Elizabeth's Visit

Thursday, January 10, 2019

I had asked Beatrice, one of the staff members here, to find me some kitumbura this morning. So about 9:00 she appeared with 6 little fried balls of incredible deliciousness. The mandazi that many people know about are often likened to donuts without holes, but kitumbura are much denser deep fried pastries made with rice flour, and I am addicted to them. I took one to Mary Lou, who was on the restaurant terrace, and Beatrice served us coffee while we savored our treats. John had joined us, but he had tea instead of coffee with his kitumbura.

Enjoying our kitumburas and coffee, with Beatrice serving us.

This was the day Elizabeth had said she was coming to visit us. I have known Elizabeth since 2012, when we went to her Masai family’s boma with Whitworth students. Her poise, command of English, and obvious organizational skills were impressive, and I knew she was a very atypical Masai woman. We spoke little to each other that first time, but I asked for her contact information and was able to stay in touch with her and assist her with getting her higher education completed. Initially after graduation, she had a good position with an NGO doing anti-FGM work among the Masai. She was remarkably capable and successful, but she was hired on soft grant money which ran out after several years. Now the issue of female genital mutilation is no longer the popular cause it once was though it still persists. (Our western attention spans are so short-term!)  So, she has reinvented herself into a thriving entrepreneur with a small shop on the Tanzanian/Kenyan border. She still gets occasional short-term employment assisting NGOs which want to set up projects with the Masai, particularly with Masai women.

Today, Elizabeth was bringing her younger sister Ngaisi to Arusha for prenatal care. Ngaisi is the young woman I wanted to help get surgery for a large abdominal hernia a couple of years ago, but her father refused to allow the surgery and quickly married her off to a man too poor to pay a dowry for a better wife. Last year after Ngaisi became pregnant, she miscarried, so now that she is pregnant again, more precautions are being taken. So far, all is well at seven months, and  Ngaisi’s due date was set for April 8. She is now 18, but still small enough to look 15.

They were to arrive between 10:00 and 12 noon, but because the clinic was so busy, they didn’t come until 1:30. Once Elizabeth had texted me that they were on their way, John ran off to the kuku shop to get chicken and chips for their lunch. He got back at the exactly the same time our two guests arrived, and we set up our veranda table for them. Since Masai don’t ordinarily eat chicken, this may have been only the second time Ngaisi for  to eat it, but Elizabeth had told me that chicken was Ngaisi’s request.

Elizabeth with Ngaisi having a lunch of kuku na chipsies

Reunions with Elizabeth are always wonderful. I love getting caught up on all the boma gossip, and today the news was very good. Rains last year brought lots of grass for the cattle who are now fat and healthy. This good situation has decreased the stress between brothers and now they hold regular meeting to discuss their affairs instead of trying to stab each other as Elizabeth’s father did one of his brothers a year ago. Elizabeth reported that her shop up on the Kenyan border is doing very well, too, and she is able to support herself and help her family now.

The less favorable news was that cholera is now a crisis in Masailand. The government has ordered the Masai to build rudimentary latrines or be put in jail. However, even though the men are digging and building as ordered, they still declare that they will not use them. Masai have never used stationary latrines, and they find them smelly and disgusting. Being a very free and roaming people, they don’t see any possible way they could be running home to relieve themselves when they are out in the empty land around them. Perhaps women and children could be taught to use a latrine, but even they might resist. I doubt that even cholera is going to change their minds either.

The other bad news is that now elephants have come in and invaded the area in which Elizabeth’s family lives. They have eaten the grass and other vegetation cattle could eat, and worse yet, they have entered and damaged bomas. They have also damaged the bore hole and ripped out pipes there. One huge rogue elephant is by himself, and he is particularly destructive and even trampled a small child in one boma.  The other day, according to Elizabeth, this rogue came to her family’s boma, and while it didn’t destroy the thorn wall around all the houses, it did rub against and damage the big tree near the entrance. That’s definitely close enough! Now, children are afraid to go out with the cattle and goats, and women and girls are worried about going to get water. Game conservation officials say they will drive the herd away and even kill the rogue if they have to, but up to now the elephants have continued their invasion.

