So today I went to Belinda's send off party. Belinda is the sister of Oscar, who is one of my co-workers. A send off party seems like a wedding, though the actual ceremony is on Saturday. I guess I would describe it as a cross between giving the bride away and the bridal shower, but it felt like a wedding at several points. When Jodie and I first got the invitation (which looked like a wedding invitation), we actually thought it was a wedding seeing as it invited us to the ceremony at the church followed by a short reception.
Basically, we all went to the church as the priest blessed the bride (she had her bridesmaids and maid of honor there as well as friends and family, but the groom was not part of it) and conducted a fairly standard Catholic mass. And as Jodie and I were the only non-Tanzanians there, the priest made sure to announce to the congregation that Belinda had guests from America and Japan (actually Jodie is of Chinese descent and was born and raised in the US).
After this, we went to a big hall where the groom and his friends and family joined the group. There was music and dancing and speeches (a lot of speeches) and food and champagne and a roaring good time. I was a little out of it for the first bit of this. It was 9 PM before they served food, and I hadn't eaten much of anything all day (we expected a 2-4 hour event and getting home by 7) and the people at my table were starting to worry as I looked more ragged. But all of this is just setting the stage. The important part of this story is the gift giving ceremony.
Just before the wedding, Jodie and I bought a set of three metal racks that were hung in tiers by a chain with a hook at the top so that you could hang it from the ceiling (a handy way to keep pests out of your food). And then we went to the market and bought fruit to put into the basket. The selection of coconuts, avocados, oranges and bananas seemed like a really delightful arrangement.
Anyway, at the reception hall, the emcee was calling out guests by name and they danced down the center aisle holding their gift to present to the bride. There were cameras and a huge spotlight and it was a huge spectacle. One group danced down carrying a gas grill and burners, and another needed 12 people to carry a mattress, bed slats and the whole frame (that was pretty amazing). I've always preferred a lower profile, but I knew that we needed to participate in the tradition, so they called out Jodie's name and we went up with our gift. Our faces were already beet red as we reached the start of the aisle, and then after about three steps, the chain snapped and the gift was lying at my feet. I felt like I was simultaneously blushing while the blood rushed out of my face. We hastily picked everything up and danced our way to the bride and sheepishly presented the gift as she smiled at us.
Now, we can flash back a bit. The chain actually snapped in the car when we were trying to find our way to the church in the first place. Jodie thought she had it fixed, but when we got to the church, I discovered that it snapped again. I figured it was a weight issue, so I took out some fruit. This kept up until I had removed about 70% of the fruit. I walked around with it a bit to make sure that it wouldn't break again. I was so hopeful that I could just give them the gift without embarrassing myself. So much for that.
My friend Bernard had come to dance down the aisle with us, so I was glad to have a Tanzanian at my side when this happened. He pointed out that they'll all enjoy having a funny story to tell about the reception. And I think I learned that from now on, when I bring a gift to a wedding, it's just going to be an envelope with cash. Actually, it was really funny when they called for "everyone else" and a huge column formed of people carrying pots and towels and basins and lots of kitchen/cleaning related supplies (I'll stay away from commenting on gender roles for now). But I was just glad to make a quiet exit after the gift debacle (and the 7.5 hour event that we had expected to last 2-4 hours).
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Lessons in Shipping
I went to the Post Office on Friday to ship two packages for GCS. It was quite an ordeal, and in spite of the fact that there was no line, it wound up taking over an hour. I arrived with open boxes for the Customs inspection (since the boxes were being shipped internationally), which was actually really easy. Then I pulled out my roll of tape to close up the boxes, but the lady on the counter told me that I needed to wrap the box in brown paper because it was so heavy (23 lbs). So I went over and bought a sheet of paper for each package. While I was buying the paper, another customer grabbed my roll of tape and applied it liberally to close her package. Then the Customs woman told me that I needed another to close it properly (effectively, I had to wrap it like a gift). As I tried to do this, I ran out of tape, so I had to go to the stationery store (which instead markets itself as a stationary store--lest one confuse that building with one of those stores that moves around) nearby and bought some tape. Then I returned, and the woman at the counter told me that my wrapping was inadequate and took the tape and applied it liberally to the package. After that, it was just a matter of addressing the boxes, filling out the customs forms, putting the box on the scale, and waiting as she counted at all the money in the payment (the cost of shipping was around $130, which required 39 bills).
