Four Months, Four Continents–Back to Africa

We got back to Arusha with no problems (Millie slept the entire flight home!!! And I foolishly stayed awake the whole time on the overnight flight just so I could enjoy TWO movies in peace). As soon as our suitcases were unpacked, I started preparing to pack them up again (along with 14 boxes) for our departure from Tanzania four weeks later.

Its amazing how quickly a change like moving can sneak up on you. Just as you’re going about your day, buying veggies at the Arusha-version of a farmer’s market, annoyed by the ignoramus drivers on the road and the always-out-of-money ATM, and you get call that says “say good bye to all those nice people you have gotten to know the past two years and essentially the only world your daughter has ever known, you’re going to Cambodia.” You’re 10 parts thrilled, 10 parts sad and 20 parts overwhelmed over what will transpire in the coming weeks. This was the case for me.

I felt more than content with all the remarkable people we’d met in Arusha who’s paths had fortunately intersected with ours. I loved that I was able to climb Mt. Meru after having it stare me down on a daily basis as I went about my business. I felt gratified that what was a leap of faith for our new family turned into such a professionally and personally gratifying experience. I felt triumphant that I had simultaneously stumbled through new motherhood while also navigating life on a new continent. I felt satiated by having seen so many animals in the wild and gorgeous countryside. And lest I forget, it was a blessing beyond words to have so much help at home.

But I can’t deny that at times I found life in Arusha to be annoying and that I longed for one of those Staples "Easy" buttons to push. And during those difficult times, I longed for the simplicity and intuitiveness of America. Why couldn't the store just have the things I needed when I needed them? Why did "maybe next week" really mean, "I have no idea" and that they didn't just say that in the first place?  While hiking in the Grand Canyon (during our recent home leave), Roger asked me ‘what do you love about America so much?’ I told him it boiled down to, when I’m here, I feel powerful.  Everything makes sense, I know my way around, I speak the language and I know the written and unwritten rules.  In Tanzania, it was the opposite.  Naturally, it was unrealistic of me to expect to feel as comfy in Tanzania after two years as I do after thirty odd years in my native America.  But I guess as you get older (esp when toting around a little one), being able to predict  and deftly navigate your surroundings becomes as essential to you as your daily venti latte.

In the midst of a major transition for our family, I feel compelled to wax philosophical about the expat lifestyle and longing for home.  But no matter how I dissected it, I continually reached the same conclusion – no matter where you are, the grass is always greener in other pastures.  I will appreciate all that Arusha had, and that I surely took for granted, once I am sweating buckets in Phnom Penh.  And undoubtedly I will wish for an Easy button while we’re there as well.

Walking safari in Great Rift Valley, with our Colorado friends

Our last month in Arusha was a roller coaster.  We got out to the bush one more time (for Mother’s Day) and we had good times with the good people we’d been fortunate to meet.  We even sent ourselves off in true Tanzanian style with a whole roasted goat at our farewell party (which I think gave many children nightmares)! But there were a lot of difficult goodbye’s and a lot of packing.   I started seeing Arusha in a different and more positive light.  I understood why people relocated there for good, opting to raise their families surrounded by the bush and slower pace of life.

The farewell goat!

Other philosophical sentiments that moving ignites is regret and living simply.  Why is it that in the day-to-day course of straightening up I can look at a heart-shaped coin purse and think “this may come in handy one day, better save it” but then toss it in the giveaway/trash pile the moment we decide to move? How do I get my brain hard wired to critically examine every trinket and tchotchke at the moment of confrontation and either put it to use or make it someone else’s treasure? You’d think a lifestyle based on relocating every two years would have given me some skills in this department, but sadly, no.  Nevertheless, even three hours before the taxi picked us up, I was unloading a suitcase full of STUFF on the staff.

And lest we forget our good pal, regret: Wishing I had made it to Serengeti.  Wishing I’d explored more of our corner of the continent.  Wishing I’d been more adventurous and less nervous.  Wishing I’d mastered Swahili and engaged more in local life.  Of course, it just always felt as though there would be time for those things once I [enter every excuse in the book].  I suppose moving every few years like this should drive home the prescient wisdom of just doing it.

Farewell Arusha (yes, 6 weeks later)! Thank you for welcoming us, being such a wonderful home for our new family and creating so many friendships.  Tutuonana badaye (see each other again)!

From the month of April until the very first day of July, Millie and I will have had our feet on four different continents in as many months.  We start in Europe, return to Africa, pop over to North America and then eventually land in Asia.
 
 

Get Rich Quick!

Short on cash these days?  Unemployment check just not making ends meet?  Want to take your caffeine jolt in the Starbucks Trenta?  Then consider getting into the generators for East Africa business!  Don’t want to store that entire inventory in your garage?  Just start a generator repair business and you’re likely to make a killing! 

Daily, inconsistent, random and lengthy power cuts are the new vogue in remote places like Tanzania and the expats can’t get enough of the soothing hum of a generator motor or the aromatherapeutic odors of gasoline.  They’re willing to pay anything for a generator and its maintenance so that their overpriced boxed milk doesn’t spoil and their iPhones don’t loose their charge.  Unable to waste the day away online, it’s causing some unnamed expats to develop crazy behaviors like consistent exercise routines, blowing through e-reader libraries and staying on top of current events (Go Egypt!).  It’s even driving some to boutique hotels that have real ice cubes and McDonalds-style fries to abuse its Wi-Fi and download from iTunes like crazy (even in HD!).   If foreign direct investment is still not your cup of tea, just go to Vegas and start betting on when the long rains will commence and when the national power company will be able to close the electricity deficit.  And when you make your first Benjamin, you better cut me in for throwing this insider tip your way!

