Final Posting of 2008- honest!

Okay, I know I said that my previous posting would be the last for 2008 but I thought it would be nice to make one final posting.

I’m writing this on December 22nd, but, oddly enough, am looking back on a lovely Christmas Day. I’ve already explained the reasons for this change of date but I have to say it went pretty well. Having spent pretty much all of their lives as expatriate kids, the boys have accepted a degree of flexibility when it comes to Christmas. I look back on lots of very happy childhood Christmases and they all followed a fairly similar pattern. They all were spent at home with family and friends; home was somewhere very wintry in the UK- either in the Midlands with Mum, Dad and Phil or spent visiting Grandparents. In any case, the whole atmosphere of Christmas which is indelibly etched in my memory is one of a dark wintry day with nobody outside- the reason being that literally everyone was inside doing more or less the same thing. The ritual of Christmas was fairly fixed anyway but the pattern was reinforced by the fact that everyone else was doing the same.

One thing we’ve had to accept living first in Egypt and second in Tanzania is that these patterns are different. This can be tough for many people. We have a friend who has felt terribly homesick (if you’re not homesick at this time of year when will you be?) She has really missed the traditional Western Christmas- turkey, Christmas trees and the suchlike, living in a culture where trees and decorations are minimal, carols are in Swahili and have little to do with King Wenceslas or Three Kings from the Orient and Christmas dinner is more likely to feature goat meat and rice than turkey and cranberry sauce.

Soma wearing her Christmas pressie- the latest fashion item in Tanzania; a Barack Obama kanga

Being a family, we don’t seem to feel quite so homesick. However, I do sometimes get a slight pang and a desire for slightly colder climes! The first Christmas we spent abroad was Christmas 2005 in Cairo. That time we had some of Soma’s relatives visiting us so Christmas Day was more or less its usual exciting self. We started off awoken by three small boys and a little baby (Rohan was only five months old at the time) and spent the morning opening presents and munching on (incredibly expensive) imported Quality Street. We had Christmas lunch as usual- turkey with all the trimmings. However, in true Cairo style the whole thing was ordered from the Marriott Hotel and was delivered right in time for lunch!!

The oddness of Christmas only really struck home when we got round to the post Christmas lunch venture outside. In the UK we’d do this fairly often- a trip to Cannock Chase or just a walk around the block; anything to burn off the calories really. In Cairo, we decided to take a felucca trip- a quick hour of boating on the Nile and watching the world go by. As we stepped outside two things struck me (obvious in retrospect but seemed to hit home on a more visceral level). Firstly, it was not a dark, cold Christmas Day but was a hot, sunny afternoon with only a couple of wispy clouds in an otherwise blue sky. The second and more profound thing was that this was just another normal day in Cairo- everyone was just going on with their business with us creating this Christmassy bubble in our house. This seems pretty obvious- how many non Muslims outside of the Arab World would take much notice of Eid for example? Not surprisingly, a 95% Muslim society paid scant attention to Christmas Day. In fact, even the 4% Copts were oblivious to the festival, as their Christmas would come much later, on the 7th of January. The sheer normality of outside life made perfect logical sense but jarred nonetheless.

Last Christmas took us by surprise a bit. We’d only arrived in Tanzania at the start of November so were still battling with getting a house, getting kids into school, starting work, making friends etc. Because Tanzania is not really a commercialised society, we didn’t have the usual warnings (Slade blasting away in the shops from October onwards for example) that you get in Britain. We did manage an enjoyable morning of opening presents and had a lovely traditional lunch at the George and Dragon. Still, coming out of the Christmas bubble and driving back along a hot dusty African road for a late afternoon swim also brought a bit of perspective to things!

Rohan working through a box of Quality Street- little so and so nicked all the hard centres!

This Christmas, we’ve taken things a step further. Because we’ll be in India we decided to celebrate Christmas early- 20th December to be precise. I have to say we had a lovely day. We started off being awoken at first light by Kieran who came in to announce that he’d found his stocking and had opened his presents. He’d been hoping for a knight’s costume but only found a small water pistol and some books in his stocking. He thought that those were the sum total of his presents. Rather than having a tantrum like many boys his age he announced very sportingly that his presents “weren’t exactly what I’d hoped for but the water pistol is very nice”. We took the little chap and his brother downstairs where they found the rest of their presents, including a very convincing knight’s costume!

I spent the morning making Christmas lunch- traditional in all respects except for the meat being chicken rather than turkey. This was nothing to do with expat life- turkey here is apparently great- and more to do with the rather small stomachs of two of our family members. Rohan did put the lie to this assumption however by demolishing more chicken than all of us put together! We spent the afternoon with our neighbour Dirk and his two boys, Jessie and Joshua before heading off to the High Commissioner’s Residence for carols in the evening. Sitting in the front room with his family and numerous other guests felt very seasonal- even Kieran had a go at singing although Rohan fell fast asleep from the first song!

Carol Singing at the High Commissioner's Residence

Since we left England in early 2005, we’ve spent every intervening Christmas abroad. 2005 was spent with Devika, Stephane and their boys in a Cairo largely oblivious to the occasion. 2006 found us in Switzerland for our only white Christmas so far, though the warm winter meant that the “snow” was mostly artificial. 2007 came just after we’d arrived in Tanzania and was spent largely in the swimming pool and the 2008 Christmas was also celebrated under the hot African sun but on the wrong date!

Sir Kieran in his newly acquired knights costume (along with his noble page Rohan)

With the possible exception of 2006, none of these could be considered to be close to the traditional Christmases of my childhood. However, we’ve honestly enjoyed every single one. I guess that, as with all expats, we’ve had to take a slightly looser view of what Christmas should be. However, we’ve tried our hardest to ensure the important stuff remains. No matter where we are, we spend the day together as a family. We make an effort to decorate the house and put up a tree. The boys get their stockings and we all open our presents together. The Cairo Christmas being the honourable exception to the rule, I generally have my traditional stress-fest and put together a lunch which everyone claims to enjoy (although Soma has to try hard to disguise her true feelings about my bread sauce)! Most importantly, we have a real sense of occasion. We start to look forward to Christmas from 1st December, when (home-made) advent calendars appear, dodgy Christmas songs get played and we just get very excited about it all. In doing this, I like to think we’ve managed to make sure that no matter where we may be, the most important parts of Christmas remain with us. I truly hope that when the boys grow up, they will look back on their Christmases as happily as I do mine.

We’re looking back on Christmas now in fact but from us to everyone still looking forward to the big day, a very Merry Christmas from the four of us.

School's Out!

So, we’re more than half way through December so I figured I’d better get my blog post in before we get into the madness of Christmas.

It’s been a very busy month so far. First and foremost, I’ve been working like a particularly industrious dog revising for and then sitting my first lot of MBA exams. Although the course is run by Warwick Business School, I was able to sit the exams right here in Dar es Salaam. This was a considerable improvement on the original plan to travel to Warwick- Britain in July was miserable enough; having to come back in the middle of winter, to a Britain more consciously fed up with life than ever before for the purpose of sitting exams might just have forced me to jump off a bridge somewhere! I’d actually managed to negotiate an exam venue in Arusha, a short flight north of here. However, when the other candidate pulled out, they agreed to get the British Council here in Dar to host my exam.

Thus it was that after weeks of study (I’m now heartily sick of Market Analysis and Operations Management) I made the short walk down to the British Council on Samora Avenue to sit the exams. I have to say, this was a world away from the Camden Town Hall, where I’d sat my last exams many years ago- for a start, it was only me, an invigilator and about ten power cuts to keep me company. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I am free of study for now, am proudly sporting my first exam writing callous (I’ve forgotten how hard it is to do handwriting- wouldn’t imagine I won the handwriting prize in primary school!) in years and am looking forward to Christmas with a vengeance!

The Christmas season is now well underway here. It does seem a bit odd to be honest- the hallway is the proud venue for our large tree, imported from Cairo and all the neighbours kids seem to like it. However, we’re also at the height of summer- outside it’s absolutely blazing hot with the sun beating down from a cloudless blue sky. It’s meant to be rainy season right now, but, a couple of cloudbursts notwithstanding, it’s about as rainy right now as Cairo was in August. Trying to get in the Christmas mood is a battle of wills in the Chubb household- shut the curtains, get Slade or Wizzard blasting away on the hifi and crank up the AC to try and get a wintry feel! So far we’re fooling nobody but having a lot of fun trying!

We hosted a small Christmas party on Sunday- just a few friends round for drinks and minced pies (and my attempt at pigs in blankets- very nice!) Kieran wanted to stay up late but I sent him packing after he insisted on sitting in the middle of the party and playing his bongo drums! The mulled wine went down pretty well- took a lot of practice and tasting that one! The mulled wine was a bit of an Anglo Tanzania trade off- the spices are brilliant here so it tastes great. However, as I mentioned, we’re not really having mulled wine weather right now. Call me Mr Picky but I’m not exactly desperate to sip a hot glass of the stuff in the front of a roaring fire!

