After a brief hiatus, here is perhaps the last posting of the year. I’ll make sure a good account of December gets written but, since the end of our year is scheduled to happen in Malaysia, I’m pretty sure the write up will get posted in January.
It’s been a while since my last posting- made just after our trip to Zanzibar, but life on the domestic front has not been without incident. For a start, the power crisis that seemed to be rumbling ominously towards us, well and truly kicked in through much of November. This was bad enough for everyone, with newspapers full of the latest views on the shortages.
For us, things took an even more annoying turn when the cable connecting our house to the main compound substation finally gave up the ghost. We lost all but a single phase on the Wednesday and sure enough the emergency response team came as fast as they could, arriving Saturday morning. After much digging around, they located the frayed underground cable and set about fixing it. The first unpromising signs of action came when one of the workmen poked his head round the door and asked for a knife. Soma asked what this was for and he explained that he was going to cut a cable. Anywhere else in the world, a set of cutters would be used by the crack team of electricians, but this isn’t anywhere else in the world so a carving knife would be perfect thank you. Sadly the knife was not perfect- aware as he obviously was of health and safety requirements, the workman pointed out that he needed a knife with a rubber handle. At this point the minimal understanding of electricity gained from a decade in the industry kicked in and the ears pricked up.
“You have checked that the cable is disconnected haven’t you?” I asked.
Long pause.
“Go and disconnect the cable then you can use whatever you like” I suggested.
Off he went.
After another half hour, the cable was well and truly cut- hurrah. For a worrying but presumably short period of time, our single phase had reduced to nothing. Five minutes later a sheepish workman informs us that he’d left a crucial part at the office and that he’d need to pick it up. Sadly the office was closed until Monday. At this point my normally serene wife hit the roof and came out with all sorts of exciting new words of Kiswahili!
Fast forward a couple of days. The first working day of the week has just finished and I’m pulling up to the compound gate in my car. The place seems a hive of activity- good sign. I park the car and notice that (a) the family is swimming in the pool and that (b) there appears to be rather a lot of water round the back of our house. Interesting, I think and go off to see what has gone on. Kieran comes running up to me and explains very excitedly:
“Daddy, one of the men was fixing the electricity with an axe and he made a hole in a pipe and lots of water has come out”!
How exciting. After one day of work we managed to reduce power from a single phase to nothing. After a far more productive second day of work we’ve escaped the bounds of a single key utility and managed to deprive us of both electricity and water…….and the back garden is a lake!
Fortunately, that is as bad as it got. Somehow after much screaming in various languages, both utilities returned and order was restored.
Since then, what else has happened here? Well it seems as if the country as a whole is getting some rain. Sadly, the predicted El Nino effect has occurred. In the village of Same, close to the Lushoto area we visited earlier in the year, the rains came as a very violent flash rainfall- a bit like those experienced in the UK last month. Tragically, the rains lasted for four days and, caused a major landslide killing scores of villagers. In a fatal combination of rain and drought, the rains had fallen on soil now devoid of any vegetation, resulting in pretty much nothing being there to bind the soil together, Not surprisingly this resulted in a mudslide.
Elsewhere, rainfall has been sporadic. There seems to have been some rain in the important regions, resulting in the dams filling up a little. In fact, on a couple of occasions we’ve even had rains here in Dar. Yesterday morning was especially nice as Kieran and I enjoyed a mid week morning (Independence Day here) sitting out watching a rare thunderstorm come down in front of us!
So it looks like problems of power supply have receded for the time being- they will return some time though- I’d bet my life on it!
We’ve had other domestic tribulations too, this time of the less amusing kind- not the sort of thing you laugh about later on, sadly. Anyone who has stayed with us will have met our very quiet and hardworking maid. Over the past two years she has worked hard and been quietly heroic keeping up with the mess created by two small boys. Sadly, we noticed some cash going missing- not a fortune but, at up to Tsh 50,000 a go, enough to get worried about. Not wanting to go the way of many expats and simply fire someone based on a hunch, we set about getting more evidence. Sadly, our fears were confirmed today with conclusive webcam evidence. Firing people is never much fun, even when they really deserve it. To have to get rid of someone who otherwise has been so good is really tough though. However, if you can’t feel secure in your own home then what kind of home is it. Sadly, we paid her some money and watched her head off on her way.
So, things have been fun on the domestic front these last few weeks. The priceless beauty of watching a tropical storm bringing much needed rain to the mango and papaya trees. No power, no electricity, a bunch of workmen hell bent on killing themselves and finally a trusted maid turn thief. However, I guess that beauty, comedy and sadness do come in plentiful supply in this part of the world. I’m not sure where the final posts of 2010 will be written from but for sheer emotional extremes, you just can’t match this bloody country!
Friday, December 11, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
A Weekend in Zanzibar
After a whole two weeks of not going anywhere, it was high time to get travelling again. Actually, to be fair, the recent itchiness of foot has been mine alone; the rest of the family has stayed firmly put in Dar es Salaam. This fact, along with the increasingly frequent power outages, made Soma’s keenness to escape all the more understandable.
We didn’t go far afield, mind. After almost two years, we felt it was high time to make the short flight over the water to Zanzibar. Apart from the obvious attractions of white sandy beaches, we were guaranteed a few days of electricity- for some reason known to nobody, Zanzibar has absolute first priority when it comes to power supply. Tanesco produces most of the electricity and then “sells” it to Zanzibar. I added the inverted comments deliberately. As far as I know, although the island happily receives this electricity, it never gets round to paying the bills. It would appear that one part of the union does the producing, while the other part does the taking- similar to another union of proud neighbouring countries I know of!
Anyway, that’s enough politics for now! Last Saturday morning we were up bright and early and before we could even think, found ourselves at the tiny domestic terminal at Dar Airport. With minimal security and (for obvious reasons) no passport control, getting from entrance to departure gate took seconds and before long we were walking towards the plane. As usual we had booked with Coastal who, despite an often annoying disregard of customer service on its commercial side does actually have the best and safest planes. Kieran’s dreams came true when he got the plum seat next to the pilot. I told him to keep his hands on his knees and he did exactly that for the entire 20 minute flight.
Kieran occupying the best seat on the plane- note hands firmly on knees, despite the obviously tempting second steering wheel!
Surprisingly enough we descended from clear blue skies to find a somewhat sodden Zanzibar. Sodden became torrential on the drive down to Kizimkazi, causing me to regret my previous wishes for rain- okay we badly need rain but why did we get the downpour seconds into our holiday? The rains were shortlived however, and, by the time arrived at the hotel, normal blue sky service had resumed.
Unlike our previous visit to the island, we decided to base ourselves in the southern village of Kizimkazi. We had briefly visited the place in 2007 when we went looking for dolphins. This time we were after a simple couple of days by the sea, with perhaps a little local pottering to break things up.
The hotel we stayed in deserves a special mention I think. We’d sent Phil and his friends there when they visited us a few months back and they had returned with mixed but generally positive thoughts on it. It seemed that it was generally good but, having only recently opened, had a few issues to iron out. Well, I can honestly say, that all ironing is now complete- the place was brilliant.
The hotel beach- luckily for us, the skies cleared soon afterwards but the beach stayed just as empty!
We didn’t go far afield, mind. After almost two years, we felt it was high time to make the short flight over the water to Zanzibar. Apart from the obvious attractions of white sandy beaches, we were guaranteed a few days of electricity- for some reason known to nobody, Zanzibar has absolute first priority when it comes to power supply. Tanesco produces most of the electricity and then “sells” it to Zanzibar. I added the inverted comments deliberately. As far as I know, although the island happily receives this electricity, it never gets round to paying the bills. It would appear that one part of the union does the producing, while the other part does the taking- similar to another union of proud neighbouring countries I know of!
Anyway, that’s enough politics for now! Last Saturday morning we were up bright and early and before we could even think, found ourselves at the tiny domestic terminal at Dar Airport. With minimal security and (for obvious reasons) no passport control, getting from entrance to departure gate took seconds and before long we were walking towards the plane. As usual we had booked with Coastal who, despite an often annoying disregard of customer service on its commercial side does actually have the best and safest planes. Kieran’s dreams came true when he got the plum seat next to the pilot. I told him to keep his hands on his knees and he did exactly that for the entire 20 minute flight.
Kieran occupying the best seat on the plane- note hands firmly on knees, despite the obviously tempting second steering wheel!
Surprisingly enough we descended from clear blue skies to find a somewhat sodden Zanzibar. Sodden became torrential on the drive down to Kizimkazi, causing me to regret my previous wishes for rain- okay we badly need rain but why did we get the downpour seconds into our holiday? The rains were shortlived however, and, by the time arrived at the hotel, normal blue sky service had resumed.
Unlike our previous visit to the island, we decided to base ourselves in the southern village of Kizimkazi. We had briefly visited the place in 2007 when we went looking for dolphins. This time we were after a simple couple of days by the sea, with perhaps a little local pottering to break things up.
The hotel we stayed in deserves a special mention I think. We’d sent Phil and his friends there when they visited us a few months back and they had returned with mixed but generally positive thoughts on it. It seemed that it was generally good but, having only recently opened, had a few issues to iron out. Well, I can honestly say, that all ironing is now complete- the place was brilliant.
The hotel beach- luckily for us, the skies cleared soon afterwards but the beach stayed just as empty!
First of all the setup of the hotel was brilliant. For $150 per night we got a huge 3 bedroom villa complete with large upstairs living room and balcony and exclusive pool. The beach, shared pool and all other facilities were first rate and the food excellent. However, on Zanzibar, excellent facilities are not uncommon- what made this place really stand out was the quality of service. Now, when compared to a top hotel in the UK or Europe, the service here was about the level you’d expect- although the staff here were probably more attentive and definitely friendlier. I guess you have to come to Zanzibar to understand just how special and exceptional, that level of service actually is.
Just one small example of what I mean. We went into breakfast and the waitress asked me whether I’d like tea or coffee. I asked for coffee and got a freshly filtered coffee with milk on the side a few minutes later. Well “whoopee doo” you might say! Well, I would say exactly that except without the dripping sarcasm when I recall the efforts I went to at the Zanzibar Beach Resort to get the same simple request fulfilled. After three attempts over half an hour to get a disinterested waiter to get me some milk for my coffee I ended up in the F&B Manager’s office begging for some milk. A further twenty minutes later I got a jug of chocolate milk.
I know the manager at the Dolphin Paradise Beach Resort, Benjamin Bayo, has established top class standards well beyond anything that our previous hotel could ever aspire to, but after my earlier experiences, I set the bar much lower and was more than happy with what I got. In short, I’d recommend this hotel for a holiday without a second’s hesitation.
Our first and only full day started with a brisk walk to explore some of the surrounding visits. Our guide for the morning way Olly, a young maasai whose sidelines also included modelling.
Soma, Olly and the boys walking along the beach
Just one small example of what I mean. We went into breakfast and the waitress asked me whether I’d like tea or coffee. I asked for coffee and got a freshly filtered coffee with milk on the side a few minutes later. Well “whoopee doo” you might say! Well, I would say exactly that except without the dripping sarcasm when I recall the efforts I went to at the Zanzibar Beach Resort to get the same simple request fulfilled. After three attempts over half an hour to get a disinterested waiter to get me some milk for my coffee I ended up in the F&B Manager’s office begging for some milk. A further twenty minutes later I got a jug of chocolate milk.
I know the manager at the Dolphin Paradise Beach Resort, Benjamin Bayo, has established top class standards well beyond anything that our previous hotel could ever aspire to, but after my earlier experiences, I set the bar much lower and was more than happy with what I got. In short, I’d recommend this hotel for a holiday without a second’s hesitation.
Our first and only full day started with a brisk walk to explore some of the surrounding visits. Our guide for the morning way Olly, a young maasai whose sidelines also included modelling.
Olly, our Maasai guide, with the boys
Olly took us to the nearest village, Mkongoni and explained its history. The name comes from the Kiswahili word for almonds, due to the fact that there used to be a lot of almond trees in the area. These have largely vanished now, though a few remained. It did have an interesting history, however, and was linked to the slave trade. The village lies directly east from Bagamoyo, the main gateway out of Africa for slaves. Mkongoni was the first settlement at which the slave vessels reached on Zanzibar and was therefore the site for a slave market. Little evidence of old settlement remains but, given the climate in the area, this is not a surprise. In fact the main attraction of the village was not a building at all, but a large baobab tree. These trees grow all over the continent and, as you can see, get very large indeed. According to Olly, local residents used the tree as a lookout post, scattering into the forest when they saw approaching ships. I’m not sure how this tallied with his earlier claims about the slave market though. I guess a slave market where the population scattered when anyone came close can’t have been very long lived!
The Baobab tree at Mkongoni
The Baobab tree at Mkongoni
From there, we moved on to the next village, which goes by the name Dimbani. This village contained a cavern which led down to a fresh water spring. It is this spring that kept the surrounding areas supplied with fresh water.
Apparently there is a belief that you should never utter the name of someone while that person is inside the cave. According to local legend, two women, rivals for the affections of the same man, went into the cave to draw water. One woman left the cave and uttered the name of the other. The poor woman left inside turned into stone. There is indeed a block of stone resembling a (very short) woman right next to the spring. Who knows, it could be true- although given that in my experience, every single big block of stone through history seems to have been caused by some poor soul being petrified, I’m a little suspicious. All the same, I tried the theory by calling Kieran’s name but sadly he re- emerged some seconds later!
Apparently there is a belief that you should never utter the name of someone while that person is inside the cave. According to local legend, two women, rivals for the affections of the same man, went into the cave to draw water. One woman left the cave and uttered the name of the other. The poor woman left inside turned into stone. There is indeed a block of stone resembling a (very short) woman right next to the spring. Who knows, it could be true- although given that in my experience, every single big block of stone through history seems to have been caused by some poor soul being petrified, I’m a little suspicious. All the same, I tried the theory by calling Kieran’s name but sadly he re- emerged some seconds later!
Soma, Olly and the boys walking along the beach
Before we’d come to Zanzibar, there had been a slight difference of opinion between Soma and myself over how active we should be on this holiday. Having engaged in plenty of “activity” over the past few months, I was more than happy to lay down on a beach for two days. Soma, on the other hand was far more gung ho and wanted to fill the holiday with adventure. Her original plan, which I’d reluctantly gone along with was to spend a full day on a dhow exploring small islands and going snorkelling (actually that sounds much better now I think about it- what was I thinking?). After witnessing the tropical storm upon arrival, Soma promptly changed her mind and cancelled that expedition. Instead, we were to enjoy a two hour sunset cruise in the waters around Kizimkazi on a traditional Zanzibari dhow- much more like it!
Traditional Zanzibari Dhow and crew
Traditional Zanzibari Dhow and crewSadly for Soma, in her thirst for adventure, she forgot that she is highly prone to motion sickness. A cruise on marble- like flat waters is fine, but at the first sign of waves, we’re in trouble! Sadly, the laws of physics do require some wind for a boat propelled by sails. Well, there were, tootling along very nicely indeed, thoroughly enjoying the sea spray and small waves when I noticed that my normally brown wife had turned a funny shade of green. Minutes later our poor Maasai companion, Olly, was very bemused to see this mzungu family scene consisting of a lady bent double over the side of the dhow, a confused younger son and a highly unsympathetic older son in hysterics of laughter at his stricken mother. The scene was rounded off by an older male trying to suppress his own giggles while telling off his elder son for being unsympathetic!
Sadly, we discovered that Rohan too was prone to seasickness and before long the family was split in two. Two of us were thoroughly enjoying what was becoming a fairly rough ride, while two others were holding each other in a strangely combined foetal position. Eventually sympathy took over and we asked the dhow crew to turn for home!
We’re back in Dar es Salaam now, having thoroughly enjoyed our short trip. I hope we’ll find time to come back here again. However, having made this short trip, I realised just how long it had been since our last domestic holiday. I hope that next year, if it is to be our last full year in Tanzania, will give us the opportunity to see a few more places- perhaps the Selous or maybe somewhere more adventurous out west!
Sadly, we discovered that Rohan too was prone to seasickness and before long the family was split in two. Two of us were thoroughly enjoying what was becoming a fairly rough ride, while two others were holding each other in a strangely combined foetal position. Eventually sympathy took over and we asked the dhow crew to turn for home!
