Arusha, Friday and Saturday, February 24 & 25, 2017

Another day of staying close to home. In the late morning, when it wasn’t raining, we walked to the nearby tailor shop to check on on new clothes.  Everything was done and waiting for us: two simple dresses for me and one beautifully made shirt for John.  Plus, the tailor had saved the main remnant of each piece of cloth and hemmed to make small table toppers or throws perhaps. We settled our bill, which was more than we had expected yet so incredibly low compared to even trouser hemming at home that I was ashamed I had even blinked. When we got back to Kundayo and tried everything on, we were pleased with how well things fit.  I know some may be waiting for photos of me in my new garb, but the truth is that I always feel like a party balloon when I don African fabrics. Things which look wonderful here on dark skin just don’t complement my fair skin in the same way. Still, I may get around to posting some photos soon.

Entrance to our tailor's courtyard

The rest of the day was lazy with showers from time to time. Mama didn’t appear for a visit, and I couldn’t decide what to cook, so eventually, we ordered chicken stew (peanut? coconut curry?), rice and greens from the kitchen for our dinner.  There was so much that we had enough left over for another meal sometime. I had put on a new mosquito repellant John had bought at Moona’s Pharmacy, and can now report that it does not last long nor work very effectively. I now have numerous bites all over my arms and back and rue the fact that I didn’t pack enough OFF to last the two months we are here.

Saturday morning was extra cool, so when I went to the garden terrace to connect to the internet, I wrapped up in the only shawl I had brought with me.  The Mexican wife of the German man, who is also staying here until mid-March, arrived dressed in a long-sleeved sweater. I’m embarrassed that I haven’t learned these people’s names nor why they are staying here in Arusha.  The husband in particular is always very friendly and chatty. By noon, however, the temperature had risen to a more normal height, and because of the high humidity that has come with all the rain, I was back to my usual sweaty self.

John had walked downtown on the excuse that we needed bread, and he brought not only bread but also his favorite samosas and the fruit salad from Bamboo FiFi’s for our lunch.  The fruit salad is the best I’ve ever had in Arusha, and a single serving provides two generous portions at the bargain price of 6000 Tsch.  John is partial to the samosas from Barista, which is right across the street from the Naz Hotel. We were in food bliss at  lunchtime.

Elizabeth had said she was coming back for another visit today and texted that she would arrive at 2:00 p.m. At 3:00, she and a friend, Maria, finally appeared, and we settled down for a good visit. I had never seen Maria before and hadn’t a clue who she might be, but we pulled up an extra chair, and over tea and cookies I learned that she had just returned from living in Japan for four years. her husband is some sort of business attaché and is still in Tokyo.  So, our conversation zig-zagged back and forth between life and experiences in Japan, current events in Elizabeth’s Masai boma, and the state of Elizabeth’s watermelon crop. Maria was just as surprised as I to discover someone who had experience in Japan. Elizabeth is till worried about her melons being stunted because they lacked water for so long and now have been attacked by a fungus. Elizabeth had recently been back to the boma for one of her uncle’s funeral and feels she can handle being there again in spite of what he father did with Ngaisi.

Near the beginning of all this conversation I realized I should probably be a better hostess and asked the important question of whether they had eaten anything since morning.  They had not, so John heated up some of our leftover beef stew, added some pilipili, and served them heaping plates of hot stew with bread. Mazo passed by and joined in a bit, telling Elizabeth that he had grown a field of watermelons last year but didn't get the yield or profit he had hoped for. Now, he has begun planting and growing papaya trees, which he thinks will do much better. All of a sudden, it began to pour—really, really pour—rain.  Elizabeth worried about getting into town quickly enough to buy the fungicide she wanted and still return home yet today.  Fortunately, the rain stopped fairly soon, and we all double-kissed good-bye until next year.

me, Maria, Elizabeth

Enjoying some stew

Once Elizabeth and Maria left, it was time for Mama Kundayo’s promised nyama choma (roasted meat). During one of our chats, I had mentioned that John loved eating nyama choma when he lived in Kenya.  She said they had the best nyama choma roaster was just down the road and she would have him make some for John sometime.  Today turned out to be that time. Just before Elizabeth showed up, Mazo came running to our apartment and told John to get his camera and follow him. Somewhere back behind the garden, the meat roaster had a whole goat on a spit slowly roasting. I didn’t go to see it myself, but I was astonished that Mama was having a whole goat roasted right on the Kundayo grounds. I was thinking more along the line of take-out meat like we get at our kuku shack.

