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."

Sandals & Mama

Monday, March 11, 2019

Now that our time in Arusha is running out, we’ve made a list of things we want to to before returning to Spokane. The item scheduled for today was going to a small open air sandal workshop nearby. It’s close enough that I could have walked, but I asked Ray to take Mary Lou and me there because the ground between the shops is very uneven, and I wanted someone other than wazungu in our little group.

The workshop was similar to what it had been two years ago when I first found it. However, because of recent rains, the men who cut the soles and assemble the sandals have moved across the road into a very small little shed. It is small and dark, but it does have a roof. The women who do the intricate beaded decorations remain in the same dark room they were in two years ago, working at the same tables. It’s amazing that such beautiful work is produced in such poor conditions.

The men's workshop

Women do the beading with three sizes of beads.

Some finished sandal decorations

A young man named Noel, who spoke English well, acted as the front salesperson. He brought out a large panel with sample decorations on it so we could see our choices for the sandals we wanted made. It took us a while to make decisions about sizes and beaded patterns. The men have patterns for soles, so if we knew a shoe size they would pick out the pattern to show us. My problem was trying to figure out what to buy for Peri. I made a guess on length and then insisted that the width be increased a bit. Maybe they will fit—or maybe not; then they can be wall art. Finally Noel wrote all our orders in his notebook. We made a down payment, and agreed to return on Thursday to pick up our finished sandals. Our agreed on price per pair was 11,000 TSch, or slightly less than $5.

MaryLou trying on a pair of sandals

Our next big event for the day was a visit to Mama Kundayo. She has been suffering with kidney stones for over a week, so we have missed seeing her in the courtyard in the afternoon or evening. The Kundayo family lives in a separate walled off part of the compound, and though I have been inside the wall because the laundry is done back there, I had never ever been inside the big family home. Mary Lou and I followed Sydney into the kitchen and then into the hall to Mama’s room. I loved the very large well-appointed kitchen with its big 6-burner gas stove. Mama obviously likes to cook. There was also space for a table which will sit at least 6 and maybe even 8 very comfortably.

Mama’s room was smaller than I had expected. However, it was large enough for a massive armoire with a vanity table and mirror in its center, plus a double bed, a chairs and stool for guests, a couple fans, and lots of family photos posted all over. Sydney left and Beatrice came to be our interpreter. It was lovely to see Mama smile again, and she sat up for about 20 - 30 minutes while we all caught up on each others news. When Mama seemed to tire, we said good-bye and left. We hope she will be well enough to come outside again very soon.

Very soon after MaryLou and I had returned to our apartments, Emanuel came with 4 very chilled bottles of beer Mama had ordered for us. Why 4?  We don’t have any idea, but we had Emanuel open a bottle for each of us and enjoyed the rest of the late afternoon.

Surprise Sunday

Sunday, March 10, 2019

We were looking forward to a very ordinary Sunday, with church in the morning and lunch at a nice restaurant. Church seemed fairly normal, the usual singing, prayers, and announcements. The sermon was given by a young African-American Lutheran minister, who is based in South Africa working on a program to bring young adults from America to live and learn during a year in an African environment. Parts of his sermon sounded good to me, but at the end, I wasn’t at all sure what he had said. Still the flowers were lovely, and I was eager to see my homies and others.

Sunday's flowers

Some of my homies in an after service gathering.

 So, I was totally taken aback when Mrs. Olson—who I later found out is really Mrs. Oredsson— came up to me and said how wonderful it was that I was coming to her house for the afternoon. The dinner was all prepared and the women were excited to meet me. Indeed we had spoken about me visiting her on a Sunday, but the date was to be March 17, not the 10th. I even had the notebook in which she had written her name, phone number, and date, March 17. Poor Mrs. Oredsson. She was stricken! She had mixed up her dates and had something big planned that I absolutely had to attend. So, I found John, told him what had happened, and when he said of course I needed to go, I went back to Mrs. Oredsson and said I was ready. I asked MaryLou if she also wanted to come, but since she wasn’t sure what was going to happen and thought it was perhaps a women’s prayer group, she declined the invitation.

