I’m sorry Dr. Glow, I know you lived there for two years but I was not a fan of Arusha Town actually going into it. Perhaps I’ve gotten used to the smaller town or something. I am glad that I didn’t go in by myself because I think I probably would have gotten lost in a back alley and died. Can you guess what we did on Saturday?
The night before I couldn’t sleep and so I did what any sensible person would do and got up to go stand in the rain and get absolutely soaking wet. Yay! On my way up I noticed Abel and Lillian leaving at 11:30 P.M. Still not sure why they did or if they are running an illegal crime ring but seems unlikely. This did mean that I had the space where the car goes to stand with my face tilted up to the rain and just exist. It was very satisfying and also mildly unpleasant to just stand in the rain so I moved to the porch where the bugs descended and I was forced back to bed. On the bright side once I was sopping wet I fell asleep really fast so who knows maybe that’s a cure for babies who can’t sleep go stick them in the rain for a while. (I’m kidding please let me around your children still.)
Got up and did my washing the fastest I’ve ever done it–cause I needed my clothes for church the next day. I won’t lie I didn’t do a good job and probably some of the clothes should be rewashed but I think it’s the effort that counts. The further towards Arusha you go the more industrial and modern the area becomes. The road becomes two lane and there are cars and people everywhere–including the ever present motorcycle men who gave me a “hey baby,” and Jennifer a “hi,” so I really don’t know what I’m doing wrong.
We got off and went into the main market which is split into the woman’s side (vegetables) and the men’s side (meat.) You could make some jokes here but also the woman’s side smelled way way better. Jennifer loves markets so she was in absolute heaven here where I was a little overstimulated and tired of trying to figure out how to respond when someone says, “hello, I love you.”
There was a section of just dried tiny fish–which apparently are really tasty but I didn’t want to taste them. There were literal mountains of them and I think people were surprised that Lillian wanted some because I think they are a men’s snack. But just hold up a second and picture this again. Mountains of four inch long dried fish complete with eyeballs. The market was very worth seeing. It was a lot of narrow winding alleys, food stuff, and people crammed into every available space. Jennifer bought some mangos–which she then got to haul around for the entire day. Jennifer also loves markets and tight enclosed spaces whereas if you know me even a little bit you know eventually I just want to scream and escape from it if I feel too claustrophobic.
From here we went to a cloth store as I’ve decided that I wanted a dress from Tanzania and Lillian said the easiest way to do this was buy fabric and have the sewing instructor at the school make it for me. (Obviously-we do so many custom dressess in the U.S. I don’t know why this solution hadn’t come to me before.)
There were about five hundred and one million fabrics to choose from so I just honestly sat there and gaped. It was this tiny little store with just bolts and bolts of fabric. I think I could have sat in there all day in indecision but the Tanzanians weren’t super impressed with my lack of knowing what I wanted. “I want cotton,” I told Lillian.
She turned to me, “these are all cotton Claire.”
Going with a safe bet I decided Purple was my favorite color and there was a pretty purple one right in front of me–nice and simple. I think everyone was a little surprised by my switch from utter confusion to yes this is definitely the one I want. What they didn’t know is inside, my brain was just on static mode and it was 100% instinct.
I think my brain was glitching because then I couldn’t remember how to pay. Honestly, not my finest moment in life but we try.
The other big thing we did in Arusha via Tuk-Tuk (Side by side type things) and tiny busses was the cultural heritage museum. It was a tourist trap for both Americans (overpriced souvenir store) and French people (overpriced art gallery.) Sometimes I think French people just spawn in Art Galleries. The gallery was designed to be shaped like a drum, spear, and shield to represent the different parts of Maasai culture and it was very impressive. Furthermore it was divided into three sections that I couldn’t entirely figure out where was what but Soul, People, and Wildlife. I think the Soul section was a little bit up to interpretation as to where it was.
The inside of the gallery was built as a spiral and you could wind your way up meditating on the art or perhaps consider buying a 8x4 foot painting of a Lion as a nice living room accent. I think this is Lillian’s go to place to take tourists and so she’s been there about five milllion times. I think she just walked around the gallery looking at her phone the entire time. I on the other hand thouroughly enjoyed the colors but apart from that didn’t look at too much in depth–except for some sculptures that I’m really not positive where you would put but would probably make great conversation pieces.
