LIFE IN TANZANIA

After all the serious tomes I have posted I figured it is about time that I insert some humor into my blogs.  So here is a little insight into some of the other things I saw and did while in Tanzania.

Early Sunday morning in Kigoma, therefore a rare empty Dalla Dalla

Africa Time - All I know about time is in America it accelerates as the day wears on.  The more you try to jam in your day the faster the day goes by which inevitably means of course you never seem to have enough time to get everything done in your day.  African time on the other hand couldn't be any further from that.  I don’t know how, the clocks there just tick slower and their days expand while ours contract.  Consequently, there is no urgency to get anything done as there is always more time in the day.  For example if we were to get picked up at 9:30a for a 10a session that meant we might be lucky to be met at 10a to learn that we don't have a car and instead need to leisurely walk as slowly as humanly possible to the bus stand to jam into the local dalla dalla (think beat up '50's VW van) with at least 25 of your soon to be closest friends.  That ‘bus’ would then make at least 10 stops over the next 2 miles making sure maximum capacity was always maintained…meaning every inch of the van was filled with, man, woman, child, chicken, or rice.  Of course the poor vehicle struggled to move under the weight of such a heavy burden that I probably could have run to my destination faster.  We would finally arrive to the field around 11a for our 10a session, but no need to stress because we would be lucky if 3 of the 15 coaches were there.  Nothing ever starts on time, but the funny thing was that every session HAD to end on time.  Of course for longer travel everything adjusts accordingly.  Time, numbers, and distances really aren’t concrete fixed figures like you have been led to believe our whole lives, not in Africa at least.  In Africa they are all very abstract terms.  Hence when we were scheduled to drive from Kigoma to Geita on Sunday at 2p, it actually meant Monday morning at 6a...close.  The 5 hour drive became nearly a 9 hour expedition. Why ask why...you will only go insane, just like the Pyramids it is one of the beautiful mysteries of Africa. 

Food – All of you who know me, know that I am a food zealot.  Not only do I love to eat, but I love to eat well.  Meaning I love fresh, whole, real food.  So before leaving the U.S. in August as I thought about the challenges I would face in Tanzania one of the main issues I thought I might struggle with was food.  Well, certainly Tanzania lacks the plethora of choices that we have in the States, but food was not and issue for me.  Granted I took a fair supply of bars with me, but here is what I found to be true about their food.  It was plentiful, fresh, and NOT PROCESSED!  J (well except the bread?)

1.      Free-range, anti-biotic free & no growth hormones! – No, it isn’t going to be labeled or marketed that way, but rest assured your chicken is free range and has no drugs in it.  In fact you might have nearly tripped over your chicken as you came into the restaurant it is that fresh.  And that kuku (Swahili for chicken), that is an accent piece to your rice and beans, is far too skinny to have ever been pumped with growth hormones.

2.      Local & fresh – Farmer’s markets are EVERYWHERE!  I loved being able to get fresh fruit on literally every street we were on, every day.  The mandarin oranges were by far my favorite.  The peels came falling off and the flavor was like none other.  Also in season were watermelon, pineapple, papaya, and always LOTS of bananas.  Much to my dismay though the mangoes don’t come in until December.  L  In addition the mini-bananas were fabulous, just the right size when you needed a small snack and you just didn’t want a whole banana.  And eating actual passion fruit and not just the juice was delicious!

Brian at Geita Market

3.      Ugali – Africa’s paste-y, (NOT PASTRY), blander version of southern grits.  Worth trying.  A nice change from rice.  And you get to have fun using your hands to form the playdough consistency mush into a ball to sop up all the yummy sauce.

4.      Bread – It remains a mystery to me.  All bread in Tanzania was white.  Not once did I see any wheat bread.  And never did I see any fresh local bread besides the fried chapatti.  Weird.

Livestock – “A Valuable ASSet”

Outside our hotel. This is NOT a statue.

Pluses and minuses for these fellas…not much food to go around, so you have to be an opportunistic grazer if you are going to survive long enough to even consider getting slaughtered.  Good thing is they get to enjoy their life unfettered setting a new “free range” standard for livestock around the globe to aspire to, roaming wherever they want, whenever they want -- even if it is right down the center of main street or eating the only green grass in Tanzania from the front lawn of the local hotel (so beware of their strategically placed landmines as you walk through town).  The Geita goats are SO SMART they even use the raised cross walk to cross the road.  Seriously!  And they weren’t being led by a human.  Don’t ask me how everyone knows whose cow is whose and whose donkey is whose, but apparently it is a non-issue. 

