks, and both Terry and Sharon got George’s famous salad. It was all delicious, and we lingered to enjoy the setting and company until close to 4:00 p.m. It’s such a joy to have good friends waiting here for us each year.

Left to Right: Sharon, MaryLou, John, me, Terry

We were looking forward to speaking with Peri as we usually do on Sunday evening, but she was still with Luke and not available on Facechat or whatever it is that we use. Perhaps we can connect on Monday night. Only one more week and we’ll be flying back to see Peri in person again.

Coffee and Choroko

Friday, March 15, 2019


Today I wanted to visit the albino women’s workshop and select a few final items to purchase as gifts for people back home. If I went just after noon, I could purchase my selections and pick up MaryLou so that we could go downtown for lunch. We wanted to go to Kitamu at least one more time before leaving Arusha.

So, as usual, Ray picked me up and drove me to the workshop, where MaryLou soon joined us. When we arrived at Kitamu, we read the sidewalk board listing the specials of the day. MaryLou decided she would have the stuffed chicken breast, and I wanted the chicken mushroom pasta dish. Neither were very African dishes but they sounded good. While we were waiting for our food to come, I watched the other customers and noticed two striking things. First, most of them did not order the dishes as printed in the menu but rather “customized” their orders to get cheaper combinations of side items. For example, on gentleman had a huge mound of ugali and a small bowl of greens instead of ugali a meat stew as usual. Second, I was appalled to see that all 7 Africans were on their cellphones almost constantly. There was no conversation between the two couples at all. This is really going to destroy traditional culture which is based on a strong foundation of conversation and social interaction.

MaryLou definitely needed some coffee.

When our orders finally came, we were amazed at how pretty MaryLou’s chicken breast was. It had been stuffed with a mixture of greens, wrapped in bacon, and baked to a toasty brown. Then it was sliced and shaped like a croissant. MaryLou said it was delicious. My pasta was very good, but not spectacular. However, I had plenty left to take home for a future meal.

We had a wonderful lunch.

One of the reasons that we went to Kitamu was that MaryLou wanted to buy a large amount of whole coffee beans. Our waitress, Esther, had to climb up on one of the stool to get up to the high shelf where there were two bags of beans. Mary Lou took them both.

Climbing to get MaryLou's coffee beans.

Before we had ordered, we asked if Kitamu’s credit card machine was up and running, and were assured it was. So, we hadn’t felt constrained to just the money in our purses and both ordered french press coffee with our meal. Then, when we tried to pay, the machine wouldn’t accept either of our cards! It declined MaryLou’s 3 or 4 times and mine twice. It seemed as if MaryLou would have to walk several blocks to a bank and hope her card would allow her to take out cash there. But just at the last minute, we tried my card once more, and it went through. Oh happy day.

We still walked to the bank so MaryLou could get some cash. Then we continued toward the Clocktower because we knew we could find a bjaji there for our ride home. First, however, we stopped at the small grocery store by Naz because I knew they had Azam ice cream bars in their freezer. I wanted to have my favorite, a Carmello, and I thought MaryLou should try one, too. Unfortunately, there was only one Carmelo bar left. I let MaryLou have it and then for no reason other than to try something very different, I chose a Cherry Bar. With only one bite, I regretted my choice: the coating and ice cream were bright red, but there was no real cherry flavor. Meanwhile, MaryLou was enjoying her Carmello.

Once we had finished out ice cream bars, we walked closer to the clocktower and hired a bjaji to take us back to Kundayo. I left MaryLou do the bargaining for the fare. She was great and got the ride for only 4000 Tsch ($1.75). Taxis are now charging 10,000 Tsch. ($4.35) for the same trip. I actually enjoy riding in a bjaji more than in a taxi unless I have a lot of bags to transport.

Dinner this evening was choroko and sausage stew. I’ve been able to improve this dish until it is excellent. I don’t think we can buy choroko in the States though. When I look it up via Google, I’m told it is the same a mung beans, but it definitely is not.