We’re back in Dar es Salaam now, having thoroughly enjoyed our short trip. I hope we’ll find time to come back here again. However, having made this short trip, I realised just how long it had been since our last domestic holiday. I hope that next year, if it is to be our last full year in Tanzania, will give us the opportunity to see a few more places- perhaps the Selous or maybe somewhere more adventurous out west!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
No water, no electricity, but plenty of politics!
We’re now entering mid October and the cool winter months are slowly but surely coming to an end. The weather is gradually warming up and before too long I think we’ll be turning the AC back on at night.
Over recent weeks however, this potential use of the AC has been a bit of a moot point. The multi year drought that has affected East Africa is finally impacting us here in Dar es Salaam. For sure, the impact is nothing compared to those poor souls elsewhere in the region who are now relying on Oxfam and the UN for food. What I saw in Lushoto earlier this year was bad enough- things can only have got worse since then. The relatively affluent communities of Dar es Salaam are nowhere close to starving and are unlikely ever to reach such a point. However, when you have such adverse conditions across the region, nobody escapes entirely.
For us lucky expatriates, the impact has been mainly to do with access to electricity. The vast majority of the country’s generation comes from hydroelectric facilities, located across the country. When the rains fail, the water levels drop. The poor short rains in late 2008 and the almost entirely dry rainy season this spring means that no prolonged rainfall has been experienced since mid 2008- the rivers are now low and the dams would appear to be more or less dry. As a result, severe power rationing is now in force. We have now got used to having power cuts between 6pm and 11pm most nights. Yesterday was even worse, with no power at all between 9am and 7pm, followed by a further cut in the middle of the night.
This situation brought to mind a Tanzanian newspaper cartoon drawn in response to a UN sponsored initiative to turn off the lights across the world for a single hour to mark World Environment Day:
Them: “We shall shut down power for one whole hour to demonstrate our commitment to the environment.”
Us: “That’s just child’s play. We have started rationing power, and we will be implementing the shortage across the whole country for a whole year!”
Anyway, it would seem that we’re all now reducing our carbon footprint here, whether we like it or not. We do have diesel generators but given the extent to which we’ll be relying on them over the next few months, it makes sense to minimize their usage. These contraptions are generally on their last legs, make a load of noise and cost a fortune to fill up.
One silver lining to all this has been the extent to which you become aware of how your household depends on power and the areas of it which suck up the most. I’d never realised, for example, that using the microwave and cooker could use such phenomenal amounts of power- sometimes creating so much load as to take the generator offline. Given that the current situation is bound to create a huge run on diesel, making it both a rare and expensive commodity, it doesn’t hurt to figure out how to minimize usage. We’ve managed to go from using a full tank on an evening to barely using a quarter.
Anyway, although it’s not fun, this situation is, thankfully, not really down to my company, meaning that I can generally keep my head held high around the Peninsula without risking it being knocked off by some angry expat wife. Although things may improve a bit, the born pessimist in me can see power cuts happening for some time to come. It’s a nuisance to be sure but I know there are a lot of people who have never enjoyed access to electricity in their lives who are being affected in far more profound and painful ways than any of us are- another time to thank our lucky stars I think.
So what else is going on here in Tanzania? Well apart from power rationing, which, after all is really only annoying the minority who ever had access to power in the first place, we are entering some interesting times, with the elections only a year away.
Yesterday marked the 10th anniversary of the death of Mwalimu Julius Nyerere, the first President of Tanzania and a man remembered as fundamentally decent and honest. Many people, myself included, would view his policies as hugely misguided, but very few would ever question his motives. Between 1950 and 1990, the continent of Africa had over 150 different leaders in total. Of these, only 3 left power voluntarily. Nyerere was one of the three. We had a national holiday to mark the occasion and today the papers were naturally full of articles and commentaries covering the event.
Most of the commentaries were very nostalgic in tone, hearkening back to a selfless, decent leader and wondering whether the present generation of leaders has lived up those ideals. Although it is painfully obvious that the welcome development of the country has been accompanied by a growing gulf between the poor majority and a wealthy elite, surprisingly little attention is given to the merits of past and present policies. After years of grand corruption, what people really want to see is a ruling class which regardless of belief is at least trying its best to improve life for the people. I guess people will forgive wrong policy and mistaken ideas a lot more readily than they forgive corruption. I guess in that regard Tanzanians aren’t that different to anyone else.
Over recent weeks however, this potential use of the AC has been a bit of a moot point. The multi year drought that has affected East Africa is finally impacting us here in Dar es Salaam. For sure, the impact is nothing compared to those poor souls elsewhere in the region who are now relying on Oxfam and the UN for food. What I saw in Lushoto earlier this year was bad enough- things can only have got worse since then. The relatively affluent communities of Dar es Salaam are nowhere close to starving and are unlikely ever to reach such a point. However, when you have such adverse conditions across the region, nobody escapes entirely.
For us lucky expatriates, the impact has been mainly to do with access to electricity. The vast majority of the country’s generation comes from hydroelectric facilities, located across the country. When the rains fail, the water levels drop. The poor short rains in late 2008 and the almost entirely dry rainy season this spring means that no prolonged rainfall has been experienced since mid 2008- the rivers are now low and the dams would appear to be more or less dry. As a result, severe power rationing is now in force. We have now got used to having power cuts between 6pm and 11pm most nights. Yesterday was even worse, with no power at all between 9am and 7pm, followed by a further cut in the middle of the night.
This situation brought to mind a Tanzanian newspaper cartoon drawn in response to a UN sponsored initiative to turn off the lights across the world for a single hour to mark World Environment Day:
Them: “We shall shut down power for one whole hour to demonstrate our commitment to the environment.”
Us: “That’s just child’s play. We have started rationing power, and we will be implementing the shortage across the whole country for a whole year!”
Anyway, it would seem that we’re all now reducing our carbon footprint here, whether we like it or not. We do have diesel generators but given the extent to which we’ll be relying on them over the next few months, it makes sense to minimize their usage. These contraptions are generally on their last legs, make a load of noise and cost a fortune to fill up.
One silver lining to all this has been the extent to which you become aware of how your household depends on power and the areas of it which suck up the most. I’d never realised, for example, that using the microwave and cooker could use such phenomenal amounts of power- sometimes creating so much load as to take the generator offline. Given that the current situation is bound to create a huge run on diesel, making it both a rare and expensive commodity, it doesn’t hurt to figure out how to minimize usage. We’ve managed to go from using a full tank on an evening to barely using a quarter.
Anyway, although it’s not fun, this situation is, thankfully, not really down to my company, meaning that I can generally keep my head held high around the Peninsula without risking it being knocked off by some angry expat wife. Although things may improve a bit, the born pessimist in me can see power cuts happening for some time to come. It’s a nuisance to be sure but I know there are a lot of people who have never enjoyed access to electricity in their lives who are being affected in far more profound and painful ways than any of us are- another time to thank our lucky stars I think.
So what else is going on here in Tanzania? Well apart from power rationing, which, after all is really only annoying the minority who ever had access to power in the first place, we are entering some interesting times, with the elections only a year away.
Yesterday marked the 10th anniversary of the death of Mwalimu Julius Nyerere, the first President of Tanzania and a man remembered as fundamentally decent and honest. Many people, myself included, would view his policies as hugely misguided, but very few would ever question his motives. Between 1950 and 1990, the continent of Africa had over 150 different leaders in total. Of these, only 3 left power voluntarily. Nyerere was one of the three. We had a national holiday to mark the occasion and today the papers were naturally full of articles and commentaries covering the event.
Most of the commentaries were very nostalgic in tone, hearkening back to a selfless, decent leader and wondering whether the present generation of leaders has lived up those ideals. Although it is painfully obvious that the welcome development of the country has been accompanied by a growing gulf between the poor majority and a wealthy elite, surprisingly little attention is given to the merits of past and present policies. After years of grand corruption, what people really want to see is a ruling class which regardless of belief is at least trying its best to improve life for the people. I guess people will forgive wrong policy and mistaken ideas a lot more readily than they forgive corruption. I guess in that regard Tanzanians aren’t that different to anyone else.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Back in Tanzania, then back to Britain again
I hope this posting comes across as little more than a desperate attempt to keep to my “once a month” promise- although blatantly that is what it is!
We’ve had a few interesting goings on during the month, but since I’ve been travelling back and forth between here and the UK like some sort of homesick kid, I’ve not necessarily been there to see much of it. I’ve certainly been busy travelling in the past weeks- no sooner had we arrived back here from a month in Britain than I booked my tickets to fly back for a seminar in Warwick. I spent 10 days being very studious and businesslike before flying back to Tanzania and immediately booking my ticket for a course in London next week. There are good and bad sides to this state of affairs of course. On the bad side, the travel is rather tiring. I’m getting bored of the now familiar (but still quite scary) flightpath of Kenya, Somalia, Yemen, Oman, Dubai, then onto Iraq before hitting the more stable parts of Turkey and Central Europe. Most importantly, all the movies are the same- being stuck on a cumulative 12 hours of flying, watching the same movies and the same four episodes of The Simpsons gets a bit dull! On the bright side, however, I’ve made rapid progress through the various tiers of the Emirates loyalty programme and, according to my calculations should get my Gold membership around Christmas when we fly to Japan- free business lounges for the next year- cool!
Life in Tanzania is surprisingly good. The main bugbears of life seem to have receded temporarily. We’ve had very few power cuts this month- a situation I know can only revert to normal in time. This is a relief, since our generator is truly on its last legs and takes about ten attempts and some emotional begging and coaxing to get running these days. The traffic seems to be better too. Before we left, traffic was not too bad- mainly due to the budget session being held in Dodoma. However the first weeks of September the combined effects of budget being over, school starting and Ramadan happening meant that the roads were a nightmare. Ramadan is now over so we don’t have the mad rush to get home to eat (odd though that sundown isn’t until 6.30 and so many guys are heading home around 4pm- surely they haven’t all become paragons of gender equality and in fact are rushing home to cook?) For now, the roads are not too bad and I get home if not with a smile on my face then at least without the usual potty mouth!
The weather is still not too bad. We’re certainly seeing the end of winter however, and the temperatures are starting to rise. We can still sleep with open windows and a fan but I’d give it till mid October until the night time AC comes back on. Then we await the rainy season. Unlike earlier this year, where the rains never really came, we’re expecting some pretty severe weather this year. There have been several warnings that this year is El Nino year and that we are likely to get major rainfalls along the coastal regions, possibly hitting Dar es Salaam quite hard. I’m not sure what to expect really- the monsoons we had in 2008 were wet enough. This should be an interesting experience I guess.
I guess the main event of our month was the visit of our old friends from Cairo, Daniel and Janice. It was really good to see them after almost two years and, as with all good friends, the time lag seemed to make no difference. I do mean this, and am not just writing this because Daniel reads this blog!! We had a few days showing them our main haunts on the Peninsula- the Yacht Club, The Seacliffe, the George and Dragon and various other places. I was just getting used to having them around when I had to head off to Warwick, worst luck. Anyway, I think they had a nice time- well I hope they did.
For anyone else thinking of paying us a visit, there is still time. I’m very conscious of the fact that we’re about a month short of having been here for two years and equally conscious that three years is my normal attention span in a job- that’s better than my attention span in any sort of conversation which, as Soma often bemoans, is woeful.
Having talked with my boss, I can say that I’m pretty sure to be sticking around for the whole of 2010. Towards the end of next year it will have been three years and another country will seem tempting. I’ll also be more or less done with the MBA by then so a move in early 2011 seems likely. I guess in business as in life nothing is ever certain but, for now, I think we’ll stick around for a little while yet- the next destination is on the horizon but quite a way off as of now.
Anyway, I’ve nothing more to add and need to start looking for a good Central London hotel so will sign off now.
We’ve had a few interesting goings on during the month, but since I’ve been travelling back and forth between here and the UK like some sort of homesick kid, I’ve not necessarily been there to see much of it. I’ve certainly been busy travelling in the past weeks- no sooner had we arrived back here from a month in Britain than I booked my tickets to fly back for a seminar in Warwick. I spent 10 days being very studious and businesslike before flying back to Tanzania and immediately booking my ticket for a course in London next week. There are good and bad sides to this state of affairs of course. On the bad side, the travel is rather tiring. I’m getting bored of the now familiar (but still quite scary) flightpath of Kenya, Somalia, Yemen, Oman, Dubai, then onto Iraq before hitting the more stable parts of Turkey and Central Europe. Most importantly, all the movies are the same- being stuck on a cumulative 12 hours of flying, watching the same movies and the same four episodes of The Simpsons gets a bit dull! On the bright side, however, I’ve made rapid progress through the various tiers of the Emirates loyalty programme and, according to my calculations should get my Gold membership around Christmas when we fly to Japan- free business lounges for the next year- cool!
Life in Tanzania is surprisingly good. The main bugbears of life seem to have receded temporarily. We’ve had very few power cuts this month- a situation I know can only revert to normal in time. This is a relief, since our generator is truly on its last legs and takes about ten attempts and some emotional begging and coaxing to get running these days. The traffic seems to be better too. Before we left, traffic was not too bad- mainly due to the budget session being held in Dodoma. However the first weeks of September the combined effects of budget being over, school starting and Ramadan happening meant that the roads were a nightmare. Ramadan is now over so we don’t have the mad rush to get home to eat (odd though that sundown isn’t until 6.30 and so many guys are heading home around 4pm- surely they haven’t all become paragons of gender equality and in fact are rushing home to cook?) For now, the roads are not too bad and I get home if not with a smile on my face then at least without the usual potty mouth!
The weather is still not too bad. We’re certainly seeing the end of winter however, and the temperatures are starting to rise. We can still sleep with open windows and a fan but I’d give it till mid October until the night time AC comes back on. Then we await the rainy season. Unlike earlier this year, where the rains never really came, we’re expecting some pretty severe weather this year. There have been several warnings that this year is El Nino year and that we are likely to get major rainfalls along the coastal regions, possibly hitting Dar es Salaam quite hard. I’m not sure what to expect really- the monsoons we had in 2008 were wet enough. This should be an interesting experience I guess.
I guess the main event of our month was the visit of our old friends from Cairo, Daniel and Janice. It was really good to see them after almost two years and, as with all good friends, the time lag seemed to make no difference. I do mean this, and am not just writing this because Daniel reads this blog!! We had a few days showing them our main haunts on the Peninsula- the Yacht Club, The Seacliffe, the George and Dragon and various other places. I was just getting used to having them around when I had to head off to Warwick, worst luck. Anyway, I think they had a nice time- well I hope they did.
For anyone else thinking of paying us a visit, there is still time. I’m very conscious of the fact that we’re about a month short of having been here for two years and equally conscious that three years is my normal attention span in a job- that’s better than my attention span in any sort of conversation which, as Soma often bemoans, is woeful.
Having talked with my boss, I can say that I’m pretty sure to be sticking around for the whole of 2010. Towards the end of next year it will have been three years and another country will seem tempting. I’ll also be more or less done with the MBA by then so a move in early 2011 seems likely. I guess in business as in life nothing is ever certain but, for now, I think we’ll stick around for a little while yet- the next destination is on the horizon but quite a way off as of now.
Anyway, I’ve nothing more to add and need to start looking for a good Central London hotel so will sign off now.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Addendum- A Pompous and Self Absorbed Posting on my Thoughts about Britain!
Right, I’m on a roll now- after writing the longest posting so far (well it felt like it anyway), I’m now onto the next posting, inspired in fact by my grandfather who thought it would be a good idea to post my thoughts on returning to the UK. This isn’t such a bad idea but comes dangerously close to the self indulgent philosophising that many bloggers seem to come out with. Who cares- I’m doing it anyway!
It’s difficult to work out how many of these observations are actually changes in Britain which have occurred in my absence and how many are due to my viewing the place through fresh eyes. Some are good, some are not. This of course lends itself to the clichéd journalistic structure of a list of good and bad points. It’s getting late and I’ve written loads so a bit of tired cliché is what we’ll go with.
Good Points
Friendly Londoners. As mentioned before, people are actually friendly if you make the effort. Londoners have the reputation of being aloof but in fact this is undeserved. On the occasions I took the trouble to say hello to people or to initiate conversation, people were very keen to talk.
Stuff Works. After time spent in Tanzania and Egypt, it is simply impossible to understate the sheer joy of having things work. We have enjoyed a month without power cuts and I still cannot get used to drinking water directly from a tap- a true luxury!