My Life in Tanzania

Two months ago I read Julia Child's memoir My Life in France.  It narrates the story of her life after she married Paul Child who was a Public Affairs Officer with the State Department and was sent to Paris for his first assignment.  It's a love story of how she fell in love with the country of France and most importantly, its cuisine, which, as we all know, made her the person as we know her today.  Prior to reading it I had never been drawn to her recipe book Mastering the Art of French Cooking mostly because I am still working on the basics like how to grill a steak and not  burn the beans.  But after seeing the movie Julie and Julia, Julia Child's narrative resonated with me, myself being an expat wife with idle fingers.

Thanks to my niffty Nook e-reader I downloaded the book and got to reading.  In only the first 50 pages I was struck by how much Julia's life in post-World War II France resembles mine in 21st century Tanzania.  I have never been to France but I have ideas of what its like (chocolate, art, bread, Eifel Tower, cheese, wine, chocolate, cycling, pastries) and for the most part I liken it more to the U.S. than a developing country.  But Julia was there just after WWII and what a different country it is from today (although the culinary part is probably very much still the same!) yet so much like our life in Tanzania today.  Cases in point:

On a budget, she kept cash for fixed costs in separate envelopes: seeing as its purely a cash economy here and no such thing as online banking or electronic payments for our local costs, we pay everything in cash which quickly depletes the cash in your wallet.  So as to not be caught off-guard by the recurring payments (water, electricity, internet, diapers, gas, groceries etc) that whiddled the balance in my purse down to zero, I started maintaining individual envelopes and just took as necessary.  Sophisticated, I know.

Wanted to make native friends, but Paris overrun by Americans: As much as we'd like to connect with local Tanzanians, we have found it hard to cultivate any meaningful relationships.  Most all our close friends are either American or European although Roger is fortunate enough to connect with a huge cross section of nationalities at his work and especially Africans from all over the Continent.  I think we were prepared for this eventuality based on our Peace Corps experience.  Regardless of nationality or socioeconomics, friendships are based on shared experiences (past, present and future ones) and that was hard to come by in Honduras, Togo and now Tanzania between us and the locals. In Julia's case, as time went on, the woman that co-authored Mastering the Art of French Cooking was French and one of Julia's closest friends.

Mixed feelings about having domestic help: Don't get me wrong, I LOVE having help in the home and fully acknowledge my great fortune for having this lifestyle.  And naturally, I have become more comfortable with it as time has gone by and we've all fallen into natural roles and rhythms.  But still feels weird at times having the guard salute me every time I drive the car into the property.  Furthermore, there seems to be an unspoken expectation that I'm not only their employer but also their caretaker between the hours of 9am - 5pm meaning I should provide food for their lunch, a stove to cook and offer interest free loans.  And its one of those situations where it's not about the money, it's the principle of the matter.  We come from a culture in which you're given a salary and certain benefits and after that, you're on your own.  So this becomes difficult territory to navigate at times.

Five visits by bureaucrats to get a phone installed: I thank my lucky stars that my experience with this kind of thing in Tanzania is very limited.  In fact just the other day I paid a local man (who I know and trust) to go and renew our car registration and license because I had so much anxiety over having to deal with Tanzanian bureaucracy as a foreigner.... wouldn't be pretty.  However, I have been in situations where you're sent from one desk to another (including waiting on their respective lines) just to get a stamp or signature so your very simple transaction can be processed.  This kind of thing, provided it doesn't take too much of your time, can be comical.

Lack of holiday commercialism: this is very apparent here during Christmas.  To be sure, businesses put up lights and Christmas decor over the holidays but its very difficult to get into the spirit when its boiling hot outside and I'm lying by the pool.  Surely, this is perfectly normal for Australians and all other Southern Hemisphere dwellers, but for me and my Northern roots, it just ain't the same.  And sure, we all complain every year how the holiday craze is over the top and starting earlier and earlier, but you know what, I like it!  It gets me in the Spirit - those holiday cookies aren't going to cook themselves!  Just something about red noses, hot cocoa, sweaters and stores open til midnight that really say Christmas is here.

Will I eventually pen Mastering the Fine Art of Tanzanian Cooking?  Probably not (it would only be about five pages long anyway!).  But despite the difference in age, should Julia Child still be around today, I'm sure we'd have a good laugh or two over coffee and sweets (I'll bring coffee, she can make the sweets) over our shared experiences. 

Be it Resolved...

Happy New Year!  Still here, just crawling out from a post-visitor-and-holiday haze.

Since I last wrote, It's Kili Time HQ has hosted my dad and his partner, organized a baby shower, converted to raw milk, vacationed in Zanzibar, supplied Arusha with holiday dips and treats and played technology catch-up via the world of iTouch apps (thanks Santa!).  Not that I am  using these things as an excuse for not writing but more as a preview of what topics will likely be covered in future posts.

