A couple of my friends and readers of this blog remarked that it had been a while since my last post. They essentially demanded that I write a new one, so here I am! The events of the last few weeks really hadn’t given me much to write about, as spending Tuesday – Friday in the office and visiting villages on Saturdays were all events I have written about numerous times. As things become more routine I find that I do have less stories stockpiled to pour out in the short novels I write here, so I apologize that my posts have become less frequent. I try to keep what I write meaningful and interesting, and the monotony of the everyday doesn’t quite meet that criteria. I hope that when you do stumble across and find a new post that you enjoy reading it, and that the time it may take me to write a new one is worth the wait. This past weekend gave me plenty to write about, however, so here I am again, settled in for the few hours it usually takes me to complete my perfectionist cycle of writing, proofreading, and editing these posts!
On Friday morning at 7am Magi Griffin and I settled into our front-row seats of one of Scandanavia Bus Line’s shabby coaches to make the seven-hour ride to Dar es Salaam, the former capital of Tanzania. Magi is a fellow Atlantan and a missionary working in the diocese as Special Projects Advisor to Bishop Mhogolo, and her office is just two doors down from The Carpenter’s Kids. Magi and I both studied art in school (and also discovered that we lived in the very same dorm room in Brumby Hall at UGA several decades apart!) and thus we were traveling to Dar to attend the Mukutano Arts & Crafts show. Though the bus ride was long (we traveled for 7 hours with one 10 minute stop halfway) and got progressively hotter the closer we got to Dar, the ride was much less miserable than the one I remembered from my first day in Africa. I guess after spending 24 hours on planes the eight hour trip was a bit much to handle. Nevertheless, we arrived in Dar where Magi’s usual taxi driver, Frank, picked us up and took us to the Luther
an hostel where we would be staying. After checking in and taking a brief walk-through and photo-op at the beautiful Lutheran church next door, we headed out in search of lunch. As Magi lived in Dar for two years before beginning her time in Dodoma, she knows her way around quite well, and thus we soon arrived at our destination which was a short walk from the hostel. We entered what was almost like a small food court, which had several fast-food options side-by-side. Among the choices were pizza, ice cream, a deli, and even a Western-style burger joint with fries, milkshakes, and the US’s artery-clogging creation of triple cheeseburgers. Magi and I both sat down to an assortment of salads from the deli, and already I was happy to be in Dar. Real salads are the food I miss the most from home, as they aren’t really available in Dodoma. Salads made from cabbage are common, but ones with real lettuce are rare, not to mention that you put the welfare of your stomach at risk anytime you eat fresh vegetables from a restaurant! After lunch we stopped next door in Novel Idea, one of a chain of bookstores in Dar. We spent quite a bit of time just browsing the shelves and enjoying the air conditioning, and I picked up some great little handmade cards. Though we had been in the slow-paced city of Dodoma merely eight hours before, I already felt as if we were worlds away. The high-rise filled, traffic congested, and bustling city of Dar es Salaam is a far stretch from the Africa I have come to know, and this realization became all the more apparent as the day went on.