So, I left John and MaryLou, who were going to go to a Chinese restaurant with Sharon and Terry, and followed Mrs. Oredsson—call her Penina—to a big Land Roverish vehicle, and sat in front with the driver, while Penina, her 10-year-old daughter, and a young Masai woman named Monica sat in the back seats. A Swedish young man named Philip, who is motorbiking around Africa, followed us on his motorcycle. First, we went straight to Shoppers, where I was horrified to see a new Pizza Hut being built. This is the first American franchise I have ever seen in Arusha. Penina and the others went in to the store to buy bottled water.

American franchise pollution

From Shoppers, we drove clear across town and out to the highway which goes right past Kundayo, out to the airport and on to Usa River. Somewhere along the way, we stopped so Philip could store his bike at a pentecostal church and continue on in the vehicle with us. Philip was worried about being stopped by police when he had lost both his driver’s license and his license plate. Once the motorcycle was safely stored, we all continued on to Usa River and beyond. When we turned off the highway, I really started wondering what was ahead. The countryside was very barren with no planted fields or gardens. Only a few goats and donkeys were out.

A very barren landscape

Then, in the middle of this wasteland a compound with the usual elaborate gate appeared, and we were at our destination. As the vehicle pulled through the gate, there was loud ululation and whistle blowing from a group of women who had already gathered to greet us.  We were ushered into a typical upperclass African house with enormous overstuffed furniture in the living room area. There were several young kittens lounging on the sofas, and one in particular caught my eye. I would have loved to have taken it back to Kundayo with me.

Me with Penina and Monica

I really wanted to take this kitty back to Kundayo with me.

 After a few minutes, we were called outside and the Meru women began to sing and dance for me. Almost all wore shukas, and some fastened noise makers to their legs, or wore Masai necklaces. The most surprising accessories were two Colobus monkey hair headpieces. There were also several beaded rods which were passed around between dances. Although there was one primary lead singer, at times other women also would lead some songs. It was interesting to me how much they were enjoying themselves. They smiled a lot, which isn’t what I usually see Masai/Meru women do.

First dancing

Before long, Penina called me and the two young people to a nicely set table on her front terrace and served us a very generous meal of rice, stewed chicken, beef stew, and mixed steamed vegetables, with mixed fruit for dessert. The big surprise for me was a small dish of guacamole beside my plate. Penina said she knew Americans liked it. I was touched.

Check out the kitten in the right bottom corner.

Philip, Monica, and Penina

After we ate, we were taken to where the women were meeting under a tent top. By this point there were perhaps 30 to 40 women there. I was seated on a sofa, and the women began to sing and dance again. At first almost all the dancers were older adult women, but gradually, some younger women also joined in. After perhaps 30 minutes, Penina called a halt to the dancing. She lead Philip, Monica, and me up to her “hide-away” where there was coffee, tea, and cookies for us to enjoy, while the women had a meeting.

More dancing under the tent

Perhaps the oldest woman present

This dancer, who is quite elderly, sat by me for much of the dancing.

I already knew that these women were a group of widows who were meeting to form some sort of support structure or cooperative to help themselves economically. Often widows here have few if any rights, and as they age, they become isolated and very needy. Some don’t even have a secure food supply. So, since the first of this year, Penina has been helping these women to meet together on Sunday afternoons, for singing and dancing, and enjoying a meal together. They were all served the same meal that I had enjoyed earlier—without the guacamole though.  Then, they had a kind of brainstorming meeting to discuss what they could do together. Currently, they are considering raising money to buy a tent like the one they were under for their meeting and then renting it out for parties and family festivities. The initial investment seems high to me (nearly $2000) but the income would be good and steady.

Having a meeting under the tent

Penina's upper room

Up in the loft

Those of us up in the hide-away suddenly noticed it was almost 5:00, and we would need to start back to Arusha if we were to make it before dark. So, we walked down the 12 steps (symbolic?), and found that the women were having a closing prayer. Penina called for the vehicle; we posed for a group photo; and within a few minutes we were bouncing out to the highway and back toward Arusha. Once again, we had to stop at the pentecostal church so Philip could retrieve his motorcycle, but this was quickly done. The traffic seemed much lighter, too, so just after 6:00, we pulled into Kundayo. I thanked Penina for her very gracious hospitality and rushed into our apartment to prepare for our usual Sunday video chat with Peri.