People can Drive. Driving is actually a lot easier when things are predictable. In the UK you can count on most people driving pretty sensibly most of the time. The few occasions someone has done something odd, I’ve been more than prepared. Being cut up is far less traumatic than having a mango cart appear around a blind corner on the wrong side of a road.
Bad Points
Constant Henpecking. Walking around London, I noticed a great number of signs. Almost all of these were telling me in one way or another, what I could or, more often, could not do. This was reinforced by the road signs across the UK, but especially in Scotland advising me to “Drive Slowly”, “Drive with Consideration”, “Don’t Drink and Drive” or “Keep Space between Vehicles”. Not to understate the importance of all of these, but surely I deserve to be treated as an adult. It strikes me that society here has become increasingly proscriptive and people are increasingly being treated like children. There may be a lot wrong with Tanzania but at least with regard to daily life you are allowed to hang yourself with as much rope as you like.
Childish Attitudes to Grown up Matters. The infantilisation of the country seems to have worked to some extent. In looking at the public response to recession, people seem to have abdicated all responsibility for their role in all this. The bankers and politicians have taken it in the neck- not undeservedly. However, the main reason for the state the country is in is that too many people frivolously borrowed amounts they couldn’t afford to buy stuff they didn’t need. The fact that the public is now bemoaning banks for making borrowing harder shows that people really haven’t truly understood the reasons for this recession and would prefer to scapegoat others instead- not a terribly adult approach. Another case of childishness is the sheer double standard I’ve seen in terms of morality. On one hand, the public has reacted with visceral disgust to MPs expense excesses. A recent survey, however, shows that 66% of the same self righteous public thinks that illegal downloading (ie stealing from musicians) is morally acceptable. Download if you like but surely this makes the sanctimonious outcry we saw more than a little hypocritical.
Vanishing Shops. Walking through the Wolverhampton town centre, I became aware of the sheer number of empty shop spaces. I have kept up to date with the closures of various companies in the past year, but only when walking through a shopping centre do you see the cumulative impact. Woolworths is gone, as is Our Price, Zavvi, Barratts and a host of other places. This is perhaps the most visible impact of recession- hopefully coming back in a few years will reveal a whole new set of shops replacing those lost this time round.
As I said at the start of this short posting, these are simply the things I have noticed on this particular visit. Of course there are other changes which have also happened over the past five years. Some of these, such as the obsession with reality TV programmes are things I’ve noticed before and have bored people senseless about in the past. Others have simply not impressed upon me. The only explanation for this is that sometimes the things people living here focus on are not the same as the things noticed by the outsider. I guess these being the personal impressions of someone returning from abroad, you could say that what I’ve missed is as important as what I’ve noticed.
Anyway, for what they are worth, those are my thoughts- I kept them brief so I guess that’s me done for this trip to the UK- more postings from Africa next month.
It’s difficult to work out how many of these observations are actually changes in Britain which have occurred in my absence and how many are due to my viewing the place through fresh eyes. Some are good, some are not. This of course lends itself to the clichéd journalistic structure of a list of good and bad points. It’s getting late and I’ve written loads so a bit of tired cliché is what we’ll go with.
Good Points
Friendly Londoners. As mentioned before, people are actually friendly if you make the effort. Londoners have the reputation of being aloof but in fact this is undeserved. On the occasions I took the trouble to say hello to people or to initiate conversation, people were very keen to talk.
Stuff Works. After time spent in Tanzania and Egypt, it is simply impossible to understate the sheer joy of having things work. We have enjoyed a month without power cuts and I still cannot get used to drinking water directly from a tap- a true luxury!
People can Drive. Driving is actually a lot easier when things are predictable. In the UK you can count on most people driving pretty sensibly most of the time. The few occasions someone has done something odd, I’ve been more than prepared. Being cut up is far less traumatic than having a mango cart appear around a blind corner on the wrong side of a road.
Bad Points
Constant Henpecking. Walking around London, I noticed a great number of signs. Almost all of these were telling me in one way or another, what I could or, more often, could not do. This was reinforced by the road signs across the UK, but especially in Scotland advising me to “Drive Slowly”, “Drive with Consideration”, “Don’t Drink and Drive” or “Keep Space between Vehicles”. Not to understate the importance of all of these, but surely I deserve to be treated as an adult. It strikes me that society here has become increasingly proscriptive and people are increasingly being treated like children. There may be a lot wrong with Tanzania but at least with regard to daily life you are allowed to hang yourself with as much rope as you like.
Childish Attitudes to Grown up Matters. The infantilisation of the country seems to have worked to some extent. In looking at the public response to recession, people seem to have abdicated all responsibility for their role in all this. The bankers and politicians have taken it in the neck- not undeservedly. However, the main reason for the state the country is in is that too many people frivolously borrowed amounts they couldn’t afford to buy stuff they didn’t need. The fact that the public is now bemoaning banks for making borrowing harder shows that people really haven’t truly understood the reasons for this recession and would prefer to scapegoat others instead- not a terribly adult approach. Another case of childishness is the sheer double standard I’ve seen in terms of morality. On one hand, the public has reacted with visceral disgust to MPs expense excesses. A recent survey, however, shows that 66% of the same self righteous public thinks that illegal downloading (ie stealing from musicians) is morally acceptable. Download if you like but surely this makes the sanctimonious outcry we saw more than a little hypocritical.
Vanishing Shops. Walking through the Wolverhampton town centre, I became aware of the sheer number of empty shop spaces. I have kept up to date with the closures of various companies in the past year, but only when walking through a shopping centre do you see the cumulative impact. Woolworths is gone, as is Our Price, Zavvi, Barratts and a host of other places. This is perhaps the most visible impact of recession- hopefully coming back in a few years will reveal a whole new set of shops replacing those lost this time round.
As I said at the start of this short posting, these are simply the things I have noticed on this particular visit. Of course there are other changes which have also happened over the past five years. Some of these, such as the obsession with reality TV programmes are things I’ve noticed before and have bored people senseless about in the past. Others have simply not impressed upon me. The only explanation for this is that sometimes the things people living here focus on are not the same as the things noticed by the outsider. I guess these being the personal impressions of someone returning from abroad, you could say that what I’ve missed is as important as what I’ve noticed.
Anyway, for what they are worth, those are my thoughts- I kept them brief so I guess that’s me done for this trip to the UK- more postings from Africa next month.
Chubbs Around Britain
“What are we doing here?” was the heartfelt complaint the bloke next to me came out with. No, we weren’t at some philosopher’s convention somewhere in Greece, but standing outside a bright yellow building which according to all our respective offspring, belonged to a certain Ms. Josie Jump.
Just over a fortnight after landing in London, we’d finally reached the furthest point of our travels in the UK- a remote place of pilgrimage for any child under the age of six. From this point on, everywhere we went would be to some extent part of the process of returning- to England, to Wolverhampton, then finally back to Tanzania.
We arrived in London at midday on the first Saturday in August, fresh from a pretty uneventful flight. To be honest, the boys have done so much travel now, flying with them is no longer an issue. They just sit down and patiently enjoy the hours of television denied to them anywhere else!
Our home for the next two weeks was a small, one bedroom apartment in St Katherines Dock, a beautiful marina just to the east of the Tower of London. The block was an ex council block- a bit basic and in terms of size it was “compact and bijou” but it was pleasant enough. I guess that is my view based on eight years of London living. The view of another family member, used to larger and more salubrious accommodation was a little less charitable. Kieran was distinctly unimpressed at first. I just wish he hadn’t referred to the house as “a ruin” in front of the landlord!
However, I remember jogging through the area years ago, when we lived in Wapping wishing that one day we could be lucky (or rich) enough to live there. Finally we were living the dream- the apartment may have been small but the location ticked the box well enough.
The view from our balcony in St Katherine's Dock, London
The port at Oban
The Calmac Ferry which took us from Oban to Craignuire and back
The seafront at Tobermory
We were given a map of the key locations and looked through it. Sadly, it seemed that most of the houses had been repainted, making viewing pretty pointless. A couple of houses remained and these attracted a steady queue of hopeful children. Standing outside the bright yellow house of Josie Jump- now in fact a small hotel whose owners must surely be sick to death of children being photographed outside it-we met several other families all containing excited kids and fed up Dads! We dutifully took our photos and headed off for lunch- at the place formerly known as Edie Macreadie’s shop. This shop sold nothing but chocolate so in true glamorous style, lunch was taken sitting outside the local Spar- bet they didn’t have that in Balamory.
Just over a fortnight after landing in London, we’d finally reached the furthest point of our travels in the UK- a remote place of pilgrimage for any child under the age of six. From this point on, everywhere we went would be to some extent part of the process of returning- to England, to Wolverhampton, then finally back to Tanzania.
We arrived in London at midday on the first Saturday in August, fresh from a pretty uneventful flight. To be honest, the boys have done so much travel now, flying with them is no longer an issue. They just sit down and patiently enjoy the hours of television denied to them anywhere else!
Our home for the next two weeks was a small, one bedroom apartment in St Katherines Dock, a beautiful marina just to the east of the Tower of London. The block was an ex council block- a bit basic and in terms of size it was “compact and bijou” but it was pleasant enough. I guess that is my view based on eight years of London living. The view of another family member, used to larger and more salubrious accommodation was a little less charitable. Kieran was distinctly unimpressed at first. I just wish he hadn’t referred to the house as “a ruin” in front of the landlord!
However, I remember jogging through the area years ago, when we lived in Wapping wishing that one day we could be lucky (or rich) enough to live there. Finally we were living the dream- the apartment may have been small but the location ticked the box well enough.
The view from our balcony in St Katherine's Dock, London
The two weeks followed a fairly set pattern. I set off for work bright and early- in the office by 7am to coincide with Tanzanian working hours. Soma would head off with the boys at about 9am for Rohan’s morning therapy session. The afternoon would entail either a second session or various tourist activities- seemingly focused on the many parks in London.
Being part of the working population of London once more was an interesting experience. Although I’ve been back several times since we left in early 2005, the visits have only been fleeting. This time it was a solid fortnight among the capuccino drinkeratti! It was an experience which challenged a lot of preconceptions. I noticed that although Londoners seem quite aloof, it doesn’t take a lot to break the ice. From the Tesco delivery man to the taxi driver who took us to the airport most people were only too happy to chat once conversation had been initiated. Rohan managed in fact to work a minor miracle- getting strangers to engage with him on the Tube. Sadly for Soma, this involved Rohan announcing very loudly that he had farted. A few previously dour faces betrayed hints of smiles until some people opposite actually began to talk to him. A conversation on the Tube- whatever next?
I’m not sure why but this time London made me a bit more aware of my age. Quite simply everyone seemed so much younger. Walking into work, I noticed that pretty much everyone accompanying me on the South Bank was jogging or speed walking. London seems full of young people determined to stay young for as long as possible
We all enjoyed our time in London. The evenings sitting on our balcony drinking wine and looking out over Tower Bridge were great. However, the overwhelming feeling was that although this was a great place to visit, I’d never want to live there again. The main reason was claustrophobia. The one thing we have in Tanzania is plenty of space- the house is big, roads are mainly clear, even the town centre isn’t overly crowded. In contrast, the twice daily scrimmages to get over Tower Bridge made me feel way too hemmed in for my liking.
Time seemed to fly in London and after two most enjoyable weeks we found ourselves in a taxi heading up the motorway to Luton Airport, ready for the short flight to Edinburgh.
In the 30 or so years I’d lived in the UK, I’d never actually visited Edinburgh- in fact a short excursion into Glasgow had been the only experience of a major Scottish city of any sort. Circling over the Firth of Forth as our plane approached the airport, I realised just how beautiful a city Edinburgh is. For those who have never been, it is a city of grey stone buildings- architecture quite similar to places like Bath. On one side the city touches on the sea and on the others it is surrounded by a number of small mountains, the most famous of which is King Arthur’s Seat. Being so far north there was a definite change in temperature- when the pilot told us that the weather was “just like London” he was clearly lying! We got out to icy blasts of wind and loud protestations from Kieran that he wanted to go back to Africa immediately!
We spent four full days in the city, staying with Soma’s brother and sister in law. Their house is a great place, backing onto King Arthur’s Seat- a decently sized hill which we walked up the day after our arrival. Looking down over the city, we could see that the locals had a city to be proud of. Frankly, Rajat and Angela were the only reason for visiting Derby- Edinburgh we’ll visit regardless of who lives there!
In our short visit I think we managed to tick all the necessary boxes. We took in a number of shows at the Edinburgh Fringe. We started with a German comedy show which was marginally funny- probably because having spent the money we were determined to laugh! We also encountered a street juggler who was more concerned with keeping his audience in the right place than with actually juggling (I think he had OCD or something since he kept stopping his act to tell people to move around so he had a complete circle!). He announced at the end that he felt he was worth a fiver and that we had a moral obligation to pay him- I diplomatically restrained my elder son from giving him a 5p coin! Our final experience was a circus show given by a group of well intentioned but inexperienced kids on the top of a windy hill. Sadly, the wind meant that we were freezing and the performers kept falling off whatever they were meant to be on- stilts, unicycles, big balls- you name it, they fell off it! After one girl hit her head on concrete we realised that our continued presence only encouraged them, this engendering further risk to their health and we headed home.
At the other cultural extreme, we visited Rosslyn Chapel, a small but very famous templar chapel a few miles outside of the city. This chapel has been famous for centuries and is extremely ornate both inside and outside. In recent years, the publication of a certain Dan Brown novel has sent visitor numbers through the roof- from about 9,000 per year in the 1990s to over 120,000 last year. The guide seemed quite phlegmatic about it all- increased visitor numbers are good for local business after all. However, she did also poke fun at the conspiracy theories, pointing out that if all of them were true then the small vault below was home to the Holy Grail, Excalibur, the wizard Merlin, the true Throne of Scone, the Ark of the Covenant and myriad other relics up to and including Elvis Presley! The chapel certainly attracts attention- having said that my count of tourists walking around clutching copies of the Da Vinci Code was very disappointing- single figures only I’m afraid!
During our time in Edinburgh we picked up our rental car- the crucial ingredient for the following few days as we found our way out of Edinburgh through the West of Scotland, then down to Wolverhampton via the Lake District. The prospect of driving in the UK after a hiatus of almost five years was not something I was looking forward to wholeheartedly. Although the move to Tanzania enabled me to resume driving, this may have been more of a hindrance than a help with regard to UK driving. While the past few years have improved my defensive driving skills, the Tanzanian roads are centres of excellence for new skills such as cutting traffic lights, jumping queues and driving on the pavements. I have done my best to preserve my integrity but was genuinely worried at my ability to stick to a strict 30mph limit! In fact, all went well- no police lights flashing ominously in the rear view mirror and a solid record of safe and sensible driving- even Soma thought I was good!
The serious driving started one Thursday morning as we pulled away from our hosts in Edinburgh. After a frustrating hour or so trying to get out of the city, made all the more fun by Kieran asking “are we there yet” for the billionth time we finally found the motorway and headed off into the Highlands. Before long we were well into open countryside, making our way through winding roads heading slowly but surely towards Oban.
Early afternoon found us approaching Oban. Our final approach was a steep winding road which gave us a beautiful panoramic view of a small town full of beautiful buildings, a typical grey coloured distillery and a busy port. We checked into the Kilchrenan Hotel, a small family run establishment on the esplanade- a fabulous find and one I’d recommend to anyone. We spent the afternoon looking around the town- not a major undertaking given the size of the place and the fact that the main tourist attraction is the distillery, not a great priority for either of our two boys. After an early dinner, we settled down to an early night.
Being part of the working population of London once more was an interesting experience. Although I’ve been back several times since we left in early 2005, the visits have only been fleeting. This time it was a solid fortnight among the capuccino drinkeratti! It was an experience which challenged a lot of preconceptions. I noticed that although Londoners seem quite aloof, it doesn’t take a lot to break the ice. From the Tesco delivery man to the taxi driver who took us to the airport most people were only too happy to chat once conversation had been initiated. Rohan managed in fact to work a minor miracle- getting strangers to engage with him on the Tube. Sadly for Soma, this involved Rohan announcing very loudly that he had farted. A few previously dour faces betrayed hints of smiles until some people opposite actually began to talk to him. A conversation on the Tube- whatever next?
