6th letter from Tanzania

11 March 2004

 

 

Dear Friends and Family,

 

Sorry I haven’t written in a long time, I hadn’t felt like there was much to write about.  However, as I sit here thinking about how I’ll organize this letter I seem to have a lot that I’ve been thinking about lately.  Who knows what will result.

 

This past weekend we took a trip to Zanzibar.  We can go over by ferry and there were lots of options for places to stay.  Zanzibar is actually a number of islands off the coast of Tanzania.  The island most well known as Zanzibar is about a 2 hour ferry ride.  There is an old city called Stone Town, and I got the scoop on all the places to go and things to do.  A lot of people go and stay in Stone Town and take spice tours and shop for antiques.  That sounded great to me.  Rob called a travel agent and she recommended a place on the Northeast Coast of the island, about 50 kilometers from Stone Town, but near the great coral reefs and snorkeling heaven.    We had a choice of two places on that coast, one which was about $35 per bungalow per night, and the other which was all inclusive at about $300 per night.  Since we had the kids with us and we didn’t think that shopping for antiques and wandering around on either spice plantations or in the old city would float their boat – so to speak – we opted for a stay on the Northeast Coast, where we thought we could swim and snorkel and generally relax.  That got us down to the choice between the fairly rustic bungalows and the pricy, but all inclusive, resort option.  Well, Rob just got a bonus, so we went all inclusive. 

 

When we arrived, they weren’t really expecting us, and didn’t have rooms ready for us, so they sent us in to have lunch and told us to come back later and they’d see what they could do.  The food was laid out in a big buffet in an open air dining room with a big thatched roof.  There were Zanzibar beds all around and the usual African decorations.  The food, however, was all Italian.  Turns out the place is on the Italian Travel Circuit, and if you aren’t African, well you must be Italian.  (Couldn’t they tell we weren’t Italian?  We have hips!)  We thought we had gone to Italy by the look of the food.  Since you generally can’t have a bad vacation in Italy, foods great, weathers great, wines great, etc.  we were OK with this turn of events.   We even thought it was funny to have the cross-cultural experience of having a Masaai say “Ciao” to us.  (More on the Masaai later)  But I ate something at lunch that didn’t like me, and I was sick for the rest of the trip!

 

Rob thinks I’m homesick.  As we drove from the hotel back to Stone Town to take the ferry back to Dar, we were going through all the little villages and I was thinking about the lives of the people here.   Just to give you some background, in the two weeks leading up to this trip we had a couple of things happen that pointed out some of the difficulties in the lives of the people here.  Letitia, my housekeeper, comes to me 3 days a week.  I think I’m incredibly spoiled by this, but I still try to have the beds made and the dishes done before she comes so she only has to do the stuff I don’t like to do, like floors and toilets.  I pay her what the lady she used to work for paid her, 5000 T Shillings per day, plus money for the Daladala (bus).  I let her go when she’s done, unlike her previous employer who expected a full day for the $5, including ironing and laundry – which I do myself (not ironing – it’s still on a boat somewhere).  Anyway, Letitia was sick with Malaria, so she didn’t come for about a week and a half.  I was actually enjoying being sort of alone in my house, although I joked about having to work so hard at sweeping up my own pet hair and even had to mop my own kitchen floor once!    (One friend joked and told me she couldn’t speak to me again until I was fully staffed up – I was the wrong sort without staff).   And I wasn’t really alone in my house, there is a gardener or guard here at all times.  I’m finding it difficult sometimes to find that my car is being washed or my things are being moved or someone is right outside the window while I’m watching TV, and he’s usually working while I’m lounging.  During this same time while Letitia was sick, Andrew, one of the gardeners, was visited here at the house by his uncle.  They called to me and the uncle explained that Andrew’s sister was very sick and that Andrew must come away at once.  Of course I let him go, and gave them my phone number in case Andrew wouldn’t be able to come for the next day or two.  That left me completely alone in the house for the first time since we came here.  Well, it turned out later that Andrew’s sister died that day, so they called and told me and then said they’d be coming.  I said I didn’t expect Andrew back, but they came anyway.    By this time Rob was home, and we asked if there was anything we could do, and they said that Andrew wouldn’t be coming the next day, and that they needed money for the funeral.  Imagine having to ask your employer for money so you can bury your sister.  She was young, and had a 3 year old and a 7 year old child.  I asked if she died of Malaria and they said yes, but they are ashamed to say that they have AIDS, which it probably was.

 

The statistics about the lives of the people here are shocking!  Yesterday in the paper was a report that 99 of 1000 pregnancies end in the death of the mother due to some easily handled complication.  Ten Percent!  Monday was International Women’s Day, something we remember from Russia.  The papers had special supplements about the lives of women in this country – they were shocking!  Girls can get married with their parents’ consent at age 12 – that’s how old Madeline is.  The legal age for a girl to marry is 15, and the paper says that 1/3 of all brides is under the age of 18.  Because of the failure of the rains last year, there are whole villages that have no food.  People are boiling leaves for their kids, and some of them are ending up poisoning their kids as a result.  I’ve seen reports of villages being sent 5 kilograms of maize for a week of food assistance for a whole village.  There was an MP (Member of Parliament) who was in the paper complaining about this a few weeks ago.