Anyway, the social events keep coming along. Last Saturday we took the boys to the circus of all places. This exciting event was put on by Mama Africa and took place in a traditional big top just up the road next to the Seacliffe Hotel. This was an animal free circus- no need to be seeing lions and elephants here I guess (though the ones we saw in the Serengeti weren’t swinging on trapezes so it could have been interesting I suppose. Anyway, we were certainly not disappointed. The acrobats- a mixture of Tanzanians and South Africans- were out of this world. From the graceful young lady doing the trapeze act to the skinny contortionist climbing through a tennis racket, these people were just phenomenally talented. The look on Kieran’s face was priceless- sheer wonder at what he was seeing. Lucky him- he gets to see the show again later this week! Sadly for us we had to finish at half time- Rohan was getting bored. We left Kieran with a friend of his and got the full report of the second act from a very excited little boy!

So, what is left to do? I’ve got the last few days of work this week and then Saturday is our rescheduled Christmas Day. We decided to change Christmas this year because of our trip to India. I’ve told Kieran that we need to change the day because Santa might get confused if he tries to deliver presents to Tanzania and finds we’re in India. In reality I just don’t want to lug a load of presents all the way to India and back- the boys are buying my explanation though so I’m sticking to it!

So, Christmas Day is 20th December this year- presents in the morning, Christmas lunch as soon as I finish my annual punch up with the turkey and then on to the British High Commission for a carol service- can’t wait.

I guess this will be my last posting of 2008- we’re off to India soon so I’ll not be writing any more till we get back. It’s been a good year, this first full year in Tanzania. We’ve found a great place to live, met some wonderful friends, found good schools for the boys, travelled a bit and (in my case at least) managed to do some work too!

There’s a lot to look forward to in 2009. I’ve got more MBA stuff to do- may be almost there by this time next year! We’ve got some more trips lined up- me to Mozambique and the UK for work and study, all of us to the UK for Phil’s wedding, possible visit to Florida in summer and somewhere nice (don’t know where yet!) later in the year. We’re hoping to receive some more guests in the year- Phil and Daniella have promised to come as have a few other friends. By the way, any friend or relative feeling like some sun is welcome to come on over here

On a final optimistic and aspirational note, I’ll also have another two chances (in July and December) to remember our wedding anniversary for the first time ever (sorry Soma!) Getting congratulatory phone calls from my in laws first thing in the morning is very nice but it does mean I get it in the neck!

Back blogging again!

So, I’m back at last. I know I’ve not written for months- what can I say? Dog ate my laptop? I don’t know what happened really. One second I’m getting ready to head off to Amsterdam ahead of some summer holidays, the next I’m back in Dar in the middle of November- time flies!

Anyway, it’s probably best if I gloss over the last few months. Nothing particularly bad happened but it is all fading into the past now and, anyway, much of the news involved either people visiting us from home or us going to the UK. Either way much of our summer has probably found its way safely onto the grapevine.

Life here is its usual self. I really can’t believe that a week ago we actually marked our first year here. A whole year ago since we packed up the Maadi apartment, got into the Pajero one last time and bid Mohammed a sad farewell. A whole year since Kieran discovered the Emirates Mall in Dubai, whose combined attractions of Magic Planet and the Middle East’s largest indoor ski slope make it his idea of heaven!

So, a year on and what is life like? In short, not too bad. Sure we’re a little further from Britain- the ten hour flights there and back made that point very well- but the Msasani Peninsula has really become home to us. We really get the best of all worlds here. The Peninsula is certainly not as enclosed as Maadi was. Maadi was to all intents and purposes an expat compound- the ring of soldiers checking cars after dark around the suburb’s perimeter made that crystal clear. Here, it is a little less rarified- not much mind you!

The expat community seems to divide itself into two areas. The Indian community (some of whom are expat some of whom are Tanzanian) seems to concentrate itself in Upanga- a small suburb closer to the centre of Dar. The houses are big and nicely built but it all seems a little crowded- also you’re a little further from the sea. All the other expats tend to concentrate on the Peninsula.

The Peninsula is home to a wide variety of nationalities. Firstly, of course you have the wealthier Tanzanians- either those wealthy enough to buy a house at what is basically London prices or those forward thinking enough to have built here twenty years ago when the whole area was wild and land was being given away. There is a very strong British community here- several hundred strong, perhaps even a thousand people. This is unsurprising I suppose, given the historic links between the UK and Tanzania. The community is well catered for, not least in terms of pubs. The English tend to go to the George and Dragon- a small pub run by a couple from Nottingham. The Irish go to O Willies- a slightly rougher establishment with a killer karaoke night. The Scots, Aussies, South Africans, French and myriad other nationalities meet up at either pub- I’ve no clue what the Americans do though! In short however, the expat community here is both varied and quite large- making for a lot of interesting friends.

Last weekend we celebrated bonfire night. Although this was organised by the St Georges Society (an organisation whose main aim is to celebrate English culture and to annoy the Caledonian Society), it was attended by a wide cross section of society. It was held on the grounds of the Police Officers Mess- a fairly spacious field just up the road from our house overlooking the sea. In keeping with tradition there was a bonfire, a best dressed guy competition, fireworks and even toffee apples. I spend a good while trying to explain the event to a French friend of mine. The best I could come up with was that we were celebrating the life of the only Englishman to go into parliament wanting to do something for the good of the nation- he understood straight away, indicating that some things really do transcend nationality!

Anyway, bonfire night is over and the next big event must therefore be…..Christmas! Actually I have a few odds and ends to sort out beforehand. I’m off to Mozambique at the end of the month for a few days- the furthest south I’ve ever been in the world! Early December I fly up to Arusha to sit my MBA exams (sitting them at the foot of Kilimanjaro in an African summer has got to be better than doing them in Warwick in the depths of winter!) Once that is done we’re off to India- a week in Calcutta to see family followed by a week in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands- can’t wait.

Another thing- I hope you like the new picture at the top. Unlike the previous one, shamelessly pinched from the net, this one was taken here in Tanzania by my mum-good isn’t it!

A long Weekend in the Serengeti

We’re now well into July and finally I have found peace. This is not to say I’ve found some tranquil Eastern religion- I’ve already done that! No, after a mad few weeks of flying around, attending conferences and entertaining my in laws, I find myself alone. Soma, the boys and the in laws are, as we speak about an hour into their flight from Dubai to Birmingham and I have some rare peace and quiet!

So what of the past few weeks? Well, although very busy they have also been a lot of fun. The travels kicked off at the start of the month with a visit to Nice to attend the Africa Energy Forum. Not much to report on that in this blog except to say that it was useful but also very wearing- when you spend two full days travelling to and from a two day conference it takes it out of you! Sorry for the very unoriginal pun but the conference and the venue were both very…. Nice.

Anyway, having spent a full day (left hotel at 4am, got through front door at 11pm) getting back to Dar, head had barely hit pillow when I was up again- seconds away round two of the travel saga, a four day trip to see some more animals!

The trip had come at the request of Soma’s father really. Having become aware that he was going to be coming to Tanzania, he wanted, understandably to see a bit of the country. The only bit he’d heard of, I think was “the Tarangatti” which we took to mean the Serengeti. This worked well for us too. After the rushed end to our time in Egypt, we are taking the attitude that our time here could end equally fast and want to make sure we see as many of the main attractions as possible. While I’d never be so arrogant as to presume that we could ever “do Tanzania”, I wanted to make sure that we could go away at least having ticked the main boxes. Well we’d visited Zanzibar and Ngorongoro so the only big one left was the Serengeti, so the trip was duly booked.

By 9am we were getting onto a Coastal Aviation Cessner, Kieran in floods of tears after an inadvertent boot to the face from his careless father getting onto the plane ahead of him (despite profuse apologies, he refused to talk with me for the entire flight up to Arusha). After an uneventful flight (sadly the cloud cover was too great this time for the usual fun of looking out at the land below), we landed at Arusha, spending lunch there before catching a connecting flight north to the small airstrip of Seronera.

After flying into places such as Manyara and Seronera, even Kieran has grasped the difference between airport and airstrip. This was a long strip of reasonably mowed (or perhaps “chewed”, judging by the herd of impala we narrowly missed crashing into at the end of the runway) with a small café and about four safari vehicles close by. It was clearly well into the category of “airstrip”!

Once out of the plane and with luggage in hand we climbed into the jeep and began our safari. As we began, I had a few worries going through my head- would my parents in law see the animals they had been hoping for? Would the boys finally get bored at their third safari and play up the whole time? Would my father in law’s famously atomic sized bladder result in his getting eaten by a lion? Only time would tell.

Well the first worry had vanished within a few minutes as we drove up to a hippo pool with more hippos in a single place than any of us had seen before. We must have counted at least 20 hippos- the next day we’d find another 65, but this first lot was impressive enough.

Some hippos doing very little

Now I’m not going to go into detail about the various animals we’ve seen- I did that on our trip to Mikumi then again after Ngorongoro- you’re bored of reading about it and I’m bored of writing about them. However, what was different about the Serengeti? What was it that kept us so interested the whole time? Well actually for me it was only partly to do with the animals.

Serengeti derives from the Maasai word “siringitu”, meaning to extend. It translates approximately to “endless plain”. Looking out of the jeep it was clear where the name came from. Stretching out in all directions were miles and miles of open grassland. As we drove around you just had this fantastic sense of open space- although there were crowded areas, especially around certain pools, there was at least one period of about four hours where we saw nobody else. I think you really need to have been there to really figure out what I’m on about. A photo can show a big grassy plain but it doesn’t show the fact that you’ve just driven a good 50km seeing the same kind of open plain- the size is mind boggling!