But in the meantime, in the spirit of the New Year, I will share with you my Resolution for 2011.

Be More Resourceful and Less Wasteful

My inspiration for this started late last year at the art exhibition of my friend Martina.  Martina is from Switzerland - a place where many and probably all art supplies you could ever imagine are available.  But she was living in Arusha for a year and a half with her family while her husband conducted his PhD research.  She has since returned to Switzerland.  Although I never asked this, I imagine the art tools she was used to working with in Switzerland were in short supply to non-existent in Arusha so she made the most of what was available and created very inspired and beautiful pieces of art, using kanga cloth and bottle tops (yes, soda is still sold in glass reusable bottles here). Behold:

 

The bottle top map is titled Ecological Footprint and its a reflection of each country's human demand upon the ecosystems of their respective land mass.  Martina chose to use bottle tops as her medium because she was inspired, ironically, by the local rule of thumb: one person's trash is another person's treasure.  It was very moving.

But I can't say that this was my first instance with recycling.  Trash disposal here is not as neat and tidy as it is at home.  Ultimately it all gets burnt but not before it's picked over multiple times for any little treasures like old batteries or empty yogurt containers.  It may sound primitive but I wonder if this system is any better or worse than what we have in the States (any guesses?).  Even before my shampoo bottles end up in the incinerator (I only wish it was an incinerator!  It's really just a heap at the corner whose smoke flows straight into my house!), they are fished out by the staff for personal use which makes me super self-conscious.  What is a girl to do with the baby monitor that was blown out by the wrong electric current 3 months in to our stay?  Is it sad that I have seriously contemplated amassing all our "trash" (broken clippers, baby monitors, dysfunctional sippy cups, broken toys) into a duffel bag that we will bring home to America and put into some recycling program there?  It just feels embarrassing to offer something I perceive as worthless to the staff.  I can thank my undergrad institution for that lovely dose of guilt!

All that is just fluff and background for why I have chosen the resolution I chose.  I plan to be more mindful of the waste I create and do my best to reduce.reuse.recycle - my time included!  I even got a head start on it last year by switching from long life milk (which costs nearly $2/liter) to raw milk that I pasteurize at home (and costs fifty cents/liter).  I'm working on perfecting thick, creamy yogurt also so I can stop buying it (mostly to avoid the plastic container waste, because the yogurt itself is damn good!).  And lastly, we FINALLY planted a ginormous vegetable garden on the vacant plot adjoining ours which will help me use only what I need and not let vegetables and herbs wither as I'm prone to do.  Barbara Kingsolver I am not, but I figure this very fortunate lifestyle I have cannot be squandered and I should make the most of it.  Living in such a mindful fashion will create order (which I love!) and predictability and my hope (fingers crossed) that all other priorities (family, exercise, writing, reading, friendships etc) will fall in place as a result!

Does KFC Deliver to Tanzania?

A very Happy Thanksgiving our turkey brethren!  Anyone in a food coma yet?  As of the writing of this post, we haven't had any coma's 'round here, but that could all change come 5 o'clock today (9am EST) when we go to a friend of a friends house for some delicious grub.  Luckily for our host, the dinner is being catered otherwise she might very well loose her mind with all the freaking power cuts we're having these days!

We are planning our own little Tanzgiving on Sunday once my dad and his friend Lynn arrive in Arusha.  Two days ago Roger and I watched Julie & Julia and I got inspired to clog my arteries make Julia Child's roast chicken for Tanzgiving, so I planned a menu accordingly.  It involved Moroccan Carrots, mashed potatoes, broccoli with bacon, FRESH cranberry sauce, rolls and apple crisp.  Unfortunately, Arusha had another menu in mind.

It all began Weds actually when I went the butcher shop, Meat King, that advertised fresh cranberry sauce imported from who knows where (kind of cancels out the "fresh" part, I realize) and they confessed that someone forgot to put the cranberry sauce on the boat.  That was followed up by two nights in a row of 12 hr power cuts.  Then once power was restored, as well as my thankful and sane heart, the Tanzanian National Electric Company decided to toy with my emotions by sporadically turning the power on and off for five hours.  It is a sheer miracle of the heavens that I managed to get a Spiced Applesauce Cake made for our party tonight.

The outcome of all this (including a delicious looking apple cake that was aided by turning off all power sockets in the house except for the oven so the generator could git 'er done) was shoving our 2 kilo bird into the freezer and putting Khan's Chicken on my speed dial because, my friends, we are getting take out!

I realize I have a slight flair for the dramatic [mother and Roger stifle a laugh], but that's why you visit It's Kili Time, right?  I just hope you also know that all dramatizations recounted here are all made possible by the many wonderful things in my life for which I am DEEPLY appreciative, in particular my health, family, well being, red patent leather flats and the opportunity to connect with you via this platform.

When expressing your thanks today, do so while running all high voltage appliances, just because you can.  A very Happy Electrifying Thanksgiving to all!

Visits to the Zoo & the Pool

Thought I went into hibernation again, didn't you?  Sorry about that!  Just been busy getting ready for Tanzgiving and a visit by Santa Claus my dad so my mind has been elsewhere!  Did you wonder if after I made a promise to relay the great things about Arusha that all of a sudden I was starved for content?  Negative, my friends!