Last year before we left to return home, I had told Elizabeth about how candy goes on 50% or more sale after Christmas, Easter, and Halloween. She wished she could get some for her shop. So, this year, I stuffed my one suitcase with about 10 pounds or so of post-holiday candy for her. We hadn’t spoken of this after our initial conversation last March, so today when I carried it all out for her, she was very surprised and immediately began calculating how much she could sell the different candies for. I had made sure that each individual candy in each bag was wrapped separately so resale would be easy. We had to explain M&Ms and bubble gum Easter eggs to her, but she understood the taffy immediately. There was a lot of laughter and happy exclamations before she and Ngaisi had to leave to catch a bus for their homes. We’ll likely see them again in February when Ngaisi is to return for another pre-natal exam.

What are M&Ms?

Thinking of how the candy will sell in her shop.

Until next time, perhaps in February.

Once Elizabeth and Ngaisi left, life collapsed back to normal. I cleaned up, while John went on a walk to get matches and dish detergent. Then, we unsuccessfully tried to take naps, giving up just before it was time to make dinner. Fortunately, we had a lot of leftover eggplant stew we heated up and a delicious avocado we sliced. We also reheated two of the kitumbura we had left and had them for dessert. Yummy!

Kitamu

Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Since it was still January 8 in Spokane when we awoke, I called Pat MacDonald on my global roaming iPhone to wish her a happy 95th birthday. She had just returned home from a Whitworth basketball game and was in very good spirits even though Whitworth had lost by one point. Speaking with Pat as though I were making a regular local call was a real treat. I get mixed up with the time difference, but I had magically hit just the right time for this call, a little earlier and no one would have answered, a little later and Pat would have been in bed. I am turning into a very old person since I can remember when our only mode of contact with home from the Congo was through those thin blue aerogram letters, which might or might not make it to their destination and took at least three weeks going and another three weeks for a reply to arrive. It was a relief not to have to worry too much about any bad news as most such events were well in the past by the time we got the news.

Last evening, Mary Lou had asked, “What adventure are we going on tomorrow?” We’re not used to thinking about our life here in those terms anymore. The one easy “adventure I could think of was going to Kitamu Coffee for lunch. Kitamu was a little cafe I discovered last year and loved immediately. It’s part of a women’s coffee coop, and its menu and prices are more geared to Tanzanian customers than wazungu. Last year, I introduced my friend Terry Morton to Kitamu, and since then she has struck an agreement with the proprietor there to display and sell the handicrafts made by the albino women’s coop that Terry works with. Another example of how networks grow here.

So, we stayed in the compound until about 11:30, when Ray came to pick us up. John had decided to go with us, too, so off we all went. Kitamu was much as it was last year, except for the colorful craft items hanging on the walls and the very elevated prices. The economy here is very stretched and I’ve been shocked at how much higher food costs are now than they were even last year. An entree which may have cost 6000TZsch. last year is now 9000 to 12,000, and while that is still in the range of $2.61 and $3.91, it’s a significant hike for Tanzanians. Still the people eating lunch or hooked up to the free wifi were a mixed group of residents and wazungu.

John and I ordered Kitamu’s signature stews, mine chicken and his beef, and while I had rice, he had ugali, which I don’t like as much as he does. For me the two best parts of the meal were the cooked greens and the avocado slices. I love African greens, and the avocados are delicious here.  Mary Lou went for baked fish and had a fine time fighting its bones. I almost never order fish here as it can be extremely messy to eat and depending on the type of fish, the actual reward for working hard can be quite small. I don’t think Mary Lou was very happy with her choice, and she remarked on how little flavor the sauce had, which surprised both John and me. Excellent flavor is one thing we can almost always count on in African cooking. Maybe she thought it would be spiced more like Mexican food is. 