The "endless plain" of the Serengeti

However mind boggling the size is however, long stretches of grassy plain have less of an impact on two small boys and two in laws impatient to see some animals. Thankfully, this was not a problem. On this, our third safari in less than a year, we were unlikely to see anything totally new- of the “big 5” (lion, rhino, elephant, water buffalo and leopard) we’ve just the final one to see and to be honest it’s going to take a huge chunk of luck to do that! For us though, it wasn’t about new sights, but about scale. We’d seen a few hippos from a distance before but not a huge group of them close up. The big animal experience however was all about lions. Again, we saw maybe five or so in Mikumi and a few more in Ngorongoro. The lions of the Serengeti are well known, however, and did not disappoint. Within half an hour of arrival we’d seen a small group of maybe five, lying yards from the roadside. The next morning we’d see a full pride in close up. We saw no new animals I guess but that did not mean we saw nothing new.

One of the many lions we saw- Kieran was convinced this one was "Scar" from the Lion King!

We stayed in the Serengeti for two days and two nights. In that time we managed a very early drive (starting at 6) which made it possible to see the big cats do something other than sleep- a pair of cheetahs stalking impala for example. An early start also means breakfast in the Serengeti at dawn. Watching the sun come up over the plain was one thing. However, for all of us, breakfast was an experience. Our guide found a safe (well relatively speaking in a reserve full of dangerous animals considerably more expert at hunting us than we are at evading them) place and we had breakfast sitting on the jeep bonnet.

Picnic breakfast on the jeep. On this occasion we were eating breakfast rather than being breakfast!

It is good to go out at different times of the day. The kids stayed back with Soma while we went on an evening drive- we were going to the same places but it was at the same time quite different. Most fun for me (still affected by years in sunny and dry Egypt) was the drive back in pouring rain. As the cool of night sets in there is pretty much always a short violent storm- very wet but only half an hour or so. Standing up in the open topped jeep as we sped back to the hotel, I got soaked- my in laws thought I was mad but it was fun!

From the Serengeti, we drove a few hours south back to Nogorongo Crater, location of our last safari. We made a short detour en rout to a place called Olduvai. This famous for two things. First of all, it is home to a rather impressive volcano, which we flew over on the way to Seronera. More importantly, however, the adjoining gorge has been the location for considerable archaeological work and some major finds providing much information about early humankind. Not for nothing is place known as the “Cradle of Mankind”.

View of the Olduvai volcano crater taken from flight from Arusha to Seronera

To be honest, I was a bit disappointed. The museum was pretty small and not very well organised- perhaps appropriate for the scene of some minor finds but not for the place where some very early hominid bones have been found. We looked; we left.

An hour or so later, we were once again descending into the crater. I have to say that even though this was the second time, I was just as blown away by the geography of this place- the largest unbroken crater in the world is just impressive.

We only had time for the one drive- basically lunch in the crater than a few hours inside. However, a couple of things became apparent. Firstly, on the positive side, it was easier to see animals here. I guess being in a crater means that everything is more packed here. Rather than seeing a herd of zebra off in the distance, you see thousands of them by the roadside! The animals were less impressive here (huge prides of lions hadn’t simply been airlifted in over the past couple of months surprise, surprise!) but they were closer to us and therefore interesting in a different way.


Wildebeest and Zebra in Ngorongoro- zebras in a bit of an odd position to share the load of keeping a lookout ofr predators

The second thing becoming apparent was that Kieran had obviously had something dodgy to eat. He started to complain that he needed the toilet and within seconds we were faced with the choice of getting out of the car (never advised- just don’t!) and a major accident inside the car. As the wise father I took the decision….. to get out and let him do his business.

Kieran, being very aware of what was out there, managed to finish his business in record time. However, holding him up with my back to whatever predator might be out there must have counted as the longest and scariest few seconds of both of our lives! We climbed back inside and Soma made the wise decision to offer Kieran one of Rohan’s nappies- I for sure was not getting out of the car again! I'm not sure what it is about this Crater and my offspring. If it's not one who can't get it out it's the other who can't keep a plug in it!

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful and by dusk we were back in the Sopa Lodge, able to take advantage of a babysitting mother in law to have a way more leisurely dinner than we’d ever had before!

After a few minor blowouts with Coastal on the way back, we found ourselves back at home in Dar es Salaam by the following evening- tired but happy.

I’m very glad we visited the Serengeti and also glad we got another chance to see Ngororongoro. My father in law thought the former was definitely best. Although I loved the sheer space of the Serengeti, I had to disagree. Ngorongoro Crater for me will always be may favourite bit of the north.

I’m not sure if we’ll go there again. Apart from anything the northern circuit really does cost a small fortune to visit. In any case, further trips round Tanzania are off the agenda for now. Next week I’ll be back in Amsterdam, one year on from the meeting that originally set in motion the process of moving us all from Cairo to Dar.

After that, I’m back to the UK for the first time in almost a year. Now this little fact really did get me thinking. This has to be the longest period I’ve been outside the UK. Even back in Syria I only just about scraped a calendar year. In the fourteen months I’ve been gone a lot has changed too. When we left the UK last in late May 2007 so much was different. Tony Blair was still PM, England were still rugby world champions, some people still thought Steve MacLaren was a good football manager, Northern Rock was a dynamic, forward thinking bank, the term “credit crunch” was unknown and house prices were still rising. I’ll be interested to see how things are back in the UK- I guess you only really notice change when you’ve been gone a little while.

We get back here in late August but then I’m back to the UK few weeks later for an MBA course. Straight afterwards, I’m probably in Mozambique for a week. All quiet in October and November before MBA exams in the UK in early December followed by a (not yet booked) Christmas in some (as yet undecided) part of India. Anyway, one thing at a time- can’t wait for Amsterdam!

Happy Birthday Ma'am

Well we’re in mid June now and thoughts are turning to coming back to the UK before long. In a couple of weeks, Soma’s parents will arrive from India for their short stay. True to tradition (seems to happen every time my in laws arrive), I’ll be heading off for a week long conference in Nice. Almost as soon as I get back, we’re all getting on a plane and flying up north for a few days in the Serengeti. A week later, all except me will fly to the UK, leaving me to follow a week later via a few days of meetings in Amsterdam. It really doesn’t seem that long since we were all last in the UK but, counting up, it seems that almost 14 months will have elapsed.

We do keep in touch with the UK- apart from regular calls home, the BBC website and the World Service keeps me up to date. However, a lot of the stuff mentioned, especially the TV stuff means little to me. What the heck is “The Apprentice” when it’s at home? As far as I can make out, it’s about Alan Sugar showing some young people how to do business his way. Why anyone would want to emulate the bloke responsible for today’s Amstrad and the Tottenham Hotspur of the 1990s is beyond me but each to his own I guess. And Big Brother? By the time we left the UK we’d had a few series but it was getting tired even then- now I hear they are on to series 9- doesn’t anyone have anything better to do?

Before I forget too, I came across an absolutely brilliant website satirising UK news. Trouble for me is I need to do a bit of research to figure out what is being satirised but the stuff I understand is great. A warning though- some of the language can be a bit strong but it’s basically well intended. Below is a link to The Daily Mash- enjoy!

www.thedailymash.co.uk

Another, more enjoyable, way of maintaining a relationship with the UK arose a couple of weeks ago. Thanks to Soma’s position on some committee or other, we both got invited to the UK High Commissioner’s official residence for a reception to mark the Queen’s Birthday. Conveniently enough, this was only 5 minutes’ drive from home and, even better, Soma offered to be the designated driver!

Duly suited and booted- Soma in a very fetching sari and me in a tie for only about the third time since we arrived in Tanzania- we turned up at the Residence. After shaking numerous hands belonging to various dignitaries on the reception line, we made our way to a bunch of familiar faces. Beers, wines and canapés were duly served up and we enjoyed a great evening under the stars and, for the first time in over a year on what is officially at least, British territory. One of the good things about the British Empire is the fact that everywhere in the world, the British Embassy/ High Commission and the official Residence are always very posh. The Russian Embassy over the road is functional but rather dull. This Residence is palatial since, like in most other countries, we got there first and chose the nicest place!

Standing in the grounds of the Residence, it was easy to imagine what life must have been like for the British foreign service a century ago. On the one hand we were under an African sky, with exotic trees, bushes and plants surrounding us and with variegated noises of nature emanating from pretty much everywhere (a bullfrog’s mating croak really can rival Tom Jones for volume!). However the perfectly manicured lawns, waiters carrying various food and drink and of course the hundred or so suited guests made it pretty obvious that we were not so much in the depths of Africa as in the lap of luxury!

About halfway through proceedings, the High Commissioner toasted President Kikwete (the Queen was toasted and duly wished a happy birthday by a nearby Tanzanian MP) and gave a short speech. I have to say he made some very interesting points and came up with a statistic which speaks volumes about the difference between rich countries and poor ones: The total budget for the entire country (defence, health, schools- the lot) is a third of the total amount spent in the UK on DVDs

This got me thinking about two things in particular. The first thing was a question- why is Tanzania this poor? When your entire budget is so small, and 40% of this figure is actually donated by other nations, then you’re a seriously poor country. When I first arrived here I just assumed that Tanzania was poor because it was African. Being of a generation where Band Aid was one of my first memories of pop music, I just figured Tanzania = Africa = poor. However, after a few months here, I just can’t accept that this is a given. This is not a country particularly ravaged by empire or slavery. Both certainly existed here but nothing like on the same scale as in West Africa. Look around and you will find that social structures and civil society are very strong. Tribes are numerous and provide another useful base for identity without ever competing with the state for loyalty. No significant conflict has emerged either between tribes or between a tribe and the state. Tanzania has not been stripped of minerals- it is still full to bursting with gas, coal, gold, copper, uranium and numerous other minerals. It has fertile land and, in the Serengeti, Ngorongoro and Zanzibar, has a tourist resource to die for.