After leaving the bookstore and finding a cab, Magi and I made our way across town to Jubilee Hall, where the Mukutano arts and crafts show was being held. We paid our 3,000 Tsh entry (about $3) and found ourselves in a huge warehouse-style building with stall after stall of artwork, jewelry, housewares, crafts, and clothing. Many of the stalls displayed crafts made by disabled people and men and women of the Masai tribe, and the proceeds from these sales went directly to their cause. Needless to say Magi and I had no trouble spending money, and I had pulled out my wallet within the first five minutes of arriving. We spent several hours meandering around the different stalls and admiring all of the amazing work on display, every so often finding things we had to have. Excluding the more expensive items of furniture and artwork, most of the small crafts can be purchased for extremely low prices, and even these can be bargained down. Most purchases leave you with the feeling that you’ve gotten a real steal, as even the beautiful and well-made items come at such a low cost. Many of the stalls had great clothes made from the bright kangas that all the African women wear, and as a lover of clothes and somewhat of a shop-a-holic, I particularly enjoyed these. Even though at home I spent exorbitant amounts of money on clothes and would have been shocked to find things I liked at these prices, I couldn’t bring myself to spend the equivalent of about $30 on these clothes. The knowledge that I could buy the fabric AND have things made in Dodoma for about $10 got the better of me, and I reluctantly left all these great things behind. My favorite part of the show was the stalls that displayed furniture and household accessories. Several places had some of the coolest raw wood furniture I’ve ever seen, all of which I wished I could take home. These items were so well made and so unique that they would have cost several hundred or thousands of dollars in the U.S. One mzungu furniture designer had on display an L-shaped couch made of raw wood, the supports of which were made to look like pier posts (rope and all) and one end of which was carved into the bow of a canoe. Though this may bring images of tacky beach house or cliché mountain home furniture into mind, it was actually a very sleek and modern piece. I complimented the designer and she told me that she’d be busy making couches for months, as she had received many orders for it. If only I had my own house and tons of money, I would have gladly taken one home as well! One jarring feature of Mukutano was the huge amount of Wazungu there! Though in Dodoma it is not uncommon to see small groups of Wazungu walking around town, there are usually only a couple together and most likely you’ve seen them before. In Dar, however, they are EVERYWHERE!! The Tanzanians actually seemed to be in the minority in this huge warehouse, and there was a great number of accents that could be picked out from the cacophony of voices. Most of the wazungu seemed to be either chic young couples with adorable children or fashionable 20-somethings, and I couldn’t imagine most of these people living in Dodoma!
At the end of the day there was a small concert, and Magi and I were relieved to sit down and listen after our long day. The concert featured several groups, the first of which was by far the best. The group played traditional A
frican music and all wore traditional African clothes. Two little girls were the feature of the show, as they tirelessly performed intricate dances and acrobatics along with the music. Though attempts by one of the girls and by a singer from another group to pull myself and others up to the stage to join in the dancing, I was fortunately able to stay rooted in my chair! About 9pm we made our way out into the heavy humidity and got a cab to head to dinner, which Magi told me would be her treat. We arrived at a hotel near our hostel and took the elevator to the top floor, which opened to an upscale Thai restaurant overlooking the harbour, complete with waiters who pulled out your chair and placed cloth napkins in your lap. I hadn’t been anywhere this nice since leaving home nearly 4 months ago, and once again I had to remind myself that I was still in Africa! From this elegant restaurant overlooking the city lights of Dar es Salaam I could have been in any city restaurant in the United States. Magi and I enjoyed a huge three course meal, after which we managed to hobble back to our hostel in order to make the nightly 12am curfew. Entering my hot and stuffy room was made even more unbearable after enjoying the relief of air conditioning for the previous few hours, and after a cold shower I was immediately hot and sweaty again. Nevertheless I put the fan on full blast and crawled under my mosquito net for the warm night ahead.
