Day Fifty Two

Expect to encounter a lot of Baha'i jargon in this particular post!

We have a Continental Counsellor staying with us now. Exciting, huh? I've never even seen the Counsellors for North America, and I've been here only two months and there's one staying with us. Then again, if I worked at the BNC in Chicago I'd probably have met one by now. She happened to be on the same flight with Dr. Sabet when they were returning from Sudan. He was there for work, and she was there attending the Sudanese National Convention. So, I guess she's here until our Convention, which will be nice.

Since the last NTC meeting, I've had a ton of things piled on me. The NSA Secretary met with us and told us that 40 delegates from the western part of the country will be coming a day early for the Convention because of the train schedule. So not only have I been trying to deal with accomodations and food arrangements for them, but I'm also supposed to formulate a program to keep these delegates busy on Thursday and Friday until the Convention starts. In the U.S. I think this would be a crisis of an enormous magnitude. I still haven't adjusted to the different culture here, so of course I was freaking out. Dr. Sabet told me it wasn't as big of a thing as I thought it was; a very simple program would suffice. After consulting with the Counsellor, she made a phone call and asked one of her auxiliaries to come early to oversee the program. So now I just have to put together some documents, and the ABM will take over. Phew.

In addition to various minor details concerning the Convention, I'm also supposed to be working on a draft report/presentation for the NTC to present at the upcoming Inter-Institutional Conference at the end of May between the Counsellors, ABMs, the NSA, cluster coordinating committees, national agencies, the RBCs, etc. The report is supposed to lay out a plan of action for the next year for utilization of human resources, pioneering, and cluster development for the whole country! I've never worked on anything on a national scale at any point in my life, so I think this will be a challenging assignment. The NTC will be reviewing the presentation a week before the conference so at least I'm not doing the whole thing and then just throwing it out there.

Following the National Convention, I'm supposed to go back to Zanzibar with one of the members of the National Spiritual Assembly, who also happens to be a homefront pioneer! I think I'll have to stop back in Dar for a day or two, since going directly from Convention to Zanzibar might be a bit much, and I'll need to prepare some materials to take with me. Following the Inter-Institutional Conference, I'll have to start going around visiting some of the other homefront pioneers. They're doing some amazing work out in the field and in my story for the upcoming May issue of The Central Arkansas Baha'i there should be something about the inspiring efforts of one of these friends.

While I'm at Convention, I'm supposed to speak to the delegates from Arusha about the possibility of going there to tutor some study circles. The work of the Faith there has really been stunted because they don't have any tutors! People have only finished Books 1-3, so I'm probably going to go for a month or so to do crash courses of Books 4, 6, and 7 for those few friends who speak enough English to be able to do it with me.

There is so much work that can be done here, especially organizational and administrative. For instance, the poor Counsellor didn't even have copies of the National Convention program and the Inter-Institutional Conference program. She's supposed to be speaking at both events, and she didn't even know what about! She even told me to be sure to check with the friends who are supposed to speak at the Convention - this coming weekend - to make sure someone had notified them they were supposed to come speak. Things like that leave me totally exasperrated because they're such easy things to fix, but it doesn't seem to really faze anyone else.

When I got the program, I saw that the NTC is supposed to deliver a report to the delegates and arrange for evening entertainment on Saturday night, two things that no one ever mentioned to me. Dr. Sabet said the report is on the agenda every year, but the NTC just never does it. That's just sad. So, I guess for evening entertainment, the friends can watch my head explode. =P

Leia Mais…

Day Fifty

Allah'u'abha, friends! Happy Ridvan!

I'm feeling much better than I was the rest of the week, and I'm in a way better mood. I took yesterday to just rest and relax, which seemed to work. By evening I was feeling better, except still drowsy from the allergy medication. Nevertheless, I convinced myself that I needed to go to the Annual Meeting, if only to cast my vote for the Local Spiritual Assembly (LSA).

The Annual Meeting went quite nicely. After some opening prayers, including one chanted beautifully in Kiswahili, we were treated to a presentation by the Auxiliary Board Member on "The Sanctity of Baha'i Elections." Because there are something like 200 Baha'is here, she encouraged us to think of everyone in the community, write down 20 names first, and then from those 20 pick the nine people we thought were best suited for service on the LSA. After we wrote down our ballots, we had to go to the ballot box, print our name, place our signature next to it, and then cast our ballot. It was a little different than the way we do it at home, but I'm sure it was helpful to the tellers to keep track of how many people were voting and whatnot.

Here at home, we've had a bit of a crisis with a hedgehog that May Saba "rescued" from a local boy who apparently thieved it from its mother. The poor thing was so tiny and helpless. At first, we had no clue what to do with it. I did some research on the Internet in preparation of having to keep the thing and care for it, which Mrs. Sabet tried to convince me to do (haha, fat chance). We finally decided to take it back to the school where the boy found it and ask the gardener or someone else where the hedgehogs were. The school is a local one, so a car full of wazungu (the plural of mzungu, I've discovered) sent the place into a frenzy. We ended up discovering the boy who took it in the first place, so he led us to where he took it. The mother wasn't there, but Mrs. Sabet wasn't interested in keeping it, so she convinced May to leave it there. Mrs. Sabet and I aren't sure it will live, since the mother will probably reject it now. May has been moaning about how we abandoned it and that we should go check on it, but I'm sure tomorrow she'll forget about it.

