Hakuna Matata - originally published on January 21, 2007

Student orientation is over today; now it gets less hectic. The past week’s been intense exploring the University of Dar es Salaam and the city with students every day. We are going to Kiswahili class for 4 hours in the morning. He started teaching his US history class last week – 5 students so far. He’s enjoying his experience—quite different from US teaching.

Life in the hood. I’ve already mentioned our neighbor, an American ethnomusicologist who’s lived in Africa since the 1960s. We also had A for dinner one night—she’s a Norwegian linguistics Ph.D. studying Tanzanian court language. We meet her swimming every other day or so.

P.S. Our neighbor has a fabulous collection of pirated DVD’s; last night we watched CASINO ROYALE in Russian with English subtitles. Except the Eng subtitles didn’t match the movie; they were for some other movie.

Food shopping in the hood. We’ve found a veggie and fruit seller who speaks no English. Good for us, although I’m certain we sound illiterate. We bring our newfound Kiswahili vocab and attempt to order fresh, locally grown tomatoes, potatoes, papayas, mangoes, pineapples, shallots and limes. There’s also great masala spice mixes. Our acquaintances keep asking us, how do you survive here being vegetarian? The meat has made 2 students sick already.

Group activities. As leaders of the group P and I trek around w/our 14 “children” everywhere – I’m mother goose; P follows in the rear of the brood making sure everyone’s safe (the aforementioned pickpocketing incident occurred when I protectively tried to follow in the rear—mistake). I’ve learned to stay in front surrounded by my posse of tall male students. Other recurring director activities: pay large bills for lunchs for 14 at white sandy beaches, swim while students watch my purse, do yoga on the beach & go for long walks. 4 students and I did yoga at Kipepeo Beach on Saturday, and attracted beachgazers interested in our warrior forms. Our students are laidback; they don’t mind sweat dripping into their eyes as we smash into a daladala—one sitting atop the engine, another nested in someone’s lap. We invited 6 Tanzanian women students with them to the beach yesterday, and later last night the whole brood went out to the disco. One friend of mine pointed out that the title of this post comes from the Disney film Lion King – swear I haven’t seen it and am not stealing, but life is good!

Upcoming events: Bagamoyo field trip (coastal city north of Dar), budget balancing (starts in 5 mins actually), P arrives home from Kariakoo Market with an African shirt or two!

For more photos see www.flickr.com/photos/sawtooth

Drivin Miss A - originally published on February 26

An important part of my duty as Program Director of this exchange program at the University of Dar es Salaam is to sit in a taxi while being whirled around the city. In spite of it evoking colonial times, I try to make the best of it because the work would be undoable in a daladala – public transport. Why?

1. P and I cannot drive motor vehicles here ( I don’t know the reasons for this rule, but I agree wholeheartedly with it).

2. The bank is at least 10 km away from the university (as are most administrative centers in downtown Dar). To go to the bank, I must go in a taxi because of the cash factor. On the way to and from the bank, I accomplish other admin tasks.

How am I driven around? Although the process used to make me itch (the glaring sun, the scorching dust, the stops and starts, the horns and the potholes), I’ve become somewhat comfortable with it now.

The Night before: I send a text message to Edson to arrange for his work and see if he’s available the next morning (phone calls are relatively expensive here, esp when you can text message for 9 cents per msg)

11:55: He arrives five minutes early, comes in and fills up his water bottle (we have a filtered water dispenser, a life saver. When the water runs out, we call the water company and they bring replacement jugs, usually a day after we’ve run out).

12 am: I hop in Edson’s taxi. He asks “Tunaenda wapi?” (where are we going?) Although his English is excellent, he generally attempts to speak Kiswahili. I lay out our itinerary.

12: 10: We drive out of campus onto Old Bagamoyo Rd towards Mwenge Market. The road is permanently under construction. Edson doesn’t put the AC on unless he has to close the windows due to the dust.

12:30: We pass by the Italian Deli that sells tofu, as well as the Palestinian bakery – leaven there is heaven!—at a place called Oyster Bay. I purchase falafel, hummous, baba ghonoush, 4 tofu blocks and more if possible. On the way out I buy mangoes, pineapple, humungus cabbage, shelled peas and a banana bunch for the week (or less, veggies and fruit have no preservatives, so they last less time). No bargaining here, but I attempt to speak completely in Kiswahili (not a common feat at this particular Westernish market). Today I bought more tofu than normal for the student dinner tomorrow night – the one Japanese student who’s on the trip is making a Japanese delicacy (requiring 7 cabbage heads).