The next day Magi and I continued our shopping quest, beginning with a hunt for a pair of sandals I had seen a few girls wearing the day before. I was told that a French woman sold them out of her home, and despite attempts to find the describ
ed location, we momentarily gave up our search. We then continued on to Slipway, a shopping district which I had heard about from friends in Dodoma. I had assumed it was another craft market with decrepid wood and sheet metal stalls like the one we visited back in August with the NY pilgrims, but boy was I wrong! The place we arrived at was essentially an outdoor mall, complete with stores, restaurants, and open courtyards, right on the coast of the Indian Ocean. It was beautiful! On one side of the building there was a stall-style market setup that is only open on Saturdays, and Magi and I slowly made our way through the sweltering aisles. Though not as stressful as my experience in August, I still found it to be somewhat overwhelming. Vendors are constantly yelling out at you to come look at their wares, which are nearly identical to the 50 previous tables th
at have come before them. We browsed the tables making mental notes of things we wanted before taking a break for great fruit smoothies and returning to quickly make our purchases. We spent the next several hours wandering through the shops and admiring the breathtaking view, enjoying the cool relief the stores provided from the humidity outside. I accosted a couple more women who were wearing the shoes I was searching for, one of whom was wearing some sold by the French woman, who by that time in the day would have been closed. The other girl told me she had a shoemaker make hers for her in Tinga Tinga alley, and this is where Magi and I headed next. Tinga Tinga Alley was a street lined on both sides with the small wood and metal shops, many of which sold artwork. One of these stores was where the shoemaker, Clement, worked, and this was our first stop. One sole pair of the infamous shoes laid on a shelf, and amazingly they fit. Unfortunately, however, one strap was too short, and Clement was not 
at the shop. We had Musa, a tailor at the shop, to call him for us, and he said he would be there in 30 minutes to fix them for me. Magi and I happily made our way through the other shops to pass the time – managing not to buy a thing! – before returning to meet Clement. Clement took the necessary measurements to fix the shoes for me, and sat down to start his work. Lukily he spoke English, and we sat and chatted with him for the next 45 minutes or so, at which time my shoes were finally done! After paying the bargain price of 25,000 Tsh (about $25) for shoes that would have cost over $100 in the US, and after taking measurements for a custom pair for Magi, we said goodbye to Clement and Musa. I promised him I would be back in January to order a few more pairs, and I plan to stock up before coming home!
A short stop at the hostel and a walk through town in search of a restaurant Magi had been told about found us in an empty vegetarian Indian restaurant. We perused the menus having no idea what most of the words meant, and finally took the advice of the owner on what to order. The food we were presented with was of the likes that Magi and I had never seen, and we dug in with interest and curiosity. Once again we were stuffed at the end of the meal, and complimented the owner on all the wonderful food we had been served. Magi did what she could to investigate what spices had been used in what we ordered, and remarked that she was curious how they had made it. To our surprise the owner then offered to show us the kitchen! So the three of us squeezed our way into the tiny kitchen to see the chefs at work. We left the restaurant full, happy, and having felt like we’d been given the royal treatment. As it was only 8:30 we decided that as wonderful as the stifling heat of our hostel rooms sounded, we did not want to go back yet, so we decided to go for a drink. Magi had heard of a great hotel that opened within the past few years which she had not yet been to, so we walked the couple of blocks to The Kilimanjaro Hotel. Immediately upon walking up we knew we were entering a different world, as palm tree-filled pools and a red-carpeted porte cochere led up to the façade of an elegant hotel. The lobby was amazing, complete with a fiberglass back-lit check-in desk, high end boutique stores, gorgeous wood paneling and marble floors, cozy sea
ting areas, and a spiral staircase suspended over candlelit pools. After wandering around the lobby in pure tourist fashion, we took the elevator to Level 8, the hotel’s rooftop bar. Not only did this place feel like it was much too nice to be in Africa, it also topped the list of one of the chicest places I’ve ever been in my life. Tuxedo-dressed Tanzanian waiters led us to a small private seating area with cream leather couches and chairs next to floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the water. The room was dimly lit by delicate paper light fixtures and candles, and Magi and I sat for hours enjoying the atmosphere. It felt strange ordering drinks that cost more than some people in Africa see in a month. Magi and I discussed how unusual it would be to bring one of the guardians of a Carpenter’s Kid or even one of the guys in our office – who are all well-educated – to a place like this. There is absolutely no connection between their world and places like The Kilimanjaro Hotel, and it’s strange to think that many of these people will never leave their villages, much less see a place like this one. I felt like I needed to pinch myself every few minutes as a reminder that I was still in Africa and that in less than 24 hours I would find myself back on the dirt roads of Dodoma.