The National Convention is next weekend, and the preparations are getting a little stressful. Not helping matters is the fact that people keep reiterating how the NSA doesn't want there to be any mistakes. I've also prepared myself for the complaining of delegates. Apparently last year they got all irate about their accomodations and started getting on the case of the poor, sweet man who made the arrangements. Unlike this kind and gentle Tanzanian, I am a mean American, so I've let everyone know that I'm happy to deal with any and all delegate complaints. If it's unreasonable, they can either deal with it or hand me their vote and I'll buy them a train ticket back home. The National Convention is not supposed to be a five-star affair or some kind of vacation. You're there to cast a vote on behalf of the people that elected you to do so. That's it. Come on.

This evening, we had our Ridvan celebration. But first, I have to tell you about what we saw on the way to the Centre. As we drove down United Nations Road, we noticed a small group of people gathered around this man on the ground on the sidewalk. As we got closer, we noticed that this man was actually pinning another man to the ground. He had his hands around the guy's throat and he was choking him while bashing his head against the sidewalk. I've never been so close to such violence! A taxi came speeding up and the passenger jumped out and started pulling the man off the other guy. What courage! We have no idea what provoked the incident. It's likely they were drunk, or the man being beaten was a thief. Personally, I think they were drunk because there are a lot of drunk people on this road. In the morning on the way to work, I frequently see a person laying face down in the sidwalk with his shirt off, his pants around his knees, and his butt exposed. I have no idea why but a lot of drunks seem to end up this way.

Anyway, the Ridvan celebration was very nice. After the introductory prayers in English, Kiswahili, and Farsi, we were treated to performances by the Kinomboni children's choir and the Dar youth choir, both of which were exceptionally better than Naw Ruz. One of the young Indian Baha'is performed an Indian dance that went over very well with the audience (about 200 people). I chanted/sang the "Refresh and gladden my spirit" prayer (all by myself, yikes!) and that was followed by a skit from the youth about the oneness of religion and another short monologue about "What is Ridvan, and Who is Baha'u'llah?". Following another prayer, it was time for the chakula (food). At every public event, it's announced that the Baha'is should pick a guest to escort to the food, and then after that the rest of the friends can eat, to ensure that our guests are always fed. I thought that was particularly nice, as well as how the youth were featured so prominently in the program.

I don't think they celebrate the ninth or twelfth days of Ridvan here, so I guess this was it for me for this year. Following the National Convention, I'm supposed to visit a few homefront pioneers around the country before the Institutional Conference at the end of May and then I'll go visit the rest, as well as possible settle in the city of Arusha for a month or so to conduct some study circles. Imagine doing Books 4, 6, and 7 all in the same month!

Leia Mais…

Day Forty Eight

I’ve been having a bit of a rough time since we returned from Mikumi. When I’m not feeling depressed then something is going wrong with my health. On Tuesday evening, I had a terrible nose bleed. I was dripping blood all over the room, which probably sent the mosquitoes into a frenzy. I rarely have nose bleeds, so I’m not sure what the problem was, but it hasn’t happened again since then. However, the fact that the rainy season is now fully upon us has brought a new set of problems. Since everything is getting plenty of rain – almost daily – it’s all starting to grow and bloom. For me, growing and blooming means serious allergy problems. I can’t stray far from a box of tissues, and I’ve been forced to start taking allergy medication. Ordinarily that might not be a problem, but it’s been making me very drowsy. I’m like a vegetable for most of the day. I haven’t done much work in the past two days, and I doubt they’ll get much out of me for the rest of the week.

Along with the health problems, I’ve just been in a foul mood. On Monday, we had our cluster reflection meeting at the Bahá’í Centre. I wasn’t feeling well and I said I didn’t want to go, but Dr. Sabet suggested that “it would be a good idea” if I went. I didn’t tell him I was feeling well, but I did say that it would be in Kiswahili, and I wouldn’t understand what was happening. He told me I could still contribute and someone could translate for me. Basically, I was going whether I wanted to or not. The first portion of the meeting was presentation of statistics and things like that, but then, for me, it all went downhill from there when we started getting into consultation. I’ve never seen anything like it. One of the friends put forth the suggestion that Nineteen Day Feasts should be held in the sectors rather than one for the whole city at the Bahá’í Centre in order to better empower the sectors and develop a sector identity to assist in the multiplication of the core activities. The discussion was almost entirely centered on how exactly such a thing would be accomplished, and then I stood up to have my say. I said it was a good idea, but that we’d spend the whole meeting working on logistics so we should just agree or disagree on the principle of the thing and allow the Assembly to work out the logistics. One of the other friends stood up and agreed, adding that it wasn’t within the jurisdiction of the cluster meeting to make changes regarding the Feast. Then a 45 minute discussion ensued about the validity of those statements. The discussion just dragged needlessly on and on and on until finally the person chairing the meeting called for a vote (finally). Up to this point, all the discussion had been in favor of the proposal but when the vote was called, over half of the friends present rejected it! Ahhh! Where were they when we were wasting an hour and a half talking about something that was going to be voted against so heavily in the first place!?

