Dark Skin and flat Noses
The skin of the artist we met had become lighter during the 30 years he had spent in London. When he returned to his native Zanzibar as an internationally recognized designer, his fellow Zanzibari told him not to go into the sun and to carry an umbrella when walking in the streets to continuously keep his skin light. There is a saying, that the darker your skin is, the more difficult it is to make a career in Tanzania. Not surprisingly, there are adverts for a cream that should make your skin lighter all over the place.
The same artist got arrested in the weeks before the 2005 elections in turbulent Zanzibar when during a curfew he wanted to bring some food to an elderly single lady. When police asked for his tribe, he answered to be an African. However, the policemen got pretty angry at him and told him that he could not be an African, as all Africans would have flat noses, and dark skin!
Descendants of Arabic origin, which traveled centuries ago in their boats along the East African cost, still live in Zanzibar, and have mixed with the local African population manifold. Many however fled during the revolution in 1963 when the Sultan was dethroned.
Monday, 7 May 2007
Only the Bible
A colleague of mine stayed in Morogoro for some months, and was desperate for a book to read. She visited each and every shop in the town counting no less than 240’000 souls, but could not find any other book than English beginners’ school booklets*. Then she changed her strategy, and asked all the Tanzanians she knew for a book. Finally, she asked her landlady for the only book in the house: a bible. So from this day on every evening she read a chapter from the bible. When she returned to Dar, what she was most interested in was to consult my book shelf!
*English is, beside Kiswahili, the second state language of Tanzania.
A colleague of mine stayed in Morogoro for some months, and was desperate for a book to read. She visited each and every shop in the town counting no less than 240’000 souls, but could not find any other book than English beginners’ school booklets*. Then she changed her strategy, and asked all the Tanzanians she knew for a book. Finally, she asked her landlady for the only book in the house: a bible. So from this day on every evening she read a chapter from the bible. When she returned to Dar, what she was most interested in was to consult my book shelf!
*English is, beside Kiswahili, the second state language of Tanzania.
Patient Tanzanian Children
On a small motor boat in the Rufiji River Delta; The one year old is knotted to the chest of his mother in a colorful cloth. With big eyes the baby boy observes his environment, the huge traditional sailing boat passing by, or a crocodile lying in the sun on the river bench, when his mother is not once again putting another cloth over his head, covering the face. Sweat pearls on his face, flies in the edges of his mouth, some drops of dirty water to drink, but not a single outcry during the three hours journey under the bright hot tropic sun!
On a small motor boat in the Rufiji River Delta; The one year old is knotted to the chest of his mother in a colorful cloth. With big eyes the baby boy observes his environment, the huge traditional sailing boat passing by, or a crocodile lying in the sun on the river bench, when his mother is not once again putting another cloth over his head, covering the face. Sweat pearls on his face, flies in the edges of his mouth, some drops of dirty water to drink, but not a single outcry during the three hours journey under the bright hot tropic sun!
Relative danger
The waiter in the Mikumi National Park Lodge asked me about my early morning drink wishes. I said a cup of coffee at 6.30 would be nice. All of a sudden, he changed his mind. And he argued that this very morning there had been a lot of dangerous buffalos between the kitchen and the cottage where I was staying, and therefore it would be dangerous for him to bring me the coffee. If alternatively, I could not come to the kitchen and pick it up by myself?
The waiter in the Mikumi National Park Lodge asked me about my early morning drink wishes. I said a cup of coffee at 6.30 would be nice. All of a sudden, he changed his mind. And he argued that this very morning there had been a lot of dangerous buffalos between the kitchen and the cottage where I was staying, and therefore it would be dangerous for him to bring me the coffee. If alternatively, I could not come to the kitchen and pick it up by myself?
Social Control
Who regularly goes to church in Morogoro, a town some 200km West of Dar es Salaam, is expected with an envelop with his or her respective name on it. And when leaving the church – after a three hours mess - the envelope is supposed to contain some money, too, and somebody will check on how much Mama and Bwana have contributed!