Why, in a country that has all this to offer, is the budget a fraction of the UK’s spend on DVDs? Better people than I could give a decent answer I’m sure but at least one contributing factor is linked to the second thing that struck me- the sheer amount of public money that is wasted here.

I can give an example with this question (remember this for future pub quizzes): What is the capital of Tanzania? If you answered Dar es Salaam then you’re wrong. Sure, it’s the largest city by miles, all the businesses are located here and all the civil servants and politicians (President and PM included) live here. However, the capital and seat of government is a nondescript town in the centre of the country called Dodoma. According to some of my Tanzanian friends, it was decided that this would be the capital some decades ago to ensure a focus was given on the centre of the country. However, when people realised that this “capital” had no real infrastructure- poor schools, poor hospitals, poor provision of water, electricity etc- then they all refused to move.

With budget season now in full swing, we are faced with the weekly migration of politicians, commissioners and permanent secretaries- basically the entire upper echelons of the ruling class of Tanzania. At the start of each week, they head up (and you can forget car sharing for a start- each commuter has his own car and driver) to Dodoma. They then spend a week working there before the Friday journey back to Dar. This pointless weekly mass migration, which seems to rival that of the Serengeti, continues for the best part of three months. The irony is that the purpose of this is to discuss the scarce financial resources available! Well if you add up the fuel cost of the weekly ten hour round journey taken by literally hundreds if not thousands of vehicles, the hotel bills incurred by both the participants and their secretaries, drivers and myriad other helpers and the per diem claims, then you have a clue of how at least part of the scarce resource is being spent. I have no idea how much this annual trek costs but I’m sure you could buy a fair few DVDs with the cash.

This is perhaps a more benign example of profligacy- one that has arisen from poor planning and inertia, but which is costing the country billions each year. However, more worrying is the level of corruption found here. In the seven months since I’ve arrived, two major corruption scandals have come to light here and have truly gripped the country. The first of these, the Richmond affair is one close to my heart, since it involved the power sector. Basically, it seems that back in 2006, there was a power crisis that resulted in long blackouts It was decided that an emergency power facility would be brought in and a tender process kicked into action. This was hijacked by senior government members and a scandalously generous contract awarded to Richmond Power- an unknown entity. The facility arrived so late that the crisis had passed by the time a megawatt was generated. Incredibly though, the initial contract was then extended. An inquiry revealed that Richmond Power was a shell company owned by senior members of the ruling party. The PM was implicated and forced to resign.

The second involved the Bank of Tanzania. I know less about this one but it seems that questions began to be asked about a large hole in the bank’s accounts and specifically about payments of many millions of dollars being made by the bank to certain mysterious companies. The (now deceased) Governor went AWOL and eventually resurfaced in the USA. Nobody knows where the funds now are but I think anyone who imagines that the Tanzanian public will ever see their funds again is being pretty optimistic.

So, we’re in a country where every penny of public money truly counts. However, those charged with guarding and using these funds see a major power crisis plunging the country into darkness less as a challenge to be overcome, rather as an opportunity for personal enrichment; they see a central bank not so much as the repository of public funds as much as a personal piggy bank. Finally they see no contradiction in using public funds to finance three months of commuting and living in five star hotels when they are discussing the use of scarce resources in a budget!

My colleagues remind me that at independence, Tanzania and Malaysia were economically on a par with each other. A few decades later Malaysia, with far fewer natural resources, is enjoying first world status while Tanzania continues to languish. I know very little about Malaysia’s leaders but wonder whether they have historically been quite so profligate with their nation’s money.

Thinking further, I wonder whether the likes of Bob Geldof and Bono have really got it right. I can’t doubt their intention- they have worked very hard for Africa. However, when they talk about more aid is this really what Africa needs? Sorting out simple governance and corruption will achieve so much more and allow most public money to benefit the people rather than the tiny fraction that seems to trickle down at the moment.

This is something the people of the West should also think about. There are lots of ways to help Africa- creating a level playing field for trade would be a great first step and would be appreciated by Tanzanians an awful lot more than well intentioned charity. However, if we simply try to solve these problems through boosting aid then all we’ll achieve is more shiny new cars for those at the top. An economist once described aid to Africa as being “the best way to transfer money from poor people in Britain to rich people in Africa”. Let’s think a bit more about what this money is being used for before we make this quote a self fulfilling prophecy.

Why didn't I just keep my big mouth shut?!!

The next time I start thinking that life here is plain sailing, please just hit me! Thankfully all is fine now, but the last few days have shown me that expat life can show its dark side pretty quickly when the opportunity arises.

People often come out with statements such as “Africa isn’t for wimps” and “things turn sour very fast here”, but to be honest, I’d not given those statements much thought. Now, I can kind of see what they are getting at although still reckon they are a bit overdramatised.

The hassle I’ve gone through over the past few days all happened as a result of that most common and predictable African occurrence, a car crash. Saturday evening found Soma, the boys and me in our car heading back home from the shops. As I made the right turn into our road (having checked mirrors, slowed down and indicated before anyone asks!) a motorbike hit the side of the car and then ploughed into a wall on the other side of the road. To be honest, we’ve had near misses plenty of times before- cars coming at speed on the wrong side of the road, people pulling out of junctions just ahead of me. A biker without a helmet attempting a crazy overtake manoeuver on a blind bend was entirely normal- only this time he hit us.

After a split second of shock, the emergency training that my company has drilled into all expatriates kicked in. Looking around, I could see a mob forming (as normally happens here) so moved the car into our compound, just fifty metres away. Bad enough that this guy hits my car- no reason to put me or the family in danger of a mob attack. Predictably enough, an angry mob formed outside our compound gates. While I stayed with the security guard to try to reason with them, Soma called our security agency, Ultimate Security to get help.

For anyone not familiar with life in Africa, it is fairly standard practice for all expatriates to be connected to a security firm. These people act more or less as police force, breakdown support and emergency ambulance service all rolled into one. If anything happens, the advice is always to get to a place of safety then call them to deal with the incident- that is what we did.

The mob was claiming that the biker was about to die and that I had to drive him to hospital urgently. With my limited Swahili (and with a lot of help from a security guard) I told them that moving him would be dangerous and in any case an ambulance was on its way and would give faster, better help than anything. My neighbour, Steve- a Health and Safety Manager for one of the largest mine companies here- decided to head out and see how badly hurt the guy actually was. He returned a few minutes later with the very welcome news that not only was the guy not dead, but that there was very little wrong with him. The mob were not really interested in him at all- they just wanted to extort some cash out of me and knew they couldn’t do anything so long as a huge gate, thick wall and electric fence divided us. The biker was well enough to come up to our gate and claim he was injured. Thankfully for him, he did not speak enough English to understand the barrage of expletives I unloaded towards him! The relief at his not being dead had subsided and was replaced by a lot of anger at how his reckless driving then shameless playacting had put all of us at risk. I told him that Ultimate were on their way and that we’d called the police. As soon as he heard that final word (“polisi” in Swahili) he was on his bike and away.

As a precaution, I went, along with an Ultimate Security guard and a couple of colleagues, to the local traffic police station to file an incident report. We quickly met up with the officer assigned to our case and took him back to the scene of the accident. He took one look at the scene and the car and concluded that the biker had been in the wrong- you’re not allowed to overtake there so it’s kind of black and white. We invited him home where we drew up a formal statement and off he headed.

All seemed well for a couple of days until, like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction, the issue reared its head again on Monday. I got a call from our people at Ultimate Security saying that a police officer had seen my statement and wanted to go through it with me the next day. Not sure what he wanted and why, I spent a nervous night contemplating the notion of life in an African jail cell!

Tuesday morning, I met up with a colleague, who took me along to the police station. The station is not really much like you’d see in England- it’s more a compound surrounded by a collection of ramshackle outhouses. After a long wait, the officer came to see us. From my basic Swahili, I understood that he wanted to talk with me alone and go through my statement. Much to his disappointment, my colleague told him that she would be staying with me and we headed off together to an office. Frankly given that his English was as bad as my Swahili, any interview between us would have been pretty laughable anyway!

I spent half an hour rewriting my statement after which the officer told us to head to the accountant and pay for the insurance report- why I needed to write the statement again I’m not sure- although I was given a clue on the way back!

We headed up some musty stairs to the accountant, carefully sidestepping a pile of thirty or so rifles, (carefully kept on the floor to give any escaping prisoner a sporting chance, presumably) and paid our cash. We then got the insurance report and headed off- a lot of worry about nothing.

I was pretty confused at this point and asked my colleague what had happened. She calmly explained that in all likelihood, the original statement had been submitted Saturday night and then spotted by another officer. He saw the mzungu name on the statement and figured there was one last chance for a bribe. He wanted to talk with me alone to try to get cash out of me but saw his chance disappear when it was made clear to him that a very legally aware Tanzanian colleague would be with me. He asked for another statement to save face then gave up!

