Out of Africa

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 Lutheran 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 African 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 described 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 that 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 seating 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.