Dala Dala

Dala dala. There and back.

When I first arrived in Tanzania, in my mzungu naiveté, I expected the fine city of Arusha to have a government ordinated public transportation system, complete with color coded route systems and friendly drivers. In fact, upon flying into Kilimanjaro airport and not being met by my organization, I was naivé enough to ask my $50 USD Taxi driver to take me to the ‘bus station’ in Arusha. I had been told in an OHS email that buses frequently go between Arusha and OHS’s site in the village of Mateves. Not having anyone’s number in the organization, or really knowing how to get to the site, I asked for the obvious – take me to the bus station! I’ll be able to figure it out from there…

Meru

It seems like such a funny thing to want to write an entry about climbing a mountain. Funny for me because no matter what I try to say, I can’t bring you onto that trail with me. I can’t make your muscles ache, can’t make you short of breath. I really can’t describe what it feels like to traverse the rim of a volcano at moonlight.

In August of last year, I experienced a similar feeling.

Moja Upendo

A few nights ago I got into a very frustrating conversation between myself, Joe & our friend McKenzie – and a man that called himself a Rasta, even though he didn’t live up to many of the values that Rastas respect. Along the course of the conversation we talked about how some Tanzanians view “muzungus” (white people) – as people of great wealth and excess. The issue was brought up by us regretting that we often get charged more than local people for things like sodas, food, taxi rides… not always, but more than we would like it to happen. His response was – well since the white people have more money than Tanzanians, they should be happy to give more than what is necessary to them. Besides, he added, our grandfathers were the ones that had come to take Tanzanite from them – to colonize them – so in some small way we owe something back.

He then asked if I, specifically would buy him a beer. On first response, I thought to myself that I should give this guy a break and indulge in his philosophy that muzungus should be happy to extend a hand if one can. Then I thought about what else I could do with the 2,000 Tsh it would cost to sooth his buzz. I stopped the waiter from going to get the beer and told him I couldn’t buy it for him.