Likizo

Rains have arrived, asante Mungu. Everyone

 is happily planting mahindi (maize). 

They're talking a good crop.

December. Pre likizo.It's Friday in Dar, and the beggars are out in full force. Islamic tradition, actually Islamic law, dictates Muslims give alms each Friday. Dar es Salaam has lots of Muslims, and probably an equal number of beggars. They congregate on street corners, between cars, in the street.

There was what appeared to be a beggar convention sitting palms up on the corner, asking for msada, msada dada. Help, sister. There's really no social services to speak of, people come to Dar to escape the poverty of the village, but find city poverty even more grinding, plus it's hotter, so much hotter.

Steamed Ginger Chicken at my favorite Chinese 

restaurant in Dar. It's expensive, flavorwise not worth

 the money, but then you get to look at the head while you eat. 

You can eat the head as well, but I'm not ready for steamed 

cranium and beak.

What's different here is that most people born with deformities can't get them fixed.There's folks with no legs, there's folks dragging their lower bodies along the street with rubber slippers on their hands. Just about any skeletal malfunction you can think of, and some you can't. There's one man with no lower body at all, someone props him up against the Post Office wall every day with a can and there he sits.

Enough aid comes here to help, but then using it to help the disabled (that's PC here) would cut down on the fat white cars these govt bigwigs drive around in, or actually, are driven around in. Like most places, there's status in having a driver, but also, here most people don't have drivers licenses.

Deceptively appealing Giardia lamblia. How can something 

 that cute do what it did to my gut?

Having used up all my small money on the beggars I went into one of my favorite restaurants for lunch, asked for maji baridi, cold water. Alas, there was none. Then the waiter smiled and told me I could have ice if I wanted. ICE, ICE, it's been a year since I've had ice. I've been fantasizing about ice for weeks now (it's been in the 90's in Berega). As I was pouring my bottled water into the glass it crossed my mind that the ice was probably made with tap water. Beads of sweat formed on the glass, a few ran down the sides, and I didn't care anymore. It was spectacular, but just to be safe I bought some Cipro for the varied and virulent bugs trapped in the ice cubes, now entrapped in my gut. O well. I always try to have a small pharmacy on hand. In Africa we can buy drugs without a prescription, so I'm all set. I've got my malaria pills, just in case, my Cipro, just in case, and some Valium, just because.

What you do when you don't have bus money.

I wish you could understand the scope of the problems here. I promised myself I'd never take pictures of the beggars, I know NatGeo doesn't have a problem with it, but I do. Most people just walk by them, occasionally walking over them, because they get right in front of you. There's no end to it, you could give them all the money you had and there would just be more. Even to me this sounds like a cop out, so don't bother commenting. I don't even want to think about what Jesus would do. O hell, now it's raining, which should be a good thing but now all the beggars will get wet. I'm a moral mess.

Street vendor selling chai. I guess the army has nothing 

better to do.

I got up early sana to buy some trinkets from the Rasta street vendors. People sell almost anything on the street here, food, juice (pronounced jweece), baubles of all types, books, you name it. I left the hotel at 0800, because it was gonna be a hot one so anyone with a brain was out early. There was a series of piercing whistles, and a slew of ladies streaked by carrying pots of hot water, beans, chai... They all ran into an alley to hide. So I asked one of the cabbies and he told me the askaris (the army) come by regularly to round up the street vendors. They throw them in the back of the truck and haul them to jail, where they pay a hefty fine and go back to work on the street until the next time. The whistle was the lookout. All this time I thought there was no problem with the street vendors. The book and fruit merchants don't seem to have a problem, just the food vendors. Possibly it's a health law, although you can get just as sick eating in a local restaurant.

If you can't read the T shirt, it says Living The Dream. 

Still looking for trinkets, I heard weeping and gnashing of teeth from the street ahead. There was a large crowd, ogling and commenting, and I assumed there had been an accident.  But it wasn't an accident, it was the army guys, who had run down a bunch of beggars and were manhandling them into the back of the truck. I was confused, yesterday you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a beggar, and nobody seemed to mind, but today...


I didn't have my camera, which was probably a good thing. The army doesn't like being immortalized while they abuse the locals, and I'd probably have ended up in the truck with them, paying a much larger fine.

New preschool room in Msalama John will be painting soon.

I went into a toy store and was talking to the proprietor, who said the beggars actually make pretty good money, 10,000 to 15.000/day (6-10 USD) so can well afford the fine. But he said the same thing I said, there's no social services, and not enough jobs, so begging and street vending are their jobs. The govt doesn't help them, they'd rather the poor just quietly starve to death, so when they do what they must to live, they get penalized. Go figure.


On the way out of the store, I saw, to my horror, Hanna Montana paraphernalia. I turned back to the owner and asked why he promoted that teenaged floozie. It's bad enough kids in the US think they're no good unless they look like a14 year old rock star, now little African girls can feel just as bad. A woman customer looked at me and said,"Tell that to my daughter."  She's not a happy mommy, says her daughter is just nuts about her and wants to be just like her. And so it begins.

Ruth, Lumuli and Mbuli on a road trip through Mikumi. 

I guess progress is progress, if you can call it that. Seems it's hard to take the desirable and positive without the less desirable and positive sneaking in under the wire. I don't see it much in the village, they don't know Hanna Montana from a sack of cement. But to come to the city and see old African ways combining, sometimes not too fluidly, with new western ways, it's too hard to watch.

There's a lingerie store right on the main street, with all the thongs and such on display through the window. A few years ago this would not have been allowed in this conservative, largely Muslim city where some women can't even show their faces. I'm a liberal sort, but I'm just not ready for this.


I wish there was a way to filter the stuff that comes over, but there's not, and who are we to say what folks should and shouldn't accept. I am most definitely a village girl. In a village near the Malawi border I met a kid named Adolph, whose parents had never heard of Hitler. I imagine, I hope, they haven't heard of Hanna Montana.

Had to come inside before ten, too hot out. Still no trinkets, the Rastas are probably still rolling joints, getting ready for their day.

Where we had lunch on the road trip. Note sleeping dog.

It's night, I ran the Rasta gauntlet and got my zawadi, those guys are persistent. Off to the US in the am.


January.I'm back, It was a great likizo, saw all my kids, most of my friends, ate everything on my list (and then some). Refreshed and ready to work. Thanks Brad.

Halfway through my visit I started experiencing gut pains, bloating, all the signs of my old friend giardia lamblia, that cute little bug I most likely swallowed in my ice water before I left. This is why I travel with my pharmacy.

Mommy and baby crossing the road.

Abdallah picked me up at the airport and we ran a few errands and left town. We were stopped at a red light, and noticed five guys on the corner refining their pickpocketing technique. Very interesting to watch. They were pretty obvious, so I'm assuming this was the beginners class. I hope so, given the fact that if caught, they'll most likely be beaten to death. AND one was an albino. What does he think, he can just blend in with the crowd?. Anyway it's good to see young folks learning a trade, especially since there's no help coming from the govt.

It's good to be home.

Nakupenda