Who regularly goes to church in Morogoro, a town some 200km West of Dar es Salaam, is expected with an envelop with his or her respective name on it. And when leaving the church – after a three hours mess - the envelope is supposed to contain some money, too, and somebody will check on how much Mama and Bwana have contributed!
Street Bribery
Early morning down at the port in Dar es Salaam, waiting for the ferry to set me across the harbor; A police man in full uniform encounters a fisher man, just a few meters in front of the waiting cars, numerous drivers watching what is going to happen next. The policeman removes the banana leaves that covered the fish in the basket, inspects one fish after the other lifting them all out of the basket, and finally chooses the freshest and biggest to walk away, without paying a single shilling.
Police in Tanzania is very corrupted, 1000s of them stay along endless roads in smart light blue or sandy color uniforms, cashing money for nothing directly into their pockets.
When the newly appointed Attorney General wanted to make believe the Swedish ambassador in my presence, that there is no such thing as street bribery, I could not resist the temptation to invite both of them on a ride with a local minibus. The attorney changed the subject, and luckily the Swedish ambassador has forgiven me my diplomatic insult and is still greeting me!
Early morning down at the port in Dar es Salaam, waiting for the ferry to set me across the harbor; A police man in full uniform encounters a fisher man, just a few meters in front of the waiting cars, numerous drivers watching what is going to happen next. The policeman removes the banana leaves that covered the fish in the basket, inspects one fish after the other lifting them all out of the basket, and finally chooses the freshest and biggest to walk away, without paying a single shilling.
Police in Tanzania is very corrupted, 1000s of them stay along endless roads in smart light blue or sandy color uniforms, cashing money for nothing directly into their pockets.
When the newly appointed Attorney General wanted to make believe the Swedish ambassador in my presence, that there is no such thing as street bribery, I could not resist the temptation to invite both of them on a ride with a local minibus. The attorney changed the subject, and luckily the Swedish ambassador has forgiven me my diplomatic insult and is still greeting me!
The omnipresent party
You see them everywhere in Tanzania, the little green flags ragged in the wind, speared up on a bent stick or in the crown of a tree in a seemingly no different garden than the one of the house to its left and right. However, there is a big difference. The green flag, on which, if it is not yet completely washed out, you can recognize the hammer and sickle like party symbol of the ruling CCM party, marks the home of a ten cell leader. He is supervising another ten families in their daily life following rules and regulations of what once was the official single state party, be it marriage or dispute, divorce or illness, and all it gets accurately noted down into a big book!
You see them everywhere in Tanzania, the little green flags ragged in the wind, speared up on a bent stick or in the crown of a tree in a seemingly no different garden than the one of the house to its left and right. However, there is a big difference. The green flag, on which, if it is not yet completely washed out, you can recognize the hammer and sickle like party symbol of the ruling CCM party, marks the home of a ten cell leader. He is supervising another ten families in their daily life following rules and regulations of what once was the official single state party, be it marriage or dispute, divorce or illness, and all it gets accurately noted down into a big book!
Tour de Tanzania
Early in the morning, they line the roads: Heavy loaded Chinese bikes, with a single gear only, made of solid steel, and, most important, a very stable luggage rack. One can transport ones wife and children on it, sitting sideways, usually over passing us on our bikes when the road goes downhill, however with no helmets on…But early in the morning, the bikes are transporting goods into town: 30kg heavy charcoal bags, three at once; baskets full of tomatoes, bananas, coconut...carefully covered with banana leaves and stitched together. They bike in little groups, and when encountering a tree big enough to give shade to all of them, so go for a stop. It is incredibly hard work, and we always think if given the latest model of light weight street bike all of them could compete for the maillot jaune in the Tour de France!
Early in the morning, they line the roads: Heavy loaded Chinese bikes, with a single gear only, made of solid steel, and, most important, a very stable luggage rack. One can transport ones wife and children on it, sitting sideways, usually over passing us on our bikes when the road goes downhill, however with no helmets on…But early in the morning, the bikes are transporting goods into town: 30kg heavy charcoal bags, three at once; baskets full of tomatoes, bananas, coconut...carefully covered with banana leaves and stitched together. They bike in little groups, and when encountering a tree big enough to give shade to all of them, so go for a stop. It is incredibly hard work, and we always think if given the latest model of light weight street bike all of them could compete for the maillot jaune in the Tour de France!