After another sweltering night in my room at the Luther House hostel, Magi and I attended the Anglican Church on Sunday morning. Though I found it a bit hard to concentrate due to the incredible heat, I still felt more at home in that church than I had in any service since arriving here. The service followed the liturgy I have been accustomed to since I was a little, and it was nice to hear the traditional hymns as well. Magi and had to leave right after communion in order to grab our things and catch a cab to the bus station, but nevertheless I was glad we had attended. The return trip to Dodoma was very hot (I’m sure you’re noticing a theme here…..Dar is HOT AND HUMID!) and seemed a bit long, and we were both glad to arrive safely back in Dodoma after the long weekend. It was nice to escape for a few days and to enjoy some of the luxuries that the simple life in Dodoma cannot provide. On my previous brief trips to Dar I had decided that I did not like the crowded, noisy atmosphere, but after seeing more of the pretty parts of the city I really enjoyed it. At the beginning of the trip I couldn’t help but think of how nice it would be to live there and to have access to all the great things Magi and I were able to do. After a while, though, I realized that this experience wouldn’t be what it should have been if I were not in Dodoma. While being able to go to Slipway or to The Kilimanjaro Hotel regularly might be nice, it would in no way be the “Africa” that I think it is meant to be. While the dirt roads, no air conditioning, and few restaurants of Dodoma leave a bit to be desired at times, it is what it is, and I’m happy for that. I feel that being here and seeing how people live enables me to somehow connect with the people that The Carpenter’s Kids serves. Living in a place like Dar would make it too easy to cast aside the hardships of these people and forget. As one Carpenter’s Kid said, “We felt like we had been forgotten by the world”, and I feel like it is my duty to remember them.
Wishing everyone a Happy Thanksgiving from Dodoma, Tanzania! I hope you enjoy spending the day with your families and giving thanks for all that you have. We truly are blessed.
It’s been a while since my last post, so I guess it’s time for an update in the Dodoma happenings of this certain Mzungu. Liz and I have become quite annoyed at having this yelled out to us multiple times a day, as yes, we realize we are “white ones” and are not impressed by this statement of the obvious. In moments of irritation I’ve been tempted to respond the equally observant exclamation, “African!”, but thankfully I’ve managed to restrain myself thus far. I recently found a group on Facebook (that all-encompassing social network site that eats up much of my internet money) entitled “I went against the guidebooks’ advice and actually chose to live in Dodoma”. The group page contains a “For those of you who….” list which with poignant accuracy details the uniquities which become a part of daily life here. Here are a few for your enjoyment:
For those of you who….
7. Grew a second skin of sunscreen mixed with dust
12. Watched 3 seasons of Dawson’s Creek because….well…you could.
15. Were able to moan like the upper classes about lazy night watchmen or complacent house maids who left peg marks in your clothes or baked bread as hard as a rock20. Actually tried on multiple occasions to explain that England, USA and Australia are in fact not on the same continent, or to crack the stereotype that all wazungu are shillingi billionaires. And failed miserably.
30. Will never miss squat toilets, mosquito nets, mosquitoes for that matter, t-shirt tans, ugali, obnoxiously noising fridges, people that walk behind reversing cars, WAITING, and everything else that makes Dodoma that little bit 'special'.
One group member left a comment about being addressed as “Mzungu”, and said that she had come up with a solution. When being addressed in this way, she would exclaim, “Wapi?” (where?), and look around confusingly. I must try this next time!
The past couple of weeks have passed by fairly quickly, which is something I haven’t experienced so far, as time usually seems to drag by. (Just to update my usual tally: 3 months down, 5 ½ to go.) I had gotten myself quite stressed out over all the work I suddenly had to do in the office, and my “to-do” list seemed to grow exponentially with every passing day rather than getting smaller! One day last week I chose to abandon the office and work at home, which proved to be well worth it. I cranked out a sizable chunk of my list in about a 7 hour span, which with the distractions (and heat!) in the office would have taken me days. I still have quite a bit to do, but I feel that it has been reduced to a manageable size. Life in Africa isn’t meant to be stressful, as the phrase “Hakuna Matata” (which means “No worries” for you non-Lion King watchers) is one which is taken at full value. People don’t really get stressed here, and they just take things as they come. This is also the reason that doing anything takes about ten times longer than anyone in the US would find normal or even acceptable, which has definitely been something to get used to, as well as a test of my patience.
