Tag: Life in Tanzania Page 14 of 26

Last night, I was at this event:

A book launch.  For a book called “Mama Dar:  Tales of Family Life in Tanzania.”  A Collection of 34 essays, short stories, and poems by 27 authors from around the world.

I got the privilege of being one of those 27 authors.  I got published!  It’s just a short story about Josiah’s adoption, adapted from this blog, actually.  My good friend Dyan recommended me to the editors a couple months ago, and my story got in right before publication.  Pretty exciting!

It’s a very professionally done book, and all the proceeds are going to a battered women’s shelter in Tanzania.  If you would like a copy, send me an email or a comment and I can try to get one to you.  The cost is $20 which will also include shipping on my end.  I’m guessing that mostly this will appeal to those of my readers who have previously been mothers in Dar es Salaam!  But it will strike a cord with anyone who has raised children overseas, or is interested in Africa or Third Culture kids.

Thanksgiving kind of feels lonely when you are not in America.

True, it’s sweaty here and there are no leaves falling off of trees.  In fact, I discovered yesterday that the reason my turkey baster is perpetually sticky is because the rubber is disintegrating in the humidity.  But we do always manage to track down a turkey….we can make mashed potatoes and stuffing and green bean casserole and even sweet potatoes with the marshmallows on top.  And last night Daddy and the kids cut up my yellow pumpkin into a jack-o-lantern and slept with it in their room…here’s hoping it will still make great pie!

But anyway.  There’s still something missing, and it’s not just the grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins.  Because that’s big, of course.   It’s just….It kind of feels like, living here, we are just pretending.  In America everyone drops everything on the fourth Thursday in November…everyone has the same menu, the same parade on their television sets, the same cranberry sauce out of a can. 

But here, well, today is just a normal day.  Everyone goes on with life as normal; rush hour, work, school.  We go on a treasure hunt for Thanksgiving foods instead of having them prominently displayed in the grocery store.  And we do our best, we re-create all the memories….but you can’t keep the kids up too late…school tomorrow.  Or, in our case, we celebrate on Saturday.  It kind of feels forced. 

It’s funny; this is my 14th Thanksgiving outside of America, and these things never bothered me that much before.  Maybe it’s because now I have kids.  Maybe it’s because on the last 4th Thursday in November, we were gathered around our parents’ tables. 

Of course, I still am reflecting on the multitude of what I have to be thankful for, and I am most definitely looking forward to Saturday.  I am not looking to feel sorry for myself; I am not asking for sympathy.  I love my Savior, and I love this life He has given me. 

And now I need to go cook up that Jack-o-Lantern.

Just an ordinary Monday.

Kids up, breakfast made, Gil’s lunch assembled, Bible time with the kids.  Walked to school to pick up the car, told Grace, “Be ready for school by the time I get back!”  Out the door at 9 am. 

Drove the mile to Grace’s school, she got out, came to my window, and promptly burst into inconsolable tears.  Taken aback at the behavior of my normally sunny, outgoing, I-love-school daughter, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to go to school!!!!”

Why not?

“I want to go home!!!!”

Firm Mommy.  Pried her fingers off the car, deposited her in the arms of one her teachers, and drove off with the vision of my daughter’s screeching face, outstretched arms in my rear-view mirror.

Horrible Mommy.  And my mind races.  Why didn’t she want to go to school?  Are they mistreating her?  Did something terrible happen that she didn’t tell me?  Mega guilt.

Next stop:  gas station.  Only and always full service in this country.  I asked for 40,000 shillings.  “Oops,” the attendant says to me, “I accidentally put in 46,000.”  Well.  Good thing I had the cash, since that’s the only method of payment. 

Drove for five minutes and realized the gas gauge was barely budging over a quarter of a tank.  For $30 worth of gas.  Irritated.

Stopped by the appliance store.  Since the weather has heated up, our fridge no longer can keep up and everything is spoiling, and no one has been able to fix it.  So we need a new refrigerator.  “We no longer sell refrigerators,” the clerk tells me.  “Now we only have air conditioners.”  I day dream for a minute about that air conditioner that is the size of a walk-in closet.  Maybe we could just make our whole house the temperature of a refrigerator.  Would that work?

Got to the grocery store.  I have recently fallen in love with weekly meal planning; it makes life so much less stressful.  That is, except when I can never find the things on my list.  Lasagna on the list for tonight; it’s Bible study night and I need something that will feed 8 people and can be adapted for our token vegetarian. 

No lasagna noodles.  I sigh and buy manicotti instead.  No fresh milk.  I debate for a while; do I want to buy boxed milk for the ricotta cheese, even though it’s twice the price of fresh milk and probably not even really milk?  (I mean, how can real milk sit on a shelf for months and not go bad?)  I sigh again and dump four boxes in the cart.

On the way home I stop at two other smaller shops.  But apparently all of Dar es Salaam is out of lasagna noodles and fresh milk. 

I go back to the gas station.  I put on my angry face and show the attendant my gas gauge.  “Is something wrong with the machine?” I ask.

“Maybe,” she shrugs. 