Becoming nyama choma

Just before 6:00, Mazo showed up at our door again with a big lidded casserole full of goat meat and roasted green bananas, roasted potatoes, and the onion, sweet red peppers and tomato salad which accompanies the meat as a relish.  The amount of food was staggering, and the goat meat was absolutely the best I have ever eaten. We gorged ourselves and still had enough left over for another day. This has to have been one of the best days ever for incredible food.

A delicious nyama choma dinne

I wasn’t paying attention to my computer’s battery, so I was caught unaware when the electricity went off again and it was at only 16%. However, I was very lucky because the electricity came back on in less than an hour, and I am now recharging.  John is having fun rinsing and wringing out another bucket of underwear. That’s one chore neither of us will miss when we are back in Spokane!

Arusha, Thursday, February 23, 2017

How did Thursday arrive so quickly?  For as slow-paced as our live can be here, the passage of time never seems to slow down. Only two more weeks until we’ll have to leave and return to Spokane. I feel like the Pushmi-Pullyu in Dr. Dolittle. If only one could have some form of time and space travel between places; I’d be in Spokane on many weekdays, but always in Arusha on Sunday—or when I wanted to eat out.

I spent the entire day doing absolutely nothing unusual.  How exciting can a 5-gallon bucket of soapy socks be?  John at least did one of his walks to a market to buy us some bananas (I like the Morongoro bananas best.) and eggplant, so I could make Congolese eggplant stew for dinner. I am very grateful for all the culinary survival skills I learned in the Congo, as now those simple recipes form my basic cuisine here. Better yet, John loves these dishes.

Before starting dinner, I went out to visit a bit with Mama Kundayo, who now seems to expect me to always show up when she is sitting outside. This evening, she wasn’t as regally dressed as she often is, but I always love the color and flow of her outfits as well as the style of her headdresses. We discussed my visit to Shanga yesterday and what I liked and did’t like. Beatrice was nearby to help with some translation, but when I got to the glassblowers, she had no idea what I was talking about. I promised to bring my computer with photos the next day. Just at that point, it began to rain, so I ran back to our terrace.

Mama Kundayo looking fine

Noriko passed by during our dinner and said she couldn’t go to church with us this coming Sunday but would be there the next week, our last Sunday at ACC this year. I just received ACC’s annual general meeting minutes and was stunned to read that their attendance has dropped 60% in the last several years. When the UN and the International Criminal Tribunal left Arusha over 5 years ago, that was a big economic and wazungu blow for all Arusha. Since then mission organizations and other NGO programs have been cutting foreign staff, some of whom would have been participants at ACC. I’ve noticed the attrition in the women’s group, but hadn’t paid much attention to the attendance on Sunday, as there are always lots of visitors and wazungu groups passing through who come. I hope that the church can weather the current changes and remain the uniquely diverse group it is.

Arusha, Wednesday, February 22, 2017

We awoke to heavy rain, which would have been welcomed on most days.  However, this was the day on which John had arranged to go for a long hike with Rogers. They were to meet at 8:00 and then spend the day out in the small hill/mountains which form little peaks below big Mount Meru.  After a telephone conference, they postponed the start of the hike until 9:30, and fortunately the rain stopped just about then. Of course, John hadn’t considered such things as rain boots or hiking shoes, so he went off in his everyday scuzzy shoes, without a walking stick or any sort of appropriate gear.

After John left, I decided to treat myself to an outing as well.  I called Ray and asked if he could drive me out to Shanga-Shangaa, the organization which hires and trains people with various disabilities to do appropriate crafts, e.g., weaving, bead work, tinga-tinga painting, and my favorite, glassblowing. The men who work with glass are deaf, and it’s amazing to see them sign while they are whirling around globs of hot glass.