We had a group of 5 visitors from VA join us a couple of weeks ago to explore how they could contribute to The Carpenter’s Kids. Though their trip was short – only 5 days – we enjoyed having them here. The group was led by Buck Blanchard, Director of Missions for the Diocese of Virginia. He is also an avid supporter of the program as a part of the Friends in Colorado group, which supports a village of 200 children. The two remaining couples and he are all members of the same parish. Liz and I were particularly excited for their arrival because Buck had kindly agreed to bring an extra bag for all the things we had decided we were missing and couldn’t live without. For weeks we had been compiling lists which we then sent to our parents who gathered it all and sent it on to Buck in Virginia. When Buck arrived we felt a bit guilty at the size of the bag he had lugged over for us, and even guiltier when we found out that one couple had lost both of their bags in the journey, while ours had arrived safely. Nevertheless, we were quite excited to receive these items from home, and it was almost like Christmas morning looking through our wares! While my mom had included only things which I had asked for, Liz’s mom had thrown in a few surprises. We got a kick out of a few of them, the best being a few sets of brightly colored buttons in the shape of African animals. We are quite determined to find a use for them!
The group was initially interested in exploring healthcare in the Dodoma region, so their visit was filled with trips to various health centers in the area. Some of the staff was able to accompany them on their trip to Dodoma General Hospital, which Liz and I pass by everyday on the way to work. There are always huge groups of people waiting outside for visiting hours to begin, and families are expected to provide much care for their sick family members. The hospital does not provide food for its patients, and thus the family members have to bring in their own. We were given a tour of the hospital, and it was nothing short of shocking, though by Tanzanian standards it is probably seen to be quite nice. The hospital campus is composed of many different buildings, each of which is dedicated to a different ward of the hospital. One of the first buildings we visited was pediatrics. We entered to see a bench full of women and their children awaiting treatment by one nurse, who sat administering an IV to an infant. We made our way through the building, passing bed after bed of women lying with their sick children. One woman held a screaming child, part of whose head was bandaged but the rest of which revealed bright pink skin in some stage of healing from severe burns. A visit to the maternal ward was possibly even more disturbing. Women who had either just delivered their babies or in various stages of labor lay uncomfortably in beds no more than one foot apart from each other, some with their newborns right there beside them. A visit to the neonatal ICU ward was slightly more promising, as at least some care was sh
own in keeping these susceptible infants from the exposure of the rest of the hospital. The mothers sat chatting with each other on their beds in one part of the room, while their babies were kept in a separate room behind closed doors. We also visited an empty ICU with three beds – and wondered whether the fact that it was empty was a good or a bad thing – the eye unit, the dental clinic, and Radiology. The hospital’s capacity was 420 beds, and yet they had one sonogram machine and one working X-ray machine, which are the only ones available for use by several regions. The sonogram machine had been donated to the hospital in the early 1990s, meaning that by now it is extremely out-dated. We also visited the wash room, which I was worried would be nothing more than women scrubbing sheets in vats of cold, soapy water. I was pleased to find that they did have high-temperature machines to wash the linens, but the remarks of the two men operating them and the sight of the stained sheets hanging outside to dry proved that they the machines left a bit to be desired in terms of sterilization. The closest comparison I can make to what I saw at Dodoma General is to that of war movies, where metal beds with thin mattresses are lined up in close succession down the entirety of a long, narrow room, each filled with a patient afflicted by some illness or another. The visit to the hospital left me with a renewed sense of just how far ahead the western world really is, though I had to remind myself that these patients were lucky to be near the hospital, as many of the distant villages provide little or no opportunity for medical care. I am continually reminded here that the world of medicine is one which I am intrigued by, and maybe if I can make it through Chemistry (the second time around!), that I may find myself in this field one day in the future.