I’m not sure why but this time London made me a bit more aware of my age. Quite simply everyone seemed so much younger. Walking into work, I noticed that pretty much everyone accompanying me on the South Bank was jogging or speed walking. London seems full of young people determined to stay young for as long as possible
We all enjoyed our time in London. The evenings sitting on our balcony drinking wine and looking out over Tower Bridge were great. However, the overwhelming feeling was that although this was a great place to visit, I’d never want to live there again. The main reason was claustrophobia. The one thing we have in Tanzania is plenty of space- the house is big, roads are mainly clear, even the town centre isn’t overly crowded. In contrast, the twice daily scrimmages to get over Tower Bridge made me feel way too hemmed in for my liking.
Time seemed to fly in London and after two most enjoyable weeks we found ourselves in a taxi heading up the motorway to Luton Airport, ready for the short flight to Edinburgh.
In the 30 or so years I’d lived in the UK, I’d never actually visited Edinburgh- in fact a short excursion into Glasgow had been the only experience of a major Scottish city of any sort. Circling over the Firth of Forth as our plane approached the airport, I realised just how beautiful a city Edinburgh is. For those who have never been, it is a city of grey stone buildings- architecture quite similar to places like Bath. On one side the city touches on the sea and on the others it is surrounded by a number of small mountains, the most famous of which is King Arthur’s Seat. Being so far north there was a definite change in temperature- when the pilot told us that the weather was “just like London” he was clearly lying! We got out to icy blasts of wind and loud protestations from Kieran that he wanted to go back to Africa immediately!
We spent four full days in the city, staying with Soma’s brother and sister in law. Their house is a great place, backing onto King Arthur’s Seat- a decently sized hill which we walked up the day after our arrival. Looking down over the city, we could see that the locals had a city to be proud of. Frankly, Rajat and Angela were the only reason for visiting Derby- Edinburgh we’ll visit regardless of who lives there!
In our short visit I think we managed to tick all the necessary boxes. We took in a number of shows at the Edinburgh Fringe. We started with a German comedy show which was marginally funny- probably because having spent the money we were determined to laugh! We also encountered a street juggler who was more concerned with keeping his audience in the right place than with actually juggling (I think he had OCD or something since he kept stopping his act to tell people to move around so he had a complete circle!). He announced at the end that he felt he was worth a fiver and that we had a moral obligation to pay him- I diplomatically restrained my elder son from giving him a 5p coin! Our final experience was a circus show given by a group of well intentioned but inexperienced kids on the top of a windy hill. Sadly, the wind meant that we were freezing and the performers kept falling off whatever they were meant to be on- stilts, unicycles, big balls- you name it, they fell off it! After one girl hit her head on concrete we realised that our continued presence only encouraged them, this engendering further risk to their health and we headed home.
At the other cultural extreme, we visited Rosslyn Chapel, a small but very famous templar chapel a few miles outside of the city. This chapel has been famous for centuries and is extremely ornate both inside and outside. In recent years, the publication of a certain Dan Brown novel has sent visitor numbers through the roof- from about 9,000 per year in the 1990s to over 120,000 last year. The guide seemed quite phlegmatic about it all- increased visitor numbers are good for local business after all. However, she did also poke fun at the conspiracy theories, pointing out that if all of them were true then the small vault below was home to the Holy Grail, Excalibur, the wizard Merlin, the true Throne of Scone, the Ark of the Covenant and myriad other relics up to and including Elvis Presley! The chapel certainly attracts attention- having said that my count of tourists walking around clutching copies of the Da Vinci Code was very disappointing- single figures only I’m afraid!
During our time in Edinburgh we picked up our rental car- the crucial ingredient for the following few days as we found our way out of Edinburgh through the West of Scotland, then down to Wolverhampton via the Lake District. The prospect of driving in the UK after a hiatus of almost five years was not something I was looking forward to wholeheartedly. Although the move to Tanzania enabled me to resume driving, this may have been more of a hindrance than a help with regard to UK driving. While the past few years have improved my defensive driving skills, the Tanzanian roads are centres of excellence for new skills such as cutting traffic lights, jumping queues and driving on the pavements. I have done my best to preserve my integrity but was genuinely worried at my ability to stick to a strict 30mph limit! In fact, all went well- no police lights flashing ominously in the rear view mirror and a solid record of safe and sensible driving- even Soma thought I was good!
The serious driving started one Thursday morning as we pulled away from our hosts in Edinburgh. After a frustrating hour or so trying to get out of the city, made all the more fun by Kieran asking “are we there yet” for the billionth time we finally found the motorway and headed off into the Highlands. Before long we were well into open countryside, making our way through winding roads heading slowly but surely towards Oban.
Early afternoon found us approaching Oban. Our final approach was a steep winding road which gave us a beautiful panoramic view of a small town full of beautiful buildings, a typical grey coloured distillery and a busy port. We checked into the Kilchrenan Hotel, a small family run establishment on the esplanade- a fabulous find and one I’d recommend to anyone. We spent the afternoon looking around the town- not a major undertaking given the size of the place and the fact that the main tourist attraction is the distillery, not a great priority for either of our two boys. After an early dinner, we settled down to an early night.
The port at Oban
The next day was the big one for the boys. New experience number one for all of us was getting the car onto the ferry. Having stowed the car away, we headed onto the top deck to watch the ferry pull out of the harbour. For me at least, this experience was a mortal conflict. On the one hand was the urge to stay and watch the beautiful scenery of the coastal town fading into the distance and the distant Isle of Mull coming into view amid the mist and driving rain. On the other hand there was the very real urge of a man who had come from Tanzania with nothing more than T shirts to get out of the cold and to get a coffee below deck. Ultimately warmth prevailed and we spent the second half of the journey in a warm bar.
The Calmac Ferry which took us from Oban to Craignuire and back
We pulled out of the port onto a pretty empty road. I’d been warned that driving on the Isle of Mull was a different challenge- most of the roads are single track and there is a very specific etiquette for use of the numerous Passing Places. Well, we managed easily enough and after half an hour, the colourful town of Tobermory came into sight.
Tobermory was really the highlight of the boys’ holiday. Again, this was not a factor of the ubiquitous grey stone distillery; it was not even the picturesque port. It was only partly a factor of the colourful houses lining the sea front. The truth is that the town was used several years ago to film the popular children’s series Balamory. Our children, like many others are keen viewers of this show, and the chance to see some of the houses was a huge thrill for them.
Tobermory was really the highlight of the boys’ holiday. Again, this was not a factor of the ubiquitous grey stone distillery; it was not even the picturesque port. It was only partly a factor of the colourful houses lining the sea front. The truth is that the town was used several years ago to film the popular children’s series Balamory. Our children, like many others are keen viewers of this show, and the chance to see some of the houses was a huge thrill for them.
The seafront at Tobermory
We were given a map of the key locations and looked through it. Sadly, it seemed that most of the houses had been repainted, making viewing pretty pointless. A couple of houses remained and these attracted a steady queue of hopeful children. Standing outside the bright yellow house of Josie Jump- now in fact a small hotel whose owners must surely be sick to death of children being photographed outside it-we met several other families all containing excited kids and fed up Dads! We dutifully took our photos and headed off for lunch- at the place formerly known as Edie Macreadie’s shop. This shop sold nothing but chocolate so in true glamorous style, lunch was taken sitting outside the local Spar- bet they didn’t have that in Balamory.
Kieran "jumping" outside the Park Lodge, aka Josie Jump's house- only the millionth time some family had taken that particular photo!
Leaving Tobermory was a bit odd- a bit like the beginning of the end. From this point onwards, everything would be a kind of heading home. We went to Craignuire- the main port of Mull- for the night. The next morning we headed back to Oban and, after a short breakfast we began the long journey back to England. The stopover in the Lake District was a good break- the caravan was a welcome novelty for the boys at least. However, the stay was curtailed by the driving rain so common to the British summer. We had a visit to a local animal farm- including everything from rabbits to some rather miserable zebras. In a sense, we understood very well why they were miserable. The zebras were not the only entities who had come from the African plains to be placed in the driving rain of the Lake District. Despite Kieran’s best efforts to cheer up the zebras by singing Jambo Bwana to them (apparently to stop them being homesick), they remained resolutely miserable.
We’re in Wolverhampton now. In a few days we’ll fly back to Tanzania to resume our normal lives. If I’m completely honest, I looked ahead to this holiday with something less than complete excitement. I much prefer to discover new places, and the UK is not exactly a new destination. However, in spending time in London, I was able to see an old haunt with fresh eyes. In visiting Edinburgh and the Western Isles, we were all able to discover new places, and to see places as worthy of visiting as anywhere else in the world I’ve been- the haggis was pretty good too!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Getting Ready For Holidays
No matter where we seem to be, July always seems to have a bit of an odd feeling about it. Whether in Egypt or in Tanzania, in July, the international schools finish for the year and families head off to their countries of origin for a summer break. In Egypt, this made perfect sense- temperatures in Cairo averaged in the 40s Celsius and sometimes spiked above 50 in mid August. Cairo in July and August emptied itself not only of expatriates but also of Egyptians, all of whom seemed to decamp to the north coast for a couple of months to avoid the heat.
Here in Dar, the exodus seems a bit unfortunately timed. The rainy season, for what it was worth this year, has passed and we are now officially in mid winter. What this actually means is that we have daytime temperatures in the low to mid 20s Celsius and night time temperatures low enough that the AC can be switched off and a combination of open windows and a fan is enough for a good night’s sleep. Sadly, the schools are out, so this is really the only chance for a long trip overseas- the best weather of the year has to be left for the Tanzanians to enjoy largely alone.
Knowing that we’ll be leaving for a while fairly soon, the social side of life has picked up- a last chance to catch up with friends we won’t be seeing for a month or so. Last week, we managed a visit to the cinema, a barbecue, two birthday parties and a dinner party! Next week is going to be far quieter as we start the preparations for the trip home.
So, what are the worries about such a long trip home? Well my first worry is always about the house- will something terrible happen while we’re away? Will we return to a smouldering crater where a house once stood? While this may be a little over the top, these worries do have a certain foundation in experience. A couple of days after Rohan’s birth, we received a phone call in the early hours of the morning from our driver Mohammed. Wondering why he was calling at such an odd hour, I picked up the phone. Apparently, a pipe had burst and the whole apartment was under several inches of water. Fortunately, Mohammed had been called by the bawaab and had taken charge- by the time we got back, a slightly musty smell was all we noticed about the incident. Will we be so lucky next time? Fortunately on this occasion, we have some very good friends of ours staying for the duration we’re away. We need housesitters, they need a place to stay- the perfect marriage of convenience!
My other main worry is about driving. Our plan is to spend a couple of weeks in London, then to fly up to Edinburgh to stay with Soma’s brother a few days. We’ll then drive slowly down to Wolverhampton via the Lake District. Sounds marvellous and I’m sure it will be. The only worry I have about this whole scenario is that my driving experience for the past two years has been limited solely to Africa. While I think my standards of driving are way better than average here in Tanzania, I’ve had to adapt to the local conditions- a well behaved UK driver is not going to get far here! This general change (or perhaps more accurately “degeneration”) in my driving was confirmed by my brother on a recent visit, who compared my driving to that of a dodgy London cabby. I’m now desperately trying to remind myself of the stricter conditions in the UK. A red traffic light means “stop”. It doesn’t mean “slow down, look left and right and cut the light if the coast is clear”. It definitely means “stop”. If I get caught speeding in the UK, you definitely mustn’t give the policeman a sly look and ask him “can we be friends?” while waving a ten pound note out of the side window. Forcing a gap at a right turn junction by pulling out and blocking the other side of the road is likely to be very unpopular in the UK as is trying to get to the head of a queue by driving along the pavement (okay, I’ve never actually done that one- I promise!!- , though many people here do). I’ll do my best, but I’m still pretty sure I’m going to get less than a mile before the first points find their way onto my licence- maybe I’ll just hire a driver!
The one thing we’re not too worried about is Swine Flu. We’re hearing all sorts of stuff here about its spread in the UK. It does seem to be getting quite commonplace but equally it seems that very few people who don’t have an underlying condition are dying of it. The reported figures of 100,000 cases are also a little fishy. In the days after diagnosis passes from a qualified doctor to a website, the number of diagnoses goes through the roof. My favourite website, The Daily Mash, perhaps sums up my suspicions best- when the government launches an online method of getting a copper bottomed excuse for a fortnight’s sick leave, it’s not surprising that the number of “cases” has rocketed!
For sure, we’ll be taking precautions and, perhaps, will bring along a stock of Tamiflu just in case. However, we need to remember to keep the risks in perspective. We’re living our daily lives in a place where Malaria is endemic and other nasties such as Dengue Fever, Sleeping Sickness, Yellow Fever, Cholera and Typhoid are known to exist, and have survived just fine so far. We don’t spend our lives fretting about getting some nasty illness (though I did have a bad dream about Ebola once). We’ll take precautions for sure, but will not be losing much sleep over it.
Soma has just pointed out that having written the rather smug paragraph above, I guess I’ve now just pretty much guaranteed I’m going to get Swine Flu and, in fact most people reading this will now be hoping I do get it! If I do then, to quote one Facebook contributor, I’ll “get well soon or die trying”!
Here in Dar, the exodus seems a bit unfortunately timed. The rainy season, for what it was worth this year, has passed and we are now officially in mid winter. What this actually means is that we have daytime temperatures in the low to mid 20s Celsius and night time temperatures low enough that the AC can be switched off and a combination of open windows and a fan is enough for a good night’s sleep. Sadly, the schools are out, so this is really the only chance for a long trip overseas- the best weather of the year has to be left for the Tanzanians to enjoy largely alone.
Knowing that we’ll be leaving for a while fairly soon, the social side of life has picked up- a last chance to catch up with friends we won’t be seeing for a month or so. Last week, we managed a visit to the cinema, a barbecue, two birthday parties and a dinner party! Next week is going to be far quieter as we start the preparations for the trip home.
So, what are the worries about such a long trip home? Well my first worry is always about the house- will something terrible happen while we’re away? Will we return to a smouldering crater where a house once stood? While this may be a little over the top, these worries do have a certain foundation in experience. A couple of days after Rohan’s birth, we received a phone call in the early hours of the morning from our driver Mohammed. Wondering why he was calling at such an odd hour, I picked up the phone. Apparently, a pipe had burst and the whole apartment was under several inches of water. Fortunately, Mohammed had been called by the bawaab and had taken charge- by the time we got back, a slightly musty smell was all we noticed about the incident. Will we be so lucky next time? Fortunately on this occasion, we have some very good friends of ours staying for the duration we’re away. We need housesitters, they need a place to stay- the perfect marriage of convenience!
My other main worry is about driving. Our plan is to spend a couple of weeks in London, then to fly up to Edinburgh to stay with Soma’s brother a few days. We’ll then drive slowly down to Wolverhampton via the Lake District. Sounds marvellous and I’m sure it will be. The only worry I have about this whole scenario is that my driving experience for the past two years has been limited solely to Africa. While I think my standards of driving are way better than average here in Tanzania, I’ve had to adapt to the local conditions- a well behaved UK driver is not going to get far here! This general change (or perhaps more accurately “degeneration”) in my driving was confirmed by my brother on a recent visit, who compared my driving to that of a dodgy London cabby. I’m now desperately trying to remind myself of the stricter conditions in the UK. A red traffic light means “stop”. It doesn’t mean “slow down, look left and right and cut the light if the coast is clear”. It definitely means “stop”. If I get caught speeding in the UK, you definitely mustn’t give the policeman a sly look and ask him “can we be friends?” while waving a ten pound note out of the side window. Forcing a gap at a right turn junction by pulling out and blocking the other side of the road is likely to be very unpopular in the UK as is trying to get to the head of a queue by driving along the pavement (okay, I’ve never actually done that one- I promise!!- , though many people here do). I’ll do my best, but I’m still pretty sure I’m going to get less than a mile before the first points find their way onto my licence- maybe I’ll just hire a driver!
The one thing we’re not too worried about is Swine Flu. We’re hearing all sorts of stuff here about its spread in the UK. It does seem to be getting quite commonplace but equally it seems that very few people who don’t have an underlying condition are dying of it. The reported figures of 100,000 cases are also a little fishy. In the days after diagnosis passes from a qualified doctor to a website, the number of diagnoses goes through the roof. My favourite website, The Daily Mash, perhaps sums up my suspicions best- when the government launches an online method of getting a copper bottomed excuse for a fortnight’s sick leave, it’s not surprising that the number of “cases” has rocketed!