At this point, I was already agitated by the lack of focus. After lunch, we broke into our sectors and began consultation on what we planned to do in the next three months. We wrote down all of our goals, and then everyone met back together and the sectors shared their plans. During the sharing, it was discovered that there’s been no set way to count what a devotional meeting is. Some people follow the method we use in the U.S., where a devotional meeting is counted only once (as long as it’s regular) regardless of how often it meets. So a devotional held in my home on every Saturday during a month will count as one devotional instead of four. Apparently, some people count the four. And this inconsistency in keeping the statistics has occurred throughout the Five Year Plan here, so if you look at the statistics then you might see that one sector has eight devotionals listed and another has 60 listed, even if the sector with eight actually had more total meetings. It might not seem like too much of a problem, but successes are measured and goal-setting is done by looking at these statistics.

I couldn’t take it anymore! The older I get, the more anal I get about structure and order and the proper operation of things. It’s been five years since the beginning of the Plan, and they still don’t have a uniform way of keeping statistics! Ahhhh! I stood up and basically relayed that you couldn’t make informed and competent decisions based on statistics that aren’t consistent and uniform, and that someone should set down a national definition for how to count devotional meetings, home visits, and everything else. Someone mentioned that the local Counsellor had said the right way was to count each meeting, meaning four a month in the example I used, but if that's so then why is the U.S. doing the exact opposite? Surely there's some kind of international standard in use across the Baha'i world! I think Dr. Sabet could see that I was getting a little upset, so he pulled me back down into my seat and told me we’d address it at the next NTC meeting. Raising your voice is taboo in Tanzanian society, and in retrospect I guess I could have been a little nicer.

The outburst was a symptom of a larger problem that I’ve been struggling with since my arrival. It’s been really difficult for me to adjust to living in a society that isn’t driven by some kind of efficiency and order. That isn’t to say that Tanzania is a place of mass chaos, but time doesn’t mean anything here. People essentially get things done when they feel like getting around to it rather than when it should be done or even when they say it will be done. Employees of the Bahá’í National Centre in the U.S. would probably have a heart attack if they saw the way things operate here. I’m not necessarily saying the way things are done isn’t right, but it’s just so foreign to me that I’m not handling it very well at all.

A good example is that it’s taken me over a month to send out three letters. First, I had to harass the person that was supposed to write them to write them, which was supposed to have been done a month before. Then I had to wait for them to be given to someone who could deliver them to me. Then I had to type them (they were in Kiswahili, quite a task). I assumed I was finished with them, so I put them in the "Outbox" at the Centre to be put in the mail. A week later, I show up to the Centre and I’m presented with the letters, which someone had removed from the Outbox and corrected the mistakes in my typing of the Kiswahili and the grammar of the person who originally wrote the letter. So I had to retype the letters, and now I have to find a stationary shop – on my own – to buy some envelopes to put the letters in so I can seal them to prevent someone from deciding they’ll just go digging through the NTC’s mail again.

It’s just been a bad week for me. I think once I start feeling better then maybe things will turn around, but as it stands now I want nothing more than to get on a plane and fly back home where I know I can do some good in the Baha'i community. I’ve enjoyed my time with the friends outside of “work,” but all of the Baha’i work I’ve done and I’m supposed to be doing is driving me crazy. Honestly, it's just been a waste of time. It seems like the Cause would be so much more successful here if the administration backing it up was a little more efficient.

At any rate, I should head to bed. I'm going to get my blood pressure all riled up. =P Tomorrow is the Annual Meeting, Friday is the First Day of Ridván and the new administrative year, and Saturday is an NTC meeting. And with Dr. Sabet, the NTC Chairman, out of the country (in Sudan!), I think the NTC meeting will certainly be “interesting.”

Leia Mais…

Day Forty Seven

It’s been difficult to find both the time and energy to sit down and write about our weekend safari to Mikumi National Park, but I decided I should get to it sooner rather than later.

On Friday, we left Dar es Salaam and headed west (because we certainly couldn’t head east) toward the heart of the country. It took about 4 or 5 hours to get there. The drive itself was fine. May slept most of the way, so there was some silence. In Morogoro, we stopped to see one of the vehicles belonging to Dr. Sabet’s company. One of the engineers and his driver had been in a wreck a few days earlier. The car looked pretty bad, and you could definitely tell it had rolled several times.