We have had quite a few exciting social events over the past couple of weeks, which at least gives us something to look forward to on weekends and evenings. Dinner parties with Leane, Liz, and the Holland girls (Miaaike – “Micah” – and Lianne – “Liana”) have become the norm, and each Thursday night finds us sitting out in the courtyard at Leane’s beautifully set table, candles and all! (PHOT
O: me, Lianne, Miaaike, Leane, and Liz) Recently we’ve also been making our way through our various DVD collections, and just the other night we took a walk down memory lane with a Disney night, watching The Lion King and Anastasia! Liz, Miaaike, Lianne, and I also decided a few weekends ago that it was time we had a little dinner party of our own when Leane was out of town, but what began as the four of us eventually escalated into a full event with 11 guests! Liz and I volunteered for the main course and planned to make pasta. While we had done our shopping a few days before, the news that there were 11 people coming sent us back to the store for more supplies. By some reasoning we decided that three bags of pasta would be sufficient, which we quickly discovered was an enormous amount! Nonetheless, we sat down to enough pasta and sauce to feed an army, along with various other dishes which had been contributed by the other guests. We finished off with boxed cake mix with homemade vanilla icing (Magi helped us out with this), fresh fruit, and tea, and with the satisfaction that we had managed to pull off a successful and enjoyable dinner. It did take two more pasta dinners (prepared in a variety of ways) and a total of 20 people to finish the massive amount we had prepared, so we definitely learned our lesson! Leane also had a birthday party recently at the Dodoma Hotel, to which she invited about 25 people. A table was set up poolside, and she had pre-ordered 30 small pizzas for everyone. The waiters brought them out 10 at a time to be shared by everyone, but by
the time we were all stuffed and people were leaving to go home, the final 6 or so appeared. Needless to say we knew what dinner would be the following Thursday! It has been so nice to spend time with the people around me on such an informal basis, and we all look forward to our dinner parties with great anticipation. These people have become my stand-in family, and it has been nice to come together and have each other to share both our joys and our trials of each day.
We have continued with our weekly distributions in the villages, which generally are all very similar. Recently, however, I visited the village of Fufu with John, John Joseph, and Willie, three of my Tanzanian co-workers. (The rest of the group stayed with the VA visitors at another village.) While being the only Mzungu among the staff and villagers is always quite the experience, this village provided additional excitement. I learned upon our arrival that due to the village’s size, the kids were actually divided between two different parishes about 30 minutes apart. We got to the first parish to drop off the supplies we would be distributing later in the day, but of course we had to stay for a while to be served chai and chipati. We then continued on the other village, which proceeded to serve us chai for the second time within the hour before we continued with the distribution. With only about 25 children the distribution went quite quickly, so we then got back into the Land Rover to return to the first parish. We arrived and climbed out of the car to enter the church, and a tiny little girl of about a year was standing right beside the car. I bent down to say hello to her and reached out my hand, and was somewhat surprised when she wrapped one of her tiny hands around my finger. I then reached out for her and she willingly came to me, so I entered the church carrying this sweet little girl. She sat with me at the front of the church for a while until she decided it was time to go find her mom, and at her wiggling I set her down to go tottering back down the aisle. Though we only spent a few minutes together, my little “rafiki” (friend), as John called her, definitely was a special part of the day. After the distribution was complete they told us they had gifts to give us, which is a normal occurrence. The gifts they presented, however, were anything but normal, as first a chicken and then a goat were handed over to us! The genero
sity of these people is amazing, and I can’t help but feel like they are showing us too much gratitude, as it is the supporters in the US who are providing these things for them. We are simply the deliverers! While groups have been presented with goats and chickens before, they are often left in the village for “safekeeping” by the parish priest, so I was somewhat taken aback when I opened the door to the car to climb in and found both of these animals settled in for the ride back to Dodoma! With no other choice I carefully stepped over them to sit at the front of the car, and was followed by a few village members whom we were giving a ride into town. So it was like this that I traveled the two hours back into Dodoma: John Joseph driving with John in the front, and Willie, me, the Tanzanian women, the goat, and the chicken. We eventually picked up even more people along the way, which made for quite a packed ride. To top it off, one of the Tanzanian women sitting near me got a bit car sick, which prompted a scolding from John Joseph and a stop for a quick change of clothes. Needless to say I was very happy when we finally arrived back home! John and John Joseph both happily took their new animal friends home with them, and I inquired as to whether they had been eaten yet just the other day. They are thankfully both still alive, though John has plans to fatten up his goat for Christmas dinner! I expressed to Liz that I don’t think she will ever beat my trip to Fufu, but I’d sure like to see her try!