Sunday, 6 May 2007
What a pain for simply graded coconut
Zanzibari chefs and housewives prepare most delicious meals with coconut – vegetables or prawns in a smooth coco nut sauce, or simply rice with a soft coconut flavor, to only mention the most popular ones. What we consider the milk inside the coconut, they drain down the drain when they hit one nut against another to break them. Then the flesh gets graded and soaked in water and finally pressed out for the real coco nut milk.
Grading is a huge job – Zanzibari women use a blade fixed to a wooden, carved construction that can be opened to sit on it, to fix it while grading. Early in the morning in every yard of a Zanzibari house, you would meet at least one women grading the days coconut demand.
However, we learned about an even harder job in order to get coco nut milk. In the Uluguru Mountains, more than 1000m above the town of Morogoro and more than 400km away from Zanzibar, along incredibly steep and narrow paths we encountered boys and young men in completely ragged clothes, carrying huge and heavy packages of these wooden constructions to fix the blade on their shoulders. No need to say that they were a lot faster than we were, despite their load and bare feet. And even higher up in the tropical forest well hidden away we found the craftsmen camp, only equipped with some hand sores and sharp carving knives. They were happy to see us, but under conditions that no photos were taken. What they do in the strictly protected forest, the catchment’s area of Dar es Salaams drinking water supply, is highly illegal.
A package of about half a dozen of these instruments with a liana string around it, is less than three dollars worth to the middlemen that buy them from the locals, and transport them to Zanzibar.
Adding the pain the craftsmen go through to fell the trees by hand and carve the instruments equally be hand, the young man carrying the heavy load on their shoulders down to Morogoro, only to re climb another 1000m in altitude to get more of them, and finally the grading Zanzibari ladies, spending their mornings with this monotonous work, we realized what a precious thing a coconut flavored dish actually is, never reflected in its real price, as food, at least for us, remains extremely cheap!
Zanzibari chefs and housewives prepare most delicious meals with coconut – vegetables or prawns in a smooth coco nut sauce, or simply rice with a soft coconut flavor, to only mention the most popular ones. What we consider the milk inside the coconut, they drain down the drain when they hit one nut against another to break them. Then the flesh gets graded and soaked in water and finally pressed out for the real coco nut milk.
Grading is a huge job – Zanzibari women use a blade fixed to a wooden, carved construction that can be opened to sit on it, to fix it while grading. Early in the morning in every yard of a Zanzibari house, you would meet at least one women grading the days coconut demand.
However, we learned about an even harder job in order to get coco nut milk. In the Uluguru Mountains, more than 1000m above the town of Morogoro and more than 400km away from Zanzibar, along incredibly steep and narrow paths we encountered boys and young men in completely ragged clothes, carrying huge and heavy packages of these wooden constructions to fix the blade on their shoulders. No need to say that they were a lot faster than we were, despite their load and bare feet. And even higher up in the tropical forest well hidden away we found the craftsmen camp, only equipped with some hand sores and sharp carving knives. They were happy to see us, but under conditions that no photos were taken. What they do in the strictly protected forest, the catchment’s area of Dar es Salaams drinking water supply, is highly illegal.
A package of about half a dozen of these instruments with a liana string around it, is less than three dollars worth to the middlemen that buy them from the locals, and transport them to Zanzibar.
Adding the pain the craftsmen go through to fell the trees by hand and carve the instruments equally be hand, the young man carrying the heavy load on their shoulders down to Morogoro, only to re climb another 1000m in altitude to get more of them, and finally the grading Zanzibari ladies, spending their mornings with this monotonous work, we realized what a precious thing a coconut flavored dish actually is, never reflected in its real price, as food, at least for us, remains extremely cheap!
Working hours of the Police
My French friend expressed that she hates to drive in town when it is raining. Slightly puzzled, I asked her why. Because all the police men go home when it rains, and there is a traffic jam at every junction, she answered!