When we arrived in Mikumi, we went through the ordeal of paying the park fees. It turned out to be one of the less expensive parks, which is a good thing. I hear that the fees for the Serengeti have gone up so much that it’s USD $100 per person per day! Supposedly they’re actually trying to discourage tourists because the government is so conservation minded that they want to reduce the impact of humans on the area. They’ll probably make up the lost money on what the ultra-rich tourists spend in the extremely posh lodges and things in the park. I guess it’s a good thing the government is worried about the impact of humans on the parks but there are plenty of contradictions in the policy, like catering to rich Westerners and others who want to come in and shoot lions and elephants and whatnot.

We headed to our safari camp, Vuma Hills, in the pouring rain. The camp is situated on a hill above the park, which offers a fantastic view of the broad savannah. When I woke up every morning, I could step onto the deck and survey one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. We spent lunch worrying about whether or not the rain would stop, but by the time we finished and socialized a bit with the other people staying at the camp the rain had stopped and the sun came out. It gave us enough time to learn that lions had been spotted along one of the roads. So, we loaded up and headed for the park.

At the gate, Dr. Sabet stopped to have a conversation with the guard. I should note that Kiswahili speakers mix up their L’s and R’s a lot. For some reason, they also add an “I” on the end of things, which is pronounced like “ee,” so “chips” become “chipsee.” Dr. Sabet went through this whole conversation with the man switching the L’s and R’s without him even noticing. “Have you seen the rions? They’re down the load? Are they beside the load? So, we go past the blidge and then we’ll see the rions by the load?”

The first things we saw were, of course, antelope, gazelles, and impalas. I don’t know how to tell the difference, really. To me they all look like the same thing, just some have horns and some don’t. They’re everywhere, so I don’t think any lion could ever go hungry in Mikumi. We also saw a bunch of really ugly birds. They kind of looked like a genetic experiment gone wrong, like a cross between a flamingo and a vulture. They liked to get in the middle of the road and then run, not fly, in front of you. It was kind of funny to watch those spindly little legs try to carry that big body.

After traveling down the road for some distance I was beginning to wonder whether we’d see the lions, but then we spotted two stopped cars, so we knew they must have been up ahead. When we arrived, the lions were right next to the road, maybe ten feet away from the car. There were six of them, all female, and they had a cub with them. We probably stayed there for an hour and a half watching them. The cub was playing with the grumpy, napping adults the whole time, and one of the younger adults was playing with her tail. She was laying on her side, so she’d dart her tail at her head like a snake and then snap at it with her mouth or try to pin it down with her paw. Apparently it’s pretty rare to see so many lions, especially with a cub, so close to the road in Mikumi, so we were very fortunate. They were just amazing to watch, especially when they turned to look at you. One of them was constantly rolling on her back and spreading her legs all awry, which led Mrs. Sabet to comment that she needed to go through Ruhi to gain some self-respect. =P

They were so beautiful and so close that you just wanted to reach out and touch them, even though you’d come back without a hand. In fact, Mrs. Sabet got a little too courageous. She wasn’t satisfied with the picture she was getting of one of the lions, which was a few feet from her door, so she opened the door a crack. The lion didn’t like that too much, so she jumped up, opened her mouth in a snarl, and hunched down in a pouncing position. If she’d wanted to, she could have jumped on the car before we could do anything, but she hesitated long enough to let Mrs. Sabet close the door and Dr. Sabet to floor the accelerator. My heart was beating a hundred miles an hour!!

Because the batteries to my camera had died, Dr. Sabet needed some medicine, and we were all a little stirred up from the lion encounter, we decided to head back to the camp for a little bit. When we returned, we decided to try to go to the Hippo Pool, which is where the hippos congregate (obviously). However, when we got to the Hippo Pool road, there was a bit of a traffic jam. Two cars had stopped and then suddenly the front one started backing up. When we got into a better position to see, we noticed a big bull elephant was in the middle of the road, flapping his ears at us. Apparently he was using the road at the moment and he wasn’t too happy about the human presence. He just kept easing forward, occasionally shaking his tusks back and forth and flapping his ears, until he was satisfied that all the cars were well enough out of the way.

Since the elephant wasn’t letting us through, we decided to drive around a bit until he was gone and then head back to the Hippo Pool. When we finally arrived at the Hippo Pool, two of the hippos were engaged in a bit of a fight. I managed to snap a picture before they finished. They stay in the water almost all day, so all we saw were a bunch of hippo backs, hippo ears, and hippo eyes. When they get out of the water at night, they’re mean, so we didn’t really want to stick around to see any more than that.

After watching the sunset, we started to head back to the camp, but we stopped to view an elephant family beside the road. They were really close, but they weren’t acting too belligerent so we were able to get some pictures. The biggest one siddled up close to the car and started eating grass, but you could see that he was watching us out of the corner of his eye.

