This week I moved out of the Onnela guest apartment into an apartment that if I’m honest, is much nicer than the one I had in Toronto (for a visual, as usual, click the link). The fact that it is in Dar es Salaam and that I am working without pay makes it all the more surreal, but I've decided to go with it. I’ve posted a couple of pictures, but since I’m adhering to a policy of not taking around unnecessary valuables and I've mainly only been to work and at restaurants, I haven’t actually taken many photos.
It might be a little premature for the run down of ‘what life is like’, especially since I’ve still got a lot of things to figure out, but here’s a snapshot of what I’ve been up to.
Getting around (or trying to)
My apartment is within walking distance to not one but two grocery stores and curiously enough a Subway restaurant. Since I just moved in, I’ve had to slowly fill up my apartment by schlepping a couple of bags every day. Absolutely no one walks and yesterday when I went out, it was just me and a dude walking his broken bicycle. If you can believe it, he looked at me suspiciously and crossed the road!!!
Granted its only been two-weeks, but I have done an abysmal job of learning any Swahili. This doesn’t matter at all for work, but complicates things when I’m not walking (i.e. 90% of the time). Take for example this exchange Saturday night after I had been waiting for about 10 minutes for a taxi/bajaj (tuk tuk)
me: can take me to “rohobot restaurant”?
bajaji: blank stare
me: how about “Ballers night club”? (yes, that’s the real name)
bajaji: blank stare
heartened by the fact that he hasn’t driven away, I call back-up
me: where on earth am I going? The driver doesn’t know where this place is!?!
new friend: go down the road you are on, past x,y and z and when you see a sign on a car door, turn down that road and go to the very end
me: ok, lets see how this goes….
new friend: go down the road you are on, past x,y and z and when you see a sign on a car door, turn down that road and go to the very end
me: ok, lets see how this goes….
(I understand this is the point where a responsible person would have gone home)
me: do you know where the sign on the car door is?
bajaji: blank stare
me: shall we just go down the road and see what happens?
bajaji: ok
If you can believe it, we ended up seeing the car door and went down this dark and absolutely terrible road that ended at the Ballers nightclub! However, had it not turned out so well, it would have been good to know the words ‘help’ in Swahili….
Security
It is still not clear to me how un/safe I am here. The other day I cracked a joke about pirates only to be told that they are actually lurking not far from shore and that a couple from the yacht club recently got abducted by them (eek!). More relevant to my less flashy life, there are also several places that people tell you to stay away from. Sadly one is the closest beach to where I live. I’m not sure if the reason is because you are likely to get harassed or jacked but since the stay away part seems universal, I’ll heed it. Also, there are reports of purse snatching. Apparently people will grab at you as they drive by and sometimes that can mean you get dragged along with your bag. A good Samaritan pointed this out to me yesterday when she said she’d driven by me and noticed my bag was over the wrong shoulder. Another told me to 'mind my bag for snatchers' this morning as I attempted to flag down a ride. Most concerning was the recent experience of a girl who got attacked on her way into her apartment… which had guards! Sadly, with such disparities in wealth, it’s not exactly surprising. Don’t worry, I’m doing my best to be vigilant… and I have (probably honest) guards... and I think overall things are pretty safe…
Paying as you go
Most things here are pay as you go. This includes electricity (‘luku’). You go to a little store, buy some credit and add it to a box on your compound that corresponds to your apartment. My boss was kind enough to give me a luku tutorial where I went with her to buy the card and then watched her spend 15 minutes trying to get her box to read it. Confident that I could do this successfully, yesterday I purchased 40,000 tsh (approx $30) worth of electricity. But the lady didn’t give me a card, just a piece of paper. I brought it home and asked the guard how to add it to my machine, eliciting another blank look. (Seriously, I’m getting a Swahili teacher this week!) I figured that I’d just go and see if I couldn’t just punch a code into my box, but of course, the power was out! So hopefully the lights wont go out before I figure this out – my cell phone makes a pretty lame flash light.
After reading my post about my $10 skype convo, a friend confirmed that I was in fact doing something wrong when it came to the internet. Apparently you can buy bundles of data that are time limited, but at a much more economical rate. All you have to do is text the amount you want to buy to the number 123. Simple enough? Well, maybe, but not if you’re me! I will not tell you how many times I tried to text this number. Instead I’ll tell you that ‘text’ can also mean sending a message from your 3G modem to itself from your computer… so if you come to East Africa, now you’re set.
Night Terrors
The first night in my apartment was spent sprawled on my sarong on my king size (???) bed wondering whether you can die from heat and who would find me. As if sensing my discomfort a feral dog would not let up on the howling somewhere in my 'hood. I seriously have not seen a dog since arriving here. I consider it one of the greatest mysteries of living overseas: where are these invisible animals that insist on plaguing tropical nights?