Yummy stew for me and fish for Mary Lou

Some of the crafts for sale. I liked the phone purses.

Mama Kundayo in Green

John’s ugali took extra time, so Mary Lou and I had to wait while he ate. I could observe what the Tanzanian gentleman seated close to me was eating: 2 mandazi and a very small bowl of stewed beans. At first the waitress had brought him 3 mandazi, but he sent one back. Given his age—50s—and demeanor—businessman—I had to wonder if the higher costs were affecting how he ate out now. Certainly an African man would not be on a diet!

Once John was finished with his meal, we three set out to walk to AfriCafe, a very wazungu cafe with lots of pastries and a huge variety of coffee preps. It also sells excellent bread, which is what I wanted most. While John continued to walk back to Kundayo, Mary Lou and I decided to sit awhile in AfriCafe to enjoy their AC and do some people watching.  Mary Lou ordered a “frostie” a coffee drink with ice cream in it, and I got one scoop of vanilla ice cream and a terrible Coke Zero, which I could barely choke down.  My bill was 8000 TZsh. ($3.50) and Mary Lou’s was 9000 TZsh. ($3.91), so she left the tip when we left. After we had spent a while watching the various street vendors, mamas in colorful clothing, and pale wazungu passing by, we left the cafe and crossed the street to the crowded little bookstore I usually visit several times while we are in Arusha. It seems to be a major purveyor of textbooks and school supplies, and since the new term began this week, the place was really crowded. While Mary Lou looked for a Swahili phrase book, I searched through a pile of little children’s story book and found two I wanted to buy for Peri. Mary Lou’s credit card wouldn’t go through, so she ended up joining me in the cash line. We were served immediately, which made me worry that we were getting special treatment, but maybe it was just because we had cash in hand and were not charging things to any school account.

Once done in the bookshop, I called Ray to come and fetch us. It took him about ten minutes to get to us, and during that time we had to interact with several persistent street vendors. One wanted to sell us a amp of Arusha which Mary Lou had already bought for an exorbitant price, and the other tried to sell us jewelry and small paintings, neither of which I have any use for. This man knew a fair amount of English and seemed to enjoy chatting with us. He said his name was Tarzan, which I found surprising since he was an older more dignified man than many street vendors are. Just before Ray arrived, and Azam bicycle cart appear. I love Azam ice cream, especially the carmelo bars, but I had already had my ice cream. These carts are ubiquitous in Dar es Salaam, but rare here, so it may be a while before I have another chance to get a carmelo bar.

Once back at Kundayo, we had a bit of time to rest and enjoy the cool down that came with a sudden rain shower.  Then, John told me that Mama Kundayo was out in her usual late afternoon spot. I know that when she sits there, she is hoping I will come over for a visit, so I went out even though it was still slightly raining. (We soon moved to the covered terrace.) Mama was dressed in all green—mean really green green. Of course, I took her photo for my collection of her and her outfits.  We talked, with Beatrice translating a lot, about food and cooking. Mama reaffirmed that she likes goat meat the best, while I was more prone to liking chicken. Then, Mama got on her usual soapbox about how lazy Masai men are, and how wonderful John is. I admit that Masai men are very sexist and often lie around while the women do the daily chores, childcare, and cooking. Mama’s particular target though is her husband, whom we rarely if ever see since he leaves for his hardware store by a back door and never comes through the compound. I think they are at an impasse as to which one should leave the house, so they are both still there fuming at each other.

There are several pomegranate trees in the garden and I noticed a fruit which had split open. So, Beatrice picked it and then several more and Mama had her make juice for us. It wasn’t pure pomegranate juice, but rather a mixture of mango, watermelon and pomegranate. While it was pleasant, it wasn’t as special as I was hoping it would be. John had come just in time to enjoy some juice, and then we left to return to our apartment, where John made us a nice cheese omelet for our dinner.