Back at the camp, we were given two tents: one for Dr. & Mrs. Sabet and one for me and May. As May and I were getting ready for bed, she decided she didn’t want to sleep away from her parents. She was “scared.” I guess that’s normal for a nine year old, but I thought her parents might like some time to themselves, so I told her I didn’t want to sleep by myself. Turning it around so she could be self-sacrificing and seem to be the better person, she decided that she could suffer through a night of separation for my sake. The second night didn’t work out quite as well. She wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice, so off she went to her parents’ tent. I settled in for a nice quiet night when she came slinking back, saying her mother had sent her back for my sake. After a pillow fight, she was content enough to go to sleep.

On our second day, we explored some more. We came upon a family of elephants with a baby so young that he could hardly walk. He sort of hobbled wherever he needed to go, occasionally falling down in a flop of ears and trunk. His ears were practically half the size of his body! They were surprisingly docile for having a baby with them, so we were able to watch them while they ate grass on one side of the road, crossed, and then munched on the other side. Sometimes they’d get a piece of grass that wasn’t good or had too much mud on it, so they’d fling it over their head and it would land on their backs, so you frequently saw elephants walking around with nests of dried grass on their backs.

In addition to seeing more elephants and some giraffes, we managed to find the lions again. They were in a little more remote spot and not beside the road, but we got to see them play with the cub a little more. On the way back from the lions, we got a little adventurous and turned down a muddy road where we promptly got stuck. May climbed on top of the car to signal some of the people near the lions, and Dr. Sabet bailed out of the car to go meet the people who were coming to help us. I couldn’t believe he did that! Just got out of the car, barefoot, and started walking down the road in the middle of an African national park! There are so many things outside the car that can kill you, not the least of which were the lions 50 meters away. A safari guide named Julius came and managed to get our car out of the mud. I hate to admit it, but I was freaking out the entire time as every bad thing that could possibly happen to us flashed before my eyes.

Before going back to the camp, we went to Mikumi Town for petrol. Mrs. Sabet wanted some lotion, so we went to some of the shops. Dr. Sabet went to look for it, and then came back with two angry Africans in tow. May translated for us, telling us that they were upset because they claimed Dr. Sabet came into their restaurant yesterday, ordered some chips (French fries), and then never came to pick them up! And they weren’t just slightly upset, they were pissed. Dr. Sabet explained that just as many mzungus think all black Africans look the same, many black Africans think all mzungus look the same, so they probably got him confused with someone else.

Back at the camp, most of the evening was spent sitting patiently in the restaurant while May tried to arrange something for my birthday, which was Saturday. She tried to convince the owner to make me a cake, and then to put a candle in my dessert, and then to give me something from the gift shop. Since nothing is free in Tanzania, she finally broke down and bought me a T-shirt from the gift shop. It was a very kind and unexpected gesture from her. I felt bad that everything she tried to do seemed to fail, but she was persistent and she wasn’t going to give up until she did something for my birthday. The rest of the evening, we all played cards and told stories on the deck.

The next day, we got to see quite a few giraffes and zebras when we took a road closer to our camp. The baby elephant and the lions were amazing, but I think my favorite animal was the giraffe. As Dr. Sabet said, “They’re so majestic, so graceful…just like Naomi Campbell.” I’ve seen them in the zoo plenty of times, but nothing compares to seeing them in the wild. They’re so curious! They just stand by the roadside and stare at you the whole time you’re staring at them. Some of the younger ones will run, which looks hilarious, but the older ones know that cars aren’t much of a threat so they just stop eating and watch you.

The trip back was shorter than the trip there. Most of the time May was asleep with her head on my shoulder or in my lap, and when she wasn’t sleeping she was messing with me. I was in a pretty good mood, so I didn’t mind too much. Dr. Sabet related yesterday that we’re very much like brother and sister, and he’s slipped up a few times and referred to me as her brother. They have all been amazingly generous and kind to me since the day I arrived, welcoming me as part of the family and giving me an experience that’s less like a year of service and more like a vacation. Although they’re financially blessed, it doesn’t diminish my gratitude for every bit of generosity they extend my way.

All in all, it was the most amazing birthday I’ve ever had! I’ve always dreamed of traveling the world, seeing the sights, hearing the sounds, and meeting the people, but I never really thought in my wildest dreams I’d be presented with the opportunity to do it. It still seems a little surreal. Be sure to check out my Flickr account for pictures of the trip.

Leia Mais…

Day Forty

Well of course someone had to make a liar out of me. It seems that now we're leaving on Friday instead of today. Both Dr. and Mrs. Sabet have a lot of meetings between now and then, and even I have a lot of work to do. Despite all of the pending work, we still managed to find time to bum around today since it was a public holiday (Birth of Muhammed).