After that adventure, I went to the bus station to ask about the cost of shipping a box to Mombasa on the bus. I described the size and weight of the box in question, and they said that it would cost 30,000 shillings ($20). An interesting price considering that if I were traveling as a passenger, I would pay 22,000 shillings for the seat and a spot for the same package. I don't think that the price was on account of my skin color. Rather, I think it was a testament to the fees that have to be paid to the officials at the border. Of course, on paper, it's free to move goods across the border. Someone should pass that information on to the border officials.
After that adventure, I went to the bus station to ask about the cost of shipping a box to Mombasa on the bus. I described the size and weight of the box in question, and they said that it would cost 30,000 shillings ($20). An interesting price considering that if I were traveling as a passenger, I would pay 22,000 shillings for the seat and a spot for the same package. I don't think that the price was on account of my skin color. Rather, I think it was a testament to the fees that have to be paid to the officials at the border. Of course, on paper, it's free to move goods across the border. Someone should pass that information on to the border officials.
Locked In
It's nice to have an indoor bathroom with a wooden door. Definitely a big step up over my house in Kenya. However, wooden doors run their own risks here. Like when the handle stops working (my corrugated iron door just had a sliding latch, so I never had this problem). I felt pretty ridiculous in there and I asked Jodie to try using a credit card on the door. She couldn't get it to work (I probably should have coached her better) so she slid it under the door. I gotta say, it definitely doesn't work from the inside.
After a few minutes, the boys from the workshop unscrewed the handle and I was free once again. I think this is just more evidence of what I've argued for years. Showers are dangerous and should be avoided at all costs.
After a few minutes, the boys from the workshop unscrewed the handle and I was free once again. I think this is just more evidence of what I've argued for years. Showers are dangerous and should be avoided at all costs.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Rush Hour Ugliness
On Wednesday afternoon, I was heading to town in a dala-dala. Heading uphill toward town, there was a tractor parked on the (non-existent) shoulder blocking most of the lane for oncoming traffic, which made the road rather dangerous as impatient drivers tried to get past. The driver of the tractor was sitting there smiling and even turned the key to show everyone that the vehicle was dead. The driver of the dala-dala shouted at the tractor driver "Move your truck!" and added for good measure "Then go and take a bath!" The other passengers laughed at this, but I was not amused.
Then, just when it seemed like traffic was getting better after we passed the tractor, a column of young men with rifles started moving through the street. The common outfit revealed them to be soldiers, but few of them could be considered marching, more like trying to keep up (to be fair, I would probably be a lousy marcher as well, but I don't think that narrow city streets at rush hour are the best place to practice). At first glance, it looked like most of them were in their early teens, but I was relieved when we moved closer and I saw that most of them were probably around 20. Unfortunately, there was no way to pass them, so we had to follow them at a slow jogging pace until they turned onto another street.
But as we were tail-gaiting them (yep, the vehicle felt compelled to drive right behind them) a bicycle was riding alongside us on the (still non-existent) shoulder. I'm not sure if it was boredom or something else, but the driver decided to steer the vehicle (remember, this is a full mini-bus) right at the cyclist. He tried this twice and the passengers just laughed as he did it. The cyclist struggled to keep his balance while avoiding getting hit and shouted at the driver "I hope your car breaks!" The passengers just laughed harder.
I thought about getting out right there and finding another vehicle, but I knew it was a bad idea to engage with this driver. It's a shame that the other passengers encouraged him. In some ways, I was even angrier with them. I was glad that the last five minutes of the ride were uneventful, but I was disgusted by the whole scene.
Then, just when it seemed like traffic was getting better after we passed the tractor, a column of young men with rifles started moving through the street. The common outfit revealed them to be soldiers, but few of them could be considered marching, more like trying to keep up (to be fair, I would probably be a lousy marcher as well, but I don't think that narrow city streets at rush hour are the best place to practice). At first glance, it looked like most of them were in their early teens, but I was relieved when we moved closer and I saw that most of them were probably around 20. Unfortunately, there was no way to pass them, so we had to follow them at a slow jogging pace until they turned onto another street.