S-S used to be located on the Burka Coffee Plantation, with its workshops spread out among trees and walk ways.  There was a lush, green lawn where one could sit and drink fresh fruit juice and watch monkeys play in the nearby tree. It was beautiful and very restful. A couple of years ago, the whole operation moved across the main road and onto the grounds of the Arusha Coffee Lodge, an upscale tourist hotel.  Perhaps this is more financially advantageous for S-S, as there is a constant stream of wealthy tourists filing through, but I was disappointed at how cramped and commercial things were now. The workshops and store are now configured like a mall around a very small, hot courtyard, and the coffee cafe looked entirely characterless. I saw no green area in which to relax and enjoy the setting. The only improvement I noted was the new shop, which is now completely open with well laid out displays. I was so disappointed with the changes that after a very quick walk by the crafters and a visit to the shop, I wanted to leave, so I cannot give a review of the coffee shop.

At the entrance to the courtyard

Stuffing toy elephants.

Stringing beads for jewelry

The glass furnace

Creating in glass

Shop display

When I got back to Kundayo, I wanted to order some lunch from the Kundayo kitchen, so I asked for rice and red beans, which the cook makes for the workers.  The first time I tried to order the workers’ lunch menu, the staff wasn’t sure I knew what I was doing, but now they accommodate my quirkiness without questions. The beans were especially tasty this time, and I had more than I could eat for less than $2.50.

John stumbled in about 4:00, wet and totally exhausted.  He said all he wanted to do was take a shower and lie on the bed. So, he did. He had had a great time hiking through small shambas (garden farms) up on the slopes of the peak they had climbed and discovered a whole hidden world of Masai farmers who grow the vegetables that are brought into the markets each day. Potatoes, carrots, eggplants, corn, cucumbers, spinach, tomatoes, etc. are all carried down the steep slopes each morning. While the climb up the slope was taxing, it was the descent which really tested John’s stamina. I’m not sure he thought he could make at times, and his comment to me was that the hike had been so tenuous that he wasn’t sure the Whitworth students could do it. This from a man who just turned 75!

Fording the raging river

Posing at the newly named Yoder Waterfall

Climbing out of the ravine

Hillside garden

Carrying food for cattle

Broccoli?

View from the top

Looking across to another smaller hill

I made a nice beef stew for dinner, and after the meal and some vanilla ice cream with mango slices, we soon went to bed. John immediately fell asleep, but I stayed up and read for a couple of hours. I wanted to be done with the novel, The Secret Life of Emily Dickinson, which I wish i were still a secret to me.

Arusha, Tuesday, February 21, 2017

So we had an ordinary day with me sleeping until 9:00 a.m. and then John served me my Wheetabix and half the pumpkin muffin he had bought at FiFi’s when he got bread there yesterday.  It’s so nice to have a spouse who cannot resist buying me little treats. However, I  noticed that he had also given in to the temptation to buy a chocolate muffin for himself, so maybe my muffin was really just a cover for his muffin. No matter. Mine was delicious.

Maso came to check out our mute TV, and like me, he banged on it a bit and randomly pushed buttons on both of the remotes.  Then, he pushed buttons on the TV itself, and somehow with all that banging and button pushing, the TV began to speak again.  However, we didn’t have any desire to watch it then. We get the late night MSNBC shows here in the morning and Morning Joe comes on at 2:00 p.m. If I can catch a bit of Rachael Maddow during breakfast and some Morning Joe at nap time, I’ve pretty much heard all I want to from U.S. news sources. BBC, Al-Jazeera and the many European news channels give us real world news that isn’t obsessed with 24-hour coverage of Trump.

We were really looking forward to the evening when we would be going for dinner at a friend’s home. I guess Eric qualifies as John’s friend since I had only met him once before, but he grew up in Spokane Valley, and we have many people connections in common. However, we had never met his wife, who is Tanzanian, or his daughter, who is both Tanzanian and American, so I was excited about finally meeting them. Ray took us to the Impala Hotel, where Eric picked us up soon after 6:00.  He also had a woman named Sig along with him.  Sig is doing sustainable agricultural research here this year and went to WSU as an undergraduate. WSU is one of the schools Eric’s daughter, Nshashe, is considering for next year since she is also interested in studying sustainable agriculture.