This afternoon, we went to Mwenge Market, which was my first trip to an African market. The shops at this particular market seem to specialize in wood items. In fact, some of the artisans were gathered under makeshift tents carving their wares right in front of us. You could find just about anything made out of wood that you wanted. Necklaces, earrings, eating utensils, bowls, small statues, fragile statues, massive statues, huge boxes, chess boards and pieces, etc. Most of the pieces were carved out of mpingo, which is African blackwood, and done in the style of the Makonde tribe in southern Tanzania and Mozambique. It's what mzungus like me are looking for. =P

I didn't come to do too much shopping, but I did see a chess set that I liked. The store owner saw me examining it, so she was all over me like white on rice. And then began the haggling. "It's 25, but I give you for 20." The problem with haggling is that some people are actually reasonable and will quote you only a slightly inflated price, whereas others will give you an outrageous price. For instance, Mrs. Sabet was trying to buy a khanga (a long piece of cloth wrapped around the body, usually in two pieces, to make a "traditional" sort of African outfit) and the woman quoted her 20. Mrs. Sabet haggled for a bit and then get tired of it, deciding to walk off. The woman comes running after us, waving it in the air and shouting "Okay! Okay! 8! 8!".

Anyway, I figured the chess set woman was trying to stick it to me. I told her 10, then 12, and then compromised at 15. I suspected that was still too much, so I started to walk off. "Ah! Baba! Where you going? Okay, I give you for 12! Please, don't go! I need the money for chakula (food) for my babies! They got to eat and go to school! Ah, Baba, you killing me here, please!" She was wailing and flailing her arms around and making this God awful scene like I was single-handedly condemning her children to a life of ignorance and hunger because I wouldn't buy this chess set for 12,000 shillings. I've never seen anything like it in my life! I decided not to buy anything from her since she chased me out of the shop trying to put a guilt trip on me. I can find the same thing in another shop probably for less without the hysterics! I shouldn't laugh, but in retrospect the sight of her melodramatics was pretty funny.

There are also these beautiful paintings called tinga tinga, which the Sabets didn't seem all that impressed by (probably because they see so many of them). I didn't price any of them, but I'll try to take some pictures the next time I go. Maybe I'll make a list of things to buy in case people want me to pick up some things for them. Speaking of which, if you'd like me to get something for you, you have to let me know. I don't know what to just randomly buy people. I'm happy to bring back things for you, but let me know what you want!

Leia Mais…

Day Thirty Nine

[[ Note: I was in Dodoma from Monday until Thursday last week, and the Internet is just now working since my return. Not much has happened since then, so here's my post about the trip to Dodoma. I think we're going on holiday tomorrow, so don't expect to hear from me until next week. ]]

So I’ve arrived back in Dar es Salaam from my trip to Dodoma to make arrangements for the National Convention. It was quite an interesting experience. While I’m happy to be back “home,” I could certainly do without the humidity.

I wasn’t really sure how I should get to the bus station in the morning. Mrs. Sabet told me I could go with the driver. Then she added that she had been hesitating to help me in ways like that because so many people are watching and paying attention to what I do. I have no idea what that means, but it only adds to the sense I get that there’s some kind of brewing controversy over what I’m doing here. It’s really annoying to be in the middle of something and have no clue what’s going on.

The bus I took was with one of the good companies, so it was safe, and we arrived quickly. They show a movie during the drive, so on the way there we watched “Delta Force” with Chuck Norris. Considering all the Chuck Norris jokes floating around, I thought it was hilarious. On the way back, we watched a Nigerian movie about jealous lovers. It looked like it was filmed with a camcorder, and I found myself hoping that they didn’t pay those actors too much for their “skills.” Nothing too eventful happened during the drive, except they were doing some road construction on part of the highway. I looked up ahead and saw that the road was blocked, so I thought to myself, “Hmmm, I wonder what we’re going to do now?” I should have known the answer. The driver speeds up, as if to ram the blockage, and then swerves to the left and sends the bus careening onto this little dirt road, which we follow for a good distance before getting back onto the highway.

I saw a real monkey in Morogoro! At first I thought it was a really ugly dog that was walking funny, but then I noticed that it was a monkey. Morogoro seems to be like the transit hub for heading into the interior of the country from Dar. It sits beneath the shadow of this massive mountain that always seems to be shrouded in clouds. The mountain is ragged and broken, much like the country itself, but disappears into the clouds, as if holding the promise for a better, but unseen, future. In fact, the whole trip was something like what Martha Root wrote about Brazil: “It was like riding 12 hours in a Paradise whose wealth is not yet discovered.”

When I arrived at the bus station, I messaged Mr. Kazigi to let him know I was in Dodoma and ready to be picked up. Per Africa time, I was retrieved 2 hours later! But to be fair, his phone was dead, and he was unable to charge it because the power to the city was out. Apparently someone stole something from the transformer or otherwise damaged the city’s electrical infrastructure. While I was waiting, the people at the bus station were very friendly and accommodating. Basically they were making sure I wasn’t lost, I think. Not too many mzungus show up in Dodoma.