Imagine, five years from now Millie participates in Show and Tell at her school in America and she's like "In Tanzania, sometimes we went to the zoo!"

Then she says "But if the zoo was too crowded, we went to the pool instead."

Truth be told, the "zoo" picture was from our very first game drive when Millie was 4 months old.  We did visit the same national park two weeks ago but our pictures managed to not make it back home somehow.  It's been really neat watching Millie's interest in wildlife grow from non-existent (see picture above) to engaging the animals with a 'bye bye' and requests to go back and visit them.

The above "pool" in question is actually Maji Moto which we visited a couple months ago with our buddies.  And truth be told, we have real chlorine pools within a five min drive from our house.  But still!  Isn't this cool?!  Oh yeah, it's November and we're swimming!

Even Eric Carle* Would Be Impressed

When I was growing up in DC (INside the city limits, thank you very much), my family and I weren’t really *into* nature.  On the weekends, my dad usually took us to any number of parades happening on Constitution Ave or to see the First Ladies dresses at the American History Museum.   The closest I got to nature, I recall, is scaling the side of a plastic rhino on The National Mall outside the Natural History Museum (ironic since now I live amongst the rhinos!). For vacations, we went either to NYC to see grandparents, New England to see relatives or to Nags Head for the summer.  But never once did we economize by camping or any of that nonsense.  Hilton, Sheraton, probably even a Ho Jo or two.  I think the first time I ever saw the inside of a tent I was pushing 20 years old.  Needless to say, I have had to make up for lost time!

I went to Tree Hugger U (in which I branded myself with a butterfly tattoo) for undergrad, then I went and lived in rural Honduras for 2 years using mango trees as landmarks, I followed that up by marrying a outdoorsy mountain man from Colorado (who STILL hasn’t taken me to the Grand Canyon) and now I live among wild animals in East Africa.  So you can imagine my amazement when Millie started saying over and over again "dudu, dudu" (not what you think it is.... Swahili for insect [technically mdudu]) and I realize the outside wall of our house is apparently a Sheraton of sorts for soon-to-be butterflies!

The one on the right was being spun as I snapped the picture!

Behold…. a caterpillar cocoon!  Has anyone ever seen one of these before?  The Very Hungry Caterpillar notwithstanding, this is a first for me.  And actually, it’s not just one cocoon, it’s many…. fourteen to be exact.  These guys just set up shop on these two walls at the front of our house and then, two weeks later…. Out pops a beautiful butterfly!

 *Eric Carle - one of the best known childrens book authors!

Jokes on Me, I Guess

After my little self-obsessed rant about the dust and lack of rain what should happen but we run out of water in the house!  This time last year, the rain had been coming down for well over a month which was quite a welcome relief since the prior year (2008) had been a major drought for the country.  The harvest was ample last year!  And so we never ran into problems with water at the house.  But this year, with the delay in rains, the city is rationing the water and yesterday it caught up with us.

When I lived in Honduras (and Roger in Togo - which he'd claim was WAY more hard core than Honduras*) rationing water was the norm in the towns we lived in.  Water was limited so, in the case of my town, we had water in the taps usually every day for four hours.  The house I lived in had two pilas (concrete open-air tanks) that held about 500 gallons each approximately.  One for bathing and the other for household uses.  From time to time, the frequency of the water fluctuated and we'd (I lived with a family of 6) go maybe 4 days without any water coming into the tap.  We'd get through what we had in the pilas and when that was gone, we headed to the river about 200ft away.  Quite frankly, it wasn't all that bad (saying this 10 years later).  Inconvenient yes, but adaptable.

During those times of shortages, the locals woulds ask "is it like this in America?  do you have water shortages there?" And I would have to think about it especially since I didn't directly rely on rainfall for my livelihood.  I think I usually answered "not really" because I didn't want to explain to them that when we were rationing water in America it meant I couldn't water my green lush grass 7x/week, but rather only 4x/week.  Or that I could only wash my car (which probably wasn't covered in dust) 1x/week, instead of daily.  Or that it still entitled me to fill my swimming pool and take long showers.

Being in Tanzania, I often remarked (silently, in my head) that it was amazing how we really didn't suffer from water shortages.  I wondered if Arusha was unique because it sits at the base of a nearly 15,000 foot mountain that frequently has cloud cover and, as of late, is snow-capped?  Or that maybe because of all the foreigners living here and the expectation of a resilient system that somehow we didn't suffer?  I guess my fool-proof plan of keeping those thoughts silent didn't really dupe the Arusha Municipal Water Supply.

To be sure, with little to no water in the taps at the moment we're not suffering.  Yeah, the dishes are building up in the sink, the plants haven't been watered and the possibility of no shower today is just the off-the-hook I needed to set aside that workout DVD, but we have about seventy liters of bottled water in the house and numerous friends that have put out the welcome bath mat for us.  Rather, I share this just as a public way of acknowledging our great fortune.  I mean, seriously seventy liters of bottled water, some of which I will use to wash my daughters grubby hands and last night's dishes! 

Since my last post about dust and as I typed this, I got the idea that I shouldn't just portray the little annoyances and inconveniences here.  That would be doing a disservice to my privilege and this platform.  I should also being sharing with you what's remarkable and admirable about where we live.  I only have to have our security guard open our large metal gate to be reminded of this!  Afterall, Kili Time isn't just dust, bad driving and uncomfortable notions of personal space.  It's also kanga, wild animals, Massai, al fresco dining, amazing Indian food and so much more!  So, stay tuned!

