Pugu Hills, with more to come very soon

Well, its been a while. And I'm about to go to the field, so it'll be a while again. Hopefully I'll update again between now and then, but no promises. So, because I am an utter failure as a blogger, here is a brief list of what I have done so far (Its mostly chronological, but occasionally memory fails me).

The second weekend, we went to Pugu Hills nature reserve, a forest about 15k south of Dar. Apparently it is a failed conservation area (it used to have things like wildlife, and now it doesnt), but its certainly a successful tourist spot. It consisted of a big tatched roof enclosure, dimly lit, with three large tables, many comfortable chairs and a few reclining mats (nap city). Oh, and swimming pool also. And a great view. Needless to say, I actually loved it. And we had Pilau for lunch (spiced rice- think rice with lots of cloves, cardamom, and ginger), which was wonderful, The best food I had had up to that point. Then we went on a threeish mile hike, to a gravel mine. This kind of shocked me, because a more apt description of the gravel mine is a big hole where mind blowing poor Tanzanians use hammers to beat huge rock into lots of tiny rocks (gravel). And when we got there, I learned that they did this from 6AM-6PM everyday for 6000 shillings, which is approximately 4 dollars. And on top of that, they can't afford bottled water, so they go the whole day without water. I think that, quite literally, I would die if I had to do that. When our group arrived at the “mine” they workers wanted our water, and I found as much water as people were willing to donate and gave it all to the workers, who thanklessly chugged it all. And I didn't care that they showed no gratitude: had I been in their situation, and a bunch of Americans had come up to use me a tourist attraction, I would not have been to happy either.

After that experience, the day breezed by. It was a good one, but I don't remember the details. One more things about the gravel mine, however. Water costs us between 15 and 50 per liter, an absolute pittance. However, when you are making 4 dollars a day, that 50 cents is a lot more expensive. I would have carried the biggest bottle of water we can buy, which is 12 liters, to those workers if I had known ahead of time. As it was, I gave them my (and several other people's) water that I had intended to use for the hike, as I decided that I could survive for an hour and a half without water, especially given that they would be without water for much longer. Many of my several students did not share this opinion with me though. In particular, I remember one person looking right at me, with a full 1.5 liter bottle and totally ignoring my request. She was unwilling to spend 66 cents and go thirsty for an hou and a half to help people that need water much more that her and could afford much less of it. I was appalled by her total selfishness and lack of empathy. So I left Pugu with both a redesigned idea of poverty and hardship (something that has happened again since then), a really sour opinion of that girl and, most importantly, a little less faith in humanity.

Makumbusho! ... No wait, Mango Garden

I have a brief window of time between lunch and research methods to tell the story so here I go. For the first week in Dar, we did mostly nothing but sightsee and get acquainted with our surounding. You know, going to Mlimani City Mall, an American style shopping center with south african chains offering things at american prices, getting used to keeping our mouths closed in the shower, forgetting to put up our mosquito nets, etc etc etc (I always remembered my net, but others *Ian...* did not. I can't promise that it sucked, but I can only imagine it did). Whenever we did anything outside of our dorms, our Tanzanian guides, Emanuel and Hamida helped us, introducing us to campus food (the cafeteria, Hill Park, the Kiswahili Cafe and what we call “The Degree Tree Cafe” are the options on campus), Mlimani Mall, and a couple markets around. They were wonderful to us, but their guidance around campus was nothing compared to Friday night.

First, some back story. On thursday, we got our itineraries for the week of orientation. For those keeping track, orientation ran from Tuesday to Friday, so they were a bit dated. Even so, the activities coming up next were ill fated- a Friday morning trip to a posh (I'm guessing) meet and greet with embassy staff and a Friday evening trip to the cultural village museum” Mokambusho were cancelled because internal beaucratics at UDSM. So suddenly, the group had a free friday night. Unable to navigate Dar ourselves, we called Emanual and Hamida, our resident wonder-people, and asked for some help. They came through and suggested live music: 5000 TZS cover? 2000 TZS bia (beers)? (The conversion rate, in case I haven't mentioned it before is 1500 TZS:$1) Sign me up! We would even get to go to Mokambusho, the village museum that we missed out on. The plan was to meet at Bueni numba Tatu (Hall 3) at 7 PM, get picked up by the dala dala that Emanuel would hire to chauffer us around and eat, drink, listen to live music and be in general be merry. So, seven rolls around and ... nothing. At 7:15 I get a call from Emanuel telling me that there was a problem with the dala dala and that he would be there at eight. No big deal. The group went to eat at the cafeteria (mius Matt and Dana, who wanted to get some rest), ate quickly, and were back at about 7:50. At eight Emanuel and Hamida show up with the dala dala, we all pack in, and we were off.