But as we were tail-gaiting them (yep, the vehicle felt compelled to drive right behind them) a bicycle was riding alongside us on the (still non-existent) shoulder. I'm not sure if it was boredom or something else, but the driver decided to steer the vehicle (remember, this is a full mini-bus) right at the cyclist. He tried this twice and the passengers just laughed as he did it. The cyclist struggled to keep his balance while avoiding getting hit and shouted at the driver "I hope your car breaks!" The passengers just laughed harder.
I thought about getting out right there and finding another vehicle, but I knew it was a bad idea to engage with this driver. It's a shame that the other passengers encouraged him. In some ways, I was even angrier with them. I was glad that the last five minutes of the ride were uneventful, but I was disgusted by the whole scene.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Inroduction to BRAC
On Thursday I had a meeting with BRAC (they are an enormous NGO with a low profile but a stellar track record which originated in Bangladesh, but now has branches in several countries including Tanzania) about working together since they have strong connections in rural communities and a good track record in helping people gain access to credit.
I was supposed to be at their office at noon, but I couldn't actually leave the GCS office until a couple minutes after 12 and I still needed to travel about 2 miles. I took a bike so that I would be less than an hour late (which many Tanzanians would consider to be still on time). Unfortunately, as I quickly discovered, the road to their office is pretty much directly uphill (much of it at a healthy grade) and I am not in great shape. I got rather lost on the way and my whole journey took an hour and I arrived dripping with sweat.
I had to ask a few people for directions. Most people had no idea what I was talking about. The ones who did would ask "Oh, the place with all the Indians?" I would always say yes, even though I suspected that the employees in question were probably Bangladeshi.
Fortunately, they were still at lunch, so I had time to catch my breath. I greeted the secretary in Kiswahili and she told me that everyone was at lunch. I explained why I was there (in Kiswahili) and gave her a general picture of our work at GCS and she asked me to wait until the director arrived. Then she paused and looked at me and apologetically explained (in Kiswahili) "I'm sorry, the director of the office does not speak Kiswahili, he only speaks English." I laughed and assured her that I can in fact speak some English in addition to my Kiswahili. I was rather flattered.
It was a good meeting with the regional director and we discovered that we had a mutual friend in Bangladesh (well, I only know one man in Bangladesh and he works at BRAC, so it wasn't a huge stretch). Then I hopped on my bike and rode back to the office in ten minutes and I barely had to pedal the whole time. That was a fun ride!
I was supposed to be at their office at noon, but I couldn't actually leave the GCS office until a couple minutes after 12 and I still needed to travel about 2 miles. I took a bike so that I would be less than an hour late (which many Tanzanians would consider to be still on time). Unfortunately, as I quickly discovered, the road to their office is pretty much directly uphill (much of it at a healthy grade) and I am not in great shape. I got rather lost on the way and my whole journey took an hour and I arrived dripping with sweat.
I had to ask a few people for directions. Most people had no idea what I was talking about. The ones who did would ask "Oh, the place with all the Indians?" I would always say yes, even though I suspected that the employees in question were probably Bangladeshi.
Fortunately, they were still at lunch, so I had time to catch my breath. I greeted the secretary in Kiswahili and she told me that everyone was at lunch. I explained why I was there (in Kiswahili) and gave her a general picture of our work at GCS and she asked me to wait until the director arrived. Then she paused and looked at me and apologetically explained (in Kiswahili) "I'm sorry, the director of the office does not speak Kiswahili, he only speaks English." I laughed and assured her that I can in fact speak some English in addition to my Kiswahili. I was rather flattered.
It was a good meeting with the regional director and we discovered that we had a mutual friend in Bangladesh (well, I only know one man in Bangladesh and he works at BRAC, so it wasn't a huge stretch). Then I hopped on my bike and rode back to the office in ten minutes and I barely had to pedal the whole time. That was a fun ride!
Intolerable odor
On Wednesday night I decided to make some honey mustard chicken for dinner. I've gotten pretty comfortable with the recipe, so it's generally automatic. This time was the first real hiccup I've had with the dish.
In order to make the sauce, I add one egg. We buy our eggs in sets of 30 and keep them next to our refrigerator. They last for about two weeks, and we typically go through them faster than that. Keeping eggs in the refrigerator seems like such an odd practice to me at this point.