*When Roger & I met, at a dimly lit bar in Georgetown, and he told me he was in Togo, you know, AFRICA, for Peace Corps, I willingly volunteered that it was probably way more hard core than cushy Honduras, what with our Caribbean coastline and 2 hr flight to Miami.  He reminds me of this every time he buttons up his Banana Republic suit and heads off to work while I recline on the day bed ;).

 Image courtesy of Reallynatural.com

Kanga Cloth - Fashion & Utility

One of the most ubiquitous images in Tanzania is the kanga or kitenge cloth worn (mostly) by women.  It's used as an everyday item as well as for special occasions.  Typically, you see women wearing kanga's like a sarong but over western-world clothes, like t-shirts and pants.  The wannabe anthropologist in me did some field work on this phenomenon by taking my inquiries to the remote corners of my house.  I spoke with Christina, our nanny, and she indicated that the kanga is worn as a sarong usually out of either modesty, cultural traditions or purely for fashion.

Some people (and its not just generational) think its inappropriate for a woman to wear pants because "it accentuates their backside" (Christina, 2010).  Rather than just wear a long skirt (which Christina does, but her sisters do not!), they wear the pants underneath to function somewhat as an "insurance policy" from any rogue bursts of wind or overly curious male children. During special occasions like birthdays, funerals, parties or holidays, the kanga is transformed into an outfit - skirt made of kanga, blouse made of kanga and sometimes even a matching headdress made from kanga.

The Arusha Spouses Association.  Speaks to our shared humanity - all cut from the same cloth

Beyond fashion, kanga also serves a utilitarian purpose, most commonly carrying babies. I think the whole premise of Happiest Baby on the Block was based on the baby wearing out-of-sheer-necessity you find in Africa.  Believe me, it doesn't elude me when I'm walking in our neighborhood with Millie in my $100 Ergo.  For their sake, I hope the local women are getting a good chuckle out of it.

Kanga has made its way into the wazungu (Kiswahili for 'white person') world as well making up the base of many curios and trinkets that tourists can take home from their travels.  Better yet, it also shows up in the accessory world in the form of bags, purses, ballet flats, necklaces etc.  Once we come back to the States, I should be easy to spot - I'll be the woman with faded and stained solid color tee's but blinged out in kanga-lined ballet flats and tote bag. 

For the time being, we're doing our best to make our house kanga-chic so check out the new kanga's going on the throw pillows! Whatever scraps of fabric we have left over, I usually turn them into cloth napkins.  You know, doing my part for the Earth (i.e. trying to offset the disposable diapers we use that are subsequently burned.... yeahyeahyeah, I can hear you gasping way over here).

At the kanga shop.  From many....

.... to three

What images stand out most from some of your travels?  How have you been able to preserve those images - photographic or otherwise? 

NY State of Mind

Just came across fresh-made soft pretzels in Arusha for sixty cents.  Can this place get any better?  Seriously!  Not to mention I just scored an arrangement to have really good bagels delivered from Nairobi.  All my carb dreams have just been realized.  Shhh, don't tell Roger about them.  There may not be any by the time he gets home.

Simple Technologies

On a daily basis I am simultaneously amazed and annoyed by the technology of the mkokoteni, which is simply a wooden cart used to haul all manner of cargo.  From oranges to sofa's to tires and manure.  It's pulled by a man weighing no more than about 140 lbs and quite often the load he's carrying is five to ten times his body weight.  I never know what's harder - hauling it uphil or downhill.

With the roads as narrow as they are, sharing the road with an mkokoteni can be quite frustrating.  They're hard to overtake with a constant stream of oncoming traffic but at the same time, you don't want to mess with their momentum.  It's not like they have a gas pedal!

Like every city, Arusha has trafiic, but no where near as bad as Nairobi.  Nonetheless, I also wonder how much more crowded the streets in Arusha would be if every load on a mkokoteni were in its own individual truck.  Would traffic flow better since it's a mechanized vehicle or would the congestion just be doubled?

What simple technologies have you encountered?  Did you admire them or did they frustrate you? Are there any simple technologies you use on a daily basis?

Boardwalk & Park Place

On our recent trip to Kenya, it reminded me of how so often foreign money can seem like Monopoly money.  Usually, it's more colorful than American greenbacks and the notes are sometime even different sizes.  So when it's your turn at the till, you fumble through your wallet exposing who knows how much cash and just hope that the cashier is being honest with you when you say 'is this right?' 

When I studied abroad in Mexico oh so many moons ago, I remember one of our first class trips to Patzcuaro, Michoacan.  We were just boarding the bus to take off for our first excursion of the day and the bus was surrounded by tons of little kids selling gum, peanuts and papitas (the most delicious and amazing potato chip ever made).  I wanted to buy some gum - the cute little colorful chicklet kind.  This was October and I had been in Mexico for about 2 months with oh, I dunno, like eight years of Spanish under my belt, so when I asked how much the gum was, I probably should have understood immediately that he was telling me something like five cents.  But no.  At that moment, I entered a Spanish comprehension void and just handed the kid a bill equal to like ten times the costs, asking "is this correct."  That look of bewilderment when those big brown eyes looked up at me to say 'Si' should have tipped me off!  But no.  I think I only figured it out months later!