The rain had brought cooler temperatures, so it was an excellent night for sleeping. I know, however, that very soon we will be getting more mosquitoes and I will be in big torment then.

Daily Life

Tuesday, January 8, 2018

Kate Sowers, who had been a student in Tanzania with us in 2012, stopped by for a visit this morning. She had come to participate in the confirmation ceremonies for one of her host family’s sons last month. Two friends had come with her, and they spent several weeks an exploring Arusha, taking a safari to several game parks, and visiting Zanzibar. Kate was staying on for a bit more time with her host family and happened to be here just long enough to cross paths with us for one day. It was very special to see her again in the very place where we first became acquainted seven years ago. Africa builds strong long-term connections for many who come to learn and work.

After Kate’s visit and lunch, John and Mary Lou set out again on a long walk to explore the neighborhood and buy some more vegetables, carrots, cucumbers, and potatoes this time. While they were out, I did my first two loads of bucket-plunger laundry. The same red plastic bucket—5 gallon?—and our faithful plunger were still in our bathroom this year. So, with a lot of water, a little laundry detergent, and some physical exertion, I washed and rinsed all our dirty underwear. As always, I hung the newly washed clothes on vinyl covered hangers on the frame of our mosquito netting frame and tuned on our floor fan to help them dry more quickly. It’s a tedious process—especially because I have to wring every thing between the wash and three rinses—but it works, and I always feel so proud of myself. Next, I will attack our socks. I’ve softened enough that I now send all our shirts and slacks to Kundayo’s laundry instead of doing them myself as I used to.

John and Mary Lou returned hot and tired, but the walk seems to have been a success. John hopes that giving Mary Lou some orientation both downtown and in our neighborhood will enable her to go out on her own soon. However, we’ve only been here for four days, and comparing that short time with our 50 years in and out of Africa, seven of which have been our annual times in Tanzania, helps us to recognize that what seems so common and familiar to us may not be all that comfortable for her.  We come here to spend relaxed time in a special place with good friends, not to go on safari or explore new places. I just hope that the routine of our daily life does not become too boring for her.

[ For Mary Lou’s account of this and other walks, go to her blog at
https://adventuringwithmarylou.blogspot.com ]

For dinner, I made the eggplant stew I first learned to cook during my second year in the Congo long ago. It was based on what we could get from local gardens: eggplants, onions, green peppers, and tomatoes. That’s pretty much it, with simple seasonings. Stews and rice, or ugali, are ubiquitous in Africa, but I think this eggplant stew is a wazungu invention. It’s delicious, however. Our meal ended with John’s usual fruit salad, made with mangoes, pineapple, and bananas. This time the pineapple was particularly delicious.

Back to School

Monday, January 7, 2019

Memories of Monday are fairly hazy by now. (It’s Wednesday as I write this.) I’m surprised by how fatigued my mind and body feel even after a night’s sleep. Perhaps being older affects me more than I have accepted. Were I here on my own, I would slump into a quiet semi-comatose  zone and rarely move or speak. But, John and Mary Lou keep active, and there are people I need to meet and greet.

So, on Monday morning, I stayed behind at Kundayo, setting up things in our apartment, while John and Mary Lou went into town with Ray to get some currency, new cards for our local phones, and basic food items. I was struck by the many electronic devices we have, each with its separate cord. I have 3 cell phones: 1 from home, 1 iPhone with global roaming so I can call home, and 1 to use here in Tanzania. The first phone and cord, I packed away for our return to Spokane in March. The other 2 I plugged in to charge. Added to the phones are my Kindle, MacBook, iPad, and camera. Each needs to be kept charged, so there are cords snaking everywhere there is and electrical outlet. We need to buy another strip with surge protection, as the electricity goes on and off unpredictably,

In addition to getting our phones set up, John and ML also bought time on Smile, a 4G internet service, which is far more reliable than the free service here at Kundayo. In order to get the best connection here, we must sit in the garden terrace. There is absolutely no connection possible inside our apartment unless we are sitting in the open front door. However, with Smile we can easily connect even in the back area of our tiny apartment. What a luxury!