She pulls out the hose and puts another 15,000 shillings worth of gas in my car.  “Now check your gauge,” she asks me.  “Is that enough?”  The ludicrousy of this exercise does not escape me.  “I guess so,” I say.

Guilty Mommy is still present, so I decide to pick up Grace early from school.  I pull in and she is playing outside with her friends.  “Why are you here, Mommy?”

“Because you were upset.  Because you didn’t want to come to school today.”

“Oh.”  Long stare.

“Why didn’t you want to come to school?”

“Because I didn’t think it would be fun.  But it is.”

Sigh again.  “Do you want me to come back after lunch like usual?”

“Yes, please.”

(She and I will be “discussing” it this afternoon.)

Came home, gave Josiah hot dogs and mango for lunch, and now he is singing in his bedroom instead of sleeping.

It really is only about 10-15 miles to downtown from our house, and thus everywhere we need to go.  But bad roads, lots of traffic, non-working stop lights, and various other adventures mean that we spend a lot of time in the car when we go out.  On a recent loooong trip home with lots of traffic, I documented the journey in pictures.  So here we go:  A Dar es Salaam driving slice of life.

This is a fun part of the driving experience:  Numerous vendors that sell stuff to you while you are in traffic or at a stop light.  This guy is selling cashews. 

This guy is selling tangerines.  Other common items for sale:  gum, hankies, phone cards, toys, pillows, hangers, large maps of Tanzania, coat racks, mosquito zappers, and fire extinguishers.

However, this was the very first time we had ever seen someone sell guinea pigs to people in cars at a stop light.  It was this picture that got me started on my picture-taking spree that day.  However, as unique as this was, just a couple days later I saw something even more amazing:  a guy trying to sell a small fish tank, filled with water and fish, balanced on his head!  When you realize that these guys have just a few minutes (or less) to make their sale, it’s pretty crazy to think that someone would buy a fish tank that way.  I would love to know if he sold it!

During rush hour, traffic police (center in white) often take over guiding the intersections.  This was important to learn when we first came to Tanzania, because when this happens, they don’t turn off the traffic light.  So that means that when you come to an intersection, you have to first look for an officer before you look at the traffic light…or else have disastrous consequences!  (i.e. The traffic light could be green but if the officer says to stop, you’d better stop!)

One of many taxi stands.  Taxis are always white.

These kind of carts join the cars on the road.  The traffic was bad that day, so this guy passed us quite a few times as we inched up the road.

One of hundreds of cell phone service billboards

Piles of trash left behind by flooding water.

Potholes left behind by flooding water.

Our kids point out these bikes to us every time we pass them.  Hmmm…wonder why???

You can see on the far right that this is a rain gutter…filled to the brim.

In the past couple of years, Dar es Salaam roads have become infested with these little buggers.  They are a form of taxi, electrically run, and can go about as fast as a golf cart.  It’s a pain to get stuck behind one, they are hard to see, and do all kinds of dangerous things like drive on the sidewalk.  Ack!  Can you tell they drive me crazy?  (Pun intended)

The “dolla-dolla”–classic form of Dar es Salaam public transportation.  They also drive on the sidewalks, but at least they are easier to see.

You can’t really tell from this picture, but this part of the road was completely washed out by the rain, causing traffic jams for miles.  Thankfully, they have now begun to repair it!  Oh happy day!

People often say that the things that are hardest about life in Dar are the heat, the electricity, and the roads.  I think we would agree.

You know those nights when you don’t want to cook and really just want Taco Bell?

Yeah, me too.

But considering that replicating Taco Bell means, for me, making the tortillas, making the beans (which involves soaking overnight), making the salsa, and cooking the meat….well…it’s not exactly fast food anymore.

So when we want fast food we go to T-Square. Here’s the steps involved in our “Fast Food.”

1. Spray self with mosquito spray. Drive to T-Square, which is about a mile away.

2. Order food at window. They always say “15 minutes.”

3. Sit down with magazine and wait. Very important to bring a magazine because….

4. 45 minutes later, pick up food that is ready.

5. Normally, the French Fries are wrapped in packets of tin foil. This turns the fries into something that is as limp as a wet sock. So, I always bring my own container and ask them to put the fries in that instead of the foil. This time, as happens many times, they did use my container, but then covered the whole thing with tin foil. Sigh.

6. Bring food home to waiting family. Heat up oil on the stove and dump all the fries into oil to crisp them up.

7. Over one hour after leaving the house, serve very yummy fries, meat, rice and beans to family.

I’m sure the speed of this process practically took your breath away. But I did not have to cook it…so for me, it still counts as “Fast Food.”

Now…for the post script….I had this post all ready in my mind on the evening we ate this…which was over a week ago. But that night, a few hours after dinner, I got violently ill and had one of those miserable nights that needs no description. All night long I kept thinking “FOOD POISONING!!!” Which it could have been. But since no one else in my family got sick, and two other families we know also ate the same food that night and also didn’t get sick, and we’ve eaten there about once a month for the past 5 years and never gotten sick…well….it might not have been food poisoning. But let’s just say I have a bit of “Psychological Poisoning” against T-Square now…so it may be a while before I go on that adventure again!