It was cool to get to see all the expression and a lot of the more cultural pieces had explanations and descriptions of the practices associated with them or what was being shown and so I learned some tidbits that way. I don’t envy anyone who has to wear a hand carved wooden mask while dancing.
We did some more city driving where we nearly got dumped into a very questionable looking sewer and then hit by a truck. Lillian and Jennifer were fine by this but I was a little nervous. They thought that this was absolutely hilarious–personally though death by sewer is not the way I want to go.
We walked by the clock tower and then went to an internet cafe which was again very designed for not locals. Everything was clean and very played up inside. Everyone in there was white or with a white person. We met a guy who had some painting in the gallery we’d just seen and had done the murals for the LITU foundation. He was very chill. There were really beautiful handbags and I thought about getting one for mom but the clasps didn’t work and also I don’t have much space anywhere.
We hit the bus home so I could make to choir which the choir director was once again at. It’s okay though because my hair was in braids which he thought was beautiful and said I should do more often. Well at least he didn’t touch my face today–it’s the small things in life. I finally got a picture with my favorite choir member-Mary-the most excellent soprano ever who has been trying to teach me how to dance.
I was also very frustrated by the one constant in singing in a choir where I don’t speak the language–turns out I didn’t have half the music and had no idea. The ladies thought it was hilarious–and lets be honest I did too–to keep sending me around the circle to different people to take pictures of the lyrics even though I’m pretty sure the lady two down from me had the right lyrics.
The sopranos were all singing a line one at a time of a song that I hadn’t learned and when the choir director got to me and asked me to sing it I just flat out refused which as the Mzungo they just laugh at and any time I try anything they clap. (Maybe I would have done it if I had seen the music before 2 seconds before hand–but in his eyes thats a small detail.)
We had Lillian’s favorite dish for dinner and my personal not favorite, fish stew over rice. I just don’t like chunks of fish complete with bones in my rice although I will eat it. I am back on vegetable grating duty and Jennifer taught the kids how to play War which is there new favorite game. However, Giovanni likes to cheat outrageously. I took the cards that he’d carefully ordered to win the current WAR and shuffled them and he started crying. Turns out the solution to this is turning on some dance music because after a little dancing he was happy as a clam once again–although he kept a much tighter grip on his cards something about not wanting me to do him dirty and shuffle his cards again.
WAR is an eternal game. I’m not sure how I found so much endless entertainment in it as a child, but it does teach you patience and that the odds of you winning are not high. It hasn’t really rained during the day since Jennifer has been here but once again it rained at night and there is no sound better than rain coming down outside your window.
Now for a bit of brief background on the President of Tanzania whom I knew not much about. She is the first female African president and also the first female African to hold power in modern Africa. She became president after serving as vice president to the former president who died under mysterious circumstances. It’s okay though because he wasn’t a very good president. She’s also muslim and has the nation call her mama. She’s tried to do quiet a few reforms for openness, tolerance, and cultural tourism. She’s also working on the ever present problem of the economy. So now you know some fast facts about the president.
The big answer! Did I sing for the president? No she didn’t show. I think she was doing something in Sudan which may have been a bit more important than coming to a church fundraiser, but wasn’t as exciting for us. The bishop did show Bishope Isaac Ammani of Arusha (which isn’t that far) The regional director came instead-halfway through mass which was probably a good thing considering how long it was–but I’m getting there.
So I was asked to show up a 9 AM. So obviously while I was still under the impression that I was going to be singing for the president I decided 8:30 was the perfect time to get out of bed on a sunday morning. The dress code was a special white dress the choir ladies had made a year ago. Which oddly enough I didn’t have so to do my best not to stand out as the only white lady in the choir I wore a dark blue dress-mostly cause it was all I had.