Dodoma has very different geography than Dar. It’s more like what you expect the “real” Africa to be like. The climate is semi-arid, so, thankfully, there’s little humidity to deal with. Of course the sun is high, hot, and bright, but the wind blows a lot so it’s just pleasantly warm. There’s a giant outcropping of rocks outside the city that looks like it came straight out of The Lion King. I half expected that baboon to run out on the ledge of one of the rocks and thrust Simba into the air in time with Elton John sliding out of the bush with his piano and belting out “The Circle of Life.” Speaking of The Lion King, did you know they used real Swahili? “Hakuna matata” really means “no worries”! I thought they were just making it up. And “Simba” means “lion.” I’m sure there’s some more scattered throughout the movie.

Kazigi took me to my hotel, told me to get some rest, and he’d see me in the morning. The hotel was actually a vocational training center for people going into the hotel and catering industries. It was set up like a real hotel, but everyone working there was actually going to school. I was a little leery of being cared for by a bunch of trainees, but they all did an excellent job. Well, mostly everyone. The girls at the front desk had attitude problems, but you know how the young people are these days. =P Anyway, while I was eating dinner in the restaurant, Mr. Kazigi called and told me he had malaria! Apparently he’d had it for a few days, but just kept hoping that it would get better. He wouldn’t be able to help me the next day, but he’d try to the day after that. So, I was in Dodoma four days instead of three.

Because of the power situation, my dinner was by candlelight. Let me tell you, the romance is really drained out of it when you’re by yourself, there are a hundred mosquitoes feeding on you, and you can’t see well enough to know exactly what it is that you’re eating. But there was one good thing that came out of it. On the way back to my room, I happened to glance skyward. Wow! Since the power was out you could see every star in the sky. I’ve been in some remote places in the U.S. and Canada and been able to see a lot of stars, but nothing compares to what I saw in Dodoma. The sky here is just massive because there aren’t buildings or anything to block your view. I could see the Milky Way and, I think, the Andromeda Galaxy, which supposedly you can see from the Southern Hemisphere. That’s one experience that I will never forget.

In the morning, I took the coldest shower of my life. I think they froze the water to subzero temperatures and then pumped it through the shower head when you turned on the “hot” water. I had the free continental breakfast, which was scrambled eggs, two types of bread, fruit, tea, and mango juice. I couldn’t reach Mr. Kazigi and I wasn’t about to sit around all day long, so I sucked it up and decided to try to make the Convention venue arrangements by myself. I went to the College of Business Education and after some discussion with various people, I made my way to the office of Mr. Kiwaya, Senior Manpower Development and Administrative Officer. Quite the title.

I was told to wait 20-30 minutes until he returned from lunch, so I sat down fully expecting a 2-3 hour wait. But in 20 minutes he showed up and ushered me into his office. Like so many people here, he had on this funny looking suit that seemed like something a Socialist or a Communist would wear. Many people here wear them, so they look like a bunch of Kim Jung-il clones wandering around. Apparently it's a hold over from the Socialist period in Tanzania. So, we entered into discussions about the use of the facilities. I went to the kitchen and dining hall to make a separate arrangement with the guy in charge there, and then came back to Mr. Kiwaya. After making the arrangements, he kept me in the office for a good 2 hours talking to me about where I was from, my experiences here, what words I knew in Kiswahili, so on and so forth. He gave me suggestions for getting around town and things to see and sent me on my way. He remarked that I seemed to be getting around very well for only being here a month! And here I thought I was doing a terrible job.

When I went back to the hotel for lunch, I met a few members of Parliament. They’re in session in Dodoma, so they were all milling around town. I didn’t know they were in session, otherwise I would have taken some information from the External Affairs Office about the persecutions of Bahá’ís in Iran. Kazigi called to tell me he still wasn’t feeling well, so I told him that I’d already made the venue arrangements and he seemed surprised that I’d managed on my own. With the afternoon free, I decided first to take a walk and then it turned into more of a hike.

I went to where they’re building the new Parliament Building and then circled around and went stomping off into the “bush” to see if I couldn’t get eaten by a lion or something. During my walk and hike, I met a lot of very nice people. People in Dodoma are way friendlier than in Dar, and I think it will likely be this way in many other places I’ll visit across the country. These little boys stopped me to ask if my car had broken down, and then looked at me like I was crazy when I told them I didn’t have a car and I was walking. I've heard that some people actually think that mzungus don't have feet or legs because they never see them walking! A Catholic priest stopped on his bicycle and asked me the same thing, and then rode along beside me asking about the U.S., my life, what I was doing in Tanzania, and then told me about his life. I should mention that everyone in Dodoma has a bicycle. It’s like China! I’ve never seen so many bicycles in my life.

When I deviated into the bush, following paths and dry riverbeds that led to who knows where, I met a farmer on his way to the outlying village that he lived in. He spoke surprisingly good English, so he first asked why I was walking out here and was I lost, and then went through the typical line of questioning. It was getting dark, so he invited me back to the village to meet everyone else! Imagine! “There are only 5 families,” he said, which could have been like 50 people. I would have loved to go, but it was getting dark. I had no reason not to trust him, in fact everyone here is quite sincere and kind, but I didn’t want to have to walk back into the city at night. Not to mention the mosquitoes. When I go back to Dodoma, maybe I’ll try to find the village during the day.