Last Meeting

Thursday, March 14, 2019

Today would be our last time with the women’s bible study group I attend. Once again, I had been designated the lear, so I decided that we should finish up Acts 10 and go clear through 11.  There is some really good material for discussion in those passages. Because there are so many strange place names in the accounts of Saul’s journeys, I decided we needed a map of the Roman world at that time. I couldn’t find one that was a simple black and white outline map, but MaryLou did and I had 10 copies printed. Then, I took a blue colored pencil and colored in all the seas and lakes on one so one could see the land mass more clearly.

When we arrived at the church, I handed out the maps and several blue pencils and said we were having Sunday School on Thursday. The women quickly got to coloring all the water on their maps, too. They thought the idea of adults coloring was pretty funny, but they also seemed to enjoy it Once we had our maps colored, we spent some time locating the places we had been talking about, and then continued on with the stories in Acts. These women are excellent at discussion, so all I have to do is give a framework and ask a few questions, and they quickly respond. The only time I got funny and made them laugh was when I said that as a child I had loved the verse which says that Herod was eaten by worms and died. They had never really noticed that before. I did not sing the ditty about “The worms go in, and the worms go out. And, the worms play pinochle on his snout.” I have no idea if that’s a reference to Herod’s death or not. Probably not.

Coloring our maps

It’s always sad for me to leave this group of women. They have become true friends. However, even though we won’t have another meeting before I return to the States, I should see some of them the next two Sundays at church.

Good friends forever.

For the potluck meal after our discussion. Miriam brought a big pot of pilau; Atula contributed tasty tuna sandwiches; Grace cooked rice and eggplant stew; and Margaret brought her favorite biscuits (cookies). MaryLou and I went completely American and came with guacamole and potato chips. (Why can’t we find corn chips in a country which grows so much corn?) John was secretly hoping that the women wouldn’t like the guacamole very much so there would be plenty left for him, but they loved it and ate big scoops. Still, there was enough left for John to enjoy when we got back to Kundayo.

Once we were back at the apartments, John and MarLou walked to the sandal workshop to pick up our orders. The place is really very close, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to navigate safely on the very rough road. The sandals that MaryLou and John brought back were as lovely as they always have been in the past. John asked Noel what a large order would be for him, and Noel said that he often gets orders for as many as 400 from a merchant who then distributes them to markets in Zambia, Mozambique, and elsewhere. It seems miraculous that those women and men in their small dark rooms can produce that many beautiful sandals.

Guess which ones are for Peri.

For dinner, I made a large pot of beef stew. I had bought bottle of Dodoma red wine out at Njiro and opened it to put some in the stew. It was okay in the stew, but drinking it was not easy. MaryLou helped me out by having two glasses.

Ordering Dresses

Wednesday, March 13, 2019

How can these last days fly by so quickly? Since it was Wednesday, MaryLou headed off as usual to the Albino Peacemakers workshop to teach more English to the women there. She has been incredibly dedicated to this task, and I believe the women are feeling more and more empowered to speak for themselves with the tourists who come to hear about albinism in Tanzania and buy the beautiful items these women create.

I wanted to go to a small nearby shop, Terry African Design, and see if I could get the young woman there to make a dress for me and another one for Peri. I already knew that Terry spoke no English, so I had asked Beatrice from here at Kundayo to go with me as an interpreter. John also wanted to go along. We thought Beatrice would be ready to go at 10:00, but it was almost 11:00 before she showed up—with her boyfriend. The four of us quickly walked to the shop, and then the fun began.

Beatrice and her friend, Emanuel

Terry's new shop

What I thought might take at most 30 minutes stretched on and on. Being mzungu, I immediately chose the kitenge I wanted for my dress and another for Peri’s. I already had a model of what I wanted Peri’s dress to be like, and I described what I wanted, a simple shift. I thought that then I would be measured and we could return to Kundayo. But no! There was a lot going on in Swahili and I was shown a poster of various African style dresses I could choose from. Again, I described what I wanted, which obviously confused poor Terry. There was a stack of prepackaged gowns, long and flowing and generally ugly. Terry and Beatrice kept trying to find something I might like even though I kept saying no and trying to return the conversation to my order. At one point, I interrupted and asked what they were discussing, and they said they had been talking about which tribes like which colors best. Oh Lordy! Meanwhile, Beatrice’s boyfriend had his smart phone on the calculator app and was keeping track of what the charges for cloth and labor would be for my two dresses.