Well, that's not quite fair, I know where some of them are -- they're in my room! By Saturday night I had obtained some sheets and went to bed feeling quite pleased with myself... only wake up in the middle of the night furiously scratching my hands and arms and fumbling around my apartment with my eye-mask on, deliriously searching for insect repellent. Unfortunately one of the perils of living out of bags is that nothing is readily accessible! Of course, my mosquito net was sitting right on the kitchen table and so I painstakingly built my fortress against the mosquitoes feasting on my body and then collapsed into feverish, permethrin-permeated dreams!
No Change? No Change!
Much like India, Tanzania seems to suffer from a perpetual scarcity of small- denominations. However, here people are even less inclined to help you break bills. Today I rushed out of work early to attend a yoga class by the sea (I'm not going to lie, yoga + ocean = super amazing) and of course my bajaj driver didn't have change. So I r an into the posh hotel and even though they definitely have change, they refuse to give it and told me to go and check 'by the pool' (seriously?!?). Of course the girl by the pool isn't having it either and so I ask her 'how do people expect to get paid for services in this country if there is no change? I know you know that I know you have change so why wont you help me, what is wrong with this place?' (ok, maybe not the most culturally or karmically sensitive approach)
Finally, exasperated, I called upon the people doing their pre-class meditation and thankfully the teacher gave me a 1000 tsh discount on the class ($0.70) and broke my 10,000 note ($7.00) so I could pay my driver 3000 tsh. If I wasn't working for free, I'm sure the extra 15 minutes I spent on this would have been worth paying for. And, just to prove my point, before getting in a cab to go home, I told the driver, I only have 10,000 tsh, do you have change? I don't want to go through this no change thing again'. Of course he said he had change. So I take the exorbitantly priced cab (they happen to run a pretty good cartel outside of the hotel and its on one of those streets 'you shouldn't be alone after dark on') and lo and behold we get to my gate and he's got no change. I tell him he has to be kidding and that if he's serious, he can drive me to the grocery store so I can get some change. Considering this option, (and the prospect of driving another 500m), Roger says, 'you know what? just call me next time' ... and you know what? maybe I will....
The first night in my apartment was spent sprawled on my sarong on my king size (???) bed wondering whether you can die from heat and who would find me. As if sensing my discomfort a feral dog would not let up on the howling somewhere in my 'hood. I seriously have not seen a dog since arriving here. I consider it one of the greatest mysteries of living overseas: where are these invisible animals that insist on plaguing tropical nights?
Well, that's not quite fair, I know where some of them are -- they're in my room! By Saturday night I had obtained some sheets and went to bed feeling quite pleased with myself... only wake up in the middle of the night furiously scratching my hands and arms and fumbling around my apartment with my eye-mask on, deliriously searching for insect repellent. Unfortunately one of the perils of living out of bags is that nothing is readily accessible! Of course, my mosquito net was sitting right on the kitchen table and so I painstakingly built my fortress against the mosquitoes feasting on my body and then collapsed into feverish, permethrin-permeated dreams!
No Change? No Change!
Much like India, Tanzania seems to suffer from a perpetual scarcity of small- denominations. However, here people are even less inclined to help you break bills. Today I rushed out of work early to attend a yoga class by the sea (I'm not going to lie, yoga + ocean = super amazing) and of course my bajaj driver didn't have change. So I r an into the posh hotel and even though they definitely have change, they refuse to give it and told me to go and check 'by the pool' (seriously?!?). Of course the girl by the pool isn't having it either and so I ask her 'how do people expect to get paid for services in this country if there is no change? I know you know that I know you have change so why wont you help me, what is wrong with this place?' (ok, maybe not the most culturally or karmically sensitive approach)
Finally, exasperated, I called upon the people doing their pre-class meditation and thankfully the teacher gave me a 1000 tsh discount on the class ($0.70) and broke my 10,000 note ($7.00) so I could pay my driver 3000 tsh. If I wasn't working for free, I'm sure the extra 15 minutes I spent on this would have been worth paying for. And, just to prove my point, before getting in a cab to go home, I told the driver, I only have 10,000 tsh, do you have change? I don't want to go through this no change thing again'. Of course he said he had change. So I take the exorbitantly priced cab (they happen to run a pretty good cartel outside of the hotel and its on one of those streets 'you shouldn't be alone after dark on') and lo and behold we get to my gate and he's got no change. I tell him he has to be kidding and that if he's serious, he can drive me to the grocery store so I can get some change. Considering this option, (and the prospect of driving another 500m), Roger says, 'you know what? just call me next time' ... and you know what? maybe I will....
2 comments:
Hi Chioma,
I'm moving to Dar (tomorrow, actually) and stumbled upon your blog, since I was Googling for info on Onnela guest house, where I'll be staying until I find a place to live. I've attempted to add you as a friend on Facebook so that we can exchange messages, but I'd love your advice on transitioning to Dar and finding a place to live. I'll be working at a local organization (Twaweza -- have you heard of it?) until at least the fall, when I'll likely start law school. Anyway, I would love to hear from you and make a new friend in Dar!
Sherri
DO either of you have a contact number for onnela? I am arriving 6 august and cannot find a number..i used to lived there in 2001 to 2005. My email is rcarr@unicef.org
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