Emmanuel, one of the two concierges who work here, came to set up our TV. I am still amazed and amused that we are in Africa with electricity, running water, telephones, a microwave, and cable TV. I tried to describe for Immanuel how life was for us 50 years ago when we were first in Africa, and he looked at me as I must have looked at my parents when they described the Depression and WWII. I’m not complaining about the relative ease of life here today, but I miss some of the challenge and sense of accomplishment I used to have when life was more basic and just getting food to cook was a wonderful accomplishment. Worse yet, I resent the rapidity of modern communication and how easily I can become embroiled in keeping up with events back in the U.S. I mean, we can get MSNBC here!

Once the shoppers returned, we had bread, and that plus the packets of sliced cheese I  brought from home in my suitcases meant grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. Really, I bought sliced cheese on sale at home and wrapped and packed it all in my checked through luggage, where it remained cool until we landed here. That’s how crazy my life has gotten: I bring cheese with me to Tanzania. Oh, and I also packed peanut butter, ketchup, and mustard because while one can find these items in the wazungu stores, they are insanely expensive—as they should be. Who knows? Maybe next year I’ll stoop to packing along some chocolate chips.

Later in the afternoon, Ray’s wife, Honorina, and the two oldest children, Priskilla and Good Luck, came to greet us before they were to leave for the new terms at their boarding schools. This is always the time when I give them small gifts, and this year Good Luck got a Kindle Fire because he was confirmed in November and deserved a larger gift this year. He also got the usual school supplies and candy. I was very surprised when an hour or so later Good Luck returned with little Anitha, who had already begun school and wasn’t at home yet when the others had come. I knew she hadn’t been able to wait until the next day to get her gifts, one of which was a big jar of Nutella, which she loves. Seeing the children each year is one of my happiest times here.
 

With Priskilla, Good Luck and Honorina

Anitha and I

I had greeted Mama Kundayo earlier in the day when she emerged from the family compound to speak with a Danish couple who were here, too. There was a bout of two-cheek kissing, hugging, and back patting. Since I am a notorious non-hugger at home, it amuses me that I become so tactile here. There is really no escape, however, and it seems more genuine here than the automatic social hugs at home. Later in the day, Mama went to sit under her usual tree, and that was a signal for me to get my computer and join her so we could look at some photos and catch up on family news.

We had some absolutely gorgeous fresh green beans for dinner. John bought them plus a beautiful pineapple, 3 Tanga mangoes, and sweet bananas at the produce market up the road from us. So, we had fruit salad for dessert.

Coming Home

Saturday, January 5, 2019

Our first two flights, the one from Spokane and the one from Seattle, both left very late, but we still made it to Amsterdam in time to connect with our flight to Arusha. The only benefit from being a disabled one is that wheelchair transfers always get first rate treatment and usually are taken to the front of every line. That was incredibly true when we finally arrived at Kilimanjaro Airport last night, and for the first time ever in our trips here, I was met by a wheelchair and assistant. While the hundreds of other passengers were sweating in long lines waiting for their visas and immigration checks, the young woman pushing me went right to the front of the line for visas, came back with them in minutes, did the same at the immigration check, helped load all of our luggage on a cart, and had us all out of the airport in record time. Mary Lou was included in our "family," too, so she didn't get the usual sweat lodge experience in the lines. I made sure to tip my chair pusher extra generously.

As always, Ray was there to meet us and there were hugs and back pats all around. Mary Lou even got included in all of that, too. Traffic was minimal, and by 10:00 p.m. we were being greeted, hugged, and back patted by Maso and the staff here at Kundayo. This was by far the earliest time we have even made it home. Our luggage was swiftly carried to our usual apartment, and then, surprise, Mary Lou was upgraded free to the apartment right next door to us instead of the little studio back somewhere else in the compound. We'll see how this goes.

