80% of Tanzania is lacking electricity and 80% of Tanzanians live a subsistence agricultural lifestyle earning less than $600/year. What does this mean? It means they don't buy much. Just about anything we have in the west is absent for this part of the population. Consequently there are 2 economies here. Beans and rice are cheap but anything else from toothpaste to electric kettles cost pretty much what they cost in the west. Most Tanzanians just don't buy the like. Climbing Kilimanjaro and Safaris are all expensive unfortunately. It can cost from $50-$100 a day to visit a National Park.
Despite and maybe because of the lack of material possessions, the people here are incredibly friendly, generous, kind and respectful. Greetings are extremely important and the first thing that you need to learn. It starts with "you don't have any problems", with the answer "no I don't have any problems" and continues onto "how is your morning" with the answer good, then "how is your family", "how is ..... for whatever you want to inquire about. So each question starts with Habari za and you quickly learn that whenever you hear that, the answer is nzuri or good whether or not you understand anything else. It is considered extremely rude to launch straight into a conversation without first going through the greeting ritual. Everyone here walks or rides on a dalla dalla (an extremely overcrowded minibus; more information coming up) or other form of public transport, and I can only imagine if people were wealthier and had cars how this fabulous way of saying heollo would deteriorate.
So let me tell you a little bit more about the dalladalla. The following is an excerpt of a post that another volunteer put up on her blog.
Daladalas are little vans that provide local transportation in Tanzania. As far as I know, they are privately owned, so there is no official schedule that they follow. Luckily, they are all over the place, so if you go to a place where the daladalas stop (or if you are just walking along the road), it is usually no trouble to catch one. They are generally run by one driver and two conductors, and they cost very little to ride (usually arounf 15-20 cents). Each daladala travels to and from different areas around town. Sometimes the name of the destination is written on the front of the daladala, but you can also tell where the daladala is going because one of the conductors is hanging out the side yelling the name of the destination (I find one that has a conductor yelling “Milisita Bomasanya”). So now that you have some daladala background information, here are some of my favorite parts…
#1 Many daladalas have names written on the front of them. They are named things like "Praise God," "Grace of God," and "Thank You Jesus." As you can see, there's a bit of a theme, although there are some random ones thrown in there too, like "Mr. 32."
#2 It is very important to see inside the daladala before you decide to ride it. Even though the conductor may be trying to convince you that it is just about to leave, you must remember that it won’t actually leave until it is full. Even if the driver is honking the horn and revving his engine and even if they turn like they are about to get back on the road, chances are they will stop again to wait for more people.
#3 “Full” is a very relative term. In America, we might conclude that a daladala would be “full” when all of the seats are filled. We would be very wrong. The daldadala conductors are not satisfied until all of the available space inside the vehicle is filled, including every bit of standing room. By the time we leave, there are usually 20-25 people in the daladala, and you are usually touching about 5 of them and holding someone’s baby or bag of dead fish. Often there is no room left for the conductors and they just hang out the side.
#4 The inside of the daladalas are usually quite plain, but if you are lucky, you might get a daladala that has its own picture hanging inside. Just in case you want to admire what you are riding in, I guess.
#5 Along the way, people just yell out to the conductor where to stop. For example, when I’m getting close to my destination, I say “Shusha Margareza” which means “Stop at Magareza.” (Actually it means “Stop at the Prison.” My stop is close to the prison, so that’s what is called. Yikes.)
So that’s the daladala. I really love them, bag of dead fish and all. I think they are an ingenious method of transportation and a generally good way to get around. In fact, sometimes I joke with the children that when I grow up, I want to be a daladala conductor. I wonder if I would have much business in Tennessee…
I couldn't have said it any better myself. When I first arrived I was living on the other side of Moshi which necessitated a 10 minute walk down a dirt road. By the way "road" is somewhat of a misnomer. Even in Australia you have never seen washboards like the ones that exist here. The roads are incredibly rutted with deep cavities and would be impassable in most regular cars. Anyway after the 10 minutes on the dirt road it was another 30 mins or so walk along the side of a busy paved road followed by a 10 minute dalladalla ride and then another 10-15 minutes down another dirt road. At the end of last week another volunteeer and I moved to our current location which is just a 30-40 minute walk along rural back roads. A really pleasant walk and a great way to start the day. We are greeted by everyone from young kids to mzee (old people). Lesley and Robyn, there are no worries about getting in my10,000 steps a day since walking is a way of life here.
I am living at Twiga House www.twigahome.com. As you can see it is really, really nice with a superb view of Kilimanjaro. I have my own room with a private bath. The rooms congregate around a central courtyard area where there is the computer, TV etc. This has been a great congregating area for watching the world cup. We have access to a kitchen of sorts or can order meals. There are quite a selection of people coming and going with a few of us who will be here long term. A fabulous group of Irish just left today. They were in Moshi for 2 weeks running EFT clinics. Lesley I am now tapping!!
Amani is doing a fabulous job. It is hard for me to believe that this sweet kid that comes to me for hugs, 2 years ago was biting, kicking and extremely violent. I am surrounded by kids whose life stories would make you weep but seemingly are like any normal kids. I said above that the answer to "how are you doing" is always "nzuri" or good. Anything bad is not discussed which leads me to ponder the question where does the trauma lie? But this is the question of a western mind where we hold onto our trauma for dear life; in fact define ourselves by it. I am wondering about the fact that maybe in this society it isn't true.
Hello Ailsa!
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful to see this blog and to hear that you are well and "nzun". Your writing is wonderful which makes me think that I could easily see "Stories of Tanzania" by Ailsa in print.
Re the issue of trauma and moving past that in Tanzania ...
I wonder if the reality is that if every day one's survival is quite tenuous and death is a stark reality, then perhaps being grateful for every day that we are alive becomes much more the focus, no matter how imperfect that day might be.
Where does the trauma lie?
Is it gone? Does it sit festering somewhere? Perhaps it just becomes an "it" ... rendered powerless because the individual (or society) took ownership and responsibility for their lives and said, (internally), "I will do my best to survive with grace and poise because life is a gift and I should not squander a minute."
Dunno Ailsa, these are just my thoughts.