I’ve learned a lot (or at least had a lot of stuff I’ve been told now hammered well and truly into my head)

Firstly and most importantly, the scene of any traffic accident in Africa is very dangerous- although it seems heartless to leave someone at the scene you simply have to do this to avoid a lynching by a mob who themselves care more about pilfering stuff from all concerned than actually offering any help. The advice given by our security people to just get somewhere safe was invaluable and meant that not only did we stay safe but we were able to offer real help.

Secondly, a lot of people are just after money. The biker who chose to carry out a lunatic manoeuvre without a helmet on a blind corner probably hurt a bit. However, he made the most of his ultimately superficial injuries to try to get some cash out of me. Once I started demanding cash from him for my car and mentioned the police, he couldn’t get back on his bike fast enough! The mob outside my gate were claiming he was dying, to try to get me outside and get cash from me. They were still claiming he was going to die as he ran back his bike and drove off! The second he had gone, they all left too- except the one bloke who tried to sell me a painting!

Finally you need to go into the legal system prepared. My visits to the police were always with a colleague who knew what was going on. It is also important to get there as quickly as is reasonably possible- especially if you don’t stick around at the scene. The personal safety justification only works if you make sure you get to the station at the first available opportunity. Here, perceptions matter. Generally, the first party to make a statement is believed- the other guy is always going to be on the back foot afterwards. Getting to a station and putting in your complaint is always going to be better than waiting for the other chap to give his side of the story then being dragged off in handcuffs! However, the police are basically fair here. The first chap was keen to get to the bottom of what had happened and, once he’d seen the scene of the accident and the car itself he drew a fair conclusion. The other officer was clearly out for a bribe but backed off pretty quickly once he saw nothing was going to happen- he could have made life hard but didn’t.

Anyway, as my boss told me, it is experiences such as these that make life here interesting. However, if the next few months are slightly boring I don’t think I’ll complain so much again!

The token May post

Phew- just made it! A very brief posting on almost the last day of the month to ensure that May 2008 does not go entirely unforgotten.

Today is quite a significant day for us in fact. Yesterday was mum’s birthday- a fact duly recognised by an e- card and a phone call. Obviously, this means that a year ago yesterday was also mum’s birthday (sharp eh!). The significance of this, is that last year we came to the UK to celebrate said birthday, returning to Egypt a day later. Today, therefore marks the one- year anniversary of our last visit to England!

Actually, I was talking with an old friend in England on Skype the other day about our travel plans and our decision to live in Africa. He was amazed, exclaiming “What on earth are you thinking of? You’ve got small children to consider…there are power shortages, a complete breakdown in law and order, runaway inflation, insurmountable gaps between rich and poor and ruling parties in power for way longer than is good. Why the blazes are you thinking of coming back to England this summer?”

Hopefully, the situation back in England isn’t quite as dire as my friend (and the International Mail on Sunday, tragically the only UK paper regularly on sale here) are making out. However, the obvious downturn in the general public mood in the UK has not escaped the attention of the Tanzanian media, though they also recognise a lot of these trends (especially the oil and food prices bit) as being part of a wider global trend (if that makes you feel any better!). In any case, the local press is much more focused on the more immediate issue of how Tanzanian citizens are being treated in South Africa. To put things in a nutshell, people here seem outraged at what they see as a very unAfrican lack of gratitude. Black South Africans got a lot of support during the apartheid era from their neighbours- in cases such as Zambia they even endured SA airforce raids for their pains. It would seem that the black SA community has a pretty poor name across the rest of Africa now.

Anyway, back to the point- we’ve got tickets booked and are looking forward to coming back to the UK for a few weeks this summer- anyone up for an extortionately expensive warm beer?

Anyway, life here in the southern hemisphere is still good. We’re patiently awaiting the end of the rainy season- the real rains ended weeks ago, but we’re still getting the occasional downpour as we head slowly into winter. It is still a bit too cold for the swimming pool (the water temperature plummets with each downpour) and, for some reason- negligent poolboy the most likely suspect, the pool is a worryingly luminous green. This would not normally be an issue but Kieran was hoping to get training for his upcoming swimming gala and has thus been thwarted. To help, I have been given him intensive training on the art of losing gracefully (not to cry or try to steal the trophy).

This is really the calm before the storm- life has taken on a pleasant regularity right now. Soma’s parents will be visiting at the end of June and we’ll be taking them up to the Serengeti. After that, we have a myriad of entries and exits- me off to Nice, followed by Soma and folks to the UK, followed by me to Amsterdam then UK, followed by my folks and the four of us back home- at least I’ll have something to write about again!

And did those feet, in ancient times.......

As the last blog posting I made subtly pointed out, it’s been raining a bit recently. As a result of the sporadic but biblical downpours of rain, our travels have once more been put on the backburner. However, we’ve still had time to do a fair bit of stuff- just not involving trips in cars to see elephants, that’s all. With the chance to travel curtailed, we’ve involved ourselves in the local expat social scene a bit- not something I particularly want to do all the time but a nice interlude none the less.

So what have we been doing lately? Well the two most appropriate nouns are “parties” and “football”. First of all the football I guess. Now those who know me well (and given that nobody other than my family and some of my most sympathetic friends are likely to spend much time reading my blogs that would constitute most people reading this) will be aware that from earliest childhood, I’ve had a thing for the Beautiful Game- even if most of the games I watched at Wolves were anything but.

A few weeks ago, we’d invited a couple we knew from our time in Cairo- Brett and Michelle- over for dinner. Like all good scousers, Brett is a football fan too and before long we were philosophising on matters as diverse as whether Andy Gray was evil because he left Wolves in their direst hour of need or whether it was because he played for Everton. More importantly, Brett revealed that he ran a local football team, loosely affiliated to the local English pub- the George and Dragon. They were about to start training for an upcoming match against fierce local rivals, “Ireland”. A combination of African heat and lack of fitness meant that they needed a squad of at least thirty and he wondered whether I was up for playing. As far as I was concerned, the pub bit could always be glossed over later- I was going to play for England against Ireland- I was in!

At the third attempt (the first two sessions cancelled due to social pressures and lack of willpower), we actually got a training session underway. The pitch, at a local school was more sand and rock than grass (the only grass was under a foot of water for all it was worth). However our opposition was of a higher standard. A bunch of local schoolkids- teenagers- challenged us to a match. Our able striker Shaun (the only one of us vaguely approaching fitness) kindly accepted on our behalf and the match kicked off. After about ten minutes, three things had dawned on us. Firstly, with most of our team bent double and wheezing, we were lacking a bit of match practice. Secondly, given that none of us had touched the ball at that stage, it was clear that these boys were very skilful. However, thirdly and most encouragingly, we noted that they still hadn’t scored. These boys were very skilful but didn’t pass and weren’t getting anyway. Thoroughly encouraged by this, we organised ourselves a bit, put in a few scary tackles and eventually had them on the rack. Nothing illegal, mind- just a few meaty tackles which left one player abandoning the ball and running off the pitch rather than face Shaun! Final score- 11-1 to us! Bring on the Irish!

Well sadly, the Irish decided to cancel- at least until September. Apparently there are various possibilities as to why. Maybe they had heard of our great victory and were intimidated by our obvious fitness. I’d heard that after the last match they had complained bitterly at an unduly physical approach from our team- maybe that was it. There had also been some controversy over whether some of our players weren’t actually qualified to play for England. Well, although there is possibly some doubt on the total Englishness of our team (although Sven and Giovanni both swear they know the words to “Jerusalem”), the Irish are applying double standards. Of their starting eleven, eight have never even seen Ireland. Anyway, match postponed but the training sessions continue!

On the subject of Englishness, we attended our first ball in Tanzania a couple of weekends ago. The Royal Society of St George (a very pleasant group aimed solely at promoting English culture- not the far right extremist party the name suggests!) was holding its annual St Georges Day Ball at a posh hotel in the centre of Dar es Salaam. Soma, never being one to miss a ball had the tickets in hand about ten minutes after they went on sale. Anyway, the old Dinner Jacket was brought out and by eight o’clock, we were supping champagne- just like Cairo! Actually this one was a little bit different. The ball was fairly clearly intended to mirror Burns Night- a party but with a bit of ceremony. We started off singing Jerusalem (a pretty embarrassed, English attempt since everyone was still sober) and then stood to watch a big rib of beef being brought in- a bit like piping the haggis I guess. Brett and I stifled semi drunken, schoolboy giggles as the person holding this joint (one of our teammates Vernon) was announced as the “Baron of Beef”- his ceremonial role for the night. He managed to keep a straight face at the time and even managed to retain good humour through a barrage of jibes as to the pornographic implications of his newly acquired title. Needless to say, the nickname has stuck.

The ceremonies continued- as the drinks flowed, songs such as Rule Britannia and Land of Hope and Glory were belted out with increasing enthusiasm (I even noticed our Romanian tablemate making a fairly drunken effort to convince us all that he would never be a slave either). The formal part of the evening ended with a couple of speeches- the Toast on behalf of the English proposed that we stick to English tradition- “get drunk and then get knocked out in the quarter finals of something”; this was responded to by the head of the Caledonian Society who spent a few minutes admitting that the English were okay, but the Scots were better!

Since that evening, we’ve been pulling our social socks up. Soma, typically unable to attend a function without wanting to run the next one, is now on the Committee of the Royal Society of St George and wants to persuade the BBC to link up to Dar es Salaam for the Last Night of the Proms! If she thinks I’m going to be caught on global TV bobbing up and down like a fool she can think again!