 

OK, so back to why Rob thinks I’m homesick.  I was thinking about all these things and feeling sick.  We were driving through these little villages with their wattle and mud huts with thatched roofs or little brick houses with fancy carved Zanzibar doors and tin roofs.  Everything is dirty, there are no grass lawns and driveways and sidewalks.  Houses are just plunked down in the red clay and there is usually not a single leaf of vegetation until you get to the fields or the trees.  The floors of these huts are dirt, the walls are dirt, the roofs are thatch.  Chickens scratch around in the dirt, and judging by our house, there are lots of little tropical critters – like lizards and centipedes.   Last time we were in the countryside, I was wondering where they put all their stuff.   The little huts are usually about 10 feet by 8 feet or so, with a door and a couple of window holes.  I saw some women washing clothes and silverware and pots, and I started wondering where they put their stuff when they put it “away”.  They don’t have a kitchen with cabinets and drawers, they cook outside on charcoal fires.  They don’t have sinks with running water, they send their kids with a jug to the village well.  They have clothes they aren’t wearing, but do they have dressers or closets?  Where do they put their stuff?  They don’t even have stuff like we have, but they have to put it somewhere.  We have a whole container of Stuff coming – and none of it is even furniture!   We threw away so much Stuff when we packed up our house this time – I hate having so much stuff, but I like having some stuff.

 

This time I was thinking about what I really wanted to do was get into my nice clean bed in my nice clean and cool house and just sleep.  If you are sick and you live in a little mud hut, do you ever get to lie in a nice clean bed in a nice clean house?  And forget about being cool – it’s just not possible here without air-conditioning.  I was telling this all to Rob, and he said he thought I was homesick.  He also said that the reality is that most of the people of the world live in some form or another like the Tanzanians.   I’m glad that my kids get to come here and go on safari.  I’m glad they get to experience seeing Lions in the wild.  I’m also glad they see the people in the countryside.  The kids look out the windows here, more than in the States.  Every once in a while they comment.  I think this is the important lesson to learn from our adventure.

 

I said at the beginning that I didn’t know where this letter was going to take me.  I’ll get back to the trip to Zanzibar, and the Masaai.  This hotel was so geared for the Italian Couples or Singles that it didn’t even have adjoining rooms to give us.  Not that there were no adjoining rooms available, there were apparently no adjoining rooms.  They gave us 2 rooms in the same Bungalow.  One on the first floor, and the other a flight up.  Our kids are 12, 10, and 8 – how did they expect us to handle that?  The first night, Rob and the boys slept in one room, and Madie and I slept in the other.  I was up all night sick.  Madie is the worst person to share a bed with, she never sleeps with her head on the pillow, she talks in her sleep and she flops around so much she ends up diagonally and even upside down in the bed.  I was getting up every hour or so to be sick.  All I can say is thank goodness the Italians like to have a bidet in addition to the toilet in their resorts. Whatever I ate got me from both ends, so the bidet was a very nice convenience while I was sitting on the pot  – enough said.  Madie heard nothing of my ups and downs, which in the end is probably good. 

 

Rob had inquired about a snorkeling trip for Sunday, and had booked us onto a boat that was leaving at 8 AM, not to return until 1 or 2 PM.  This was going to be the first snorkeling trip for the kids, even though our snorkeling equipment is still with the rest of our Stuff in the container somewhere in some boat.  When we got up in the morning, we were trying to decide what to do.  Austin had also broken out with some creeping crud on his cheeks and lips, so we were trying to decide if Austin and I should stay behind and the other three go on the boat.  We decided to give it a try, if Austin and I wanted to sit on the boat and not get in the water, well at least we’d get a boat ride.  We had to walk all the way to the next resort, about a 10 minute walk on the beach, to get our equipment and wet suits, etc, and then walk all the way back down the beach to our hotel to catch the boat.  There were some scuba divers and a few other just snorkelers on the boat, along with the crew and the scuba dive guides.  We had to motor for about 45 minutes to the Mnemba Atoll, where we were put into the water.  Austin talked about shark cages the whole way, said he’d like to practice snorkeling in our pool before he gets into the shark cage and things like that.  I told him that we’d see when we got to where we were going, but that I’d hold his hand and we could just go slowly.  When we got there, we geared up and got into the water and practiced a little and then went to the reef.  It was like being in a beautifully planned salt water aquarium.  There were more fish there than anywhere else I’ve ever been (OK, I’ve only been off the beach in Hawaii and a couple of times in Key West – but still.....)  Even Austin forgot about sharks.  Once we got used to breathing with the snorkels and holding hands, it was great.  Austin didn’t want to be very far from the boat, which I remember feeling when I went the first time, too.  We saw Indian Lion fish, eels, sea urchins, star fish, parrot fish, all kinds of soft and hard coral, etc.  They had cards on the boat to help you identify what you’d seen.  Rob and Madie and Wes went further away than Austin and I.  Madie was fearless.  Wes was a little more reserved, so the second time we went out he wanted to hang with me and Austin.  There I was, master swimmer and snorkeler that I am, holding hands with both of my boys.  It was great!  Even Austin loved it.  Nobody got sea sick, everybody got in the water, everybody had a great underwater safari.  Then we went back to “Italy” and sat in the pool for the rest of the day.