When I was still in school – just last year, which seems so long ago! – this time of year seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. The end of October meant Fall Break, three weeks later was Thanksgiving, and two weeks more of classes and then exams meant the long-awaited Christmas holidays had arrived. I am curious to see whether this time will pass as quickly here, as I do not have these series of breaks to split up the weeks. I am anxious for Christmas, however, as Liz, Lianna, Miaaike, and I have planned a two-week getaway to Zanzibar Island off the coast of Tanzania. I will thus spend Christmas day lounging on a beach somewhere, and I simply cannot wait! I have heard that Zanzibar is a beautiful place, so I am greatly looking forward to it. Though the trip there will be anything but fun – requiring an 8-hour bus ride and a 2 ½ hour ferry – I am hoping that our time there will make it well worth the horrendous travel. Leane and her son who will be visiting and a few others from Dodoma will be there as well, so we have plans to spend Christmas together, which will help us all to forget that we’re missing Christmas at home. I’m sure it will be here before we know it, and I know that decorations have already started appearing in stores in the US! It will be strange to miss out on the Dailey family traditions this year, but I guess it’s not every year I’ll get to have an African Christmas.
The past few weeks have been much easier, and I am finding that the longer I’m here the easier it gets, which is a nice feeling. One of the Virginia visitors remarked that one of his favorite parts of his trip was seeing The Carpenter’s Kids staff all joke around and interact with each other, and he stressed how we should enjoy it while we can, because it won’t last forever. I know that I will miss these people when I’m gone, so I’m trying to appreciate every day with them. Liz and I have developed quite a unique relationship, and much of what we say to each other is either laced with sarcasm or is picking on the other in some way. It’s been quite fun to have people to joke around with, and Liz and I enjoy thinking of all the things I’ll get to taunt her with when I’m back home enjoying the luxuries of Western life while she is still here! I look for the joy in things everyday, and whether it’s joking around with my new friends, sharing candlelight dinners and movie nights, or by being shown kindness and generosity by those who have so little, they all add to my appreciation for my time in Tanzania.
an hostel where we would be staying. After checking in and taking a brief walk-through and photo-op at the beautiful Lutheran church next door, we headed out in search of lunch. As Magi lived in Dar for two years before beginning her time in Dodoma, she knows her way around quite well, and thus we soon arrived at our destination which was a short walk from the hostel. We entered what was almost like a small food court, which had several fast-food options side-by-side. Among the choices were pizza, ice cream, a deli, and even a Western-style burger joint with fries, milkshakes, and the US’s artery-clogging creation of triple cheeseburgers. Magi and I both sat down to an assortment of salads from the deli, and already I was happy to be in Dar. Real salads are the food I miss the most from home, as they aren’t really available in Dodoma. Salads made from cabbage are common, but ones with real lettuce are rare, not to mention that you put the welfare of your stomach at risk anytime you eat fresh vegetables from a restaurant! After lunch we stopped next door in Novel Idea, one of a chain of bookstores in Dar. We spent quite a bit of time just browsing the shelves and enjoying the air conditioning, and I picked up some great little handmade cards. Though we had been in the slow-paced city of Dodoma merely eight hours before, I already felt as if we were worlds away. The high-rise filled, traffic congested, and bustling city of Dar es Salaam is a far stretch from the Africa I have come to know, and this realization became all the more apparent as the day went on.