The final group photo

Crystal wasn’t ready for our call because she hadn’t realized that Daylight Savings Time had arrived during her night. So, we waited a bit longer while she corralled Peri and got her seated in front of the computer. Peri seemed far more interested in eating her cheese toast and drinking apple juice than she did in talking to us, but we always love seeing her no matter what she does. This time, she was the one who told us good-bye, and that was that. In only two weeks, we see her and give her real hugs.

Lazy Saturday

Saturday, March 9, 2019

We had a very relaxing Saturday morning. Although I felt much better, I was still very cautious about what I ate. Elizabeth had given us a list of items that Ngaisi will need to take with her to the hospital when her baby comes, so I thought it would be fun to go out to the Njiro Shopping Complex and see what we could find at the Village Supermarket there. It didn’t seem to be a good idea to go for lunch, but if we went about 3:00 p.m. we could have ice cream and just hang out.

Right at 3:00, it began to pour rain. We waited until the downpour died down a little, and then had Ray drive us to Njiro. As we were entering the complex, we met Sharon Mkisi, who had been at the supermarket. She accepted our invitation to join us for ice cream, and we all sat down together. The instant a customer sits in this food court, the waitpeople from all the restaurants rush out and pile their menus on the table. It’s insane! Sometimes we inadvertently end up ordering from several menus, which results in multiple bills when we finish a meal.

MaryLou, John and me, and Sharon Mkisi sorting through menus.

Sharon, MaryLou, and I ordered iced coffee with scoops of ice cream in them. MaryLou chose chocolate ice cream.  Somehow in all the flurry of menus, John ended up with both an iced coffee—He doesn’t even drink coffee—and a dish with two scoops of chocolate chip ice cream. After John ate the scoop of ice cream in the coffee, I claimed the beverage. While we were enjoying ourselves, the rain picked up and became an absolute deluge. We stuck it out at the table—under a huge umbrella covering, of course—until we could make a dash for the covered walkway in front of the shops.

Sharon left for home, and MaryLou and I walked around the second story, checking out the shops up there. The big “anchor” store is Woolworth’s —not the old American dime store, but a British clothing store with very nice merchandise for extremely high prices. We were looking for some underwear for Ngaisi but certainly were not going to pay $14 for 4 pairs of underpants. We finally went to the supermarket, where we found baby oil and some other items. I splurged and got another bottle of Dodoma red wine and two incredible croissants. We also bought a get well card for Mama, who has been sick with kidney stones, and then we stopped by the flower vendor and bought a lovely big mixed bouquet for Mama, too. I love the easy availability of flowers here.

John and MaryLou decided that they wanted to go to ACC for a free concert by a visiting Finnish opera singer. That program was going to begin 6:00, so we found a taxi driver, who drove us to Kundayo, where I was dumped off, before he took John and MarLou on to the church. Upon his return after the concert, John said the singer had obviously once been quite good but now was older and suffering from flu. MaryLou thought the singer’s second aria was the best selection. Still, they enjoyed the program, just as I enjoyed a much quieter evening by myself.

An evening of opera.

Another Visit

Friday, March 8, 2019

It was hard to imagine that after the visit from Alfred’s family, there would be much excitement to follow. The morning was relatively quiet, and we took time to catch up on some of our emails and to download the many photos we had taken on Thursday. However, we had gotten a message from my Masai friend Elizabeth that she had finally been able to connect with her little sister, Ngaisi, and they were coming into Arusha for a final prenatal exam. They were scheduled to come next Thursday, but Elizabeth will be far out with no internet connection helping with trachoma clinics and education by then. Since almost no one else in the family the family speaks Swahili well enough to navigate in Arusha or at a hospital, Elizabeth wanted to make sure she was at this final check.

Soon after noon, Elizabeth sent me a text that they would be arriving at Kundayo in about an hour and a half, which I interpreted to be possibly 2:00 p.m. But, 2:00 came and passed, as did 3:00. John had gone to order the kuku na chipsie just after 1:30, so the food was waiting, too. Finally, just after 3:00, we sat down to eat, and just then Elizabeth and Ngaisi came around the corner. Elizabeth called out, “Happy International Women’s Day”! and after other warm greetings, we all rearranged ourselves and ate together. Both Elizabeth and Ngaisi preferred drumsticks. I ventured to eat a small piece of white meat, my first real food this week.

Enjoying kuku na chipies. (Ngaisi is not holding a sword. That is a blade of a snake plant intruding into the photo.)