So, back to Wednesday. We were on the last of our eggs and it had only been a week and a half (for those worried about my cholesterol, that's an average of one per person per day). Now, our refrigerator radiates lots of heat, which goes directly to where the eggs are sitting. I went to pick one up and the bottom half stayed in the carton. And the entire kitchen reeked of sulphide from the black spots on the green yolk. It was horrible. And Jodie and I couldn't stop laughing. We put some baking soda down for the smell and I slid the fridge slightly so that the heat would escape in the other direction.
In this case, I'd say our fridge caused the mayai mabovu (rotten eggs), rather than preventing them. Oh well, lesson learned.
In order to make the sauce, I add one egg. We buy our eggs in sets of 30 and keep them next to our refrigerator. They last for about two weeks, and we typically go through them faster than that. Keeping eggs in the refrigerator seems like such an odd practice to me at this point.
So, back to Wednesday. We were on the last of our eggs and it had only been a week and a half (for those worried about my cholesterol, that's an average of one per person per day). Now, our refrigerator radiates lots of heat, which goes directly to where the eggs are sitting. I went to pick one up and the bottom half stayed in the carton. And the entire kitchen reeked of sulphide from the black spots on the green yolk. It was horrible. And Jodie and I couldn't stop laughing. We put some baking soda down for the smell and I slid the fridge slightly so that the heat would escape in the other direction.
In this case, I'd say our fridge caused the mayai mabovu (rotten eggs), rather than preventing them. Oh well, lesson learned.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Good start to October
Well, September did not exactly end on a high note.
Sleep is pretty hit or miss for me. The other night I was woken up by the sound of gunshots. I was anxious at first, but then I remembered that I was in Tanzania (in my six months here I've never heard actual gunfire). I quickly found the source of the noise. One of my co-workers had left his phone in the workshop and for some reason had selected machine-gun fire for his ring-tone. And I have no idea who thought it would be a good idea to call him at 1 AM, but they certainly did not endear themselves to me.
The previous night, I had a customer call me at 11:30 PM. It was pretty garbled call, and he even tried calling me again and asking me to call back. I told him I would talk to him during business hours the next day. I somewhat regret the fact that my phone number is on some of the company's promotional materials, but only because I value my sleep. I also had some issues with sleep because power outages* through off my work schedule and made me miss my last two IDDS meetings :(
Anyway, October has been much better. There was a certain tone of urgency at work to fill a large order, but fortunately some of our long-standing accounting mysteries are sorted out and we've put some simpler systems in place so I will be spending much less time working on that (read: banging my head against the computer monitor). I have some exciting projects in the pipeline which will allow me to interact with people more and my computer less. Tonight I spent a bit of time soldering (more to come tomorrow, likely). Not exactly a typical Saturday night, but I was happy to revisit a skill from much earlier in life.
Also, food has been pretty amazing. So I know most people discourage my lifestyle, but I make do on two larger meals a day (for people with different living situations, I'm sure five or so smaller meals is a much better option). We're two days into the month, so I've had four meals.
#1: Pilau (basically the East African version of pilaf), which is one of Tanzania's richest meals. I kinda wished it was spiced a little more and had a lot less oil, but I'm always grateful for other people's cooking. (NB: If you look at the recipe in the link, I can assure you that the sort I eat is much less fancy).
#2: Quiche. I was reading through the Peace Corps cookbook and realized that the recipe seemed doable. Certainly not as fancy as American quiche (I used day old milk which had already separated instead of cream, for example), but the crust was actually pretty amazing and we were thrilled by the taste. Jodie would probably invest in me if I opened a restaurant here :) , though my failures are often as spectacular as my successes.
#3: Cheeseburger and a milkshake. It was a long week at work, so I decided to treat myself to lunch in town. It wasn't the prettiest burger I've had, but it really hit the spot (especially since I hadn't eaten for 18 hours at that point). I can't say that I would recommend the fries, however. I'm a much bigger fan of African style fries (I suppose I should say chips, as that's how people refer to them here), and they usually have pretty lousy American fast-food style fries.
#4: Steak with steamed broccoli and carrots. My friend Mic is Tanzanian, but is much better at making "American" food than Jodie or me. It was amazing. Steamed vegetables might be the next big thing in our kitchen :)
And I'm on a quest to meet some new people here in Arusha. I figured I would start at the place where all the cool kids are sure to be found: the library. Today I left work a bit too late, but at least I learned the hours that the library is open. I also visited the Alliance Francaise (I don't know where to find the cedille to spell that properly), which was closed as well, but that's a bit closer to my house, and could give me a good opportunity to get some of my French back (July was an unfortunate reminder of how weak my French has become).
