2-3 September, 2011
Our Beach Rasta Friends: Character Introductions
Slim
Maria’s entrance to East Africa was through a town called Tonga, on the eastern coast of Tanzania, a few hours north of Dar Es Salaam. She met Eliphas in Tonga, because that is where Eliphas and Obi’s work is based. She also met a fellow named Salim, or Slim, or Mr. Chapati because he makes a mean chapati. Slim is sorta rasta in nature, with various red, green and yellow bracelets and necklaces. He does not have dreads.
Obi
Eliphas works for an organization that brings in volunteers from other parts of the world to build schools and other useful buildings for the community. He is like the project manager, coordinating the volunteers with their daily assignments (which will sometimes include cooking with the Mamas). Eliphas works with a fellow named Obidawa, Obi for short, like Obi Won.
Our friend Obi, he does know Star Wars
Journey to Zanzibar
Marie gave us the sage advice to take the “luxury bus” to Tonga, instead of going to Zanzibar through Dar Es Salaam, which would have been an additional 5 hours or so. As it was, the trip to Tonga was a 6 hour drive, making stops every 30-45 minutes on the side of the road or in a “bus depot.” At each of these stops vendors, who would hang out at the bus stop, would come up to the bus shouting and pointing, holding merchandise such as candy, soda, and water high over their head. As NYC residents, we don’t look kindly on this sort of vehicle vending, so we wouldn’t make eye-contact. I’m not sure what the rest of the bus clientele thought of this, as I just kept my eyes focused downward. We were content with the fried bread and nuts we purchased in Moshi before boarding the bus.
As for luxury bus, we were either misinformed or got to the bus station too early and were given the muzungu (White people of European descent) treatment and the phrase luxury bus was jumbled in the shuffle. It was a coach bus, but with no AC, and it certainly wasn’t luxury for the 8 or so people standing up for much of the ride. As it was we were the only muzungus on the bus. Tonga is not a big tourist destination.
During the ride we made contact with Slim, via sms and short mobile-to-mobile conversations. This proved to be a very helpful in avoiding the onslaught of “fly catchers” at the final stop in Tonga. These guys all saw us as the only muzungus on the bus and each tried to get us in their cab, hostel, or safari tour. Fortunately for us, our friendly rasta mates navigated us to a van and out of Tonga.
We drove about an hour north (more dusty, bumpy, rocky, pitted road) along the Indian Ocean to a town called Pangani. After a brief stop at Slim’s volunteer quarters where we met some Germans and Australians, we arrived in Pangani. The town does not have much to write about other than the fact that it is on the Indian Ocean. On our drive we noticed that much of the land between the road and the ocean was all farmland, no big seaside development.
At some point on our drive our van stopped on the roadside where there was a large family with machetes and some of them where in a praying position usually reserved for the deceased. It turned out that a few of the animals on this family’s farm found their way onto neighboring farmland. After a warning or two it happened again and the issue escalated to the point where two people from one of the families were murdered. The family on the roadside was mourning their loved ones and waiting for the police to come, but didn’t expect that to happen. What they did expect was a big showdown with their neighbors. We learned this sort of thing is common since fencing does not really exist. And usually this is between families of the same tribe.
Pangani has one motel on the beach and everything else is inland. The town is scattered with homes and small, street –facing shacks containing businesses such as general store, office goods store (with a copy machine), and other standard staples in African life. There are not many white people who pass through, though the white people usually seen here are volunteers. Today was the end of Ramadan, and the beach was packed with locals enjoying themselves, and the end of the holiday. The kids would point and shout Muzungo! at us. We just smiled and replied, Jambo.
Our accommodations were a 3-minute walk to the beach. Slim had to get back to his volunteers so we were left with Obi and Rasta Alli. We dined and had a beer at the beachside motel/hotel restaurant. Rasta Alli was never properly introduced to us but just happened to be around, always doing something on one of the three phones he held outside his pockets. One of the phones would play Marley’s “One Love” over and over and over again as well as some other cheesy pop songs that only make it big in Europe which I hardly know. Sitting at a table? “One heart….” Walking down the street? “Let’s get together and be all right.”
Preferring to be inputted into people’s phones as Rasta Alli, we will call him that for the purposes of this blog. He lives in Pangani and works in the local “Tourism office,” and it seems like he makes commissions on whatever he can sell. He has a simple photocopy page of the tours he offers, which I think is business he conducts outside the tourism facility.
Rasta Alli
We bought them a round of beers, and offered them to eat some of our food. It was sort of awkward because we have heard that locals will want to hang with us because we will pay for everything. These guys didn’t act like they expected us to pay for everything. However, they did graciously accept anything that was offered. At one point a few of their friends joined us but were just there to enjoy the experience with us.
What’s their Angle?
We continually found ourselves hashing out why these guys were always around. Was it pure interest in us Americans? Did they see dollar signs in us and aim to get some of them? Or was it natural kindness and a desire to make us love their town and country? They seem pretty genuine in speaking to us and making sure we have a good time, but at times we just wanted them to go away. They did help us book our ride to Zanzibar and were most accommodating when it came to showing us where to go. We figured they took money from whatever we purchased that went through them, boat ticket, restaurant they brought us to, etc.
Further, these guys are obviously smart, they have learned English, and all want to have a tourism business, now we understand Eliphas’s line of thinking. In fact, Rasta Alli works at the “tourism office/shack,” the gold mine for him being Safaris. One thing that struck me was that walking around Pangani, there were not many others in the 23-27 age range. We saw MANY kids, and adults, but wondered where their peers were.
It must be an expectation that they can gain from us. Even the little kids say Jambo, Good Morning, and Money. Yes, 5 year olds will see white people and say money hoping or expecting to receive it. Very disconcerting. Nicole did comment that it is healthy that many volunteers come to build, not just give money, in the hopes that the community can one day sustain itself, but that time is still a ways away.
Upon our farewells to Obi and Rasta Alli we had decided to tip them each about $6 (they earn around $200-$250 per month, and that is doing well for this area). We knew that they overcharged us for the boat, but our rationale was that in the end it is nothing for us, but a lot for them. We continue to opine and discuss the motives and merits of their goals. What will they become? Will they be the fly catchers of tomorrow? Or do they have a real chance of reputable success? One thing is for sure, their English skills alone put them far beyond much of the rest of the Tanzanian population.
Swahili word of the day
Matatiso (Mah-tah-teezo) = Problem
Biggie matatiso = Big problem