While we were eating, Elizabeth gave a report about Ngaisi’s appointment. All is well, but the baby has already dropped and could be born much earlier than had been stated as its due date, April 9th. Mary Lou and I want only the best for Ngaisi, who lost her first pregnancy, but we would really be thrilled if this baby was born while we are still here. Elizabeth’s thoughts were focused on how Ngaisi would get from her remote manyatta to the hospital once she started labor. She also wanted to make sure that I knew all the possible contacts at the hospital and could get there if the birth occurred before we left. We even arranged to prepay a driver to bring Ngaisi to the hospital so no one could “eat” that money in advance. Mary Lou and I even have a list of the supplies the hospital says Ngaisi will need there. So, IF this baby is born in the next two weeks, we should be well prepared to swing into action and give it a very hearty welcome. After that, we can only hope for the best without Elizabeth to direct the family action.

One of Ngaisi's rare smiles.

This would be the last time we saw Elizabeth and maybe Ngaisi until next January, so parting was difficult. Elizabeth is very westernized and gives social hugs like a mzungu. Ngaisi, however, is very traditional and much shyer. After knowing me for 2 years, she gives me sort-of-barely-touching “hugs.” This time, however, she put her head on my shoulder and hugged me hard. I was very surprised. Then she kissed me three times on my cheek. I almost cried. She’s only 19 at the oldest and lives a life most of us can only imagine even if we’ve read about traditional Masai life. It seems clear that she looks to us as her supporters and protectors when it comes time to give birth. God, I hope we are still here!

Family Reunion

Monday - Thursday, March 4 -7, 2019


This was not a good week—at least not for the first half of it.  I started having serious stomach and intestinal problems Sunday evening. I would have blamed the Rivertrees buffet except I had had a premonition of something amiss before we ate there. So, by Monday morning, I was full out sick with a slight fever and diarrhea. Mary Lou and I had planned to have Ray take us to central market to shop for kitenge cloth. Instead, Mary Lou went on her own and I stayed in bed and slept through most of the day and through the night.

On Tuesday, I awoke without the fever but still dizzy and relying on proximity to the bathroom. Mary Lou and I had been scheduled to catch a ride with Margret Kenyi and go with her to visit Step-By-Step Learning Center, her remarkable school for mentally challenged children. (https://www.sslc-tz.com/)  Again, Mary Lou had to go alone, while I stayed down and restricted my diet to toast, tea, and bananas. Wednesday was much the same though I went outside to the garden terrace, and I added an egg and some rice to my diet. I also insisted on making eggplant stew for John and then had a horrid backslide into weakness and dizziness.Still, I managed to eat some delicious ramen noodles John made for me.

Then came Thursday, and I felt better but still had a sensitive stomach and kept a limited diet. The difficulty with not being fully well yet was that Alfred Mutua’s parents, aunt and uncle, and a cousin were coming to visit. They were taking a road trip from Kenya down to Arusha to see us. John knew Alfred’s parents well when he was in Kenya in 1998 and 2001, but I had never met them, so I really wanted to be as present as I could be.

However, our morning took a drastically horrid turn when I discovered rat droppings on the floor, and John discovered that a rat had been on a trap eating bait but had pulled loose from the “glue” that was supposed to bind it to the trap. Things were a mess and only got worse when I went into one of my suitcases and discovered the rat(s) had been in it and pooped all over my socks, and underwear, and chewed up the two soft cotton coulottes I wear under my skirts here.  We called for Emanuel, who called for others and a full-fledged rat hunt began. They took out our stove and other items in our apartment out into the courtyard to clean them. I emptied all the clothing in my big suitcase into a large plastic bag, which was immediately carried to the laundry. The suitcase was (also taken out to be throughly cleaned. Brave Emanuel cornered the rat in our tiny back TV room, and like a Masai warrior killing a lion, he whacked the rat to death with a broom handle.

I saw none of the action inside the apartment since I had escaped to the garden terrace as soon as I got the clothing off to the laundry.  John reported that there had been signs of rats living in the stove. Obviously our belief that we had vanquished the rat down the toilet last Friday wasn’t true or else there had been a pair of them. I began to wonder what state our place would be in when the Mutua family arrived, but soon after 11:30, everything had be purged, cleaned, and put back in place. We even had our, old broken-down armoire replaced by a much fancier one with shelves on one side and a full-length mirror on one of the doors.