Beatrice helping to measure my kitenge

The display of many styles of African dresses

Trying to make decisions with Terry and Beatrice

It was close to noon when we finally got my order written in Terry’s book, and I made a down payment. Meanwhile, Beatrice had spotted a skirt hanging on the line of clothing already sewn and proceeded to try it on—over a plaid flannel shirt. The skirt looked cute, but the combination with the flannel shirt was hideous. Beatrice seemed to be suggesting that her boyfriend should buy the skirt for her, but he was not agreeing. Finally, I asked how much the skirt cost, and when Terry said 15,000 TSch ($6.50), I decided to buy it for Beatrice’s good-bye present. Oh happy day!

Beatrice loves the skirt

 Our friend Sharon Mkisi was coming to Kundayo to have lunch with us here, so we needed to be back at 12:00 noon. We made it back by noon, but Sharon was already waiting for us on the garden terrace. That’s just the way it goes here in Tanzania: Nothing works by exact clock time.  One either arrives on time and waits or arrives late which is much better. I’ve learned that whatever will happen will happen when it does.

We had a very nice lunch with Sharon out on the garden terrace: chicken curry with coconut sauce, rice, greens, and avocado salad. After that, we went over to our terrace for vanilla ice cream with freshly sliced mangoes. That is by far our favorite dessert here. It was a pleasure to have time with Sharon, who is usually very occupied with her work as the director for the Mennonite Central Committee in Tanzania. She wanted to hear all about my Sunday adventure out with the Meru women. I told her that I had been surprised by the size of the group and how elaborate the lunch, dancing, etc. had been. Also, I informed her that there had been absolutely no request for sponsorship or a donation. That is the major thing wazungu here are constantly on guard for.  Naturally, we Americans are seen as being very rich—we actually are, of course—and easily touched by the plight of orphans, widows, etc. However, one person cannot meet all needs, and I have learned to be very careful about focusing on the smaller needs I know well and can verify that my gifts make a significant difference for specific people. Many NGOs and projects may sound worthy, but they often have high overhead and are not administered by Africans themselves. Far too many well-meaning wazungu still have vestiges of the colonial mentality of white superiority over African co-workers. So, if people want to give to a real African project which makes a significant impact on the people, I suggest HEAL Africa in the DRC and Step-By-Step here in Arusha.

https://www.aidforafrica.org/member-charities/heal-africa-usa/

https://www.sslc-tz.com/

Super Shoppers

Tuesday, March 12, 2019


This was the day Mary Lou and I had set aside for a shopping splurge. We began by having Ray drive us out to the AIM mall, which is just beyond the African Heritage Cultural Center. Ray agreed to wait for us while we made a quick tour of this supposedly modern shopping mall. It has a movie theater, food court, and lots of high end shops. But there are also many vacancies and some shops were offering 70% off sales, which is definitely not a good sign. However, the elevator and escalator worked perfectly, and that’s a big plus for me.

The reason that I wanted to visit this mall was because my friend Sharon had told me about a jeweler in the mall who would likely be able to assist me in finding a nice, but reasonably priced Tanzanite ring. I had promised a friend I would look for such a ring for her, and time was running out for this year’s stay in Arusha. We found the shop and were ushered into a back room, where the jewelry is displayed. The shop manager, Vijay, showed me several rings in a price range of about $200. There were two which interested me, and one was a solitaire, which she had listed as a preference. However, the setting was not what I thought she would like. The second ring was not at all what she would have envisioned, but it was beautiful. Both Mary Lou and I loved it, and it was just the right size. So, I bought it. Mary Lou said if my friend didn’t like it, she definitely wanted to buy it from me. If it had been in my ring size neither my friend nor Mary Lou would ever have a chance at it.

I love this ring.

As we explored further in the mall, MaryLou noticed a shop which sold secondhand clothing. This seemed odd in such a swanky mall, and it was even funnier when MarLou noticed that one of the dresses in the window still had a Goodwill price tag on it. The shop was not open, so we couldn’t check out more of its merchandise.