For sure, we’ll be taking precautions and, perhaps, will bring along a stock of Tamiflu just in case. However, we need to remember to keep the risks in perspective. We’re living our daily lives in a place where Malaria is endemic and other nasties such as Dengue Fever, Sleeping Sickness, Yellow Fever, Cholera and Typhoid are known to exist, and have survived just fine so far. We don’t spend our lives fretting about getting some nasty illness (though I did have a bad dream about Ebola once). We’ll take precautions for sure, but will not be losing much sleep over it.
Soma has just pointed out that having written the rather smug paragraph above, I guess I’ve now just pretty much guaranteed I’m going to get Swine Flu and, in fact most people reading this will now be hoping I do get it! If I do then, to quote one Facebook contributor, I’ll “get well soon or die trying”!
Friday, June 26, 2009
Coming and Going
We’re hitting the middle of another year and things have got rather busy. To be honest, what with the tasks piling up at work and the MBA needing ever more attention, I’m surprised Soma hasn’t walked in to our room and found me gibbering away in the foetal position. There’s still time, mind- July isn’t looking promising, so a dribbling Chubb is still a very real prospect!
There have been quite a few comings and goings in the past month. I’ve done both, with a trip to Kenya followed by a short visit to the UK for an MBA course. I do like coming back to the UK every so often, if nothing more than to see what is going on- the BBC news website only gives a glimpse of what is going on at home.
So what is going on? Well first of all it seems that a new law has been introduced requiring every TV programme to consist of a group of morons stuck together trying not to get voted off the show at the end. Switching on the TV, the first few programmes that came up were as follows:
The Apprentice- a group of people I wouldn’t let past any first round interview all trying to learn about business from the chap who did such a great job with Tottenham Hotspur all those years ago
Britain’s Got Talent- some form of 21st Century bear baiting where you find out that plain looking people can sing competently and that if you put enough pressure on kids they cry on stage
Some weird programme about socially inept people sharing a coach tour of Europe trying not to get slung off.
I hate to disparage UK telly, but I think I got more in depth entertainment from my newly purchased tongue scraper.
So what else? Well politically, everyone was going mad over MP expenses. Enough said about that one- when you get (not entirely serious) Tanzanian newspaper columnists suggesting that they should send anti corruption officials to help educate UK MPs on ethics, you know something is up! To be honest, people here view the whole issue with amazement and admiration, for the sheer outrage over what over here is viewed as fairly petty offences. In this part of the world, people are not likely to overstate a plane fare- more likely they’ll claim for a plane instead!
Anyway, the week in the UK passed uneventfully enough and I found myself back home pretty quickly, followed in short order by Phil and Daniella. It’s always good to have visitors, especially those who have never been here before. I do my best with this blog but unless someone visits us, there’s really no hope of getting them to understand exactly where and how we’re living.
They have just departed now having had what seemed to be a good time. They managed a few days in the Selous followed by a quick trip over to Zanzibar. Phil managed to strike gold by getting what seemed to be a nasty insect bite. When it was still pretty livid a few days later, we paid a bit more attention to it. Apart from getting some treatment at the pharmacist we discovered the truth that the nasty insect concerned was actually a nasty arachnid. It would seem that Phil has managed to secure bragging rights at all future parties by getting himself bitten by a tarantula!
Otherwise, life here has got easier as of late, especially in terms of commuting. The main reason for this is the start of the annual budget season. In fact the top level budget was released this week to general consternation. Two features jumped out at us. Firstly, there seems to be about $45m of revenue the source of which nobody has a clue about. Secondly, a staggering $3.9m has been allocated specifically for the provision of biscuits at meetings. Bet they don’t have a budget for moat cleaning though!
There are other consequences to the budget process. Every year around this time, the mass exodus of the public sector is accompanied by a huge reduction in traffic. Coincidentally enough, a substantial drop in the number of ladies of the night plying their trade along Ghuba Road has been noticed too. I try to look for the best in everyone but I’m sure the same happened this time last year! Work may not relent but at least I’m happy in the knowledge that the drive there and back work is going to be pretty easy from now until September. As for the Ghuba Road situation this of course is entirely moot for me- honest, Soma!
Another exodus, this time on a sadder note, was the departure of our neighbours Koji and Kasuko. This Japanese couple have been good friends to us in the time we’ve lived here. Equally importantly, their two young girls- Mimi and Migumi- have been good friends and excellent role models to our two boys. They had been hoping for another year here but, sadly, Koji’s employer decided to redeploy him back to Tokyo. I hope we’ll see them again soon- we’ve a trip to Japan in mind for sure.
Anyway, no house stays empty for long here and, sure enough, we met Koji’s replacement a week or so ago. Watanabe came up to introduce himself to us while Phil, Dirk and I were loitering over a braai. He seems like a nice chap- we’ll have to make sure he stays entertained ahead of his wife coming out to join him in August.
We’ve had a lot of ins and outs these past few weeks. We’ve enjoyed them all I think. Having said that, I think a short period of calm won’t hurt anyone!
There have been quite a few comings and goings in the past month. I’ve done both, with a trip to Kenya followed by a short visit to the UK for an MBA course. I do like coming back to the UK every so often, if nothing more than to see what is going on- the BBC news website only gives a glimpse of what is going on at home.
So what is going on? Well first of all it seems that a new law has been introduced requiring every TV programme to consist of a group of morons stuck together trying not to get voted off the show at the end. Switching on the TV, the first few programmes that came up were as follows:
The Apprentice- a group of people I wouldn’t let past any first round interview all trying to learn about business from the chap who did such a great job with Tottenham Hotspur all those years ago
Britain’s Got Talent- some form of 21st Century bear baiting where you find out that plain looking people can sing competently and that if you put enough pressure on kids they cry on stage
Some weird programme about socially inept people sharing a coach tour of Europe trying not to get slung off.
I hate to disparage UK telly, but I think I got more in depth entertainment from my newly purchased tongue scraper.
So what else? Well politically, everyone was going mad over MP expenses. Enough said about that one- when you get (not entirely serious) Tanzanian newspaper columnists suggesting that they should send anti corruption officials to help educate UK MPs on ethics, you know something is up! To be honest, people here view the whole issue with amazement and admiration, for the sheer outrage over what over here is viewed as fairly petty offences. In this part of the world, people are not likely to overstate a plane fare- more likely they’ll claim for a plane instead!
Anyway, the week in the UK passed uneventfully enough and I found myself back home pretty quickly, followed in short order by Phil and Daniella. It’s always good to have visitors, especially those who have never been here before. I do my best with this blog but unless someone visits us, there’s really no hope of getting them to understand exactly where and how we’re living.
They have just departed now having had what seemed to be a good time. They managed a few days in the Selous followed by a quick trip over to Zanzibar. Phil managed to strike gold by getting what seemed to be a nasty insect bite. When it was still pretty livid a few days later, we paid a bit more attention to it. Apart from getting some treatment at the pharmacist we discovered the truth that the nasty insect concerned was actually a nasty arachnid. It would seem that Phil has managed to secure bragging rights at all future parties by getting himself bitten by a tarantula!
Otherwise, life here has got easier as of late, especially in terms of commuting. The main reason for this is the start of the annual budget season. In fact the top level budget was released this week to general consternation. Two features jumped out at us. Firstly, there seems to be about $45m of revenue the source of which nobody has a clue about. Secondly, a staggering $3.9m has been allocated specifically for the provision of biscuits at meetings. Bet they don’t have a budget for moat cleaning though!
There are other consequences to the budget process. Every year around this time, the mass exodus of the public sector is accompanied by a huge reduction in traffic. Coincidentally enough, a substantial drop in the number of ladies of the night plying their trade along Ghuba Road has been noticed too. I try to look for the best in everyone but I’m sure the same happened this time last year! Work may not relent but at least I’m happy in the knowledge that the drive there and back work is going to be pretty easy from now until September. As for the Ghuba Road situation this of course is entirely moot for me- honest, Soma!
Another exodus, this time on a sadder note, was the departure of our neighbours Koji and Kasuko. This Japanese couple have been good friends to us in the time we’ve lived here. Equally importantly, their two young girls- Mimi and Migumi- have been good friends and excellent role models to our two boys. They had been hoping for another year here but, sadly, Koji’s employer decided to redeploy him back to Tokyo. I hope we’ll see them again soon- we’ve a trip to Japan in mind for sure.
Anyway, no house stays empty for long here and, sure enough, we met Koji’s replacement a week or so ago. Watanabe came up to introduce himself to us while Phil, Dirk and I were loitering over a braai. He seems like a nice chap- we’ll have to make sure he stays entertained ahead of his wife coming out to join him in August.
We’ve had a lot of ins and outs these past few weeks. We’ve enjoyed them all I think. Having said that, I think a short period of calm won’t hurt anyone!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Exploding Ordinance
A month on and I need to post to make sure I stay on target for at least one New Year resolution. It’s not easy really, since we’ve not been doing much travelling or exploring this month. By and large it’s been a month of domestic normality for us here in Dar es Salaam. That doesn’t mean there has been nothing happening here in Tanzania. Fortunately for us, however, the main event of May only gave us a glancing blow.
One morning I was working at or office in the centre of town when we heard a distant bang and felt the office shake. This in itself was nothing new- the building next door had been under construction for some time and we’d got used to a more or less constant rhythm of thudding as the pile- driving needed to create deep foundations proceeded.
A short while later, however, we realised that this was nothing normal. We started to hear rumours of explosions and, worryingly, the noise and damage seemed to be greater back on the Peninsula. Fortunately for my personal peace of mind, we found out quite quickly that whatever had happened had not happened there- nearest and dearest were safe at least.
News gradually filtered through, but, just like the bomb attacks we experienced in Cairo, the news was sketchy, adulterated by rumour and was generally trumped by the distant but more accurate reports of the international press. At first we found out that a major explosion had occurred at the Mbagalo barracks on the other side of town- about 25km from the centre. This made sense- the peninsula is on the other side of a bay from Mbagalo- the wave from the explosion would have passed uninterrupted over the water and hit Msasani quite loudly- hence the number of broken windows and frightened people over there.
We heard news on the radio that the government had advised all town centre offices to evacuate, so this we did straight away, heading to a smaller office we have on the Peninsula. From there, we finally found out what had happened, the BBC World Service doing us proud. The first question everyone wanted an answer to was what had caused the explosion. Although Tanzania is not exactly public enemy number one either to the West or to Al Qaeda, this has not conferred immunity from attack- the 1998 embassy bombing here was brought back into public consciousness for much of the day. If this was a deliberate attack, then the whole complexion of our lives here would change. Fortunately, we found out that the explosion was caused by a tragic accident. An army unit had been moving missiles ahead of deployment to Darfur apparently. Two missiles had knocked together and exploded, setting off other missiles into surrounding buildings.
Final numbers of affected people have not been issued. However, at least count the toll was something around 30 dead, 350 injured and over 4,000 rendered homeless- a pretty awful outcome.
Things have calmed down now. Inquiries are ongoing and we, like most companies in Dar have done our best to contribute to the efforts of the many agencies helping the poor people who have either lost family and friends or seen their homes vanish in smoke.
Life has returned to normal now. To be honest, with not much else happening over the past few weeks, we’ve been keeping an eye on events back in the UK. The expenses scandal has been the cause of much mirth in the office, with Tanzanian colleagues now gloating that their politicians are not as corrupt as ours. A couple of the Tanzanian papers have even started offering advice to Gordon Brown on dealing with political corruption! To be honest, I’m beginning to realise that politicians across the world are much of a muchness- you get to a position of power, you use it as much as you can it seems. It makes you appreciate those few politicians who do actually try to work for something greater than their own enrichment. I will always believe that the socialist policies of Tanzania’s first president, Julius Nyerere, were misguided and simply wrong. However, his refusal to accept the lavish trappings of power throughout his presidency set an ethical standard some of our so called “honourable members” might learn from. His ducks, sadly had to forego the level of housing that those fortunate enough to belong to a British MP enjoy.
It does seem a bit odd the way news travels only in one direction in the world. You get a few MPs playing the system in the UK, or a bunch of non celebrities decide to join the thousands who climb Kilimanjaro each year and the (non) news is pasted ad nauseam all over UK and Tanzanian press alike. We experience a huge explosion killing scores, injuring hundreds and rendering thousands homeless and nobody in the UK really notices!
One morning I was working at or office in the centre of town when we heard a distant bang and felt the office shake. This in itself was nothing new- the building next door had been under construction for some time and we’d got used to a more or less constant rhythm of thudding as the pile- driving needed to create deep foundations proceeded.
A short while later, however, we realised that this was nothing normal. We started to hear rumours of explosions and, worryingly, the noise and damage seemed to be greater back on the Peninsula. Fortunately for my personal peace of mind, we found out quite quickly that whatever had happened had not happened there- nearest and dearest were safe at least.
News gradually filtered through, but, just like the bomb attacks we experienced in Cairo, the news was sketchy, adulterated by rumour and was generally trumped by the distant but more accurate reports of the international press. At first we found out that a major explosion had occurred at the Mbagalo barracks on the other side of town- about 25km from the centre. This made sense- the peninsula is on the other side of a bay from Mbagalo- the wave from the explosion would have passed uninterrupted over the water and hit Msasani quite loudly- hence the number of broken windows and frightened people over there.
We heard news on the radio that the government had advised all town centre offices to evacuate, so this we did straight away, heading to a smaller office we have on the Peninsula. From there, we finally found out what had happened, the BBC World Service doing us proud. The first question everyone wanted an answer to was what had caused the explosion. Although Tanzania is not exactly public enemy number one either to the West or to Al Qaeda, this has not conferred immunity from attack- the 1998 embassy bombing here was brought back into public consciousness for much of the day. If this was a deliberate attack, then the whole complexion of our lives here would change. Fortunately, we found out that the explosion was caused by a tragic accident. An army unit had been moving missiles ahead of deployment to Darfur apparently. Two missiles had knocked together and exploded, setting off other missiles into surrounding buildings.
Final numbers of affected people have not been issued. However, at least count the toll was something around 30 dead, 350 injured and over 4,000 rendered homeless- a pretty awful outcome.
Things have calmed down now. Inquiries are ongoing and we, like most companies in Dar have done our best to contribute to the efforts of the many agencies helping the poor people who have either lost family and friends or seen their homes vanish in smoke.
Life has returned to normal now. To be honest, with not much else happening over the past few weeks, we’ve been keeping an eye on events back in the UK. The expenses scandal has been the cause of much mirth in the office, with Tanzanian colleagues now gloating that their politicians are not as corrupt as ours. A couple of the Tanzanian papers have even started offering advice to Gordon Brown on dealing with political corruption! To be honest, I’m beginning to realise that politicians across the world are much of a muchness- you get to a position of power, you use it as much as you can it seems. It makes you appreciate those few politicians who do actually try to work for something greater than their own enrichment. I will always believe that the socialist policies of Tanzania’s first president, Julius Nyerere, were misguided and simply wrong. However, his refusal to accept the lavish trappings of power throughout his presidency set an ethical standard some of our so called “honourable members” might learn from. His ducks, sadly had to forego the level of housing that those fortunate enough to belong to a British MP enjoy.
It does seem a bit odd the way news travels only in one direction in the world. You get a few MPs playing the system in the UK, or a bunch of non celebrities decide to join the thousands who climb Kilimanjaro each year and the (non) news is pasted ad nauseam all over UK and Tanzanian press alike. We experience a huge explosion killing scores, injuring hundreds and rendering thousands homeless and nobody in the UK really notices!
Monday, April 27, 2009
What we did in April
Right, we’re getting close to the end of a month and once more I’m perilously close to breaking my target of at least one posting a month. Given that we’re all stuck indoors on a rainy day, now seems like as good a time as any to look back over April. The single most exciting thing we did this month was to pay a visit to Lushoto, a small town in the hills about seven hours drive north of here.
When we first arrived in Tanzania, almost a year and a half ago, Soma and I made a promise to ourselves that we would not make the same mistake that we’d made in Egypt. In the three years we spent in Cairo, we really did very little in the way of exploring the country. In part this was due to the fact that I’d already been to Egypt as a student. In part it was due to the arrival of Rohan and the upheavals of his first years of life. However, a large factor was undeniably our own inertia. By the time we found out we were leaving, it was too late- I was too busy selling off the business to go on holidays much so we were restricted to a few visits to Ain Sukhna and that memorable visit to the desert.
