Midway through my time in Tanzania and it has started to feel like home.
FOOD: My taste buds have become low maintenance after 9
months. Rice with beans and a dried fish for lunch every day and spaghetti with
the same 3 vegetables each night will do that. On the upside, a dinner of kitimoto (deep fried scraps of hairy pork
skin, fat and bone) is a culinary delight. A meal without stones or insects is a triumph. Only creatures
bigger than a fly get removed from my plate these days and any cabbage dish
wouldn't be right if it wasn't covered in dead ants. I am accepting of the stark
reality that my right hand will smell of fish every afternoon and a dinner where
there is Angel Delight for pudding is a very special occasion.
WILDLIFE: After accidentally decapitating two geckos in the
door, I have lost any acquired confidence regarding Africa's wildlife. Being
solely responsible for cleaning up body parts of small lizards was a step backwards.
I haven't yet seen a live snake but taking my behaviour around dead ones into
consideration (a lot of shrieking and jumping) I don't think it would go too well if I
did.
.jpg)
DOMESTIC DUTIES: I do not miss having a washing machine.
There is something about cleaning clothes yourself with a soap powder that is
also used to wash your dishes, floors and hands that appeals to the frugal Victorian
in me. Although now that I have a cleaning lady I have had to relinquish this
joyful task and only get to wash my corsets and bloomers. Even then I feel like
a Bronte sister. Twice a week Leggie* leaves the baby at home and comes to clean
our house. I don't see what she does exactly, but I've noticed she doesn't like
to clean the toilet and scrubs the colour out of all our clothes for £1.40 a
week.
*Leggie's real name is Reggie but Tanzanian's always mix-up R's and L's.
 |
| My new home |
TRANSPORT: Long ago I became familiar with the Africa-wide
mode of transport known in Tanzania as the dala-dala.
They range from being reasonably safe-looking to poorly disguised death traps.
There have been journeys where the door has fallen off, tyres have burnt out, long
delays in villages whilst said tyre/door has been reattached, fights, vomiting,
brushes with death. Not long ago I swear the three of us travelling thought
that would be our last day on Earth and wondered how our bodies would get home.
The only thing you can be certain of is that it will be ridiculously
overloaded, if you're lucky enough to have a seat you will have a backside or
an armpit in your face, and the conductor will have no change for you. Do you pick a seat by the window where you
have to wave away the soda/sugar cane/squid sellers at every stop, or one in
the aisle where someone eating corn will spit pieces into your hair? Bejaj's (tuk-tuk's)
are infinitely more fun for short trips around town but not as cheap as a
piki-piki (motorbike) where your life is in the hands of a young, helmet-less
scoundrel who thinks it is funny to ignore you if you ask him to go slowly. As
a lady you sit side-saddle balancing baggage and gripping the driver (if you're
me); as a local you carry a few children, livestock and send text messages whilst
you ride.
 |
| The VSO piki-piki's |
PASTIMES - Finishing work at 3.30pm and being home by 3.32pm
means no lack of free time. In Nyangao at least, you have to be content with
your own company - there are no clubs, teams, or sports to join. My Tanzanian
colleagues either return home to start their domestic chores, rest or go to
their farms to work until it gets dark. Having moved house recently, I spend
the afternoons listening to my new housemate play her music at full volume.
George Michael and Enrique Englesias have almost made me terminate my contract
and come home. Fridays we always go out for a chip omelette - there are pool
tables in every village but women aren't allowed to play. Indeed, women don't
go to bars alone (unless they are prostitutes). Fortunately for me, James is
always keen for a chip omelette and a warm beer. Trips to Mtwara are something
to look forward to every few weeks. There's the chance to catch up with the
town volunteers, have some good food and stock up on treats. Today, I went to a
salon and had my first pedicure which involved a foot wash (obligatory with all
the sand), a foot scour (with 4 different sized scrubbing brushes), moisturise,
toe bending and a polish - for £1.20. Sadly after all that relaxation it was
necessary to get back on a dala-dala and enjoy 3 hours of elbow/backside/child
in-face-action back to Nyangao.