Noise – Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined small villages in Africa could be so loud.  Dreams?  Don’t expect to dream because you will be lucky if you get to sleep!  Electricity is sporadic, people don’t own TV’s, radios, or PlayStations, they don’t have computers or regular land telephones…and the chickens can only cluck so loud and cows only moo in unison when it is a full moon, so really how loud could it get?  Pack your earplugs was what I was told.  Done.  NOT ENOUGH! 

1.      Disco - Every town has a local disco and that disco is rockin’ EVERY night from about 10p – 2a guaranteed because it is the ONLY thing in town to do. 

2.      Mosques – Just like the disco, every town has AT LEAST one.  Don’t get me wrong I have nothing against Muslims, but I simply do not understand why the call to prayer must come at 4:45a, 5a, and then again at 5:15a, etc, etc. Just when you are drifting back into sleep the wailing starts again to jolt you right out of bed as it broadcast at volumes for the entire village to hear whether you are Muslim or not.  I thought prayer was supposed to be a quiet, methodical, peaceful connection with God, Allah, Buddah or whomever you worship.  I was wrong. 

3.      Politicians – Gotta love ‘em!  It is an election year in Tanzania, but since no one owns a TV, radio, or computer how is a politician supposed to garner support and raise awareness?  Well by driving through every town with a massive intercom system strapped to the back of a truck to broadcast their message for everyone to hear within a 50 miles radius of course!

4.      Roosters - As for the roosters, they were a mere drop in the bucket and were hardly audible over the rest of the racket.  Their day break announcement was nary the sound of a cricket in comparison. 

Smells – I will have to refer to one of my well used mantras for goalkeeping, when it came to the smells in Africa… “Breathe In.  Breathe Out.  MOVE ON.”  Lesson in goalkeeping, lesson in life! 

Unfortunately clean air is hard to come by in Africa.  Due to the lack of infrastructure there is no waste management.  The local dump truck doesn’t weave its way through the village picking up trash every week and there is no local dump to haul your trash to.  They recycle and reuse as much as they can (from what I could tell a lot more than we do) and trash is burned.  So that wonderful stench you are breathing while sucking for air on the soccer field is the smoke of burning trash inches away from the side of the field.  Not exactly healthy, but at least they are dealing with their trash as best they can.  In Kigoma there was also the pervasive smell of fish as you walked through downtown.  Sardines, fresh fish, and odd looking curled up (tail to head) charred fish that I believe they dug out of the sand bars and burnt.  While in Geita there was the additional charming smell of donkey, cow, and goat droppings to enjoy over our dinners on the patio since the entire town apparently was their barnyard.

Transportation – “Are we there yet?”

1.      Dalla Dalla (see above)



2.      Bikes, bikes, LOTS of bikes, and BIKE TAXIS! – 

This is a LIGHT load, SERIOUSLY!

First of all let me just say I cannot believe how much an African can balance on their broken down, beat up bike and still use it!  50 pound sacks of maize, flour, sugar…wood piled higher than your head and wider that 3  bodies, 6 foot long corrugated metal roofing sheets rolled up and strapped across longways, you name it, they’ll carry it and then some….it defies gravity!    Of course since I am a cyclist when I am at home I couldn’t go 3 weeks without getting on a bike.  I wasn’t brave enough to hop on a bike taxi, although from what I could tell they looked pretty safe.  For a few cents you sit on the back seat above the tire and hold onto a mini handlebar that is located just behind the driver’s seat while the driver pedals you wherever you need to go in town.  Not bad!  I was craving the wind in my face, but unable to relinquish my control of the handlebars and since I didn’t want to get a first hand look at the local hospital I passed on the bike taxi opting to give African bikes a spin using my own 2 legs.  Perhaps they could teach me the secrets to becoming a jedi master of bike balancing?  The first bike I tried brought me back to the days of Fred Flinstone using my feet for brakes.  Look out!  The second bike I nicknamed “Christine” after the legendary car in the ‘80’s horror flick since it had a mind of its own.  “Christine” changed gears at the most inopportune moments when I needed to pedal the most going up hills.  It all relates back to Africa Time though…you are not meant to go fast or get anywhere anytime soon– there is no rush.