frican music and all wore traditional African clothes. Two little girls were the feature of the show, as they tirelessly performed intricate dances and acrobatics along with the music. Though attempts by one of the girls and by a singer from another group to pull myself and others up to the stage to join in the dancing, I was fortunately able to stay rooted in my chair! About 9pm we made our way out into the heavy humidity and got a cab to head to dinner, which Magi told me would be her treat. We arrived at a hotel near our hostel and took the elevator to the top floor, which opened to an upscale Thai restaurant overlooking the harbour, complete with waiters who pulled out your chair and placed cloth napkins in your lap. I hadn’t been anywhere this nice since leaving home nearly 4 months ago, and once again I had to remind myself that I was still in Africa! From this elegant restaurant overlooking the city lights of Dar es Salaam I could have been in any city restaurant in the United States. Magi and I enjoyed a huge three course meal, after which we managed to hobble back to our hostel in order to make the nightly 12am curfew. Entering my hot and stuffy room was made even more unbearable after enjoying the relief of air conditioning for the previous few hours, and after a cold shower I was immediately hot and sweaty again. Nevertheless I put the fan on full blast and crawled under my mosquito net for the warm night ahead.
ed location, we momentarily gave up our search. We then continued on to Slipway, a shopping district which I had heard about from friends in Dodoma. I had assumed it was another craft market with decrepid wood and sheet metal stalls like the one we visited back in August with the NY pilgrims, but boy was I wrong! The place we arrived at was essentially an outdoor mall, complete with stores, restaurants, and open courtyards, right on the coast of the Indian Ocean. It was beautiful! On one side of the building there was a stall-style market setup that is only open on Saturdays, and Magi and I slowly made our way through the sweltering aisles. Though not as stressful as my experience in August, I still found it to be somewhat overwhelming. Vendors are constantly yelling out at you to come look at their wares, which are nearly identical to the 50 previous tables th
at have come before them. We browsed the tables making mental notes of things we wanted before taking a break for great fruit smoothies and returning to quickly make our purchases. We spent the next several hours wandering through the shops and admiring the breathtaking view, enjoying the cool relief the stores provided from the humidity outside. I accosted a couple more women who were wearing the shoes I was searching for, one of whom was wearing some sold by the French woman, who by that time in the day would have been closed. The other girl told me she had a shoemaker make hers for her in Tinga Tinga alley, and this is where Magi and I headed next. Tinga Tinga Alley was a street lined on both sides with the small wood and metal shops, many of which sold artwork. One of these stores was where the shoemaker, Clement, worked, and this was our first stop. One sole pair of the infamous shoes laid on a shelf, and amazingly they fit. Unfortunately, however, one strap was too short, and Clement was not 
at the shop. We had Musa, a tailor at the shop, to call him for us, and he said he would be there in 30 minutes to fix them for me. Magi and I happily made our way through the other shops to pass the time – managing not to buy a thing! – before returning to meet Clement. Clement took the necessary measurements to fix the shoes for me, and sat down to start his work. Lukily he spoke English, and we sat and chatted with him for the next 45 minutes or so, at which time my shoes were finally done! After paying the bargain price of 25,000 Tsh (about $25) for shoes that would have cost over $100 in the US, and after taking measurements for a custom pair for Magi, we said goodbye to Clement and Musa. I promised him I would be back in January to order a few more pairs, and I plan to stock up before coming home!
ting areas, and a spiral staircase suspended over candlelit pools. After wandering around the lobby in pure tourist fashion, we took the elevator to Level 8, the hotel’s rooftop bar. Not only did this place feel like it was much too nice to be in Africa, it also topped the list of one of the chicest places I’ve ever been in my life. Tuxedo-dressed Tanzanian waiters led us to a small private seating area with cream leather couches and chairs next to floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the water. The room was dimly lit by delicate paper light fixtures and candles, and Magi and I sat for hours enjoying the atmosphere. It felt strange ordering drinks that cost more than some people in Africa see in a month. Magi and I discussed how unusual it would be to bring one of the guardians of a Carpenter’s Kid or even one of the guys in our office – who are all well-educated – to a place like this. There is absolutely no connection between their world and places like The Kilimanjaro Hotel, and it’s strange to think that many of these people will never leave their villages, much less see a place like this one. I felt like I needed to pinch myself every few minutes as a reminder that I was still in Africa and that in less than 24 hours I would find myself back on the dirt roads of Dodoma.