The ride to Eric’s house was like most ventures into the hills toward Mount Meru: very rough.
Once we got back away from the main road and shops and into a more forested area, we came to Eric’s land and the incredible brick kiln he built and which now employs 7 Tanzanians.  At the top of the kiln is a large brick house Eric built and now rents out.  He showed us around and talked about all the research and trial and error that has gone into producing the quality of bricks he manufactures and the ecological fuel he uses in his kiln burns. It was all very impressive. Since he came to Tanzania as a volunteer in the 1970s, Eric has been a farmer and involved in a number of other enterprises and now runs a very successful computer internet service for businesses.

Entrance of the kiln area

Sig, Eric, and me being dwarfed by the huge two-story kiln.

From the kiln, we drove onto his house which was further away up a higher hill. As with most such homes, there was a tall wall surrounding the whole compound of house and garden with a large double gate for entry.  We parked at the gate and walked in to the house.  It was getting too dark for me to see much or take any photos, but I could see a variety of trees and plants along the path. I couldn’t see the whole house at all.

When we entered, I immediately noticed the huge timbers that upheld the upper floor, and the hewn timbers in the ceiling and around the deeply inset windows. The effect was somewhat like a meld of an Elizabethan cottage and a Swiss hunting lodge, except for the flooring, which as in all the more expensive Tanzanian homes was tile. Eric began work on this house when he was a young man, long before he married his wife, Bernice, and so he put almost thirty years into its construction. He tries to live as sustainably as possible and has huge cisterns in which he collects rain water, and I noticed that all the lighting was LED and probably linked to solar panels.

We had a delicious meal of Tanzanian red beans, chicken stew, rice, sweet potatoes, and fruit salad, with plentiful wine and finally Tanzanian tea. Eric and Nshashe asked lots of questions about making best choices among universities, likely course requirements, etc. Sig was the one who knew which programs would be best and what similarities and differences would be in their sustainable ag programs. Nshashe is currently considering the University of Minnesota, WSU, Evergreen, and maybe Penn State. They all have good programs in her area of interest, but I soon began to think that Evergreen might be her best choice. She’s a lovely, tall girl and has likely been exposed to many differences among her classmates at the international school she attends, but she seems a bit shy and is very soft spoken. She’s also a gifted artist and would like to pursue art as a minor. We discussed the differences between undergraduate and graduate studies and the advantage of having a close cohort of fellow students and smaller classes. Getting a solid undergraduate foundation at Evergreen would prepare her well for graduate studies at any of the larger universities.

Bernice didn’t say much for most of our conversation, but near the end, she asked John and me about a mutual friend, and it was only then that I learned that she worked at WorldVision. Eric was getting ready to drive us all back into Arusha, so I didn’t have an opportunity to find out exactly what Bernice does at WV and many other things I would like to know about her. Maybe next time we are in Arusha, I can find a way to connect with her again.

I began raining while we were having dinner, but the drive back to Kundayo wasn’t difficult at all. Eric usually rides his bike from his house clear into the center of town where his offices are, and Nshashe rides bike to her school out by the airport, as that is not only more ecological but also, according to Eric, safer than driving in Arusha traffic. Today, however, the highway construction had altered the road to favor us and our access to Kundayo. So ended another wonderful day.

Arusha, Monday, February 20, 2017

The electricity went off in the early morning, and we remained without power most of the day.  Last year, Mazo had bought a lovely little cooker with only one electric burner and three gas burners, so even when the power is off, we can boil water and cook. It’s an incredible luxury; I can have my cup of coffee when I wake up, which makes the whole day go better. The main problem with a power outage is that it seems to affect the internet connection here as well, so often we have that to whine about, too.

Soon after breakfast, we decided to go back to the Airtel office downtown in another effort to figure out what is not working with my stick modem.  Ray drove us to the office and waited while we went in. By now they know us well there, so our favorite technician met us at the door and took us aside to check out my computer and the modem.  He concluded that it was the old modem stick into which John and put the new chip that was the problem. So, we ended up buying a new modem stick, and after some frustrating efforts to get everything installed, our problem seemed solved. Having the stick means that I should be able to be online even when the internet here at Kundayo is off and that I can connect to the internet from inside our apartment, which I cannot do otherwise.

