Halloween

October 31, 2008

Does anything go according to plan here? I haven't been here long enough to know, but in my experience so far the answer is "no". The Peace Corps lets me know only a few days in advance that they are planning to visit my site at a time when I was hoping to be returning from a big Halloween party with friends in town. Great- now looks like Halloween alone at site. But I can't yet handle a holiday alone, as I am still a "Peace Corps Baby", so I decide to go to Josh's village which is closer to home. He was not planning on going to town, as he is finishing up his last few weeks as a Peace Corps Volunteer. This is something I have been trying to ignore and was fairly easy until he took out his suitcase to start to figure out what to put into it. Up until now it has been easy to pretend that he will be here for my entire service and just happens to be much better at Kiswahili and his job than I am. Then I remember that I have been here for five months and he has been here for twenty-seven. Having my site-mate leave this month is going to be a challenge that I am not quite ready to face yet, but it is probably time that I stopped being fully dependant on another PCV to give me emotional support over text message to get me through everyday. However, not ready to be cut off yet, so I decide to walk/hitch to his house. His site will be getting replaced with a new volunteer this December, but it won't be the same and then I will be the one who is supposed to know what is going on... But my bike is at his site and so I need to go there anyway, and a disappointing Halloween is as good a time as any.

I walk 9K to the main village between ours and then wait to hitch a ride on his public transport that is returning from Njombe. I have decided to write about this ride because transport takes up a lot of time in Tanzania and I am not sure that I have accurately portrayed what it is like. The dala dala (picture: a small bus/VW bus, now make it a lot less nice than the one you are picturing- that might be close. I will take a picture of one at some point.) is supposed to arrive around 4 but gets there at 5.30 instead- typical. I get on- it is packed, maybe thirty people some standing, squatting, lap sitting, laying, etc. The ride is so typical Tanzania- there is a child I don't know in my lap, a chicken sitting next to me, bright fabric on every woman's head, the smell of Tanzanian soap (Sort of indescribable), hair oil, kerosene, and too many bodies packed together wafts in the air. By the way- suddenly Njombe region is hot- not hot by African standards, but hot. Then it pours rain and cools down slightly. We bump and bounce over potholes as the radio blasts bongo flavor and the driver honks the horn incessantly to get kids, dogs, bikes and chickens to move out of the way. I hold on for dear life along with everyone else and try to figure out how my arms can form a seat belt for this child. Luckily, I was not given a newborn to care for like I was once on our village car- It is easier to be a seat belt for a 7 year old then a car seat for a newborn. Transport is the most dangerous part of living in Tanzania. It is not coincidence that almost all vehicles have "Mungu Atubariki" (God Bless Us) painted on the back. Let's just say- we need it. Then the kid who takes the money/operates the door, etc. asks me where I am going and I tell him the secondary school and he apologizes and tells me that since I am the only going that far, they will not be and will drop me before that. But he tells me I can pay nothing for the ride. I agree and figure I will walk the rest of the way as it is only about a half an hour walk from there. However, my feet are already bleeding from the 9 k I have walked previously (Oh, my feet- they hate life here) and I am feeling Kiswahili confident at that moment and I wonder how much money it will take to get my way. Bribing with money is the best way to get what you want I have found. The police are so corrupt here that this is the method they fully operate on. So I start to bargain a bit. Then we come around a corner and see the other dala stopped in the road. A villagers owns two and makes a living transporting people and goods on them from Njombe to the bush and back. We stop- they tell us to get out- I think "Great- it is broken down and now we are going to wait while they fix it." But luckily I am wrong, and they just funnel some gas into it. Then they re-arrange us and all the luggage and tell me to switch cars. I see no reason for this, but play my role culturally as a woman in Tanzania and do what I am told. The driver of the new vehicle is a friendly man who is taking his sweet time going anywhere. He stops and talks to people, he drops things off, picks things up- I think impatiently that I could be walking faster. Then I remember what I can learn here from these people: Surrender. I am not in a hurry- I live in Africa. One surprising thing about Tanzanians is there amazing sense of humor. Everything is funny and they don't get angry, seriously, it is sort of weird. There is so much here that an American could find to be outraged about, but to them it is all "Hamnashida" (No Problems) or "Usijali" (Don't Mind). I tried to explain once to Juster our "time is money" saying- she laughed. "Brie, We have no such saying in Africa. Time is time, money is money. We have plenty of time, just not enough money." It starts to get dark. He asks where I am going- I tell him the secondary school. He asks if I am going to visit Doctor Joshua (Josh has a PhD, so this is what they call him and of course he knows him as this has been Josh's transportation for two years and we might be the only white people this guy knows). The driver changes entirely, suddenly it is an emergency that I get to his site. He yells out his window that he will stop for people on the way back but now he must get me to the secondary school. He "haraka harakas" (Faster) people out of the car. He drives like a bat out of hell and I smile to myself because sometimes it just cracks me up to be here. The whole dala is telling me to "Salimia" (greet) Josh and I wonder what my village will be like once they are trained to deal with Brie after two years.

I have a great Halloween. We debate going to "Omba pipi" (Beg for candy) from Josh's neighbors and we try to explain Halloween to one of his favorite students, Deus. (We stayed at Deus' parents house when we took our really long walk/camp trip a few weeks back). Deus laughs and we can tell is thinking "Crazy Americans". We make Carmel popcorn without any Carmel- so it is really buttery sugary good-ness. Drink some beer and use my laptop and his solar panel to watch "Flight of the Concords". True resourcefulness in PC would be any time you are drinking Safari Lager, eating popcorn and watching a movie in a village.

I was able to look through Josh's things for what I want to keep, which is the one benefit of him leaving. I am inheriting a ton of stuff, but am most excited about sheets, a french press, a pressure cooker, garden seeds and an old green sweatshirt. We also went and watched a speech/debate at his school, where one boy spoke about Obama. The point is to get them to practice speaking English, since that is the language secondary school is taught in. The debate was on mining, but past topics included: "Explain why women are the cause of poverty"- wish I could have seen that one... The headmaster explained to the students that I would be giving out the prizes because I was the "honored guest"- which cracked Josh and I up because he didn't even know I was coming. So I handed out the prizes- a bar of soap and some pencils. There is so much to appreciate here in the differences. I live in a country where there is no schedule, no good transport, no Halloween, but Carmel corn can be made, modern conveniences are a pressure cooker and are valued, and everywhere I go I am an honored guest. What's not to love?