Of course, I had to unpack just a wee bit before taking a shower and climbing into bed. The shower routine had to be reviewed so that I could recall which switch I needed to flip first, second, and third. I  still didn't get any hot water, but at least I felt cleaner in the end. I hadn't slept for even a nap on the entire trip to Arusha, but once snug in bed under the mosquito netting, I fell asleep quickly. Unlike last year, when we slept for almost 20 straight hours, we awoke this morning between 7:30 and 9:00 a.m.--John first and then me. We woke up Mary Lou, and by 10:00 we were on the garden terrace enjoying our free complimentary welcome breakfast: coffee or tea, topical fruit, fresh fruit juice, omelet or scrambled eggs, sausage (modified hot dog), toast, and yogurt.  It felt so luxurious to be served and eat in the garden area.

Since breakfast, the main activity has been doing whatever we can to stay awake. John and Mary Lou went into town to do banking and some small shopping, while I stayed behind to unpack and put things away. That was a time of revelation. John had not packed the pair of slacks for me he had promised to put in his suitcase nor our flashlight. The latter is far more important than the former, of course, but I can't say I'm thrilled at the prospect of wearing only light brown pants every day.  Worse yet, rats chewed into the big box we leave here each time we return to Spokane, and they chewed up my three skirts and two hats as well as some electrical wires and John's umbrella. They even tried to eat my powdered detergent! The funniest thing was that the rats gnawed on John's Bible--or as Maso put it, "They ate the Word of God." [I forgot to take photos!]

Mama Kundayo surprised me by coming over to welcome us back, so there was more hugging and back patting. We had a short visit, hitting all the necessary polite topics of our health, children, and being happy to be together again.  Mary Lou must have been napping and missed the whole event, but there are sure to be many future late afternoon conversations she can join.

While all three of us were on our little terrace having afternoon snacks, Maso came by and stopped to talk. That resulted in more than a half an hour of discussing the current political situation in Tanzania (not good) and comparing it to what's going on in the USA with Trump (also not good). However, while we may have voter suppression and missing ballots, here the ballot tallies are simply changed to assure that the ruling class wins again even when that is not what the actual votes indicate. So, discontent is rising, and people such as Maso worry about younger people and the unemployed eventually becoming violent. That, too, sounds familiar to me.

For our dinner, John and Mary Lou walked to the kuku and chipsie place to get grilled chicken and chips. I stayed behind and set the table. After dinner we tried to stay awake until 9:00, and we did it though I don't remember how.

P.S. John and I have been coming to and living in various places in Africa for over 50 years now and no longer observe life here as so very "different." This year, my friend Mary Lou has come to Arusha with us. She has never been to Africa before and thus observes things I no longer notice. If you want to see the same experiences John and I have through fresh eyes, go to Mary Lou's blog: https://adventuringwithmarylou.blogspot.com/   It's much more interesting than mine this year!

Re-Entry

Sunday, January 6, 2019

Yesterday, we managed to stay awake until 9:00 p.m. and today we didn’t fully wake up until around 7 a.m. Of course, I am not counting all the times I awoke between yesterday and today and the many trips I made to the bathroom because I had nothing better to do. Maybe tonight will be more normal with only three awakenings. It’s still a struggle to stay semi-alert and fully functional during the daylight hours here. All we have to do to know what time it is in Spokane is to flip AM and PM and add one hour from the hour here. So, when it’s 4:00 p.m. in Arusha it’s 5:00 a.m. in Spokane. We are literally trying to stay awake when our bodies expect to sleep.

Today being Sunday—and Epiphany no less—we went to church. John had told Ray to pick us up at 9:30 because he forgot that church didn’t begin until 10:30. Consequently, we were the first to arrive at ACC and got to witness all the set up for communion and the music practice. Mary Lou, who normally does not attend church, came with us, as she did not want to miss out on any culturally interesting action. I told her to think of it all as a social anthropological experience, which is actually how I have come to accept some of it. She loved the incredible offering baskets as I always have.