 

I promised to tell you about the Masaai.  They are the most beautiful young men you will ever see.  They are all over Tanzania, and maybe all of East Africa, but I only know here.  There were a couple of young Masaai who were door men at the Sea Cliff hotel where we were staying before we moved into the house.  They are all around in the shops and on the roadside and in the countryside.  They wear their traditional dress, which is usually a red, but also can be purple, plaid cloth and piles of adornments like necklaces, earrings, armbands, etc.  They are without equal in their beauty, tall and thin and perfectly groomed with the straightest and whitest teeth you can imagine.  They walk slowly and proudly, carrying their “Spear” which is sometimes no more threatening looking than a walking stick.  They often have long hair that is braided in a special “do” with the front and sides shaved, but the back sometimes as long as to their waists.  They are often in groups of 2 or 3, and they are very affectionate with one another.  I love to see them, and they love to be seen.  What I know about them is what I’ve heard from other people here, so it may not all be true.  One woman told me that these young men are on their special year (or years) during which they are separated from the rest  of their families so they can become men.  Part of the ritual is circumcision, which is done anywhere from about age 13 to nearly 20, and they are not allowed to flinch, cry out, or otherwise show that they feel anything in the process.  Some of them have also had a lower front tooth removed, with a similar requirement of stoicism.  Any sign of weakness is a disgrace.  They are supposed to kill a man or a lion before they are eligible to marry – or otherwise prove themselves.  They are incredibly tough – they are supposed to be the most desirable Askaris (Guards) as their reputation for fierceness is usually enough to dissuade any would be thieves.  Although they spend lots of energy on their appearance, it is not ever correct for one to even glance at or comment on another’s appearance.  I think they are wonderful and that it is great that they are sticking to their old ways – if they really are. 

So, imagine this picture of the proud African saying “Ciao”  - we found it to be almost too incongruous.  Next time we go to Zanzibar, we’re going to stay in Africa.

 

I am fully recovered from whatever got me in Zanzibar.  Austin has a sort of yeast infection on his cheeks and lips – sort of like thrush.  It’s from the dampness, a typical tropical affliction, I’m told.  I also had a brush with a tropical affliction, a Nairobi Fly bite.  Here’s a little nice critter that I’d never heard about.  This fellow bites you and then leaves you with an itchy red spot for days.  If you scratch it, you could spread the venom and get a bacterial infection in addition to the allergic reaction.   Guess what happened to me?  My little guy bit me on my ribcage, about halfway between the bottom of my bra and my waist.  I must have scratched it in my sleep, because I woke up with a rash about the size of a silver dollar.  I tried all the usual medicines, ranging from benadryl to bacitracin, and finally gave up and went to the clinic.  The doctor gave me a cream that was a combo antibiotic and antihistamine and away I went.  Well, even though we discussed my recent sensitivity to sulfites and checked, this cream must have had sulfites.  I got a further reaction to the cream, resulting in a  lunch plate sized burnlike rash.  Great!  There was a  Mardi Gras party at the American Club and I knew a few of the ladies who were planning it.  They were talking about the beads you get in New Orleans, and I told them that I had heard that the way you earned your beads was to lift your shirt and flash your “assets” so to speak.  They said they’d go right after me, so I flashed my rash.  I won!  Anyway, steroids to the rescue and I’m fully recovered.  I kept the cream in case one of the kids gets a bite, but I wrote across it in big letters “NOT FOR BARB!”

 

Well, as usually happens, I find that I write like I talk and the letter gets longer and longer.  I think I’ve covered most of the important events in our life for the last few weeks.  Rob has been threatening to write one about the work, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.  I’ve been doing a little of the fun kind of shopping, including buying a Zanzibar bench which is about 40 years old, but has been repaired.  It looks lovely in my living room, and the cats have adopted it as their own.  One of these days, when we get internet access at home, I’ll take a picture of Booyan lording it over us from his lofty perch on the Zanzibar bench.  I’m trying to cultivate the man that I bought the bench from so I can get a good and old Zanzibar Trunk, but I understand the competition is fierce and good old ones are few and far between.

 

As usual we hope everyone is well.  We’d love to hear from you, although I am having a hard time getting internet time to respond to some of the e-mails we get, we do appreciate them and hope that we’ll be able to hookup at home soon.

 

Love and good adventures,

Barb