The white outfits of the rest of the choir made them really easy to find and I have mastered their greeting “Yesu Christo?” “Milele Amina” which has made them unreasonably happy and it makes me happy too! We were having mass in the foundations of the new church to show that we could fill it. It was really cool to have mass in the skeleton of a growing church. It gives you hope that things are coming to life still. Anyways back to the choir! There is this one lady so filled with joy that she just waves and bursts at the seam with a smile everytime she sees me. (I’m going to miss her) Her name is Sofia. Now Sofia this morning wanted to see my choir book to check some of the lyrics I guess? Which again my spelling of is probably very interesting. Than she held it custody for the next 40 minutes. While I was working on figuring out how to get back my lifeline to being able to sort of sing in Swahili another lady her name I could never pronounce but it starts with an N and she has also been very very very helpful came and grabbed at my dress frowning.
People here are very very touchy. This morning was when I began to think that maybe Choir Director wasn’t being as creepy as I thought because everyone was fixing my hair and frowning at my dress. Next thing you know I was dragged to the secret back sewing room where Choir Director number 2 was doing some last minute ironing. He looked a little guilty to be caught doing this but hey no judgement. (I think he also thinks I’m seducing choir director 1 and hence does not like me.)
A white dress was grabbed and then I was manhandled into the backroom of a cow barn because the priest keeps a couple. What are you doing Fr. Kenny? The dress was a little on the tight side (I had to keep my arms back the entire time) but I felt really beautiful in it. A bit like I was going to be on my wedding day. (I honestly wouldn’t mind a dress that simple for if and when I ever get married) All the choir members thought so too, ooing and awing over a white girl in a white dress. Which they may have just been nice but it still made me feel less uncomfortable. (Side note walking in a muddy church foundation in a white dress is not a succesful endevour for me.) Choir director 2 gave me a nod of approval and choir director 1 said something along the lines of “You look stunning.”
Now when we got back Mary-my favorite Soprano was there and we were getting ready to start. “Book? Book?” she kept asking. Sofia was nowhere to be found and at that point I didn’t know her name. Right before we went to process out Sofia popped up smiling and handed me the book laughing. Claire being the smart person she is then set the book on the chair and walked out to get in line to process/dance in. The procession dance is more of a rhythmic swaying but still very very joyful complete with the yipping and yelling and incense and tired looking altar boys. There were also a lot of priests today because of the fundraiser and the skeleton of the new church was almost completely filled. There were different groups of ladies in coordinated patterns depending on church groups they were in. (What is really cool about this is while the pattern is the same they have all made their dress to fit their style.)
I’m not going to lie while I’ve learned most of the mass parts I still am not entirely sure what the homily was about. Actually I’m completely unsure. What was very distracting about this mass was the sheer number of news people around. They were very professional looking and I was very distracted at times like when one of them was climbing up a half finished set of stairs to get a better angle. I don’t know where they were airing too because I couldn’t find it online but one of their favorite hobbies was while the choir was singing and dancing and I was trying to dance they would come film us. The choir wanting to show me off of course had me in the front row where white dress or not my skin is still the wrong color. But you know I was enjoying singing with them so much that I was just laughing and smiling next to Mary and at least for a little bit filled with the same kind of joy they seem to radiate.
After mass the Regional Director came up and gave a long speech about presumably religion/government/giving money because the government definitely gave some money. The church was trying to raise 1.3 billion shillings the equivalent of $500,000 USD to build their church. After he spoke the Bishop and him stood and we all danced up to give money. It felt a little bit like a congo line led by our fearless director.
Then there was a serious of single donations ranging from 1-10 million shillings. 1 million shillings is 400 USD. Every time they donated Mary insisted that we celebrate and dance-even if we were hungry. Then five hours into it the regional director left and I thought it was over. But wait there is more! We handed out water and then the bishop came back and kept talking. More groups went up and donated and there was a female and male call to donation. These people are nothing if not generous. Then there was a collection led by a guy who’d built the original church. He hobbled up and held the donation basket.
Finally, at 3:30 (yes you read that right) the bishop came up to talk one more time. I got this part translated for me. It seems particularly relevant to my church going friends in the U.S. and Europe so I’ll summarize it here. Issac Ammani I think was very good at rhetoric so picture it more elequoent.