With over one year in Tanzania under our belts, we're pretty savvy to the value of things and what each note is worth.  The largest note, 10,000 T. Shillings, is equal to about $7.  And since this is a cash economy, imagine how many 10,000 T. Shilling notes you have to have in your wallet just to get the basic errands done.  Never mind when its pay day for the staff and all the monthly bills are due!  Plus, the largest amount you can take out of the ATM at one time is 400,000 T. Shillings, equal to about $270.  Thankfully, you're not limited to how many withdrawals you can make in a day, but that just leads to people making multiple transactions at the ATM and the ATM's running out of money!

Kenya also uses the Shilling, but with one less zero on the end.  So 10,000 K. Shillings is more like $130, not $7.  You can imagine the kind of confusion this leads to when you're at the store and something only costs 1,500 K. Shillings.  Your Tanzanian brain thinks its a steal ($1) when in reality you've actually just dropped twenty bucks!

Millie has yet to learn the value of money.  To her its value is equivalent to fun times and to me, in her hands, it's equal to at least 20 minutes of distraction!

Looks like a lot, but probably wouldn't even cover one trip to grocery store!

What are your experiences with foreign money?  How long does it take for you to figure out how much you're actually spending?

Artist in the Making

Don't know if I have ever mentioned the play groups we go to in town, but our favorite is at the International School Moshi Arusha Campus.  It's about as far away from our house as you can get without being in a lion's den, but it's one of the most fun and well worth the drive.

[Tangent: To be sure, it's doesn't really fall into the we-took-our-newborn-to-Africa-look-how-bad-ass-we-are category.  It's an international school after all and so it's modeled after schools back in America and Western Europe (take a wild guess what kind of people attend!).  It's an amazing resource to have in town to be able to expose Millie to the developmental toys and activities associated with this type of educational system.  Naturally, she could learn her numbers by counting monkeys, but as an expat you can't help but crave familiarity and this fills that itch.]

One of the great things they have are quality paints and easels that unleash the creativity of little kids and leave their messes at school!  Behold, Millie's first artistic creation:

Her next creation!

Here are some pictures of ISM playgroup from my friends blog.  She is an awesome photographer, friend, mom, doctor of philosophy, cook and all-around partner-in-crime and she's going home.  Boo!

This is my dance space, this is your dance space

This is where I demonstrate to my parents that majoring in Anthropology in undergrad at a private university was a good idea (and why Roger should keep working hard so as to service that student loan). And p.s. any one catch the pop culture reference in the title.  Hint: if you don't get it, you must have slept through the 1980's and Jennifer Grey's acting career.

Both Roger and I have traveled to many developing countries in Africa and Latin America.  One of the big consistencies of culture in these places is the notion of personal space and how much it differs from our own American ways.  In Tanzania it's no different.  If you are waiting to prepay your electricity or pay your water bill you will no doubt have the great fortune of waiting in a line.  And if you're the only white person in that line (and this is where you see my insensitive side), you will no doubt be smelling the body odor of your queue companions (not to say that they're not smellin' each other tho too!).  And that's because they standsofreakingclosetoyou.  I never get used to it.  I try my best to strike an obstructionist pose, with my hand on my hips or a big bag on my shoulder, but its of no use.

The smell, well, I wouldn't say it's conducive to any yogic breathing techniques, but mouth breathing is manageable for the time being.  It's the touchingandcloseness and it just gives me the heebygeebies quite frankly.  Now I know what it feels like when Apple releases a new generation of the iPhone.

I took my anthropological curiosity to the natural next level - Wikipedia.  First of all, did you know there is an actual science for this, it's called Proxemics!  Geez, what highest freestanding mountain have I been living under?   As Wikipedia notes, personal space violations occur when a person feels a space that is "psychologically theirs" has been invaded.  Hmm, interesting... entitlement.  It also goes on to note that definitions of personal space can be influenced by living conditions (densely populated vs. spread out) and affluence.  Then it starts getting fuzzy for me (neuroscientist, feel free to weigh in here) when it mentions that personal space boundaries are suspected to have something to do with the development of the amygdala versus damage to it.

Let's just leave it at the former explanation, that it all has to do with population density and affluence.  I won't try and speculate any further in an area I know nothing about!  But, neat!  Anyone else find this as compelling as I do?  Now send some Speed Sticks over here STAT!

Technical Difficulties & Note

The power cut season is upon us.  Thought we'd fare a little better, at least until the end of Oct when presidential elections are, but no such luck.  We are facing 3 - 8 hours of power cuts on a nearly daily basis (at least since Saturday) which means no internet either.  There are definitely workarounds for this situation but we haven't yet fully set up our Plan B.  So I apologize for the light posting lately.  Fear not, post writing continues, but just in Word until I can get online for a long time and post like crazy.

Additionally, I have changed the link to the photo albums on the right.  Instead of posting every individual photo album, I have made one big link to our entire Picassa web album.  When it's updated, I will let you know.  Sorry for any incomplete albums - uploading pics is very slow here so I chug along as I'm able.

