If Only I Could Bring It All Home With Me

I can’t sum up my year in Africa. Nor could I bring home all the things that I loved. But here are some of the things I miss, and the memories that make me smile.

1. Buying cheap produce on the street. There’s nothing like leaning out of a bus window and buying an already peeled orange for 15¢.

2. While it can also be frustrating, the “no rush attitude” is precious. Hakuna matata, right? The sense of calm and tranquility in everything ranging from business transactions to daily activities is mind-blowing. But the level of stress associated with this attitude is minimal, and things always work out in the end.

3. The people make do with what they have, and they do so happily. For the things they don’t have, they certainly don’t lack creativity. Want to play a game of soccer and don’t have a soccer ball? Just collect some plastic bags, roll them all up into a ball and tie them with a string. Can’t afford a toy? All you need is four bottle caps (as wheels) and a plastic bottle (as the body of the car) and a stick to pull your new toy car along. My parents will tell you the story about the man in Zanzibar who was using a wheelbarrow with a flat tire but used a string to lift the weight off the tire. You have to admit that they are pretty damn creative.

4. When my family and Elior came to visit, Elior thought he was going to Kenya. Pretty much up until he boarded the flight for Tanzania.

The right clothes for safari. Just the wrong country. No big deal.

5. Tanzanians are huge on greetings and it is rude to ignore this custom. While at first I found it annoying to ask 20 questions when I only wanted to know where something was, the idea sort of grew on me. By the end of the year, not a taxi ride went by without me asking about their house, family, marital status and health of their children.

6. Swahili. It was exhausting for me to speak Swahili, but the response and look on peoples’ faces upon seeing the white girl speak Swahili was priceless. There are some words and aspects I really like about the language too. For example, shikamoo, a greeting used to show respect for your elders. Or pole (polei), a word that literally means sorry and is used for everything from a person tripping or sneezing to a death in the family. Or calling everyone either dada (sister), kaka (brother) or shemegi (in-law) even though you just met.

7. Speaking of Swahili, things often got lost in translation – or so we thought. This story was written so well by Julie that instead of rewriting it, I’m just going to provide the blog link: Funny Hot Dog Story.

8. They sell alcohol in a bag. It is a little 2 oz. packet that is so easy to smuggle into the club. What a smart idea.

Julie and I pouring Konyagi into a coke

9. When I stayed in Tofo, Mozambique I didn’t wear shoes at all. Not to the beach, not to the market and not even to the bar at night. It is such a small beach town and all the roads are made of sand that I didn’t even bother to put on a pair of flip-flops for the week. People who know me well know this is my ideal living situation: no shoes.

10. In the beginning, the rain pounding on a tin roof in the middle of the night would always wake me up. But then I started to like the sound – it was soothing. There was something beautiful about the rains in Africa. Maybe because it meant I was excused from everything. Drainage isn’t up to par, so the roads quickly become rivers. Unless you want to swim to your next destination, you just stay where you are.

11. To continue with the rain theme, when I was a little girl, my sisters and I would float bottle caps in the water on the sides of the road after it had rained. When it rained in Tanzania, it poured. And as the roads turned to rivers, I couldn’t help but think that floating bottle caps as a kid in Tanzania would have been way more fun.

My street after a quick rain

12. The sense of community. I would often see 3-year-olds wandering down the street alone. I thought it was crazy until I realized that everyone in the community was looking out for them. Pretty admirable and respectable, considering I don’t even know my own neighbors. This sense of community is also why group loans in microfinance have been so effective.

13. The lack of confrontation. There’s nothing like seriously bargaining for something while laughing and smiling, even though the likelihood was that I was annoyed and angry for being charged “mzungu prices.”

There’s plenty more, but I’ll leave you with a funny story.

14. One day I was waiting for a dala-dala at Posta, one of the main stops. To get to my apartment from Posta, I had to take two buses, which meant switching and paying twice. There was a direct dala-dala but it didn’t come very often. I decided to wait for the direct bus. When it arrived and started to slow as it neared the stop, I did what I knew all the Tanzanians would do. I ran alongside the bus and started throwing elbows as I pushed and shoved my way onto the bus. I don’t even think the dala-dala ever came to a complete stop as people got off and on. I know, it sounds crazy, but if you don’t go along with it you’re likely to end up face down on the road as you get trampled on. I got a seat by the way, and with traffic the ride took about an hour.

The next day, Rita, the Kiva coordinator at Tujijenge had a funny story to tell me. She was on a dala-dala entering Posta when someone on her bus said, “Look! Even the mzungu (white person) is running and pushing to get on the dala-dala.” As Rita looked out the window to see this spectacle, she realized that “this mzungu” was me. She didn’t understand why I was running for a Posta-Mwenge bus when they come so frequently. But when I explained that it was in fact a Posta-Kawe bus, Rita said, “Oh, good thing you ran, that bus is very rare. Did you get a seat?”

Me painting on Emily's wall in her NYC apartment

Well, I’m back in the US now so I guess this is the end. Thanks to everyone for reading!