The visitors had told us that they would arrive “in the morning sector.” However, noon came and passed, and they still had not arrived. John finally texted them to ask about their schedule, and they said they would be here shortly. Soon three large SUVs pulled into our courtyard, and people poured out and shook hands or hugged with greetings and introductions all around.  It was like having instant relatives! The two women, Alfred’s mother, Agnes, and Aunt Rachel were most interested in me. So while Alfred’s father and his Uncle Simon reminisced about past days with John, the women held my hands, remarked on my skin tone, and asked me my age. Here in Africa, very good friends of either gender often hold hands very casually, so I always feel very honored when an African takes my hand and holds it for any length of time. However, I had never had my skin tone examined before nor been so quickly asked my age. I told them my age, and then they asked me to guess theirs. That was a new one for me, too! Fortunately, I guessed quite low, so I think I passed the initial exam very well.

,

L to R: Mama Alfred, me, Baba, Aunt Rachel, Uncle Simon, and John

Aunt Rachel, me, Mama Alfred

Three wazee: Baba, John, and Uncle Simon

After some group photos, we all loaded back in the big SUVs and headed to Uzunguni City Park Restaurant for lunch. (https://uzungunicitypark.business.site/) This is an extremely popular entry located on the former estate of a well-to-do former colonial official, and the gardens are lush and green. One can eat either inside or out from a menu that is very extensive and modestly priced. The food is all prepared in cooking stalls lined up along the outer estate wall, and one can choose chicken, fish, and mutton dishes, all cooked by specialty chefs. There is no wazungu food in this place.

Uzunguni City Park

Grilling lots of chicken

Grilled Nile Perch platter

Steamed Nile Perch with vegetables

Uncle Simon and Aunt Rachel enjoying the feast.

Since I did not plan on eating anything, I wasn’t in on selecting what was ordered. There were two different whole fish platters, steamed and grilled, and a big order of grilled chicken, with accompanying chips or ugali and two dishes of mboga (vegetables). As always there were big bottles of water, all of them uncooled except the one for John and me. The waiter even brought us ice cubes.
There were knives and forks fo everyone, but someone said hands were cleaner, and everyone made sure their hands were well washed at the washstand beside our table. Then everyone—even John—ate all the fish and other food with fingers only. I contented myself with a bottle of Sprite and the spirited conversation about family and the events of recent years. At one point, Alfred’s father, who was sitting just across the table from me, told me that he is never happier than at big feasts with his family. I heartily agreed.

One of the best smiles in Africa.

Soon after lunch, we needed to return to Kundayo and say our goodbyes, so our visitors could head to Moshi for the night, before driving back into Kenya on Friday. Everyone put off parting, so we took some more photos, and Alfred’s parents said they might visit us in Spokane. Alfred’s Uncle Simon and Aunt Rachel have three children abroad: a daughter, who is a doctor in Toronto, and two other children who work in finance in Kansas. So, they have often been in Canada and the US to visit their grandchildren. Their last child, Paul, still lives at home with them, but he works in IT, which may mean he’ll also eventually move abroad. However, Alfred’s parents have not been to the US though they frequently go to Australia to see their grandchildren there. African parents want to give their children good educations, but then they often loose them when they find positions abroad. That is particularly difficult when grandchildren come.

Eventually, final hugs and good-byes were given, and the family left Kundayo for Moshi. I had enjoyed them all so much that it was difficult to see them leave so soon. In fact when I finally laid down to rest, it seemed as if the whole family visit had been a dream. But I have photos to prove it was real and memories of specific people that I will always cherish. John had told me that Alfred’s father was a character, and I found that to be true. He had a great smile, and he obviously enjoyed good times and great conversation. He and John used to go to Kenyatta Market in Nairobi to eat nyama choma (roasted meat) together. He once got a whole group of artisans to let John take photos of them and their work by telling them that John was from an important business magazine. His wife on the other hand, is a straight shooter and probably takes care of many of their affairs. I liked both of them very much and hoped they liked me just as much.

Baba and Mama having a side conversation/

By evening, I was very tired, but I did not feel worse for all the action. I had more ramen and bananas with yogurt before going to bed, and slept well through the night.