There is a mini Masai market on the sidewalks outside the Airtel office, and as we stepped out to look for Ray, we were besieged by vendors. I hate having to brush aside people who are just trying their best to make a marginal living, but one cannot give in and buy something from everyone every time, of course. One older man told me his name was Isaiah Paul, and he needed to sell me a batik so he would have money to buy food. Another older woman who was selling Masai beads sandals called for me to “help support” her. Since I already have more bad African batiks than I can use or give away, I turned to the woman and began bargaining for sandals.  In the end, I paid her about 50% more for a pair than it would have cost me at our neighborhood sandal workshop, but the money she got from me may have been the only money she earned all day.

After lunch, the electricity came back on, so I was feeling very positive about life and decided to see if Morning Joe was on MSNBC. It was, and just as I was beginning to tune in to what the news stories for the day were, the TV went mute. We tried every trick we could think of with the remotes and connections, but there was no more sound. The picture was fine, so we read crawlers for awhile, but a lot is not said in those crawlers and we cannot read lips. John thinks the TV itself is broken, so we will have to see if Mazo can exchange ours for one that is still functioning.

Dinner was chicken and noodles à la Janet, made with ramen noodles and a special broth/sauce, and sautéed zucchini, which John had bought thinking they were cucumbers.  The TV was still mute, but the electric refrigerator was running, and I thought about how many things we now feel we need which we never even knew about for most of our years in Africa. Maybe I’m just being nostalgic, but I truly think I enjoyed the simpler life in the Congo more than I do this quasi-modern society. I doubt, however, that John and I will ever be able to live so remotely again.

Arusha, Sunday, February 19, 2017

Another Sunday!  Not particularly a day I look forward to at home, but definitely my favorite here. I never know whom I will see or meet at Arusha Community Church or what the service will be like.  A congregation operating with only laity and elected committees is truly a great model. Many members have to invest large amounts of time in order to make sure everything runs well, and so most members feel heavily invested in the church.  There is no such thing as spectator religion here.

This morning, Erwin Kinsey, a German agronomist, was the worship leader. Jimmy and Christine Ebong, who are from Uganda, were in charge of the music.  And, Lemburis Justo, a Tanzanian Lutheran minister, gave the sermon, which was a wonderful message about what it means to love one’s enemy. The ushers were two teenagers, Godlisten Solomon and Martin Matthews, and Irene Mchomvu, whom I do not know, brought the flowers, two very different bouquets this time. The incredible diversity of this congregation thrills me every Sunday.

Church ladies

Dr. Wendy, a surgeon

Bouquet #1

Bouquet #2

One of our neighbors at Kundayo, Noriko Noda, went to ACC again with us, and after church she had a good time meeting and connecting with people.  Noriko teaches physics and mathematics at a secondary school outside of Arusha, so she leaves Kundayo early every morning and usually doesn’t return until dark.  She is so super conscientious that she even goes to the school to tutor on Saturdays, so we rarely see her during the week.  Several years ago, Noriko spent three years in Tanzania, near Iringa, as a teacher in the Japanese equivalent of the Peace Corps, so she speaks fluent Swahili. Now she is back for at least another year with a Japanese NGO. She said her parents want her to stay home and get married, but I think she will always be a free spirit.

Noriko chatting with a new friend after church.

After church, Noriko wanted to go out for lunch.  She had been to no place in Arusha at all —except to church with us—for the entire month she had been here. So, we took her to George’s, where an order of one pizza and one salad was plenty for all three of us. Soon after we had ordered, other friends from church arrived, so we just pushed our tables together and had a bigger party. We all enjoyed ourselves so much that it was after 3:00 p.m. until we got back to Kundayo. Noriko said she was already looking forward to next Sunday and happily carried the two slices of leftover pizza and a small amount of salad back to her apartment.

Sunday lunch at George's with Noriko

Almost immediately after we arrived back, it began to rain, and there were heavy showers for several hours. It’s wonderful that the farmers get some moisture, but I am selfishly aware that we get cooler temperatures. The increase in mosquitoes, however, is a very negative result for me. Even though I apply repellent heavily and often, the mosquitoes find places between my fingers or near the bottoms of my feet to bite.