Lastly, I will be eliminating the archives from the side and replacing it with a keyword search.  All posts will contain 'labels' that reflect the topic of the post and the labels will be displayed at right (in a cool cloud format!).

p.s. if you have any suggestions or comments for enhancing the functionality of the blog or if you don't find it user-friendly, please pass along.  Also, would love to have suggestions for topics as well!

When life gives you 6 lbs of papaya...

Make papaya sorbet!

Over the weekend, one of our guards, Joseph (actually, they're both named Joseph), gifted us a papaya.  He cut it up, removed the seeds and put it on a nice plate.  Roger, who was out of town, loves papaya.  I, regretfully, do not.  We weren't sure how Millie felt about it, but apparently on Sunday she was in a I-love-papaya mood, so she ate about three pieces.  And of course to show my appreciation for the generous gift, I ate a piece too (desperately wishing to myself that Millie would steal my piece and eat it for me).  By Monday evening, Roger & Millie managed to  make their way through the 1 lb papaya.

Millie's enthusiasm on Sunday led Joseph to believe that papaya was her favorite food so on Wednesday he gifted us a 3 kilo papaya!!  Sadly (but fortunately for the fruit flies), the love for papaya had passed and Millie wouldn't muster a single bite, so I made papaya sorbet and papaya sorbet popsicles.  They will make their debut this afternoon once the sun comes out and Millie is awake from her nap.  Let's hope it's a success! Pictures to follow!

Life in Arusha - Really? You have to stop your car there?

Driving in Arusha requires a lot of cojones.  You have to be as bold and aggressive as you are defensive.  The majority of all roads (including the HIGHWAY to Nairobi) are technically one lane in both directions as noted by the dashed line down the middle.  But drivers generally treat the road as their own personal lane/road and don't really regard any other co-habitants, such as cars, people, bicycles and mkokoteni's.  Although we have adapted well to this new style of driving, I never cease to be amazed on a daily basis by some of the manoeuvrings I witness (or even pull myself!).  Usually what it involves is a  mini bus blazing up the center of the road to leap about 100 places in line of traffic.  It doesn't matter that the passage between the two lanes is narrower than the width of a mini bus, they'll find a way through.  In many ways, it's like a game of chicken.  It's simultaneously obnoxious and terrifying.

A particularly irritating manoeuvre is when a vehicle breaks down/gets in a wreck/has a flat tire, they will stop in the exact place the malfunction occurred and impose their personal inconvenience upon all traffic.  Last week while traveling up the bumpy dirt track to my friend's house, a sedan car broke down at a narrow point in the road (a point in which two cars can barely pass at the same point).  I was a couple cars back and thought maybe the car was just going slow so as not to bottom out.  But then what should I see?  The trunk pop open, a red tarp pulled out and very neatly laid under the front of the car (really? you break down so much you have a tarp in your trunk!?).

Since I had to queue up to attempt a passing of this [insert derogatory name calling here], I was able to reach for my camera and snap this (but no time to adjust the white balance, Dad!):

You will note how tight it was for that sedan car on the left.  Try stuffing our big fat 4Runner through there!  And to top it off, the pedestrians don't even move!

Not About Millie

I am nearly ready to admit that it's time to rename this blog It's Millie Time because that is basically all we cover. And despite my promises to get better about blogging more regularly, I don't seem to be following through, do I? Why is that? I think its because living in East Africa with a child has become normal and ordinary. Not boring. Just, normal. But it's hard to remember that what is normal for us, may be noteworthy to you, dear readers. So here are a few tidbits that characterize our life here and are unique about the culture:

- we drive on the left side of the road, and at any given moment you are watching out for motorcycles, bikes, cars, pedestrians, wooden carts, donkeys, cows, chickens and children.

- there are also 2ft deep x 3 ft wide uncovered drainage ditches lining each side of the road. did i mention they have no grate over them? so if you swerve too far (in order to dodge above mentioned road co-habitants) you're kind of screwed (i have witnessed a few cars in these ditches, including a brand new Range Rover!). and with minimal street lights, this is particularly nerve racking at night!

- the 'long rains' have started. that seems to mean cloudy days, and lots of rain on and off in the morning. makes morning walks with Millie more difficult. as well as having dry clothes.

- long rains also mean the invasion of the kono kono's - slugs and snails (which give becky the heebejeebees like no other, no thanks to my fear mongering brother who told an impressionable little Becky at the tender age of 8 that she would turn into a slug after having stepped on one BAREFOOT).

- the electricity in our house is pre-paid. it's called luku. we go to the central power company, give them our meter number and about $45, then they generate a unique 16-digit code which we enter into our meter that keeps the lights on (except when there are power cuts!) for about a month. the other day i went to buy our luku and the power company had no electricity, nor a generator!

- when you come to Tanzania (I said 'when' people, not 'if'!), the first Swahili word you will learn without a doubt is 'Karibu.' it literally translates into 'you are welcome' but also really means 'get close' (but not in a creepy-invade-my-personal-space kind of way). you hear it everywhere. when you walk into shops, restaurants, passing the ladies on the street selling tea.... everywhere. it is also a response to 'thank you.' it reminds me of the use of 'aloha' in Hawaii in that i think it sets the tone of the culture - very open and welcoming.