Second hand dress

Goodwill must be mistaken as a brand or shop name.

With my major purchase for the day made, I was ready to have Ray drive us back toward town and drop us off at Shoppers. This is the newest big supermarket to open in Arusha. It is on the same site as the former ShopRite, and later, Nakamatt. It is too far away and too expensive for us to visit often. However, it has smaller shops on each side. I had been to the ones to the left, but not the right. And things often change. Our main shopping goal was to buy two khangas for Ngaisi. We had been told there was a shop with khangas on the right side of Shoppers, but even though we searched both the upper and lower levels, we couldn’t find it. We did, however, find a spectacular kitchenware shop, where I was tempted to buy a buy a bread pan and really wanted a cast iron kitumbua pan. (Maybe next year.) We even discovered an entire extension of shops I hadn’t known existed. In that area, one could buy a bible or rent time on a small electric car for a child to drive for 10 minutes.

10 minutes for less than $.50

I knew that on the other side of Shopper there would be several cafes where we could have lunch, so we walked over to left side. The ugly new Pizza Hut is being built right on that corner as one enters the parking lot. Beside the building there was a brand new Pizza Hut delivery bike with a young man in a bright red Pizza Hut shirt. He was very enthusiastic about the impending opening and the wonderful delivery bike. When we told him that Pizza Hut was an American franchise, and we didn’t like their pizza very much, he was very surprised. But, he barely missed a beat before inviting us to be special guests at the grand opening, perhaps as soon as the next week.

Pizza Hut is ready to deliver.

We walked on past coffeehouses, one which roasted on site, a burger shop, and stores selling frozen seafood. There was a Tanzanite store at the end, but we didn’t accept an invitation to enter and “just look.” The other side of the parking median was almost all cafes. I had spotted a Mexican restaurant, something I had never experienced in Africa before, so we stopped, looked at the menu, and decided to have lunch there. Since Mary Lou detests tomatoes finding something for her to order at a Mexican restaurant took some major negotiation. She finally settled on fajitas, and I ordered a chicken burrito. The food was really very good and only slightly odd. The “wheat tortillas” turned out to be chapatis, but they were very light and crispy. We asked our waitress where we could buy khangas, and she waved toward the other side of Shoppers.

My first opportunity to have Mexican food in Africa

My burrito though a tad different was very good.

MaryLou with her fajitas

So we walked all the way back to the shops on the other side, and still didn’t see a shop selling cloth.  It seemed like a very good time to stop at a nice cafe and coffeehouse for coffee and ice cream. After we treated ourselves, we asked the waitress here about the cloth shop, and she told us that we had to go to the end of the shops, turn left at the corner, and it would be there. So, we did as instructed, and there was the most lovely cloth and African clothing shop imaginable. The very personable shop woman, Rachel, was nursing her little 6-month-old son when we entered, but she quickly handed him to her dada and began to show us all the khangas she had for sale.  We eventually chose two for Ngaisi, and then MaryLou bought one for herself. Khangas always have a Swahili saying on them. MaryLou’s meant that one should never tire of receiving gifts, but when she looked at the Swahili words, MaryLou was sure it said A Gift of Chocolate in a Cup will Choke You.* Rachel seemed to enjoy that mzungui joke.

Rachel and her son

There was an incredible selection of cloth

MaryLou's khanga

I found a remnant of kitenge we could use for making diapers for Ngaisi. Rachel knew exactly how to size and cut them for us, too. That was a real relief to me! Then, MaryLou started looking at the trousers and African dresses hanging on racks, and eventually she bought one of each for herself. It was a big purchase for her, but the clothes are well worth it. This is definitely a shop I will return to in the future.

Kitenge diapers hung to dry after being washed with glycerine soap

Finally, we were ready to head back to Kundayo. There were bjajis parked outside the entrance to Shoppers, so we hired one to take us all the way across town and back home. We returned in triumph and showed John all of our amazing purchases. Then it occurred to me that I hadn’t bought a single thing for myself. But, there is nothing I need anymore, and shopping for others is more fun.

*  A very similar saying: ”Zawadi ni zawadi, usichoke kupokea."
"A gift is a gift; don't get tired of receiving."