While in general it was wonderful to be back and see old friends again, I was unsettled by the changes which have occurred in the past year. The current government is making it harder and harder for non-nationals to maintain or acquire work permits, and many of the Europeans and non-Tanzanian Africans who were here in past years have had to leave or have moved on to other African countries. There were many faces from last January missing from the congregation this morning, and my beloved women’s group has been decimated. Fortunately, my Tanzanian “homies”—Margaret, Mary, Grace, and Miriam—are still here, and we had some joyous hugging and back patting after the service.

Sharon Mkisi, the MCC director for Tanzania was at church, and afterwards asked us if we’d be interested in going to lunch with her. Of course, we were! We have no car, so getting a ride to any restaurant, and better yet spending time with Sharon, was a wonderful idea to us. And, as often last year, we went to George’s, an upscale establishment popular with wazungu. It has wonderful outdoor garden seating and is the one place in Arusha where ordering a salad is a good idea. I’ve posted many photos in the past of George’s gigantic salads, and they have not changed. John, Mary Lou, and I ordered salads, while Sharon had a pizza. We all had plenty to eat and still left with more than enough food for our lunches tomorrow.

The president of Tanzania has been compared to Trump. However, here there is far more fear and uncertainty, as people lose jobs or even “disappear’ if they criticize the current administration. Nothing political can be publicly discussed, and telephone calls must be self-censored. Even in private, unless one knows all present very, very well, one must guard what is said, as there may be spies. I have never known Tanzania in such a state of submerged tension and anxiety before. Always before it seemed like such a haven from the dictatorial ills of other nations. Now, I am not certain what its future may be. Such a change in the social climate is distressing.

Somehow we managed to stay up until nearly 10:00 p.m. Mainly it was the frustration of not being able to connect to the internet which kept me up. The access was painfully slow—just enough connectivity to keep me trying, but not enough to see Facebook posts easily or respond quickly to email messages. Playing any video messages was ultra frustrating, but we finally saw the first 6 seconds of a video of Peri saying “Grandpa.” John was thrilled; I never found out for sure if she also said “Grandma” before the video stopped. I assume she must have. If not, she’d better do so soon!

Flying Back

Arusha to Spokane, March 20 - 21, 2018, Tuesday -Wednesday

It rained all night. As soon as I woke up, I texted Elizabeth, and later she called to say she was still in Arusha, but planned to return to Nmanga as soon as possible. She thought she might get to Kundayo before we left, but Ray arrived early and we left before 10:00. I left some money in an envelope with Mazo, who promised to give it to Elizabeth if she showed up. While we were on our way to the airport, Elizabeth called and we got to say good-bye once again. What a torturous journey she had just to give me her special gift.

All the way to the airport, I tried to soak in everything I saw along the way. It was a very gray, wet morning, but the colors of the foliage, flowers, kitenge clad women, street vendors, small dukas and bars, and even the pikki-pikki drivers brightened the landscape. This stretch of road is very familiar now. Going from the airport to Arusha, I note the landmarks and think about how close we are getting to Kundayo; on the reverse trip, I see the same scenes and think about how long it will be until I see them again.

Saying good-bye to Ray for another nine months is always hard. He and his family have become very important to us. I heard him tell an Italian guest at Kundayo that we treat him just like a son, and we are his children’s Bibi. And, he told us that when he labels Goodluck’s school clothes, he writes “Goodluck Mtui Yoder.” That really made me laugh.