I walked back to the hotel feeling very refreshed. The air had been clean and fragrant and there were beautiful flowers and friendly people all along the way. I was kicking myself that I didn’t bring any Bahá’í literature or anything to give to the people that I met, all of whom were at least interested in learning about the Faith on a basic level. The language barrier made it a little difficult for me to explain to them, so I think some Kiswahili pamphlets would do a better job until I can get to the point of being able to hold a conversation.

After dinner, I watched the local news. My Kiswahili is improving, because I could understand a little (and I mean a little) of what they were talking about. Sleep was frequently interrupted by the Filipino man next door loudly enjoying the company of the opposite sex, if you catch my drift, and the drunks in the bar having a good time, but when you’re paying $10/night for a decent room it’s kind of hard to complain too much.

In the morning, Kazigi was feeling well enough to meet me and go to the guesthouses to make arrangements for accommodations for the delegates. First, I went to the bus station to confirm my ticket for the next day and then back to the college to pick up a letter from Mr. Kiwaya. I was there for another hour talking to him. He again reiterated that he was “greatly impressed” with my ability to get around, and then busted out and asked me where my wife and children were! This question comes frequently and in many forms, but it still shocks me each time. I told him I was only 22 and I wasn’t married, yet, to which he made a face like I was getting old and I should take care of that. I told him I’d see about it when I got back to the U.S. What else am I supposed to say? I guess some people do feel like they need to get married at this age, and I have felt some pressure to actually look for a girl to date. I told Mrs. Sabet that my birthday was next Sunday, and she said, “You’ll be 23.” But she said “23” like I was approaching middle age or something! Come on! I’m still young! I’m hip! I’m with it!

When I met with Kazigi, he was furious about the price we’d been given by the college for renting their facilities. It seems it was quite a bit more than last year. The friends had been forewarned that the rates would be going up this year, but it actually went up more than they’d implied. The whole thing seemed to be more about the greed of Mr. Kiwaya’s boss and the go-between between him and the director of the college than them trying to rip me off. I called the NSA Secretary before I made any firm deal and ran the price by him, and he seemed okay with it. I suggested to Mr. Kazigi that next year they may want to look around for another place to have the Convention.

We went to see the guesthouses, which were nicer than I thought but still somewhat offensive to my Western sensibilities. Of course I didn’t come here expecting a Ritz Carlton or anything. In the future, I think I’ll probably try to stay in them instead of hotels because they’re substantially cheaper and that will ease the burden on the Fund. I also need to learn how to order food in Kiswahili so I can eat on the street instead of using restaurants, which slowly but surely becomes expensive. We managed to negotiate decent prices for the 41 delegates and 16 guests.

I sent Kazigi back home to get some rest and I spent the afternoon watching terrible Tanzanian and Indian music videos. Dinner was okay. Most of the food was just okay. Except there was this minestrone soup that they served that was terrible. The taste of it would make Italians cry out “Mama Mia!” The service was always excellent, except they hovered a little too close to the table and watched you while you were eating. It was unnerving! I’d ordered a beef filet, but it was taking forever for it to come out. The chef finally emerged and apologized, telling me that when Parliament was in session they had a lot of outside orders. So when the food came he gave me two extra filets as an apology. The waiter who had been serving me since I’d arrived on Monday finally worked up the nerve to ask me what part of Europe I was from. Everyone thinks I’m from Europe, or specifically from the U.K. It’s one of the first questions they ask. Some people even try to speak French to me, assuming I can understand because I must be from Europe! Personally, I don’t think I could be any more blatantly American but I guess there aren’t enough Americans wandering around Tanzania to make them think I’m anything other than European.

In the morning, I woke up at 5:00 AM even though my bus didn’t leave until 9:00. I was half not sleepy, and half excited to be going back “home.” After breakfast I walked the mile or so to the bus station, sweating like a pig since it was humid and about to rain. The bus ride back was equally uneventful. I sat next to this girl and her little baby. The smelled like fried chicken, I don’t know why, so I was hungry most of the way back. The baby kept staring at me (being a mzungu and all) and pulling the hair on my arms, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. One of the things I’ve yet to get used to is woman here breast feeding. There’s no warning and no attempt to cover themselves; they just break ‘em out and get down to business. Even though it’s “natural,” it shocks me every time.

So, Dodoma was described as a small and depressing city by the friends here in Dar. I went fully expecting to have a terrible time, but I actually enjoyed myself more than I have here in Dar. I think I prefer smaller places to big cities. It seems like no matter where you are in the world half the people in the cities look and act like they’ve had their souls sucked out of them or something. They’re universally rude, greedy, and pushy. Dodoma was a nice reprieve, and I’m starting to look forward to my marathon trip around the country in May.

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