Not this time! We decided from the beginning to assume that our stay here could end without warning and to make sure that if that were to be the case, that we’d visited as much of Tanzania as we could. I guess we could still do better but so far we’ve not done too badly. Last year we managed Mikumi, Zanzibar, Ngorongoro (twice) and the Serengeti- a fine start. The famous stuff now behind us, we’ve decided to use 2009 to explore the lesser known, but equally beautiful areas of Tanzania- to stray a little further from the beaten track.
The Muller Lodge at Lushoto
The boys and I in the forests close to Lushoto
The market at Lushoto
We moved on from Lushoto to a small settlement called Irente. Apart from a hotel and a few farms, there is not much in Irente. Not much apart from some beautiful countryside and the famous Viewpoint. The Viewpoint is a rocky outcrop marking the point at which the Usambara Mountains very abruptly give way to the spectacular flat plains of the Rift Valley. Walking close to the edge (which in very un- British style was not cordoned off by fences or railings) gave me both vertigo and a serious parental need to hold the boys very close indeed! The view was spectacular and was heightened by the knowledge that falling off the ledge would result in a straight drop of about a mile! Apparently the Viewpoint was the inspiration for Pride Rock as shown in the Lion King. Anyone (parents of small kids are a sure bet) who has seen the film can look at the photo below and make up their own minds!
The Viewpoint at Irente
The Maasai Valley- picture taken from up in the clouds at the Irente Viewpoint.
When we first arrived in Tanzania, almost a year and a half ago, Soma and I made a promise to ourselves that we would not make the same mistake that we’d made in Egypt. In the three years we spent in Cairo, we really did very little in the way of exploring the country. In part this was due to the fact that I’d already been to Egypt as a student. In part it was due to the arrival of Rohan and the upheavals of his first years of life. However, a large factor was undeniably our own inertia. By the time we found out we were leaving, it was too late- I was too busy selling off the business to go on holidays much so we were restricted to a few visits to Ain Sukhna and that memorable visit to the desert.
Not this time! We decided from the beginning to assume that our stay here could end without warning and to make sure that if that were to be the case, that we’d visited as much of Tanzania as we could. I guess we could still do better but so far we’ve not done too badly. Last year we managed Mikumi, Zanzibar, Ngorongoro (twice) and the Serengeti- a fine start. The famous stuff now behind us, we’ve decided to use 2009 to explore the lesser known, but equally beautiful areas of Tanzania- to stray a little further from the beaten track.
View of the Usambara Mountains- taken from the waterfalls at Soni
The town of Lushoto is the largest settlement in the Usambara Mountains, a range of mountains which, along with the Udzungwas and the Ulugurus form the Eastern Arc Mountain Range. To get there takes a long but relatively simple drive. Heading west out of Dar, you drive about 100km to a small village called Chalinze. From there you drive north for another few hours to a small town called Segera. At that point, hopefully by then full of the excellent goat meat soup they do there, you head west along the main road connecting Tanga to the cities of Moshi and Arusha. A right turn at the small village of Mombo takes you up into the mountains and another hour or so of steep winding roads finally gets you to Lushoto. All in all, it’s a long but pleasant drive.
The Usambara region and its people have an interesting history, and in many ways served as inspiration for the Disney movie “The Lion King”.
The local Sambaa people have traditionally been farmers, not herders like their more famous Maasai counterparts. The Sambaa were for some time a fairly disparate group, until they were unified in the 18th century by a chief known as Mbega. Mgega holds a special place in the hearts of the local people- an improved version of Robin Hood who managed to give to the poor without stealing from the rich. Cheated of his rightful place as chief, he became a famous and respected hunter. At some point, the Sambaa experienced problems with an infestation of wild pigs and asked Mbega to help. Mbega came back and hunted down the pigs. This meant that farmers could farm once more but also resulted in huge amounts of pork being distributed by Mbega to the hungry local people.
Mbega was respected both as a huntsman and as a diplomat and soon took a leadership position. During his reign, Mbega managed to unify the various Sambaa clans into a large and powerful tribe. By this achievement, Mbega became known as Simbawene- the Lion King. Sadly, the fortunes of the Sambaa did not last. By the mid 19th century they had been supplanted by other tribes. The title Simbawene remains to this day however, and is given to the direct descendents of Mbega. The current Simbawene has no formal power but is respected by the Sambaa- a people’s prince in effect.
By the early 20th century, the area had been pacified the occupying power of the time- Germany. Its cool, refreshing climate meant that it rapidly became a favoured place of recuperation for the occupying powers and was even mooted as possible location for a new capital. Soma has pointed out that in many ways, Lushoto was to the Germans what her home town of Pune was to the British- a place in the mountains to escape the heat of the rest of the country. A lot of the buildings there have a strong German influence- although all of Tanganyika was in fact ruled by Germany, you don’t really get the same feel in places such as Dar.
We spent a morning driving up from Dar and, shortly after midday arrived at our hotel, the beautiful but utterly out of place Muller Lodge. I say out of place because the lodge truly belongs in the Alps or the Black Forest- seeing it in the middle of Tanzania was simply odd!
The Usambara region and its people have an interesting history, and in many ways served as inspiration for the Disney movie “The Lion King”.
The local Sambaa people have traditionally been farmers, not herders like their more famous Maasai counterparts. The Sambaa were for some time a fairly disparate group, until they were unified in the 18th century by a chief known as Mbega. Mgega holds a special place in the hearts of the local people- an improved version of Robin Hood who managed to give to the poor without stealing from the rich. Cheated of his rightful place as chief, he became a famous and respected hunter. At some point, the Sambaa experienced problems with an infestation of wild pigs and asked Mbega to help. Mbega came back and hunted down the pigs. This meant that farmers could farm once more but also resulted in huge amounts of pork being distributed by Mbega to the hungry local people.
Mbega was respected both as a huntsman and as a diplomat and soon took a leadership position. During his reign, Mbega managed to unify the various Sambaa clans into a large and powerful tribe. By this achievement, Mbega became known as Simbawene- the Lion King. Sadly, the fortunes of the Sambaa did not last. By the mid 19th century they had been supplanted by other tribes. The title Simbawene remains to this day however, and is given to the direct descendents of Mbega. The current Simbawene has no formal power but is respected by the Sambaa- a people’s prince in effect.
By the early 20th century, the area had been pacified the occupying power of the time- Germany. Its cool, refreshing climate meant that it rapidly became a favoured place of recuperation for the occupying powers and was even mooted as possible location for a new capital. Soma has pointed out that in many ways, Lushoto was to the Germans what her home town of Pune was to the British- a place in the mountains to escape the heat of the rest of the country. A lot of the buildings there have a strong German influence- although all of Tanganyika was in fact ruled by Germany, you don’t really get the same feel in places such as Dar.
We spent a morning driving up from Dar and, shortly after midday arrived at our hotel, the beautiful but utterly out of place Muller Lodge. I say out of place because the lodge truly belongs in the Alps or the Black Forest- seeing it in the middle of Tanzania was simply odd!
The Muller Lodge at Lushoto
We spent the afternoon close by the lodge, walking through some of the neighbouring villages, enjoying the cool air and the rain.
The boys and I in the forests close to Lushoto
With it only being a long weekend away, we only had one full day, Sunday, in Lushoto. We were up and out bright and early to visit the famous market. Sadly the market was a shadow of its usual self. The lack of rains apparently have resulted in very poor crop yields this year so there is very little produce on sale- the farmers are using almost all their crops to feed themselves leaving very little else. As with everyone else in the country, the people of Lushoto are praying for rain- lets just hope the recent rainy days here in Dar are shared elsewhere in the country and can last a decent while. It seems odd for a Brit to be banging on for post after post hoping for rain (rather than moaning about it as would be traditional) but when the sunny days mean people go without food and power, a little rain is welcome.
The market at Lushoto
We moved on from Lushoto to a small settlement called Irente. Apart from a hotel and a few farms, there is not much in Irente. Not much apart from some beautiful countryside and the famous Viewpoint. The Viewpoint is a rocky outcrop marking the point at which the Usambara Mountains very abruptly give way to the spectacular flat plains of the Rift Valley. Walking close to the edge (which in very un- British style was not cordoned off by fences or railings) gave me both vertigo and a serious parental need to hold the boys very close indeed! The view was spectacular and was heightened by the knowledge that falling off the ledge would result in a straight drop of about a mile! Apparently the Viewpoint was the inspiration for Pride Rock as shown in the Lion King. Anyone (parents of small kids are a sure bet) who has seen the film can look at the photo below and make up their own minds!
The Viewpoint at Irente
We had lunch at a nearby farm- dark bread, cheese and local fruit jam (still getting that German feel!) before heading back in the early afternoon. I spent the afternoon teaching Kieran how to fish- he very proudly notched up six catches- before settling in for the evening.
The Maasai Valley- picture taken from up in the clouds at the Irente Viewpoint.
We all really enjoyed the short break- a real change from Dar for sure. The drive is a bit long but when you go through some spectacular scenery, it doesn’t seem quite so tough! I’m not sure where in Tanzania we’ll go next- one of the farms at Iringa or Mufindi perhaps- time will tell.
April is almost done with, then. Soma and Rohan have been to and come back from the UK. Kieran and I got to spend a happy week together discovering both each other and in Kieran’s case, the joys of Star Wars.
We more or less ended the month the other night with the annual St George’s Ball. Having been expat for several years now, we’re getting a bit blasé about these balls- a good four or so each year regardless of where we live! We had a great time as usual- though the head is still a little fragile as I write. I did manage to achieve one New Year’s resolution though- after hours of frustration and rage, I finally figured out how to tie my own bow tie. I have finally become a man of the world!
April is almost done with, then. Soma and Rohan have been to and come back from the UK. Kieran and I got to spend a happy week together discovering both each other and in Kieran’s case, the joys of Star Wars.
We more or less ended the month the other night with the annual St George’s Ball. Having been expat for several years now, we’re getting a bit blasé about these balls- a good four or so each year regardless of where we live! We had a great time as usual- though the head is still a little fragile as I write. I did manage to achieve one New Year’s resolution though- after hours of frustration and rage, I finally figured out how to tie my own bow tie. I have finally become a man of the world!
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Meaning of Bongo
What does “Bongo” mean? This is a question that has been nagging me for a while now. Before coming to Tanzania, I understood “Bongo Bongo Land” to be a perjorative term for some generic African country. It confused me, therefore, to see the word used pretty freely here. In Tanzania, “Bongo” is a slang term for the city of Dar es Salaam- there is a local kind of hiphop music called “Bongo Flava” and a local radio station called Bongo Radio. Just like Cairenes always refer to Cairo as Misr (“Egypt”), the people here don’t live in Dar, they live in Bongo!
I asked a Tanzanian colleague where the word came from. Apparently “Bongo” is a slang word close to the English “nous”. If someone has bongo, it means they are streetwise and smart. Apparently when economic conditions reached a major low in the 1980s, jobs were hard to come by and many were penniless. To survive in these conditions, you needed that little bit extra- you got by on your wits. Dar es Salaam became the city of wits and has been called Bongo ever since!
You can still see that entrepreneurial spirit here. Although business conditions for large investors are challenging to say the least, I know plenty of people who have their own small businesses and swear blind that this place is a goldmine for the smart entrepreneur. Not that this always means that the business is either legal or ethical. One example of bongo I suppose is the thriving pirate DVD business. This is not illegal as far as I know, and traders seem to operate openly all over the place. For less than $5 you can get a reasonable quality compilation DVD with every James Bond film from Dr No to Quantum of Solace on it. I can honestly say that the day after its release in London I was watching a reasonable quality version of Slumdog Millionaire (cost $2.50) here in Dar. In fact the larger distributors of the DVDs have now convinced themselves of their respectability to the extent that they are even copying the attempts of the genuine producers to counter dodgy copies. The last DVD I got featured an earnest warning by the counterfeiter to only buy copies with a branded logo- any other pirate DVD would be substandard and would result in a poorer viewing experience! You've got to admire the chutzpah if nothing else!
Now before the pitchforks come out and I get accused of undermining young aspiring producers, I have to say in principle those accusations are totally right. I would always prefer to buy the genuine article; the problem is that after more than a year of scouring the city, I’ve not yet found an outlet here selling genuine DVDs. The most respectable shop I’ve found- in a highly respected upmarket expat mall on the Peninsula- sells the same Chinese copies as the guy I see in the car park outside- only with more of a markup for overhead.
I try my best to salve my conscience by making sure we load up on genuine DVDs any time we travel- the sad fact of life, however, is that the DVD market here seems to be benefiting Chinese GDP way more than that of Hollywood, Bollywood or even Nollywood.
Now we can’t assume, however, that everyone here is smart. As with anywhere else in the world, you always have the public sector to provide an antidote to any sense of wit and common sense.
The main story in today’s paper covers another loss from the Bank of Tanzania. Unlike previous losses, however, this does not seem to be a case of embezzlement or complex fraud. Quite simply, a major consignment of 10,000 shilling notes (total value somewhere in the billions) was delivered from the printers in Germany. Upon arrival at Dar es Salaam airport, you’d expect perhaps that the notes would be kept under armed guard, cleared and then taken under strictest security to the Bank of Tanzania. Right? Wrong!
Sadly, the notes arrived quite late on an evening- the evening before the Prophet’s birthday, a public holiday here. This being the case, the notes were left at the airport while everyone headed off for a day’s holiday. When they came back to pick up the notes a day or so later, they noticed that there seemed to be, well, not quite as many of them as they’d left. The image of some confused official saying “well they were there when I left them” would be pretty funny if it wasn’t for the case that this is a country that needs every penny it can get. Leaving billions of shillings unattended at an airport for a day is not what an impoverished country ought to be doing- not so much bongo as dumbo!
So, with one example of “Bongo” and one of “Dumbo” it seems pretty appropriate to finish with a story from another colleague of an example of both combined. Apparently there was a story that did the rounds in Tanzania a few years ago of a guy who managed to buy a pretty hefty amount of gold using fake money. He was very pleased with his achievement until he tried to sell the gold and found that it was fake gold- that surely has to be a good analogy for something going on around these parts!
Anyway, for good or bad, life here continues in its own way. We’re still waiting with baited breath to see what kind of rainy season we’re going to get this time. There are still ructions in the power industry but one thing everyone seems to agree on is that Tanzania is not in any state to cope with the power crunch that will inevitably accompany poor rains. Amid the recriminations flying around between parliamentarians, TANESCO and the Ministry, I guess everyone in bongo and beyond is fervently praying for good rains this year.
I asked a Tanzanian colleague where the word came from. Apparently “Bongo” is a slang word close to the English “nous”. If someone has bongo, it means they are streetwise and smart. Apparently when economic conditions reached a major low in the 1980s, jobs were hard to come by and many were penniless. To survive in these conditions, you needed that little bit extra- you got by on your wits. Dar es Salaam became the city of wits and has been called Bongo ever since!
You can still see that entrepreneurial spirit here. Although business conditions for large investors are challenging to say the least, I know plenty of people who have their own small businesses and swear blind that this place is a goldmine for the smart entrepreneur. Not that this always means that the business is either legal or ethical. One example of bongo I suppose is the thriving pirate DVD business. This is not illegal as far as I know, and traders seem to operate openly all over the place. For less than $5 you can get a reasonable quality compilation DVD with every James Bond film from Dr No to Quantum of Solace on it. I can honestly say that the day after its release in London I was watching a reasonable quality version of Slumdog Millionaire (cost $2.50) here in Dar. In fact the larger distributors of the DVDs have now convinced themselves of their respectability to the extent that they are even copying the attempts of the genuine producers to counter dodgy copies. The last DVD I got featured an earnest warning by the counterfeiter to only buy copies with a branded logo- any other pirate DVD would be substandard and would result in a poorer viewing experience! You've got to admire the chutzpah if nothing else!
Now before the pitchforks come out and I get accused of undermining young aspiring producers, I have to say in principle those accusations are totally right. I would always prefer to buy the genuine article; the problem is that after more than a year of scouring the city, I’ve not yet found an outlet here selling genuine DVDs. The most respectable shop I’ve found- in a highly respected upmarket expat mall on the Peninsula- sells the same Chinese copies as the guy I see in the car park outside- only with more of a markup for overhead.