Toward evening, I spent some time out in the courtyard visiting with Mama Kundayo, who loves to hear about what we do.  It was the first time I had ever seen her dressed in anything other than African material; she was all in pink, which, while pretty, did not have the same pizzazz as her other ensembles. She was pleased to discover that I am having my dresses sewn by the same tailor she has used for over 30 years.

John made us a dinner of hamburgers and avocado and cucumber slices, with bowls of fruit salad for dessert. We finally had a decent internet connection after dinner, so a good day ended on a happy note.

Arusha, Friday and Saturday, February 17 & 18, 2017


For me, Friday was “The Day After.” I really did not want to do anything special or go anywhere out of Kundayo. So, even though John went out on one of his usual walks of exploration propelled by our need for more bread and some tomato paste, I spent my time at Kundayo doing the usual reading, laundry, and fighting with the internet. I also made a great batch of spaghetti sauce using some of the wine Mazo had given me for Valentine’s Day.

The only excitement came after dark, when Mazo and his workers gathered under a metal sun awning.  A worker would climb up a ladder and then bang wildly at the struts attaching the awning to the building.  At least that what it looked like to me.  The banging stopped for a while and then began again about 10:00 p.m.  I went outside to see what was happening and saw a worker on the porch hand up a big machete to the guy on the ladder, who then gave three loud whacks with it. I still had no idea what had taken place, but the next morning, Mazo told us that they had killed a horrible chicken-killing ferret (che che) of some sort. They come out to hunt at night, and one had gotten up in the structures under the awning. Then, I noticed the paw prints on the wall under our kitchen window. It had tried to escape into our apartment!  Fortunately, I always close that window after dark because of mosquitoes.

Wild ferret paw prints

Aly, the hair magician

I had tried to get an appointment for a haircut over a week ago, but my favorite hairdresser in the world, Aly Sharrif, got sick and had to cancel. I texted him soon after I got up Saturday, and he texted back saying he had an opening at 1:30. I was ecstatic!  My hair had gotten so shaggy that I had actually taken my little Dollar Store elementary school scissors and attempted to trim some hair above my ears and on the sides with rather disastrous results. Right after lunch, Ray took me to Aly’s house, and I once again entered a fascinating other dimension. Just entering the house is perilous as the front awning is hung with dozens of wind chimes which clang and sing as one bumps them trying to get to the front door. Getting through the front door is also a challenge because it is probably no wider than 18 inches. Aly himself must never use it. I can get through it only by slipping in sideways.

I had my iPad with me, so as I waited for my turn, I tried surreptitiously to snap a couple photos of Aly. He is difficult to describe with his unique face and long hair loosely coiled on his head. I always think of him as dancing around on his toes though I don’t see him actually doing that. He is a member of the small Ismaili Muslim community here in Arusha, and seems to know all of the non-missionary wazungu. (Ismaili is the sect of the Aga Khan and are pacifists.) I love talking with him about his mother in Vancouver, B.C., who shops for him at Costco, the new restaurants that have opened since last year, and the history of the Ismailis leaving Tanzania during the nationalization of businesses by Nyerere after independence. There are five Ismaili mosques in Arusha, but only one is used now and even that one has parts partitioned off because it is too large for the congregation. All of this would make Aly enough of a gift to me, but he also gives one heck of a good haircut.  As I left, I told him I would see him again in February 2018,  Inshallah.

While I was at Aly’s, John was at the AirTel office trying to get my modem to work with my computer. For some incomprehensible reason, getting a phone or a modem to work takes a minimum of three visits to the service’s office before functionality is achieved. It makes me want to shriek until I think about how amazing it is that we have this level of technology in Africa—if/when it works. They weren’t able to activate my modem, so we’ll need to make another trip back come Monday. Oh, and this is the third phone/internet service I am using this year: I have Tigo and Vodacom on my phone and now AirTel for my modem, just so I can send these posts to you. It’s nuts.

It was definitely time for another kukuna na chipse dinner from up the road.