Yep, October is shaping up to be a good month (knocking on wood), so stay tuned!
* Power outages are supposed to be rare as an election nears. The ruling party usually tries ensure that the voters have a very positive association with their tenure. It was surprising more for the timing than anything else (I'm fairly accustomed to unreliable power and can usually take it in stride). However, Tanzania draws a large share of its energy from hydropower (I'm a bit too tired to pull up a stat to back this up) and I believe that this is the time of the year when the rivers run the slowest. Here's hoping the rains pick up soon and get us going again!
Sleep is pretty hit or miss for me. The other night I was woken up by the sound of gunshots. I was anxious at first, but then I remembered that I was in Tanzania (in my six months here I've never heard actual gunfire). I quickly found the source of the noise. One of my co-workers had left his phone in the workshop and for some reason had selected machine-gun fire for his ring-tone. And I have no idea who thought it would be a good idea to call him at 1 AM, but they certainly did not endear themselves to me.
The previous night, I had a customer call me at 11:30 PM. It was pretty garbled call, and he even tried calling me again and asking me to call back. I told him I would talk to him during business hours the next day. I somewhat regret the fact that my phone number is on some of the company's promotional materials, but only because I value my sleep. I also had some issues with sleep because power outages* through off my work schedule and made me miss my last two IDDS meetings :(
Anyway, October has been much better. There was a certain tone of urgency at work to fill a large order, but fortunately some of our long-standing accounting mysteries are sorted out and we've put some simpler systems in place so I will be spending much less time working on that (read: banging my head against the computer monitor). I have some exciting projects in the pipeline which will allow me to interact with people more and my computer less. Tonight I spent a bit of time soldering (more to come tomorrow, likely). Not exactly a typical Saturday night, but I was happy to revisit a skill from much earlier in life.
Also, food has been pretty amazing. So I know most people discourage my lifestyle, but I make do on two larger meals a day (for people with different living situations, I'm sure five or so smaller meals is a much better option). We're two days into the month, so I've had four meals.
#1: Pilau (basically the East African version of pilaf), which is one of Tanzania's richest meals. I kinda wished it was spiced a little more and had a lot less oil, but I'm always grateful for other people's cooking. (NB: If you look at the recipe in the link, I can assure you that the sort I eat is much less fancy).
#2: Quiche. I was reading through the Peace Corps cookbook and realized that the recipe seemed doable. Certainly not as fancy as American quiche (I used day old milk which had already separated instead of cream, for example), but the crust was actually pretty amazing and we were thrilled by the taste. Jodie would probably invest in me if I opened a restaurant here :) , though my failures are often as spectacular as my successes.
#3: Cheeseburger and a milkshake. It was a long week at work, so I decided to treat myself to lunch in town. It wasn't the prettiest burger I've had, but it really hit the spot (especially since I hadn't eaten for 18 hours at that point). I can't say that I would recommend the fries, however. I'm a much bigger fan of African style fries (I suppose I should say chips, as that's how people refer to them here), and they usually have pretty lousy American fast-food style fries.
#4: Steak with steamed broccoli and carrots. My friend Mic is Tanzanian, but is much better at making "American" food than Jodie or me. It was amazing. Steamed vegetables might be the next big thing in our kitchen :)
And I'm on a quest to meet some new people here in Arusha. I figured I would start at the place where all the cool kids are sure to be found: the library. Today I left work a bit too late, but at least I learned the hours that the library is open. I also visited the Alliance Francaise (I don't know where to find the cedille to spell that properly), which was closed as well, but that's a bit closer to my house, and could give me a good opportunity to get some of my French back (July was an unfortunate reminder of how weak my French has become).
Yep, October is shaping up to be a good month (knocking on wood), so stay tuned!
* Power outages are supposed to be rare as an election nears. The ruling party usually tries ensure that the voters have a very positive association with their tenure. It was surprising more for the timing than anything else (I'm fairly accustomed to unreliable power and can usually take it in stride). However, Tanzania draws a large share of its energy from hydropower (I'm a bit too tired to pull up a stat to back this up) and I believe that this is the time of the year when the rivers run the slowest. Here's hoping the rains pick up soon and get us going again!
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