Bike #1



Look Mom, no hands!  YIKES, I mean NO BRAKES!



3.      Taxis – Be prepared to haggle.  You are a mzungu and hence you will be charged a minimum of 2 times too much while they are telling “I give you good rate ‘cuz you my friend”.  Right!  Great part is everything is negotiable, it is a set rate which you agree upon with the driver, there is a ton of competition for your fare, (so feel free to ask someone else), and every driver I had was friendly and trustworthy.

4.      Automobiles, Jeeps, Range Rovers, etc - Since accidents somehow miraculously never occur in their world there really is no need for seatbelts.  They are certainly optional, but should you choose to wear one you will inevitably be in the seat with the broken one.  These vehicles have nearly the powers of Superman in that they can “clear a tall building in a single bound”, or better yet straddle goats and chickens, cross massive ravines, bounce off trees, hurdle boulders, and almost run on water and dirt…ALMOST.  Pre-requisite to drive any such treasured vehicle is that you must be a master mechanic as your fuel will inevitably be mixed with water wreaking massive havoc on your fuel pump at the absolute most inconvenient time, so YOU better know how to fix it because the Masaai warrior who finds you after being stranded for 3 days won’t.  



The drive to Geita



This is their version of a local mechanic/garage.



      Also, African rules state that car engines MUST stay running WHILE pumping fuel.  Not sure why, but I think it relates to, you guessed it, Africa Time…since time is of no consequence in every other part of their lives I think this is where they make up for all the other lost time in their day.  Or perhaps since their fuel is mixed with so much water the risk of an explosion is non-existent. That explains why the sides of their fuel tankers say, “UNFLAMMABLE” instead of “INFLAMMABLE”.  Ahhhh, now it is all making sense!  (some things just don’t seem to translate from Swahili to English properly)

5.      Ferries – Time, yes again Africa Time.  Schedules were meant to be broken.  A 9:30a ferry really means 10a departure, but you better be there at 9a to get your spot in the log jam as no one understands the meaning of a line in this country.  And the 2 hour “Fast Ferry” really means 3 because you will come to a tidal wave generating lurching stop to let the massive tankers creep out of port before you can enter.  Let me stress, don’t ever try to maintain a tight schedule to get from Point A to Point B.  Humanly impossible. 

6.      Your own 2 feet. - We walked a ton in Kigoma and Geita and it was great.  Great exercise and a great way to interact with the locals.  Just be warned though that traffic in Tanzania does drive on the wrong side of the road (thanks to the former British rule) and pedestrians NEVER have the right of way.  You will most definitely hear a honk and if you don’t move you will get hit.  Somehow no one ever gets hit though which is certainly a miracle considering the non-stop stream of bikes and pedestrians on every road, (sidewalks?  what are those?), how poor the ‘roads’ (I use this term VERY loosely) are, and the psycho RedBull fueled drivers of the Dalla Dallas.  And beware of lurking blackholes along the ‘sidewalk’ that are easily large enough to suck up a whole leg and most certainly break an ankle as well as ravines big enough to kill a small cow, that, should you dare, can be crossed to get to the local ‘convenience’ store on a rickety, splintering 1x4 excuse for a plank of wood.  In addition there are random placed death traps (trash holes) to watch out for in the most obvious and safest of locations…for instance a primary school playground!  But of course, why didn’t I think of that?  These holes are humongous (at least 6-8 feet deep and 4-6 feet across) and easily capable of swallowing several children at a time without anyone knowing about it for days.  Certainly they serve a good purpose to burn and bury the trash in, but they appear with no warning and have nothing to prevent you from falling into them (read MASSIVE lawsuit in America).  Good luck surviving if you are walking at night!  This, of course, explains why all Africans walk slowly because your life and limbs depend upon it, which gets us back to Africa Time…

There is just no need to rush through life, so my advice is to just sit back and set your watch to Africa Time.  While it most certainly will get you fired here in the States, we all might be a lot less stressed.  ;-) 

Somewhere out there, perhaps in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, likely where the Bermuda Triangle sits, exists the perfect balance between Africa Time and US Rat Race Time…the idyllic time zone where you have all the time you need, everything gets done, and there is still time left for enjoying life.   

Tracy