“My brothers and sisters, we are trying to build a church here because our church is bursting at the seems. We are growing we need more space. But while we work on building a more beautiful space for worship let us not forget to keep track of what is important. Our family in Europe and America have many beautiful churches on every block. And are they full? No they are empty! They are few and far between because they have not nurtured their youth. So while this church should be built let us remember the most important thing of all is taking care of our children. Teaching them to love God as we love him and ensuring that this church we build will not be empty for a church is nothing but a building without its community of faithful.” (Alright thats the spark notes version)
While this speech was going on Mary and I were having a conversation of sorts via hand written notes, me answering in Swahili and translating her words via google translate. We got each others number and she told me she expected me to keep in contact and to learn Swahili. She doesn’t have WhatsApp so I don’t know if this will happen but I really hope it will. She said that she loved me dearly and would miss me. To listen to my parents and to come back to Tanzania one day if I could.
Honestly, I nearly started crying. Here was a person who I’d sung and danced with but never really spoken with telling me she loved me and cared about me. There is a definite outpouring of love. I promised to do my best and I got some other numbers passed to me but I have no idea where they came from so I’m not sure who they belong to. Ah well.
Finally, at 4 P.M. in the afternoon we finished. I have never been at church so long and even though we got hungry and tired we still danced and it was wonderful. Mary led me out and I think was trying to walk with me home but small problem I was still in the white dress so I said goodbye to her and went to find the choir lady who had outfitted me. I didn’t find her but I found choir director 1 who insisted we have a goodbye speech. Then I explained my plight and he was like, “Oh I will help you but first we must have dinner together.”
“I’m sorry, I’m cooking tonight and I just need my dress back and didn’t you say you were going to get soda with the choir,”
“My dear please they have invited us it will be very special, and the choir can manage without us.” (Conveniently leaving out the dress and honestly I’d rather have gotten soda with the choir.)
So with my dress as the captive I went to dinner with him at the dinner for important people. I was still like perhaps he just wants to be friends when he let out a big sigh. “My dear our souls have a connection if only you did not have a fiance.”
“Oh but I do, he’s a musician and I love him very very very much.”
“Ah but perhaps oneday you will come live here in Tanzania with me.” (Okay dipshit what are you going to do with your wife and child? I don’t cuss lightly in this blog it was just a little extra.)
“It’s too hot!”
“You will adapt.”
At that moment I had finished my food and I finally spotted the choir lady who had my dress (I think she is also a sacristan of sorts). I practically jumped up and ran to where she was, getting my dress back, and shaking of choir director one with a “I really need to cook dinner!”
I finally got back to the house at 5 PM and was more than a little disgruntled to see everyone relaxing and playing cards while I’d been languishing at a dinner (okay the food was good–that part was good) They thought the story with choir director one was hilarious. They also brought up the same question I had, what was he to do with his wife? Abel suggested if I see him again I should say, “Oh I’d really like to see your house! It would be so special.”
No thank you.
We went to the market in USA River to get my Avocados for cooking. We went with Giovanni and he is the cutest ever looking at things and scrunching his face up. He is an unfairly cute kid. I think I’ve said that a time or too. I made naan-a success and avocado pasta. There was no fresh basil so I used dried basil and rehydrated it in hot water. It ended up tasting right but turns out the family does not like cold food or my cooking so not very much got eaten. It could have also been that between dinner with choir director 1 and shopping we didn’t eat till 9 P.M. I am a lot of things but I am not a fast cooker. Lillian was also mortified when she found out I’d never made the avocado pasta on my complete own before. Abels mom had said it looked good but apparently it did not taste good to them. Okay so I normally get relegated to squeezing lemons duty but I can cook.
While I was cooking naan on the front porch the power went out and it was a surreal experience to be cooking bread with only the light of the gas flame. They also have special rolling boards (usually for chipati that are really convenient to use.)
Then while Lillian started making donuts for tomorrow even as she complained about all her chores and being tired. I felt for her and then went and fell on my face. There is a definite limit to what chores she will let me help with and ironing the kids clothing is one she will not let me do so I might as well go to bed.
Alright I’ll continue to catch up-My next post should be my last three days in Tanzania. I’m writing this from the Zambia airport.
Song of the Post: 2+2=5 Radiohead (Has nothing to do with the post I was just listening to it on the airplane)
Quote of the Post: Jiwe Kuhani Hata milele (One of our song lyrics)
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