When in the beginning of 2006 guests of a well known Indian restaurant were forced by heavily armed criminals to lay down and at gun point deliver all their valuables, a cook of the restaurant managed to escape through the back door, and ran a long way to the nearest police station, only to find it abandoned, at 9pm in the evening. A kitchen boy had managed to look himself into a toilet, and desperately tried to call the 112 emergency number with no success – no one replied!
The next day, it was all over in the newspaper, and the highest police commander was forced to resign, or better to say, was sent into early retirement. Many had said about him before that he had gone for profitable agreements with criminals on a routine basis. His house in Morogoro is surrounded by a wall as high you cannot even see a glimpse of the actual building, and one can only guess its splendor. However it needed a huge scandal and new president to replace him!
My French friend expressed that she hates to drive in town when it is raining. Slightly puzzled, I asked her why. Because all the police men go home when it rains, and there is a traffic jam at every junction, she answered!
When in the beginning of 2006 guests of a well known Indian restaurant were forced by heavily armed criminals to lay down and at gun point deliver all their valuables, a cook of the restaurant managed to escape through the back door, and ran a long way to the nearest police station, only to find it abandoned, at 9pm in the evening. A kitchen boy had managed to look himself into a toilet, and desperately tried to call the 112 emergency number with no success – no one replied!
The next day, it was all over in the newspaper, and the highest police commander was forced to resign, or better to say, was sent into early retirement. Many had said about him before that he had gone for profitable agreements with criminals on a routine basis. His house in Morogoro is surrounded by a wall as high you cannot even see a glimpse of the actual building, and one can only guess its splendor. However it needed a huge scandal and new president to replace him!
The Magic of Twasalie Village
Twasalie, a village at the end of the world, in the Rufiji River Delta, to reach only by a several hour long boat trip, and another hour of walk; There is laughter until late in the night. The women take me away from the men and show me their small mud hut, where they run a little café place, renovating it step by step, and adding new mud on the construction made of mangrove sticks and liana branches. Early in the morning, a hundred cocks are crying. Women in colorful Kanga wraps enjoy to be pictured – a rare exception in Tanzania. In one part of the village, the CCM flag, the majority party, is fluttering in the wind, in the other the CUF flag, the main opposition party, equally peaceful fluttering in the wind. Heated discussions end up in laughter. Men and women sit for hours on hard benches and in the sand under a huge mango tree, waiting, with careful attention to their clothes not to make them dirty. Patience, endless, and modesty; And always the good will that remains.
Twasalie, a village at the end of the world, in the Rufiji River Delta, to reach only by a several hour long boat trip, and another hour of walk; There is laughter until late in the night. The women take me away from the men and show me their small mud hut, where they run a little café place, renovating it step by step, and adding new mud on the construction made of mangrove sticks and liana branches. Early in the morning, a hundred cocks are crying. Women in colorful Kanga wraps enjoy to be pictured – a rare exception in Tanzania. In one part of the village, the CCM flag, the majority party, is fluttering in the wind, in the other the CUF flag, the main opposition party, equally peaceful fluttering in the wind. Heated discussions end up in laughter. Men and women sit for hours on hard benches and in the sand under a huge mango tree, waiting, with careful attention to their clothes not to make them dirty. Patience, endless, and modesty; And always the good will that remains.
Wednesday, 2 May 2007
Illegal Working Hours
A friend of mine is often working at night in Dar es Salaam, doing research on Mosquito. One night, she was stopped by the police and asked what she was doing. She explained, however the Policeman responded that working hours in Tanzania would be from nine to five, and beyond that working would be illegal, and that he had to take her to the post. She managed to sort out the situation later after a lot of negotiation. However she could also have asked the policeman what he was doing at this time of the day, if not work?
A friend of mine is often working at night in Dar es Salaam, doing research on Mosquito. One night, she was stopped by the police and asked what she was doing. She explained, however the Policeman responded that working hours in Tanzania would be from nine to five, and beyond that working would be illegal, and that he had to take her to the post. She managed to sort out the situation later after a lot of negotiation. However she could also have asked the policeman what he was doing at this time of the day, if not work?
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