Here Comes the Rain Again....and Again and Again

After a number of phone calls to various family members, all of whom have expressed their envy of our unending sunshine, I feel the need to put the record straight. It is peeing it down here- not just a slight shower or two, but a full fledged monsoon!

I can finally say, after a few weeks of occasional showers interrupting the heat, blue skies and sunshine, that the rainy season well and truly arrived last week. As befits a former British colony, the arrival of rain- not unusual in what is called locally the “rainy season”- was met with utter surprise, lack of preparedness and a complete breakdown of civil society!

It all happened quite fast, around early afternoon last Wednesday. Taking a break from work, I was looking out of my office window when the sky went from slightly cloudy to black in about ten minutes. The heavens then opened with rainfall of an intensity I’ve not seen outside of India. I then spent the rest of the afternoon watching the demolition of civilisation as we know it.

First of all, we realised that the cut price drainage system bought from the Chinese by the government had a major issue- it didn’t work! Within half an hour the roads were more or less flooded as the entirely blocked up drains took on their usual chocolate fireguard characteristics.

This caused traffic to build up slightly- no problem to the traffic police who patiently man every crossing waving through cars and trying to get bribes off unsuspecting westerners. Trouble, however was that these officers, not quite getting the concept of “to protect and to serve” had ran off searching for cover at the first sign of rain and didn’t reappear until the rains stopped. The result, as seen from my office was complete chaos and gridlock within minutes of the first drop of rain. In terms of an inability to deal with inclement weather, this had me in absolute awe- and I used to be a London commuter remember!

Anyway, after spending a happy afternoon watching the mounting chaos- cars stalling in the rain, running out of petrol in the traffic jams, starting driving on the wrong side of the roads to get anywhere- the painful truth dawned on this smug onlooker. I was going to have to get home in this!

Actually, I was not meant to be going home immediately. Elna, our receptionist had invited me to her sendoff party (the custom here is for the bride’s family to have a party to say goodbye to her before she gets married) just ten minutes drive from our house. It was due to start at half past six so, being prudent under the circumstances I headed off at half five.

By half past six I had got precisely two hundred yards from the car park. By eight I had managed the (normally ten minutes) drive to the turnoff for home and then decided to call it a night. Any guilt I had vanished the next morning when I spoke with a colleague, Chris. He told me that it had taken another hour and half to get from that turning to the restaurant. I would probably have got there at around half past nine- four hours late to a restaurant twenty minutes from the office! Chris told me that further along, the road descended slightly. He had been following a local driver and figured that if the local car could make it then Chris (in a Nissan Patrol) would be fine. Chris decided to take another route when the car in front of him ended up with water coming over the headlights and onto the bonnet. With the true local optimism, the driver in front pressed on but Chris turned back and took a longer route!

Since then, the rains have been quite regular- once a day or so we get a huge barrage of rain and then sun. We’re quite enjoying it to be honest. After three years in Cairo, rain is almost as welcome as snow. For Kieran especially it is a rare treat and he is quite often found running round the compound in the pouring rain wearing nothing but his pants! The power is failing quite a lot as the rain affects the decrepit infrastructure but our generator is holding up quite well. Actually, with the drop in temperatures, we nights are becoming quite cool and we can often manage without the AC units too!

We’re told the rains will stop by the end of the month- we’ll probably have a good British dislike of the rains by then but, for now, we’re quite enjoying it!

Easter Weekend in Ngorongoro

True to my promise that the next blog would contain a bit more than dressed-up accounts of swimming (and drinking) with the neighbours, we’ve just been off exploring again. To be honest, we were feeling a bit stir crazy having spent a solid two months in Dar and it was high time to get out and about again. This five-day weekend, resulting from Maulid and Easter was the perfect time to get back on our travels. Soma keeps reminding me not to make my postings read like a travel guide so I’ve made sure I’ve included plenty about us- largely centred on Rohan’s digestive issues, but hey that’s small kids for you!

Friday morning found us at the domestic terminal of Dar es Salaam Airport- a real throwback to the old days of flying. We passed through a security check and headed to the Coastal Aviation area. After getting our name ticked on the list we waited till the pilot came for us. Before long we were in the plane - a small 14-seater headed for Manyara via Arusha. As the flight was full, the copilot seat was up for grabs. Amazingly, Kieran hesitated at the chance to spend an hour in the best viewing seat on the plane. After umming and ahing for a while, the decision was made for him by his eager father, who clambered shamelessly over fellow passengers to that coveted seat (sorry Kieran- you snooze you lose! He did later explain that he decided not to take the co pilot seat because he thought he might have to help fly the plane- ah!).

After a couple of hours’ flying and one short refuel at Arusha (with time for Soma to visit the facilities- the first of many such inconvenient stops made to maintain the weak bladdered nature of the standard Chubb spouse), we finally came into land at a remote, sloping airstrip on the top of a hill overlooking Lake Manyara.

Arrival at Lake Manyara Airstrip

As with Mikumi, Lake Manyara is one of Tanzania’s more underrated parks. It is one of the smallest but is also one of the most spectacular. Basically, after leaving the airstrip, which is located more or less at the highest point in the area, you head down a steep incline into a very flat plain- part of the Western escarpment of the Great Rift Valley. The park is centred around a rather large lake, which is famous for very high concentrations of flamingos. Manyara has the highest levels of biomass (sum total of flora and fauna per square metre) in the whole of Africa and has been a UNESCO World Biosphere Reserve for almost thirty years.

The downside to this became apparent quite quickly- although the scenery was magnificent, finding any large animals before we got to the lake was going to be tough. In fact we did come across some- a few elephants mainly. However the lack of large spectacular animals was more than made up for by a large variety of baboons and vervet monkeys living out their lives in the dense forest, totally unfazed by our close presence. After almost an hour driving through the forest, we came out onto the lakeside plain and were greeted by a tour brochure scene- mountains in the distance, Lake Manyara and its thick pink lining of flamingos in the background, a small green African plain with a variety of elephants, giraffes and other animals in the immediate foreground- the type of image you might see on a local tingatinga painting but which surely could not exist really right?

Picture of baboons taken in Lake Manyara National Park- just a few of the hundreds we saw there!

Sadly for us (but I guess not for the flamingos) we were not allowed too close to the lake. However, we were happy to look out over it and to take in the view- I tried to take a few pictures but none really did it justice.

Lake Manyara National Park

By late afternoon, however, time was pressing and we headed out of the park towards our main objective- Ngorongoro Crater.

Unlike Lake Manyara, Ngorongoro Crater is neither underrated nor suffering from lack of fame- apart from the Serengeti, it must be the most famous and most visited of Tanzania’s natural attractions. This place was most definitely on our “to do” list in Tanzania and we were all full of anticipation as we drove towards it. After a drive of about an hour or so we reached the crater entrance. While we waited for the entrance fees to be paid, we got a feel for the temperature. We noticed that it seemed to be wet and muddy and there seemed to be quite a lot of mist (although at the altitude we were at, it could just have easily been the clouds!) We very quickly realised though that everything we’d been told about the north was true- for the first time in many months (probably since Amsterdam last year in fact) we actually felt cold. This might seem unexciting to anyone reading this from the UK but when you’ve just gone through two successive African summers (one in each hemisphere), the chance to feel cold without cranking up the AC is a rare treat! Kieran stuck his bare chest out of the window as we drove up the crater side- decency stopped me and Soma doing the same!

After a further half hour of winding steep roads (a bit like the Alps except with more elephant dung in the road), we reached the crater rim.

Ngorongoro Crater- picture taken at dusk from the Sopa Lodge on the crater rim

A further half hour along the crater rim brought us to our hotel- the Sopa Lodge. The lodge itself was very well set up and worth every one of the many pennies spent on it (thinking about it is still painful in fact!) To ensure a good night’s sleep, we’d booked two rooms- one for Kieran and myself, another for Soma and Rohan. By the end of our short holiday, I’d yet again seen through the tinted spectacles that come with fatherhood and remembered that sleeping with Kieran means less paternal bonding and rather a lot of kicks and knees to the head in the middle of the night!

Before going much further, it would make sense to give an idea of exactly what Nogorongoro Crater is. Basically, a few million years ago, Ngorongoro was a huge (very huge) volcano, sitting on a massive reservoir of lava. One day, this huge volcano erupts and discharges the entire reservoir of lava upon which it was sitting. Nature abhorring a vacuum, the volcano then collapsed, leaving behind this rather large crater. With a diameter of 19km, this is the largest unbroken caldera known to man. The crater floor is home to one large lake and a lot of animals (although no giraffes as they are apparently unable to get in).

We woke up Saturday morning bright and early (5.45am to be precise) and, packed breakfasts and semi awake offspring in hand, headed out for a head start on the crater. We got onto the crater floor within half an hour and were lucky enough to see the whole area both light up and wake up. This was a very different experience to Mikumi, but certainly no worse. The backdrop of the crater wall was always breathtaking- the crater has its own weather system as evidenced by the clouds forming below the rim. Although you did not always get as close to the animals as we did in Mikumi, we saw animals on a far larger scale- not ten or twenty wildebeest but thousands!

A Herd of Wildebeest in Ngorongoro Crater

We spent almost seven hours driving and saw so many things. Soma still gets dewy about the zebras but added the flamingos surrounding the lake to her favourites. Rohan seems to like the Water Buffalo most, although he insists on calling them “cow”.