I try my best to salve my conscience by making sure we load up on genuine DVDs any time we travel- the sad fact of life, however, is that the DVD market here seems to be benefiting Chinese GDP way more than that of Hollywood, Bollywood or even Nollywood.
Now we can’t assume, however, that everyone here is smart. As with anywhere else in the world, you always have the public sector to provide an antidote to any sense of wit and common sense.
The main story in today’s paper covers another loss from the Bank of Tanzania. Unlike previous losses, however, this does not seem to be a case of embezzlement or complex fraud. Quite simply, a major consignment of 10,000 shilling notes (total value somewhere in the billions) was delivered from the printers in Germany. Upon arrival at Dar es Salaam airport, you’d expect perhaps that the notes would be kept under armed guard, cleared and then taken under strictest security to the Bank of Tanzania. Right? Wrong!
Sadly, the notes arrived quite late on an evening- the evening before the Prophet’s birthday, a public holiday here. This being the case, the notes were left at the airport while everyone headed off for a day’s holiday. When they came back to pick up the notes a day or so later, they noticed that there seemed to be, well, not quite as many of them as they’d left. The image of some confused official saying “well they were there when I left them” would be pretty funny if it wasn’t for the case that this is a country that needs every penny it can get. Leaving billions of shillings unattended at an airport for a day is not what an impoverished country ought to be doing- not so much bongo as dumbo!
So, with one example of “Bongo” and one of “Dumbo” it seems pretty appropriate to finish with a story from another colleague of an example of both combined. Apparently there was a story that did the rounds in Tanzania a few years ago of a guy who managed to buy a pretty hefty amount of gold using fake money. He was very pleased with his achievement until he tried to sell the gold and found that it was fake gold- that surely has to be a good analogy for something going on around these parts!
Anyway, for good or bad, life here continues in its own way. We’re still waiting with baited breath to see what kind of rainy season we’re going to get this time. There are still ructions in the power industry but one thing everyone seems to agree on is that Tanzania is not in any state to cope with the power crunch that will inevitably accompany poor rains. Amid the recriminations flying around between parliamentarians, TANESCO and the Ministry, I guess everyone in bongo and beyond is fervently praying for good rains this year.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Phil and Daniella Get Married
“I want to go back home to Africa” were the encouraging words from Kieran as we started our first stroll around Cambridge. Surprisingly, this was not an expression of the intense disappointment of the first love of his life marrying his uncle Phil. He’d taken that quite well, the pain eased perhaps by the fact that Daniella has now been replaced by a new girlfriend. No- this was all about the cold weather.
To be fair, the flight from Tanzania to the UK had resulted in a drop in temperature of something close to thirty degrees so perhaps he had a right to complain. Having said that, he was wrapped up in ski jackets, hat and gloves and had attached himself to me in such a way as to get both hands inside my coat. He was being, perhaps, ever so slightly feeble.
Thus it was that last month we headed back to a slightly above zero UK for the wedding of my brother Phil, the second of our generation (after me, of course) to manage inexplicably to convince a woman way out of his league to spend the rest of her days with him.
We arrived on the Thursday, well in time for the Saturday wedding, having experimented with flying SwissAir for the first time. The usual long flight out of Africa (prehistoric man would have managed it faster) followed by a stressy dash through Zurich airport to make the half hour connection. Before long though, we were making our final approach into City Airport, flying over our old house in Erith- a nostalgic experience enhanced by the relief in seeing that the place was still truly a bombsite and selling up had been a masterstroke after all.
A short drive later and there we were, in Cambridge- in temperature, architecture, in fact in all respects a world away from the hot and sticky African city we’d left the previous day. Thursday passed quite quickly- shopping, eating and drinking, before we met up with Daniella’s father, Mike, and his wife for a few drinks. Fortunately we’d booked a mini apartment so were able to keep on partying well after the boys were in bed. We stayed up into the wee small hours with Mike, Daniella’s brother Eric and a number of the bridesmaids, steadily working our way through the bottle of whisky I’d bought as a greeting present. Hours later, with Daniella’s father fast asleep in a chair and the bottle more or less drained, it was clear that this manifestation of the Chubb- Rossi combo had got off to a pretty promising start and we all headed off to bed.
Anyway, rather than going through this on an hour by hour basis, let’s just stick to the important bits. We’ll take it as read that there were lots of enjoyable chats with friends and family in varying states of sobriety, punctuated by shopping expeditions to find the millionth thing “we didn’t have but absolutely couldn’t do without”.
Friday afternoon saw us at the wedding rehearsal. There we met the vicar for the first time- a pretty cool combination of biker and priest who, had either of us been Christian, would have been most welcome to officiate at my and Soma’s wedding. We had prolonged polite negotiations over which order the procession should enter in, before deciding that the American way was best and that the first couple up the aisle would be myself and a young lady called Sarah. I have to say, going up the aisle with a tall blonde lady was a bit of a change, being married as I am to a short Indian.
The procession and the rehearsal went very well indeed. Kieran behaved himself impeccably and listened quietly to all that was going on, unlike his grandfather who was told off by our biker vicar for talking in class!
A day later we were doing it for real. Kieran, Jake, Eric and myself were there nice and early ready to hand out programmes and welcome guests into the Girton College chapel. All of us were dressed in our finery, including Kieran, who was possibly as smart as he’s ever been in his life. He felt very important indeed in his dual role of usher and doorstop (we couldn’t keep the chapel door from closing violently so we wedged Kieran against it). On the whole he did very well indeed. One slight failure came about when he stepped away from the door and almost succeeded in braining his Great- Great Aunt Lorna, but even she took it all in good humour. After the inevitable delay, bride and bridesmaids turned up looking sensational and the fun began.
As with most weddings, the ceremony was both poignant and brief- not brief enough for Rohan who, delighting in the noise made by turning the digital camera on and off was escorted from the chapel by his mother. Before long, though, the new husband and wife and their assorted guests were in an adjoining room sipping champagne. The reception was fun too- although the college itself is obviously quite an austere place, some of the formality had been taken away by naming all the tables after planets from Star Wars. We were lucky enough to be placed on the Death Star- an improvement for me in terms of Star Wars locations. The last I’d visited was Tatooine (not just a planet but a small town in Tunisia) about 14 years ago and I had my shorts stolen by a dodgy hotel owner!
The speeches were good, since both Mike and Jake understood that defining quality of a good speech is brevity. I guess the toughest speech is always the best man’s speech since so much expectation is attached to it. Jake did a really good effort and managed to walk that tightrope of trying to be funny without offending too many people. At least I now realise just what a good choice of wife Phil made; anyone who is happy to send porn magazines to soldiers on active duty in Afghanistan clearly understands a man’s true needs and is fine by me!
After much eating, drinking and dodgy folk dancing we headed off, happy in the knowledge that Phil was now a proper grown up, Daniella had been made an honest woman of, and that we’d met a great bunch of new friends. Although people always seem to leave weddings assuming they’ll meet up with the “other side” again sometime, I really hope that we do so this time. Mike travels a fair bit anyway, so I’m looking forward to seeing him and his wife come to East Africa sometime- apart from anything, there’s another bottle of scotch needing finishing off.
Anyway, we’re now back in Tanzania, with the wedding a happy memory. The photos Daniella and Phil had made are great too, taken by a genius photographer called Mark Wallis- check him out online at www.markwallisphoto.com if you’re getting married. Okay, some of the pictures of me show the unavoidable truth that I now have a bald patch the size of the hole in the ozone layer, but who is ever happy at photos of themselves anyway? Way more importantly, the pictures show a day in which two super people, thoughtful enough to send hardcore porn to Afghanistan, finally tied the knot. Congratulations both and see you here soon!
To be fair, the flight from Tanzania to the UK had resulted in a drop in temperature of something close to thirty degrees so perhaps he had a right to complain. Having said that, he was wrapped up in ski jackets, hat and gloves and had attached himself to me in such a way as to get both hands inside my coat. He was being, perhaps, ever so slightly feeble.
Thus it was that last month we headed back to a slightly above zero UK for the wedding of my brother Phil, the second of our generation (after me, of course) to manage inexplicably to convince a woman way out of his league to spend the rest of her days with him.
We arrived on the Thursday, well in time for the Saturday wedding, having experimented with flying SwissAir for the first time. The usual long flight out of Africa (prehistoric man would have managed it faster) followed by a stressy dash through Zurich airport to make the half hour connection. Before long though, we were making our final approach into City Airport, flying over our old house in Erith- a nostalgic experience enhanced by the relief in seeing that the place was still truly a bombsite and selling up had been a masterstroke after all.
A short drive later and there we were, in Cambridge- in temperature, architecture, in fact in all respects a world away from the hot and sticky African city we’d left the previous day. Thursday passed quite quickly- shopping, eating and drinking, before we met up with Daniella’s father, Mike, and his wife for a few drinks. Fortunately we’d booked a mini apartment so were able to keep on partying well after the boys were in bed. We stayed up into the wee small hours with Mike, Daniella’s brother Eric and a number of the bridesmaids, steadily working our way through the bottle of whisky I’d bought as a greeting present. Hours later, with Daniella’s father fast asleep in a chair and the bottle more or less drained, it was clear that this manifestation of the Chubb- Rossi combo had got off to a pretty promising start and we all headed off to bed.
Anyway, rather than going through this on an hour by hour basis, let’s just stick to the important bits. We’ll take it as read that there were lots of enjoyable chats with friends and family in varying states of sobriety, punctuated by shopping expeditions to find the millionth thing “we didn’t have but absolutely couldn’t do without”.
Friday afternoon saw us at the wedding rehearsal. There we met the vicar for the first time- a pretty cool combination of biker and priest who, had either of us been Christian, would have been most welcome to officiate at my and Soma’s wedding. We had prolonged polite negotiations over which order the procession should enter in, before deciding that the American way was best and that the first couple up the aisle would be myself and a young lady called Sarah. I have to say, going up the aisle with a tall blonde lady was a bit of a change, being married as I am to a short Indian.
The procession and the rehearsal went very well indeed. Kieran behaved himself impeccably and listened quietly to all that was going on, unlike his grandfather who was told off by our biker vicar for talking in class!
A day later we were doing it for real. Kieran, Jake, Eric and myself were there nice and early ready to hand out programmes and welcome guests into the Girton College chapel. All of us were dressed in our finery, including Kieran, who was possibly as smart as he’s ever been in his life. He felt very important indeed in his dual role of usher and doorstop (we couldn’t keep the chapel door from closing violently so we wedged Kieran against it). On the whole he did very well indeed. One slight failure came about when he stepped away from the door and almost succeeded in braining his Great- Great Aunt Lorna, but even she took it all in good humour. After the inevitable delay, bride and bridesmaids turned up looking sensational and the fun began.
As with most weddings, the ceremony was both poignant and brief- not brief enough for Rohan who, delighting in the noise made by turning the digital camera on and off was escorted from the chapel by his mother. Before long, though, the new husband and wife and their assorted guests were in an adjoining room sipping champagne. The reception was fun too- although the college itself is obviously quite an austere place, some of the formality had been taken away by naming all the tables after planets from Star Wars. We were lucky enough to be placed on the Death Star- an improvement for me in terms of Star Wars locations. The last I’d visited was Tatooine (not just a planet but a small town in Tunisia) about 14 years ago and I had my shorts stolen by a dodgy hotel owner!
The speeches were good, since both Mike and Jake understood that defining quality of a good speech is brevity. I guess the toughest speech is always the best man’s speech since so much expectation is attached to it. Jake did a really good effort and managed to walk that tightrope of trying to be funny without offending too many people. At least I now realise just what a good choice of wife Phil made; anyone who is happy to send porn magazines to soldiers on active duty in Afghanistan clearly understands a man’s true needs and is fine by me!
After much eating, drinking and dodgy folk dancing we headed off, happy in the knowledge that Phil was now a proper grown up, Daniella had been made an honest woman of, and that we’d met a great bunch of new friends. Although people always seem to leave weddings assuming they’ll meet up with the “other side” again sometime, I really hope that we do so this time. Mike travels a fair bit anyway, so I’m looking forward to seeing him and his wife come to East Africa sometime- apart from anything, there’s another bottle of scotch needing finishing off.
Anyway, we’re now back in Tanzania, with the wedding a happy memory. The photos Daniella and Phil had made are great too, taken by a genius photographer called Mark Wallis- check him out online at www.markwallisphoto.com if you’re getting married. Okay, some of the pictures of me show the unavoidable truth that I now have a bald patch the size of the hole in the ozone layer, but who is ever happy at photos of themselves anyway? Way more importantly, the pictures show a day in which two super people, thoughtful enough to send hardcore porn to Afghanistan, finally tied the knot. Congratulations both and see you here soon!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Immigration, Aid and Condoms
I promised myself I’d write once more before our quick trip to England. I promised this last week and now we’re only a day away from travelling, so I guess it’s time to get typing.
As I write, the sky outside is pretty grey and overcast. Not as foreboding as it seems to be in the UK, mind- snow is a pretty unlikely phenomenon anywhere in Tanzania other than the top few hundred metres of Kilimanjaro. However, we do seem to be getting a rare spot of rain.
The weather here this year has been a bit strange. As I’ve written before, we normally get a short rainy season followed a few months later by the main rains. This year, however, the short rains appear to have almost entirely failed. We’ve had a few major rainfalls- generally an hour or so of monsoon like rains- but then nothing. I’m not sure what that means for the main rains- if they fail however then things really get tough- severe power shortages for a start, given that most electricity comes from the dams across the country.
The weather here hasn’t been as bad as the UK though. Every time I check the BBC or call home it seems as if the world is coming to a snowy, icy end. I’m quite looking forward to the novelty of feeling cold- I’ve not felt anything below 20 degrees Celsius in years. We’re painfully aware, however, that the weather is cold and that simply wearing longer shorts and thicker T Shirts probably won’t cut the mustard. Soma has been running round her friends trying to find winter clothing- for obvious reasons not something readily available in the shops here!
Life in the UK seems pretty miserable right now- from reading the news, people seem to be pretty down on more or less everything and everyone. Bankers seem to have a pretty bad press these days and, more relevant to me, so do foreign workers.
The recent protests in the UK have certainly not gone unnoticed over here and make rather uncomfortable reading for expatriate Britons. “British Jobs for British People” seems to be all the rage, but the obvious flipside appears to have escaped many people. I am also a fan of “British Jobs for British People” but, in at least one instance, I am a far bigger fan of “Tanzanian Jobs for British People”. If heavy restrictions were to be placed globally on foreign workers, then clearly a lot of Britons will be heading home.
Recent figures point to there being about 2.3 million foreign workers currently in the UK. Losing them would logically create the same number of vacancies. However, given that even back in 2006, the total estimated UK expatriate population exceeded 5.5 million, competition for these new vacancies might be a little tight should all of us expats flood back home!
Anyway, life in Tanzania moves on. We have our own issues here, not least the perennial issues of development aid and corruption. I’m not going to talk much about corruption other than that it definitely exists here, there is a major drive against it and that it permeates society.
What is sad, however, is when corruption mixes with development aid. Development funding is always emotional since you are dealing with one group of people giving to another. When that process is undermined, you upset those who have given and you ignore those who were meant to receive.
One common example came a few weeks ago, when Soma was shopping in Kariakoo- in Dar city centre. Now the background to this was that a year or so ago, we were lucky enough to receive a state visit from the then President George W Bush. Unlike most parts of the world, the former president was largely popular here- his policies on Africa are recognised by and large to be positive as far as I know. Anyway, one result of the visit was the donation of 1 million free mosquito nets for the poor of Tanzania. Given the fact that malaria is both endemic and highly potent here, it is not surprising that this donation was very loudly praised here.
Anyway, was the donation used well? Who knows? One clue may be that Soma was approached by a street vendor offering prime mosquito nets marked as “ Donated to Tanzania by the people of the USA” for $10 a pop. Wonder how many of these freebies ever found their way to the intended recipients!
Corruption apart, I guess it’s not surprising that there is a huge disparity between the expectations of a donor and reality on the ground. The recipient community may be poor but they are human like anyone else and have unpredictable human reactions too- not always be in line with the mental image painted by the donor. We may like to think that our donations are life changing and are received by an enraptured community but, unsurprisingly, reality isn’t always that way. Whose problem is that, one might ask.