Checking in and flying to Dar es Salaam wasn’t difficult, and even though I hate the airport in Dar, I managed our 3-hour lay-over there okay. We had lunch at some western style fast food place, and the food was just as crappy and over-priced as we should have expected it to be. Then, finally we boarded our Emirates’ flight to Dubai, where we landed at 11:00 p.m. (I watched the movie “Darkest Hour” and didn’t think it was all that great.) Then, we had to navigate through the largest airport I have ever seen and catch a shuttle bus to our hotel. Because I had wheelchair assistance, there was no problem getting to and through all the check points. It was just after midnight, when we checked in to the hotel, which was much nicer than the one we had stayed in on our trip to Tanzania. I decided to go straight to bed, as our wake-up call would come at 4:00 a.m. John decided to go to the hotel’s restaurant because they were serving our complimentary dinner until 12:30 a.m. I was barely awake when he came back to the room, and I have no memory at all of him getting ready for bed, etc.

The wake-up call came cruelly soon, and we were quickly up, dressed, and ready to board the shuttle back to the airport. We were actually there much earlier than we needed to be, but the hotel and shuttle service must have a set schedule for who goes when. Because I need wheelchair assistance, navigating the necessary security stops and getting to our correct gate was all done for us, but John had to hustle to keep up with our carry-on luggage. Soon we were back on another Emirates flight; this one would last for 14 hours.

There is little good I can say about such a long flight, especially when one is seated right behind a whole row of mothers with screaming babies. I felt sorry for the mothers, but also for myself since sleep was impossible. Anyway, here are some good things I can list: the food was much better flying out of Dubai to Seattle than it was flying out of Seattle into Dubai; the bathrooms were close by and there was never a line; we got lots of water and juice between meals; and I got to watch the entire season 8 of “The Middle.” (Maybe that last item doesn’t quite deserve being on the “good” list.) I tried to get up and walk about every so often, but by mid-flight my legs were aching, and my wicked ankle was throbbing. There ought to be an international law prohibiting flights of more than 9 hours unless the airplane has an onboard gym and walking path. I did not even get a small nap during the entire flight.

We landed on time in Seattle, and then had the bizarre, ridiculous, and absolutely unbelievable experience of being in a stampede of Indians pushing to get to the wheelchairs. I have never, ever in my life seen so many wheelchairs lined up in a boarding ramp, and later I viewed many more down an adjoining hallway. John agrees that there may have been 50 or 60 or even more of them all with attendants. Fortunately, we had been seated in the economy section closest to the exit door, so I was in front of most of the stampede. The person in charge of the wheelchairs kept trying to stop people from just climbing into them as fast as they could, but traffic control was impossible. My attendant quickly pulled me to the side and race up the ramp with me. Then, he called out that I was a “transfer” and maneuvered to the front of the increasing line behind me. Still, because the way down to the passport check has only one single-passenger elevator, it took a while for me to get down to where John was waiting for me to go through the passport/customs security check. I almost fell apart laughing when I thought how long it would be until all of those many wheelchairs got down that one elevator. They were probably still in line when our flight left for Spokane.

The young man who pushed my chair was amazingly quick and efficient, so we got our baggage collected and rechecked on to Spokane in relatively short time. This was in spite of the Emirates practice of piling part of the baggage on the floor instead of allowing it all to come down the rotating claim belt. Still, John and my pusher managed to gather our three suitcases very efficiently, and we were soon off through the baggage recheck and another security check. Then on to the gate, where we had a 3 hour wait. I had a small fit about that, but John had feared we wouldn’t make the earlier flight to Spokane. So, we got salads from Burger King and recharged our computers.

The 38-minute flight to Spokane seemed almost silly it was so short. We landed; Kate picked us up; and we were back in our house by 5:00 p.m. I was exhausted and went straight to bed as quickly as possible. John, however, stayed up for a while and began some unpacking. After sleeping for 16 hours, we were up and doing our best to stay awake all day Wednesday here. I did loads of laundry; John sorted through all the mail that had accumulated; and somehow we did not nap at all. Now it’s almost 7:00 p.m. and we think we will watch the Gonzaga vs. Florida State game. I hope I find out the final score before tomorrow morning.