Rohan playing in the car

Kieran was most taken with a couple of lions we saw resting a few metres from the roadside. As for me, what to add? We managed to see a couple of very rare Black Rhinoceros- two of only ten estimated to exist in Ngorongoro. I think that I was most taken with a very large elephant we saw almost within touching distance single handedly destroying and eating an acacia tree. Anyone in the slightest bit horticultural will know that these trees have very tough, spiky thorns. The way this elephant was munching away on them as if they were no spikier than noodles was simply amazing!

Elephant eating some seriously spikey acacia

Writing this posting, I realise that much of what I’m saying is very similar to what I wrote about Mikumi. In short we went to a national park, drove around and saw some animals busily being animal-like. True, but that just doesn’t do the experience justice. For much of the time, I was standing up, head out of the opened roof, taking in the amazing scenery. To see an African plain is impressive enough. When it is surrounded by a massive crater rim- almost like some natural stadium- then it becomes even more impressive. When a herd of wildebeest comes galloping past, it really is just the icing on the cake!

After about seven hours on the crater floor, we drove back up to the rim and back to the hotel. After lunch and a nap, Kieran was keen on the outside pool.

Kieran showing just how far from London he now is! (4,419km precisely!)

A quick toe- dip later he was less enthused so we headed inside for some internetting (okay so we don’t have to be David Attenborough the whole time!). Late afternoon, Rohan’s previously grumpy mood took a turn for the worst and we realised that he was well and truly constipated. I have to say, Rohan at his worst challenges that supposedly inviolate parent- child relationship that says you’re not supposed to want to deep fry your kids. However, when, as was obvious now, he was in a lot of pain it was a miserable sight to see. He was doubled over, holding the walls- just like Soma was when she was trying to push him out a couple of years back in fact. Despite the feeding of thousands of raisins (just as good as prunes I hear), hot compresses and even massage from his mum, Rohan was truly hosting the immovable object. In the end, with the little chap’s typical sense of timing the immovable object moved in some force the moment we boarded the plane home!

We’re back in Dar now, and I must say the plane rides home were lots of fun. I’ve now flown on a number of flights using small aircraft (both on safari and to Songo Songo Island for work) and it really is an entirely different experience from commercial scheduled flights. It does take longer and there is no catering or refreshments (only 14 seats so no room for even the most anorexic stewardess). However, I’d challenge any airline to try to recreate the fantastic experience we all had when taking off on the journey home from Manyara today. Lift off from a grassy runway which then vanished as we headed over a cliff and off over the northern Tanzanian plain! That, my dear, is flying!

We’re back, we’re tired but we’re glad to have got travelling again and to have seen just a bit more of our host country. Kieran especially is learning more about Africa and its animals each time we do this and seems to love flying. The fact that on this occasion Rohan quite literally couldn’t give the proverbial did not detract from things one little bit!

More Peninsula Happenings

I have to admit, finding stuff to include in a blog entry is starting to get a bit hard. I guess we’ve only ourselves to blame for this lack of news. In February we broke our cardinal “Tanzania” rule- to make at least one visit somewhere interesting each month. November had us arriving in Tanzania, so Dar was the interesting place that month I guess. We did Mikumi in December followed by Zanzibar shortly afterwards. From early January to late March- not a lot! That will be rectified next weekend hopefully- more on that later. In the meantime what to say? Well I guess I need to do the writing equivalent of making a silk purse from a sow’s ear and talk some more about our day to day life here over the past weeks.

We’re still nice and settled here at home. The boys are happy at their schools and Kieran’s French is coming along very well indeed. In fact one welcome side effect of Kieran’s new schooling is that Rohan has started to take an interest in his new language. In typical Rohan style, this was not hinted at in advance- just a one off recitation of the days of the week in French to show us he was on the case!

Last weekend, we decided to dip our toes in the local cultural scene. One of Soma’s friends- a trainee medic called Devaki, suggested we go to a local bar- the Sweet Eazy at Oyster Bay on Saturday night. There is usually a band playing there and that night the Soweto String Quartet was top of the bill. A decent international band (assuming that the Soweto bit was genuine) playing at a club only a few minutes’ drive from home (close enough for a quick dash back should the boys overwhelm the babysitter again) seemed ideal and we accepted.

Saturday night sure enough found us on the roof terrace of the bar along with, it seemed, half the peninsula. Luckily we had a table booked- sadly it was right behind a large speaker. By the time they came on to play at about half past ten, Devaki and myself had seen off a couple of bottles of white wine (Soma was the designated driver as compensation for her night out with Praveena, watching a scandalously long Hindi movie). I was at first slightly bemused to find the quartet had five members but then realised that in a fit of solidarity, the band had dressed their technician in the same performing getup that they had. To be honest at that stage you could have put Girls Aloud on stage and I would have accepted that they were the Soweto String Quartet! Their set was good- not the classical music the name suggests. They worked their way through a medley of Paul Simon classics, some well known local gospel music and a variety of other pop music. They finished up at about midnight and we headed home- one of us at least destined for a sore head the next morning!

Last Thursday night found us hosting once again. This time it was a meeting of prospective volunteers for a local deaf school- the slightly unfortunately named Buguruni School for the Deaf. We encountered this school via a friend of Soma’s- Lucy. Lucy is normally a management consultant in London but has taken a year out of her career to come to Tanzania and offer her business skills to this school- fundraising, general organisation etc. She has made a start on things but the end of her assignment is starting to loom a little and she is looking for people to carry on her work. Soma has volunteered along with an America lady called Tori and a Dane called Ane- Kirstine. They will be the “three wise women” who will help run the school. I volunteered to help a bit too- a bit of fundraising and also helping with their accounts and governance.

Anyway, the meeting started off with the ladies discussing some of the stuff produced for sale by the school’s sewing class- a conversation which rapidly descended into a general waffle about sewing. I sat in my chair contemplating firstly whether the school’s name reflected the new England football manager’s selection policy for strikers and secondly whether it would be seen as rude if I just headed over to Dirk’s for a beer. In the end I just got a beer from the fridge and read a book.

By the end of the evening though, talk of sewing had moved onto fundraising and other matters and by the end we’d covered quite a few useful things. We’ll both be helping out with the school as much as possible- there really isn’t much social support here for people so being born deaf is a very tough lot in life. I had my fair share of hearing problems as a child but was treated well and can cope with the residual loss I have. I would not have been so lucky had I been born here instead of England. Fate, it seems, has conspired to help me repay some of that good luck. I’ll post more about the school as we get more involved so stay tuned!

Anyway, a couple of days on and what more to say? I’ve had a useful learning experience from Dirk, who instructed me in the noble art of homebrew. I’d never heard of Pineapple Beer before and am pretty sure I never would have had I remained in the UK. The recipe is pretty simple- pineapples, sugar, water, yeast and raisins- and I now have a few litres fermenting in the kitchen. It should be ready on Tuesday so I’ll post the recipe then if it’s any good.

Hopefully the next post will be a little more exciting. Easter is next weekend and Soma is busy booking another holiday for us. We’re hoping to head up north this time. It looks like Soma has managed to get stuff booked- a charter flight up to a small airstrip at Manyara, an afternoon spent visting Lake Manyara and its large colony of flamingos, before driving up to Ngorongoro Crater for a couple of days. As expected on the northern circuit, it’s quite expensive but then what else to do? We didn’t decide to come all the way to Tanzania and then stay at home all the time! Whatever happens, we’re determined to do a bit more travel next weekend so should have some news and some nice pictures next posting.

Ninaumwa Kichwa!

Ninaumwa kichwa, na ninataka kunywa maji na baadaye kulala! Now this slightly odd start to a blog entry may tell you two things about our recent activities here in Dar. First of all, you might now gather that both Soma and I have started our Kiswahili classes in earnest. Secondly, for those linguists who can actually translate the phrase (it means “I have a crashing headache and I want to drink some water then go to sleep”), this means that we had our housewarming party last night!

To be honest, life is fast becoming quite settled here- blogs were easy to write when we were dashing from one country to another week after week. Now the drama and excitement of our leaving Egypt and settling into Dar are more or less done, things seem to be happening a little slower. Life here has definitely become a bit more routine, but sometimes a little bit of routine is not a bad thing!

We’ve well and truly settled into our new home now. We live in a four bedroom semi detached house in a small compound just off the peninsula’s main coastal road, Toure Drive. This, happily enough, means that my working day pretty much always starts and finishes with a short drive looking our over the Indian Ocean- not a bad perk of the job!

Our house in Dar es Salaam

The compound we live in is both friendly and multicultural. There are six houses in all of which one is occupied by an English/ Indian couple (us). Our immediate neighbours, Felix and Atee are Nigerian and have a couple of older boys who we see only on school holidays- they are at boarding school in Nairobi the rest of the time. The next building is shared between a French Canadian couple, Sylvie and Real, who have a shaggy dog called Moukki. Sylvie especially has formed a relationship with Kieran based partly on the fact that he is learning French and partly on Kieran’s constant desire to pet their shaggy dog. Next to them are perhaps our closest friends on the compound, Dirk, from South Africa and his Indian wife Praveena. We’ve been good friends almost from the moment we moved in, due largely to the fact that they have two small boys of a similar age to our own. Most evenings, I drive in from work to find four small boys playing happily, supervised by Soma, Praveena and a well drained bottle of wine- our wine consumption has sadly rocketed since we met these two people! The building opposite us is split between Steve, an Australian miner and a Japanese couple (Kuji and Kasuki) who also have a couple of children who come and play occasionally.