Perhaps a lot of these instances derive from our need as donors to feel good about giving- a very natural human need. People who donate to Soma’s deaf school like to know what their cash is being used for so always donate to a specific project, rather than to the less glamorous “general kitty” set aside for expenses such as unclogging the school toilets. All donations are admirable, and this is not meant to disparage anyone who gives to anyone else. However, human nature being what it is, sometimes the offers of help meet with unexpected responses- sometimes funny, sometimes a bit deflating.
I’ve certainly received a few reality checks here. I’ll sign off with one recent instance that comes to mind and brings to light the mismatch between this particular donor’s expectation and the actual response to a donation. We’ve been actively promoting an HIV/ AIDS awareness campaign on the island for some months now. Training has been held and the next step was to bring in masses of low cost (high quality mind!) condoms. I thought that, with condoms being both rare and expensive on the island, that this donation would be very well received indeed. One day in the office my assistant got a call from the island. He came to me looking a little embarrassed.
“It’s one of the villagers” he said “He’s asking about the condoms”
“What does he want?” I asked. “Is he happy?”
“Kind of” came the reply “He just had a small request though”
“Okay- what does he want?”
“Next time, could we make sure the condoms are ribbed or flavoured instead?”
I don’t think I’ve been that lost for words in a while. After much thought, I came up with the only addition I could think of to this intercultural exchange.
“What flavour do they want?”
As I write, the sky outside is pretty grey and overcast. Not as foreboding as it seems to be in the UK, mind- snow is a pretty unlikely phenomenon anywhere in Tanzania other than the top few hundred metres of Kilimanjaro. However, we do seem to be getting a rare spot of rain.
The weather here this year has been a bit strange. As I’ve written before, we normally get a short rainy season followed a few months later by the main rains. This year, however, the short rains appear to have almost entirely failed. We’ve had a few major rainfalls- generally an hour or so of monsoon like rains- but then nothing. I’m not sure what that means for the main rains- if they fail however then things really get tough- severe power shortages for a start, given that most electricity comes from the dams across the country.
The weather here hasn’t been as bad as the UK though. Every time I check the BBC or call home it seems as if the world is coming to a snowy, icy end. I’m quite looking forward to the novelty of feeling cold- I’ve not felt anything below 20 degrees Celsius in years. We’re painfully aware, however, that the weather is cold and that simply wearing longer shorts and thicker T Shirts probably won’t cut the mustard. Soma has been running round her friends trying to find winter clothing- for obvious reasons not something readily available in the shops here!
Life in the UK seems pretty miserable right now- from reading the news, people seem to be pretty down on more or less everything and everyone. Bankers seem to have a pretty bad press these days and, more relevant to me, so do foreign workers.
The recent protests in the UK have certainly not gone unnoticed over here and make rather uncomfortable reading for expatriate Britons. “British Jobs for British People” seems to be all the rage, but the obvious flipside appears to have escaped many people. I am also a fan of “British Jobs for British People” but, in at least one instance, I am a far bigger fan of “Tanzanian Jobs for British People”. If heavy restrictions were to be placed globally on foreign workers, then clearly a lot of Britons will be heading home.
Recent figures point to there being about 2.3 million foreign workers currently in the UK. Losing them would logically create the same number of vacancies. However, given that even back in 2006, the total estimated UK expatriate population exceeded 5.5 million, competition for these new vacancies might be a little tight should all of us expats flood back home!
Anyway, life in Tanzania moves on. We have our own issues here, not least the perennial issues of development aid and corruption. I’m not going to talk much about corruption other than that it definitely exists here, there is a major drive against it and that it permeates society.
What is sad, however, is when corruption mixes with development aid. Development funding is always emotional since you are dealing with one group of people giving to another. When that process is undermined, you upset those who have given and you ignore those who were meant to receive.
One common example came a few weeks ago, when Soma was shopping in Kariakoo- in Dar city centre. Now the background to this was that a year or so ago, we were lucky enough to receive a state visit from the then President George W Bush. Unlike most parts of the world, the former president was largely popular here- his policies on Africa are recognised by and large to be positive as far as I know. Anyway, one result of the visit was the donation of 1 million free mosquito nets for the poor of Tanzania. Given the fact that malaria is both endemic and highly potent here, it is not surprising that this donation was very loudly praised here.
Anyway, was the donation used well? Who knows? One clue may be that Soma was approached by a street vendor offering prime mosquito nets marked as “ Donated to Tanzania by the people of the USA” for $10 a pop. Wonder how many of these freebies ever found their way to the intended recipients!
Corruption apart, I guess it’s not surprising that there is a huge disparity between the expectations of a donor and reality on the ground. The recipient community may be poor but they are human like anyone else and have unpredictable human reactions too- not always be in line with the mental image painted by the donor. We may like to think that our donations are life changing and are received by an enraptured community but, unsurprisingly, reality isn’t always that way. Whose problem is that, one might ask.
Perhaps a lot of these instances derive from our need as donors to feel good about giving- a very natural human need. People who donate to Soma’s deaf school like to know what their cash is being used for so always donate to a specific project, rather than to the less glamorous “general kitty” set aside for expenses such as unclogging the school toilets. All donations are admirable, and this is not meant to disparage anyone who gives to anyone else. However, human nature being what it is, sometimes the offers of help meet with unexpected responses- sometimes funny, sometimes a bit deflating.
I’ve certainly received a few reality checks here. I’ll sign off with one recent instance that comes to mind and brings to light the mismatch between this particular donor’s expectation and the actual response to a donation. We’ve been actively promoting an HIV/ AIDS awareness campaign on the island for some months now. Training has been held and the next step was to bring in masses of low cost (high quality mind!) condoms. I thought that, with condoms being both rare and expensive on the island, that this donation would be very well received indeed. One day in the office my assistant got a call from the island. He came to me looking a little embarrassed.
“It’s one of the villagers” he said “He’s asking about the condoms”
“What does he want?” I asked. “Is he happy?”
“Kind of” came the reply “He just had a small request though”
“Okay- what does he want?”
“Next time, could we make sure the condoms are ribbed or flavoured instead?”
I don’t think I’ve been that lost for words in a while. After much thought, I came up with the only addition I could think of to this intercultural exchange.
“What flavour do they want?”
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Back in Tanzania
Our short holiday in India could not have come at a better time. Despite the fact that we travel a fair bit and have not stuck religiously to Tanzania since we arrived, I for one was getting a little stir crazy if truth be told. The minor annoyances that permeate life here were taking their toll and the many joys of life here were being taken for granted. As with a showbiz marriage entering that vital second week, Tanzania and I needed a short break from each other.
Coming back to blue skies, sunshine and clean air I felt a renewed appreciation for life here. Driving back from my first day at work I smiled my way through the inevitable traffic jams and even kept my new found calm when being queue jumped in the traffic jam by the millionth daladala- Dar’s charms were well and truly back in the ascendant and nothing was going to change that.
Looking back several weeks on, those feelings still haven’t changed. This is, however a minor miracle given the phenomenal efforts of Tanzanian life to convince me otherwise! I think most people here would agree that in terms of hassle, January has been a true Tanzanian vintage!
The fun started off innocuously enough with an empty tank of petrol. I asked Abubakar our company driver to go fill the car as usual. He came back hours later looking decidedly fed up and flustered claiming that he’d been to every petrol station he knew and could not find any petrol. Incredulously, I made a few inquiries and took a look out of the office window at the BP station opposite. Sure enough there was a scene of complete and utter chaos. The forecourt was filled with cars with the resultant “queue” (term used very loosely here) stretching back up the road as far as the eye could see. Added to this were literally hundreds of people all milling around holding jerry cans in the hope of getting some petrol.
Fabulous- in a world of plummeting oil and petrol prices, in which OPEC is talking about cutting production due to the overabundance of petrol, Tanzania had managed to engineer itself a fuel crisis. Sure enough, for the rest of the week getting fuel was a game of cat and mouse- rumours come out of a garage getting a delivery and you get there before anyone else- great in theory but a real challenge when thousands are doing the same!
The shortage appears to have been due to arguments between the oil importers and the government over pricing- it caused much excitement, provoked much impotent outrage from politicians then abruptly ended a day or two later- the car pooling could end and I was back behind the wheel.
The fuel crisis went away and was promptly replaced by a mini power crisis. These are always fun for me- in addition to the blackouts and noisy generators, I get to feel the collective wrath of anyone who knows I work for the power company- best to just stay in bed to be honest! The first episode of the crisis was nothing too abnormal- a day or so of periodic load shedding (power industry euphemism for cutting people off). This while annoying was manageable since there were only a few hours of shutdown, enough to keep the generator running without it running out of fuel.
The second blow however came when some sort of fault at a local substation cut power to the whole peninsula for almost two days. This was in an entirely different league and came at a time when the water pump had packed in and the gas cylinder had run out. One happy day I came home to no electricity, no gas, no water and one very unhappy wife. We briefly explored the notion of abandoning house and going to a hotel in the town centre. In the end we stuck it out- water was drawn from the waterhole (our tank is basically a hole) and we slept with windows open. Actually, despite the fact that we’re in the middle of summer, sleeping without AC wasn’t too bad. We get a good throughput of air in our room so it wasn’t too hot. The bed was crowded with the addition of two small boys who, scared either of the dark or of the croaking bullfrogs decided to sleep with us. No power, a ramshackle house with nothing working and four to a bed- it was just like the Waltons!
The power is back now and life is good once more. Now we’re more or less done with January I think we can safely say that the short rainy season isn’t going to amount to much this time. There have been a couple of downpours- a big one this morning in fact, but no prolonged period of rain. This doesn’t bode too well for rains later in the year. Since most power here is hydroelectric, that means loads more power cuts- we’ve stocked up on serious amounts of diesel. It is pretty hot here right now and we generally stay indoors between noon and four if we can help it. Evenings are nice though and much of our social life involves sitting outside drinking something alcoholic in the evening sun. Friday nights everyone seems to head to the Dar Yacht Club for an end of week glass- the kids head off to the playground and we enjoy a glass of wine watching the sun set over the bay- a very civilised end to the week.
Last weekend was Burns Night. Last year we went to the event at the Yacht Club and ended up home by 9pm as the event (held outdoors) was hit by a flash storm which practically blew us home. No such problems this time- the event was held in the gardens of the British High Commissioner’s residence and in any case the short rainy season, usually a couple of weeks in December or January, appears to have forgotten to happen this time.
This Burns night was a special one since it was the 250th anniversary of his birth. The usual traditions were in place- lots of speeches trying to convince us that Burns was any good (he’s fooling nobody!) interspersed with haggis, neeps and tatties and copious amounts of scotch. An event like this would be fun anywhere- the Scottish have perfected the art of drinking themselves into oblivion so are great fun to party with. However, the weirdness of doing this in Tanzania added to the fun. I spent lots of time explaining to our Indian neighbour Praveena exactly what a haggis is made of, what the woman was saying when she gave the Selkirk Grace and why the English and Scots have been punching seven bells out of each other for millennia. Being Indian, she totally connected with the scotch however. The Scots are well and truly matched in their love of single malt by the Indians- my father in law is proof of that! I sit here writing this with the last remnants of a sore head working their way out of my body. I will feel fine tomorrow but will never split a bottle of scotch with Praveena again- mind you I said that last time and the time before!
Coming back to blue skies, sunshine and clean air I felt a renewed appreciation for life here. Driving back from my first day at work I smiled my way through the inevitable traffic jams and even kept my new found calm when being queue jumped in the traffic jam by the millionth daladala- Dar’s charms were well and truly back in the ascendant and nothing was going to change that.
Looking back several weeks on, those feelings still haven’t changed. This is, however a minor miracle given the phenomenal efforts of Tanzanian life to convince me otherwise! I think most people here would agree that in terms of hassle, January has been a true Tanzanian vintage!
The fun started off innocuously enough with an empty tank of petrol. I asked Abubakar our company driver to go fill the car as usual. He came back hours later looking decidedly fed up and flustered claiming that he’d been to every petrol station he knew and could not find any petrol. Incredulously, I made a few inquiries and took a look out of the office window at the BP station opposite. Sure enough there was a scene of complete and utter chaos. The forecourt was filled with cars with the resultant “queue” (term used very loosely here) stretching back up the road as far as the eye could see. Added to this were literally hundreds of people all milling around holding jerry cans in the hope of getting some petrol.
Fabulous- in a world of plummeting oil and petrol prices, in which OPEC is talking about cutting production due to the overabundance of petrol, Tanzania had managed to engineer itself a fuel crisis. Sure enough, for the rest of the week getting fuel was a game of cat and mouse- rumours come out of a garage getting a delivery and you get there before anyone else- great in theory but a real challenge when thousands are doing the same!
The shortage appears to have been due to arguments between the oil importers and the government over pricing- it caused much excitement, provoked much impotent outrage from politicians then abruptly ended a day or two later- the car pooling could end and I was back behind the wheel.
The fuel crisis went away and was promptly replaced by a mini power crisis. These are always fun for me- in addition to the blackouts and noisy generators, I get to feel the collective wrath of anyone who knows I work for the power company- best to just stay in bed to be honest! The first episode of the crisis was nothing too abnormal- a day or so of periodic load shedding (power industry euphemism for cutting people off). This while annoying was manageable since there were only a few hours of shutdown, enough to keep the generator running without it running out of fuel.
The second blow however came when some sort of fault at a local substation cut power to the whole peninsula for almost two days. This was in an entirely different league and came at a time when the water pump had packed in and the gas cylinder had run out. One happy day I came home to no electricity, no gas, no water and one very unhappy wife. We briefly explored the notion of abandoning house and going to a hotel in the town centre. In the end we stuck it out- water was drawn from the waterhole (our tank is basically a hole) and we slept with windows open. Actually, despite the fact that we’re in the middle of summer, sleeping without AC wasn’t too bad. We get a good throughput of air in our room so it wasn’t too hot. The bed was crowded with the addition of two small boys who, scared either of the dark or of the croaking bullfrogs decided to sleep with us. No power, a ramshackle house with nothing working and four to a bed- it was just like the Waltons!
The power is back now and life is good once more. Now we’re more or less done with January I think we can safely say that the short rainy season isn’t going to amount to much this time. There have been a couple of downpours- a big one this morning in fact, but no prolonged period of rain. This doesn’t bode too well for rains later in the year. Since most power here is hydroelectric, that means loads more power cuts- we’ve stocked up on serious amounts of diesel. It is pretty hot here right now and we generally stay indoors between noon and four if we can help it. Evenings are nice though and much of our social life involves sitting outside drinking something alcoholic in the evening sun. Friday nights everyone seems to head to the Dar Yacht Club for an end of week glass- the kids head off to the playground and we enjoy a glass of wine watching the sun set over the bay- a very civilised end to the week.
Last weekend was Burns Night. Last year we went to the event at the Yacht Club and ended up home by 9pm as the event (held outdoors) was hit by a flash storm which practically blew us home. No such problems this time- the event was held in the gardens of the British High Commissioner’s residence and in any case the short rainy season, usually a couple of weeks in December or January, appears to have forgotten to happen this time.
This Burns night was a special one since it was the 250th anniversary of his birth. The usual traditions were in place- lots of speeches trying to convince us that Burns was any good (he’s fooling nobody!) interspersed with haggis, neeps and tatties and copious amounts of scotch. An event like this would be fun anywhere- the Scottish have perfected the art of drinking themselves into oblivion so are great fun to party with. However, the weirdness of doing this in Tanzania added to the fun. I spent lots of time explaining to our Indian neighbour Praveena exactly what a haggis is made of, what the woman was saying when she gave the Selkirk Grace and why the English and Scots have been punching seven bells out of each other for millennia. Being Indian, she totally connected with the scotch however. The Scots are well and truly matched in their love of single malt by the Indians- my father in law is proof of that! I sit here writing this with the last remnants of a sore head working their way out of my body. I will feel fine tomorrow but will never split a bottle of scotch with Praveena again- mind you I said that last time and the time before!
Our table at Burns Night- l-r Praveena, me, Soma and Dirk
So, life in Tanzania seems to be the usual fun and games. Lots of power cuts, water shortages, breakdowns of various bits of the house along with the huge consolation of a cracking bunch of friends in a profoundly beautiful part of the world. There are lots of negatives and positives- as soon as the former outweighs the latter we’ll be on our way. Right here right now, that day seems quite a long way off.
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