It's not EVEN funny!

12 June 2004

 

Dear Friends and Family,

 

You have the Triple Crown, but we have the GOAT Races!  You have thoroughbreds with fancy names like Smarty Jones, SeaBisquit, or Secretariat.  We have racing milk goats with names like Gone with the Wind or Nyama Choma (translated as Barbequed Meat) or Mbuzi na Chipsi (Goat meat with fries) or Skip or Fluffy or Poppy.  We had all the pomp and circumstance of Ascot or Churchill Downs right here in Dar es Salaam.  Big hats, fancy dress, flowing drinks, and betting - the real McCoy.  It was  a charity fundraising event and everyone was there.  My friend Ingrid even took her goat!   It was an all day affair attended by Masaai and expat and Tanzanians.  We had great fun.

 

I bet 2000 TSh (Tanzanian Shillings; $1= 1100 TSh) on the first race.  I picked the longshot - Gone with the Wind.  How could I lose?  I usually bet the gray at the horse tracks, but these are goats - most of them are gray.  Gone with the Wind trailed the field for the entire race, but she must have come alive in the stretch and won!  She paid 6 to 1!  I won big - 12,000!    We stood at the rail at the finish of every race, winning ticket in hand each time.  Our handicapping was flawless. But we never won again, because as far as we could determine, the first goat over was not the winner.   Maybe it was the last goat over the line and that's why Gone with the Wind came in a winner.  I'm posting pictures on the website of the races today.  (http://nooter.textamerica.com). 

 

I have to also tell you about the conclusion (ha ha ha) of the water troubles for us here in our house.  Last weekend, the pump came back from the shop.  I waited for the fundi all week, he was supposed to be here on Sunday.  Waiting for the fundi means going about my life as if no fundi existed, as I have learned that they'll come or not, probably not, so if they show up while I'm home, I'll wait for them to finish, but I'm not putting any time or effort into waiting around.  It worked, as the fundi finally came on Friday, and I was home and watched and waited for him to finish.  Not only one fundi came, the plumbing fundi and 2 electrician fundis came.  I had a whole crew here at one time - unbelievable!  I sat at the computer playing games and waiting when I suddenly realized that I heard the pump running so I went out to participate in the testing phase.  My gardener was washing out something in the yard, and he said the fundis were finished and had gone!  I guess they had just gone, because when I started to get upset, he grabbed my bike and went after them!  I figured that the system was not working, and I knew that they'd never even  tested it.  How did I know?  The tank is on the roof.  You need a ladder go onto the roof to find out if it is full.  I don't have a ladder!

 

I called Rob and started my tirade.  One of the things we like about life here, and in our other over-seas experiences, is the intensity of things.  One of the things that is more intense is the passion of our emotions.  I told Rob that he needed to come home because the fundis had gone and the gardener had gone after them on the bike, that the pump was not working and that they didn't even tell me they were done!  While I was waiting for the gardener, the fundis, and Rob, the landlord called.  He explained to me that everything was now finished, that he'd spoken to the fundi who had said all was working and tested and fine.  I explained to the landlord that all was not fine, the fundi had NOT tested the system and had gone without letting me know.  I stewed as I waited, and then by the time they all showed back up I exploded!  "What do you mean leaving without testing the system?  Why did you go without telling me you were done?  How could you tell the Landlord that you'd tested it?  How do you know the tank is full, you didn't even go up onto the roof?"  and on and on and on.  Then, to cap the whole thing off, for a climax, I said "It's NOT EVEN FUNNY!"  That was the best I could do.  "It's not EVEN funny!"  Pitiful.

 

It was at this point that I realized the ridiculousness of the whole situation.  There they were, Rob and the 3 Tanzanians standing there open mouthed and shocked.  I had put the entire project in jeopardy, and would I ever be embarrassed if the whole thing actually worked!  I turned to Rob and asked him if I should just go into the house and let him deal with it (bad cop/good cop routine), but he said I'd made this mess, I could finish it.

 

Well, fortunately (or not!) I was right.  The system didn't work.  Although the tank on the roof was full, the pump still was not right.  Nothing was automatic, and the old once a day push of the button didn't work.  Phew, the tirade wasn't all for nothing.  About an hour later, the fundis threw up their hands and said that they couldn't fix it.  We had to get the pump fundis to come.   The pump fundis came and got the pump working, but still not the automatic switch.  But at least I had them here and I could prove to them that it was not working.  We're now back to where we were, which is a yellow hose running to the roof to fill the tank.

 

The other thing that was frustrating about this fundi thing was that I had things to do.  We were having some people over for dinner, and I had to buy the fresh salad stuff and some other things.  I couldn't really afford the time that I spent waiting for the fundis to finish.  I went madly dashing about to get the kids from school, buy a birthday present, cook part of the dinner, watch Madie's soccer, deliver a kid to a party, etc.  Finally, I realized that it was not all going to be done in time, so when Rob came home, he went to do the final few errands.  One of these errands was to buy charcoal.  You can get the little briquettes like we have in the US, but they are expensive.  The locals all cook on charcoal stoves, so the local charcoal is cheap, but comes in big bags - at least 5 feet tall and as big around as a man.  This was the first time we were going to try the local charcoal.  Rob drove to the vendor and purchased his bag.  He'll have to tell the story, but as far as I could tell, the bag had a hole, and there was some problem getting it into the car.  Also, the alarm kept going off.  I happened to call to see if he could pick up some bread on his way home, and he told me that he couldn't get into the car.  His button for the alarm just would not unlock the door.  The only thing to do was bring him my alarm button.  Guests were due in 3 minutes.  I hopped on my bike and flew.  Fortunately, Rob was not far from the house.  When I got there, he was really mad, and covered in charcoal.  I pushed my button, and although the alarm was disarmed, the door was still locked.  Rob was just about to explode, but I asked him if he'd tried his key.  He did and the door opened.  Crisis solved.  I got in the car, he got on my bike, and we got home just before the first guest. 

 

All this time I was wondering what the locals were thinking.  They buy these bags of charcoal and strap them onto their bikes and ride away with them.  We drive up in a car with a ridiculous alarm, get all mad when we get it dirty, and then can't work the door locks.  It isn't like we're not obviously foreigners.  I can't imagine what they were thinking when I came flying up on my bicycle (the theme of the wicked witch from the 'Wizard of Oz' comes to mind), dressed like I was having dinner guests, to bail out my husband with the car.  Then, I got into the car, he got on the bike and away we went.  Most of them have enough English to understand what we said to each other.   OK, it IS funny!!  It's really funny.

 

So now we're off to another party.  We all sit around and tell these stories.   This is what we laugh about at dinner or over drinks.  Think about it, we're telling stories about yelling that the Fundis are not funny, and then we're probably the subject of the funny stories the Fundis tell their friends and families over dinner and drinks.

 

That's it for now.  Hope your day was as funny as mine.

 

Barb