A wider view of the compound

Having these neighbours has been a real boon, especially since our shipment has taken so long to arrive (I am told we should have it either tomorrow or Tuesday). The boys have spent months without their larger toys- bicycles etc- and have only avoided going stir crazy by borrowing from their new friends! Not only have they benefited from the toys but also from the attention of new friends. Kieran has been shamed into improving his swimming because the younger of the Japanese girls (age five but much smaller and slighter than Kieran) showed him up by executing perfect dives into the pool! Yesterday, the same girl was learning how to ride her bike without stabilisers and Kieran managed to negotiate himself a lesson too! Net result of our new neighbours- a son who can now dive into and swim lengths of the pool in addition to being able to ride a bike properly!

Rohan, Kieran and me at the compound swimming pool


Finding ourselves happily settled into our compound but still a few days short of receiving our belongings, we decided that yesterday would be the perfect time to hold a housewarming party. As expected, the Soma Mitra party organising machine swung into full gear about two weeks ago. Invites were sent out, menus were drawn up and shopping lists organised. After a final frantic day of buying food and buying then tasting drinks, the party started at about 8 o’clock yesterday evening. By nine, the house was full to bursting with a variety of new friends and colleagues all of whom seemed well up for a party- I hadn’t realised just how many friends Soma had made while I was working away each day! I met so many of her friends from the Ecole Francaise, her Swahili classes, the local expat social societies and all other facets of life that I’d really only heard about. All in all we had just over 40 guests, all of whom seemed to be bringing large quantities of wine. Since we spent most of the party swigging back a dubious collection of cocktails (mine seem to taste better the more I drink of them) we are now left with dozens of unopened bottles- Soma and Praveena will take good care of those I’m sure!

The party finally came to an end and heads hit pillows shortly after 3 this morning- a lovely four hours of sleep before Rohan announced the start of a bright new day- how sweet. My head is feeling better now- just as well since I’m back in the office for a new week tomorrow!

Thoughts on Tanzania

After the initial excitement of settling in and travelling, which have characterised our first few months here, we’ve inevitably had to settle down a bit. Apart from anything, I’m not being paid to go visit Tanzania- I do actually have to do some work on occasions. This being the case, I have no further travels or holidays to describe on this posting so I thought I’d do something a bit different. Since arriving here a number of questions have popped up both in conversation with people back home and in my own mind. I thought I’d answer a few of them here- an attempt to clear my own mind as much as to satisfy the curiosity of others.

What has been the impact of the events in Kenya on our lives?

In truth, we’ve not been affected too much. There hasn’t been a huge flow of refugees from the north and, even if that had been the case, the large northern cities such as Arusha and Mwanza would have taken the brunt. For sure there have been a few people come to spend time in the safety of Tanzania but by no means a flood of refugees.

The main impact has been far more mundane. For one thing, the port of Mombasa has been more or less completely closed since the troubles started. This has meant that many more vessels than normal have been using the port here in Dar. This resulted both in our shipment being delayed as the vessel had to sit outside port for three weeks waiting for a slot, and also a delay in getting the shipment through customs- the overload on customs now means a lead time of two weeks.

We’ve noticed an impact on prices too. Basically our provisions fall into three categories. You have basic foodstuffs such as fruit, vegetables, fish, meat, rice etc which are locally produced. These are unaffected by events to the north of course. At the other extreme you have Western branded products such as Kellogs Cornflakes or French wine. These are always very expensive ($7 for a small pack of cornflakes anyone?) as they are flown in from around the world. Finally you have products manufactured in Kenya- local brand cereals for example. What we’re finding is that the supply of these cheaper products has more or less dried up. This is forcing us to the more expensive western brands and making the food bill more costly. When we were on Zanzibar, we noticed that petrol prices had tripled overnight. Again this was because petrol came in from Mombasa and this supply had been squeezed hugely.

So in short, the events in Kenya have had a small impact on our lives- mostly in terms of prices. However, we’re also very much aware that this is pretty small stuff compared to the horrors that people to the north are going through right now.

Could the violence in Kenya happen here?

I’m no expert on Tanzania but from what little I’ve garnered from my time here and especially from conversations with my Tanzanian colleagues, the answer would appear to be “possibly”.

It is always possible that violence could break out but not, apparently, for the same reasons. We should remember that there are some important distinctions between Kenya and Tanzania.

Firstly, Kenya has always had a repressive violent streak; Kibaki only came to power himself after a long and violent period of rule by Daniel Arap Moi. Tanzania on the other hand has generally seem smooth transfers of power. Nyerere may have had an authoritarian streak to him, but since his departure over twenty years ago a succession of rulers have come and gone.

Secondly, we need to understand the role of tribalism in the Kenyan conflict. One interpretation of what is going on is that you have two big tribes- the Kikuyu and the Lua- butting heads. In Tanzania you have over 150 tribes- some big, some small. Although there are some large tribes around, none of them are as dominant as the major Kenyan tribes. In addition, you have a tacit unwritten agreement that the roles of President and Prime Minister should always be filled by people from the smaller tribes. This in itself seems to have addressed the very scenario playing out to the north.

However, my Tanzanian friends and colleagues are very keen to point out that just because the specific causes of Kenya’s violence are not found here, it does not mean that violence cannot break out for other reasons. There seems to be a growing disparity between a rich minority and the poor majority. The fact that Tanzania spent decades under the socialist rule of Nyerere, means that this disparity is especially keenly felt here. The press is quite open here, meaning that people are aware of so many instances of corrupt, self serving politicians and civil servants enriching themselves at the expense of the average person. If violence does break out, it is likely to be a reaction of an angry impoverished majority, sick at the self serving corrupt behaviour of the elite.

What is the relationship between the expats and the locals

Although I’m not aware of any resentment towards expatriates coming from the Tanzanian people, I have to say that there have been instances where I’ve been amazed at their sheer patience and forbearance towards some of my co- citizens. Now before I write much more I should make it clear that in most regards, our fellow expats are very nice people and have been most friendly and welcoming to us. However, many people we talk with do have this rather annoying habit of moaning!

In three years of expat living, I’ve come to realise that expats frequently complain and are rarely grateful for the exceptional standard of living they have. When I say exceptional, I don’t mean just in comparison to the local community- although in terms of income we earn hundreds of times more than they do. I, and the other expats have a far better standard of living that we could ever hope to achieve back home- that, of course, is one reason why we’re here!

While I was in Egypt, I found it quite easy to rationalise the behaviour of the slightly more boorish expat. Firstly, a lot of these people were very young, perhaps a trainee only a year or so out of university, and were therefore not used to the implied seniority that expats have in a local company. From being mere students, they suddenly find themselves guiding local employees and also managing domestic staff, drivers etc. Unsurprisingly, this can go to your head! In addition, we found that those who were employees of the larger corporations (BP and BG for example) were there on rotation and had little real desire to be there. Someone who has been born and bred around Aberdeen and has then gone to work for the local employer- BP- might suddenly find themselves in Egypt. To ask people like this to adapt to a foreign culture is always quite a hard request to make and, understandably, not everyone copes. Egypt was a pretty soft assignment and an easy start for us. For many, however, it was an unwelcome period in a strange country to be got through as quickly as possible.

Tanzania on the other hand seems to attract a different type of expat. Rather than the young and slightly naïve person you’d encounter in Cairo, the typical expat here has been living overseas for years, often decades. They therefore expect houses to be big, servants to be obedient and servile and for the swimming pool to be clean. Many work for development agencies or for NGO’s and often have a rather patronising view of Tanzanians. Already we’ve encountered more people than we could imagine who complain that Tanzania is an incredibly hard assignment. Sure, things can be tough professionally at times but this is no different to most emerging markets. However the country is safe and stable, we’re a stone’s throw from the Indian Ocean and quality of life is exceptional. The fact that a plumber might not get it right first time may be irritating but it’s not the end of the world- perhaps some people have been expat for so long that they have lost sight of what normal life is actually like.

Added to this, I find that attitudes to Tanzanians are often pretty awful. Only at the weekend I found myself sitting at a table next to a British guy who starting swearing at a waiter in front of his kids. The reason for this humiliation? The waiter was trying to place a cup of coffee on the table at the same time the man was shifting his chair. He launched into an x- rated tirade about “not wanting to have to cope with dumb Tanzanian waiters as well as with his kids”. Sadly, this is the type of person the UK and other Western countries is exporting to Africa all too frequently. Overt racism may have gone out of fashion but the underlying contempt is still there- that man would not have dared speak like that in the UK.

My experience so far is that people are generally very nice but expats really do moan way too much and make very little effort to fit in. Somehow we manage to feel outrage at the reports of immigrants coming to the UK and not leaning English but at the same time feel equally outraged at Tanzanian workmen who don’t speak English properly here in Dar! The concept of actually learning Swahili is enough to send many of my counterparts into fits of apoplexy- which is why my lessons start tomorrow! One of the reasons for writing this blog and documenting all we’ve seen and done is to remind myself that however hard it is, we’re extremely privileged to live this kind of life. The second Soma and I believe otherwise, we’ll what all disgruntled expats should do and head back home!