1:00: Before we leave for the bank, we share a lunch of Middle Eastern Pizzas. I spill some pizza sauce on my khaki pants, clean it off then we’re off to the bank.

1:15 I again force my broken Kiswahili on bankers. Sometimes they mimic me, like today when the banker said “HABARI” (how are you) with a wilted “r” like any good American would. Then I made fun of him back. Then he converted my dollars into shillings (1 dollar = 1300 shilling today). Don’t ever try to cash travelers’ cheques here, even if someone tells you it’s okay. It’s a huge hassle (took us 1 hour one time).

2: Second to last stop at Mwenge Market at Martha’s juice stand. I’ve text messaged her earlier to ask if she could make us two bottles of mango juice, but the network isn’t working so she hasn’t gotten it. She’s distressed at this miscommunication, so she offers to make 2 bottles right there on the spot. I’m so happy! No end in sight to mangoes.

2:15 Last stop on grocery day – Shoprite – fancyish grocery store – to get other items on student dinner list (including 7 pounds of ground beef in spite of the Rift Valley Fever disease, which is linked to beef). I check out the newly opened theatre at Mlimani City – it’s showing “The Departed” and “Blood Diamonds.” It will be fabulous to see the latter movie here in Africa.

3: Home, unpack, chat with Edson and students, decompress.
And eat my chocolate.

Josephine's Knee - originally published on March 15, 2007

Josephine is our 30-something housekeeper. I’ve wanted to write about her for some time now, but couldn’t find the words.

J plays netball, a sport played only by women in Tanzania, akin to volleyball (as far as I understand, although I haven’t watched it). She is also a star gospel singer who’s recorded an album and sings often at area churches. Every time her cell phone rings, it plays a riff from her most famous tune – it’s a lighthearted, cheery one.

J is the guardian of our house, having worked and lived here for over 10 years. In rural Illinois, of course, I don't have a housekeeper, but here she accomplishes all kinds of handy tasks: she changes our sheets, washes the floors, dusts around, orders water, buys household supplies (but not food) and provides essential cultural information. She’s been an enigma for many a director, who have trouble understanding her rhythm. Some have not appreciated her living here; accustomed to privacy, they find her a disturbance and therefore ask her not to spend the night here. Then she makes the 1 1/2 hour commute home each night, or stays with a friend on campus. We thought this was a bit selfish to ask her to do this since we are only two people living in a 4-bdroom house. There have been some minor frustrations at this situation, which I think, largely result from cross-cultural misunderstandings about work expectations. The strangest was when J had to leave for a week when an older sister passed away. As the second eldest sister, J had to travel far to the region of Mbeya, near Zambia, to take care of the funeral arrangements. During her absence, she had her younger sister, Itika, replace her. Since we usually pay J to do our laundry, we thought it appropriate this week to pay Itika instead. But when J returned, she was quite adamant that she should be paid instead of Itika. It took us nearly a day to unravel the cultural logic of her request (she’s the sister who takes care of everyone else, so if she doles out work to her younger sister, then SHE is the one who must be paid). I finally understood her thinking, but found out later that it is not necessarily shared by other Tanzanians.

Last night, J damaged her knee while playing netball. A different sister rushed in during our Wednesday night student dinner to tell us the news, and get some of J’s things to take with her to the hospital. I spied her in the ambulance as it pulled out of the driveway; the pain was wretched, and she came home late last night with a cast on her leg.

This morning she called me in to her room to say that two sisters were coming to do the chores this morning under her supervision, and that one would stay here for a few weeks while Josephine recuperates. Just now they are bustling around the kitchen, boiling water for tea, cleaning up our breakfast dishes (one of her regular assignments, I was told at the start), and washing some rags outside in the courtyard. I know that J’s income is the most considerable in the family. I bet that the sisters depend on it to such an extent that the minute she falls they must come pick her back up again. What is a mere twisted knee in the face of sister power?