On Sunday it's common to visit friends in Dar. Although it's been hard for me to get to know Tanzanians (and easier to get to know Europeans), I've kept in touch with a few students from the Feminist Institute (see previous blog) who are also university students. When I invited them over for some coconut milk dal and Zanzibari spice cookies one day, they shared their proposals for a research project on teenage girls' access to reproductive health information with me, and I gave them some feedback. They were about to embark on interviews but had no tape recorder. So I had my friend from the states bring a tape recorder with him, and today went to Rose's house in Kimara Mwisho to give it to her and Sikijuu.
Last time we met they were horrified to know that I hadn't spent much time with a "real Tanzanian family." Mind you, P and I have visited my friend Luitie, who works for the Ministry of Food and Nutrition, twice now. But Rose's family was quite different (read rich). Our lunch was simple -- rice (wali), mashed potatoes (viazi) and cabbage (cabachi). Rose lives in a palatial place with her family, who sells a bunch of things outta their house. Her retired father exports lobsters and crabs to Singapore (and there were rows of crates w/lobsters meandering), chickens pecking on feed, and cows munching sweetly on grass. Stalls and stalls of animals surrounding their 3-story house. Her mother must have figured out I am addicted to textiles; she sold me a beautiful batik, then we made plans to have her tailor make me a skirt outfit.
Rose and Sikujuu are, like other university students, wondering what will happen as a result of the boycott. They were hoping to graduate in June, but now it's uncertain. If they write letters of apology to the administration, pay the rest of their fees, then pass their exams, they will graduate. Otherwise, they'd have to pick up again next year. Rose sounded depressed when she told me about these circumstances, since she already has a job lined up for June. Sikujuu comes from a less prosperous, peasant family near Iringa, and would be devasted to have to pay the increased fees. She has no one to help her out.
Tomorrow: planning the end-of-the-party for students, host families and faculty, and a trip to the Urafiki Textile shop downtown.
Last time we met they were horrified to know that I hadn't spent much time with a "real Tanzanian family." Mind you, P and I have visited my friend Luitie, who works for the Ministry of Food and Nutrition, twice now. But Rose's family was quite different (read rich). Our lunch was simple -- rice (wali), mashed potatoes (viazi) and cabbage (cabachi). Rose lives in a palatial place with her family, who sells a bunch of things outta their house. Her retired father exports lobsters and crabs to Singapore (and there were rows of crates w/lobsters meandering), chickens pecking on feed, and cows munching sweetly on grass. Stalls and stalls of animals surrounding their 3-story house. Her mother must have figured out I am addicted to textiles; she sold me a beautiful batik, then we made plans to have her tailor make me a skirt outfit.
Rose and Sikujuu are, like other university students, wondering what will happen as a result of the boycott. They were hoping to graduate in June, but now it's uncertain. If they write letters of apology to the administration, pay the rest of their fees, then pass their exams, they will graduate. Otherwise, they'd have to pick up again next year. Rose sounded depressed when she told me about these circumstances, since she already has a job lined up for June. Sikujuu comes from a less prosperous, peasant family near Iringa, and would be devasted to have to pay the increased fees. She has no one to help her out.
Tomorrow: planning the end-of-the-party for students, host families and faculty, and a trip to the Urafiki Textile shop downtown.
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