Before I continue with the story, let me say a word about the dala dalas. Imagine a minivan. no imagine it without a carpeted floor, without seats and an interior that looks like it missed the finishing stages at the car factory. Add five rows of seats, doors that barely work and extreme body odor and there you have a dala dala. Now imagine that on roads where traffic laws are more like traffic suggestions and you have the main method of transport for our group and million of Tanzanians. And in case you are reading this and aren't one of my family members or close friends, I am not small. I am 6'2”, 185-190 lbs. In short, travel in Tanzania is uncomfortable for me.

Now on with the story. When we arrived at Mokambusho, the dala dala was abuzz with excitement. And we got there and, well, we got there. But we did not get out of the dala dala. 5 minutes passed, then 10, then fifteen, after which I decided to get out. Did I mention that the dala dala was a little small for me? And then another 5, 10, and 15 minutes passed. Then Emanuel came back, and told us that the show had been cancelled because of an emergency with the band members. And even worse, the back up show that Emanuel had found earlier in the day had also been cancelled. So, he told us, that we would go see the second most popular band in Tanzania. Ok, I thought, life could be worse. We all piled back into the dala dala and we were off.

When we got there, we found out that the dala dala fee had doubled. Lest that sound terrible, it jumped from 250 to 500 TZS, about 33 cents. And when we got there, as promised, the cover was 5000 TZS. When we got in, I went to grab a beer and, again as promised, 2000 TZS. So, to recount- $3.33 cover and $1.33 beers. And the second best band in Tanzania. All in all, the plan C was wonderful. So, with my beer, I sat down with the group at the dead front and center of Mango Garden, te name of the venue, and just chilled. The ride was long, it was hot, and sitting there with a beer was just perfect. And then the music started. While I was sitting there playing never-have-ever with Noah, Courtney, Scott, and Brendan, Hamida started dancing (I found out later that Hamida's favorite thing in the world is dancing). Not wanting to leave her out there alone, the five of us joined her, and the rest of the group was not far behind us. Pretty soon, 19 wazungu, their two hosts, and a few Tanzanians were tearing up the dance floor. We danced for probably 1-2 hours, then, after the band stopped playing, I went to grab another beer and chill again. What a great night, I thought. I should've added a 'so far' in there.

Apparently the band that I had just danced my heart out to was only the opening act. The main show was about to start. I had wondered why such a popular band had so few audience members, and wy so many more people were arriving. In retrospect, it made sense, but the two beers made my judgment a little fuzzy. So, up we all got again, and danced for another 3 hours, with breaks to drink water, beer, Konyagi, and Redd's (a alcoholic cider) sprinkled in there. When 1 AM came and went Courtney said one more song. When the song ended at 1:30, again, one more song. When that song ended at 2, we finally called it quits and jumped back in the dala. When we returned, I stayed up until around 3 just hanging out with a group of people that had been strangers not 5 days ago. It was great. And that how this trip has gone so far. Things have been planned and fallen through, and yet no one complains. And during the improvised activities, we end up having a wonderful time. Ah, Tanzania.

To conclude, I'd like to offer several observations about Tanzania and Tanzanians.

1)Life is slower. Everything, from walking to internet.

2)People are nicer

3)Generall, it is because they want something from you

4)Even when they don't, they are still nice. Tanzanians are just flat out nice

5)Tanzania is hot

6)I never realized how much I took hot water for granted

7)Also just safe running water in general

8)Everything is cheaper

9)Nothing is quite as nice

10)Poverty means something different here than it does in the USA

11)I'm constantly dehydrated

Thats what came to me just now. I have to run, gotta go to Research Methods.

Caleb