- we don't have a TV, but we have a computer so sometimes at night we watch DVD's that we borrow from friends or that we've received in generous care packages. so far we've made it through five seasons of West Wing, first season of Glee and now we're working our way through Arrested Development.

- except on Weds nights, we play bridge with our dear friends Katie & Ollie

- if you want to get take out here, there are basically two options - Indian food or grilled chicken. both are very good, but sometimes you would just do anything for a pad thai or pupusa!

- probably the third or fourth word you would learn in Tanzania (WHEN you come) is 'pole' (poe-lay). it means 'sorry' or 'i extend my sympathies to you.' you use it the same way you would use 'sorry' in English for the most part, but you also use it to convey your sympathies to anyone doing any kind of work. for example, when Millie and I walk in the morning, I usually carry her in the backpack and people tell me 'pole' presumably for the task of carting around a 20lb baby on my shoulders (roger gets it too when he's out running). but then, the person telling me 'pole' is usually hauling two 100lb sacks of grain on a bike or cutting grass with a machete or doing some other form of insanely hard manual labor, yet they feel sympathy for me and my $100 baby backpack!

So does this jive with the image you had of our life here? Note I didn't mention the fanning of palm fronds while we sit atop our four poster beds being fed grapes by servants in long white robes. I figured you all naturally assumed that part!

Chugging Along

I guess I spoke too soon. The same day I told you all how we seemed to be skipping the dry season was the same day the rains stopped. The rainy season went out with a bang - thunder, flooding, mud pits, the works! But now the dust seems to have become unsettled from its prior compact and muddy state and is milling about everywhere. And you know the expression "it's Africa hot?" I guess I understand where that comes from now. It is quite toasty on this side of the equator and we're doing what we can to be cool like the Fonz.

We have started fairly regular trips to the pool on Saturdays. Millie seems to really enjoy the water and doesn't have much fear of going straight into the water despite its chilly temps. When not in the pool on the weekends we keep busy with errands, lunches out and sometimes play dates on Sunday afternoon. Millie is developing quite the cadre of friends in town, including a 8 month old boy who just moved in upstairs. The play dates are turning Millie into quite the little Martha Stewart protege. With finesse and grace, she deftly offers pumpkin pancakes to her friends, shares her toys, yanks their hair and puts her finger in their eye all the while never ruffling the hand crocheted doilies. It's quite a sight!

Family life aside, we're all just plugging away at our various endeavors. Roger is dishing up international justice with a side of fries, Millie (on her own) is putting one foot in front of the other and taking on the world and I'm still working on my Nobel prize in home economics. So it's pretty much business as usual. But I am FINALLY uploading some pictures to Picassa so keep checking back for some exclusive coverage on a few fun things we've been doing the past couple months - climbing Mt. Meru, traveling to Nairobi, spending New Years in the African bush and visiting hot springs. Also, did you know that Roger has been training for the Kilimanjaro Half Marathon? The big day is the last weekend in Feb.

p.s. does anyone know how to make a picture embedded in the blog post have a caption? If the picture I posted above had a caption, it would say "Bye bye rain!"

Tanzgiving

May we begin by wishing all of you a very Happy Thanksgiving! So very much to be thankful for this year in our lives. We hope everyone's turkey day was filled with family, friends, fun and food comas! Ours certainly was, geographical coordinates notwithstanding. At It's Kili Time HQ, we hosted a nearly authentic Thanksgiving feast with friends from near and far. On the menu were potatoes, stuffing, green beans, swiss chard, cranberry sauce, a bird from the poultry category and even pumpkin pie! Plenty of food, wine and merriment were had by all.

Yes, that's right friends, it wasn't turkey, it was chicken so please don't revoke my American passport. Although available, a turkey wouldn't exactly fit in our oven at home. Contrary to your preconceived notions (probably due to the fact that we have granite countertops. in our house. in Africa), we don't actually have a Viking Range in our house, so cooking that bird in these parts just wouldn't fly (ha!). Moreover, call it my cunning intuition, but I just somehow KNEW that in the midst of cooking the bird is when the Tanzanian Energy Company would choose to enforce the power cut schedule they haven't been sticking to lately. And was I ever right! But we soldiered on with rustic implements such as kerosene lanterns, flashlights and a generator and Tanzgiving (gotta copyright that one!) was saved.

However, for you purists who aren't buying the-oven-is-too-small line of reasoning, may I further the line of defense of my American heritage by noting that the cranberry sauce was from A CAN! Although I may have previously extolled the virtues of fresh, locally available produce here, never would I have thought to stray from such a deep cultural tradition as the canned cranberry sauce. Perish the thought! But actually, the person who deserves the credit for this massive feat of cultural preservation is our very dear UK friend Katie who found it when I could not (get this girl a green card, would ya!). And speaking of Katie, not only did she save Tanzgiving, she also made a pumpkin pie - from scratch, people! Scratch, as in, no can opener required. And it was delicious to the last crumb (which was eaten about 10 min after the first slice was cut!).

Now I sit in a comfy chair, with a glass of wine, freshly popped popcorn and a very full bottle of Amarula beckoning me from the fridge (along with a workout DVD on pause on the computer) while Roger sits in a tent on the rainy slopes of Mt. Meru with 4 other dudes. Although apart, we collectively send you our warmest and heartfelt wishes for a great holiday and our gratitude for having you in our lives!