TAN: Missing the Social Event of the Season

We wee all up at 6 a.m. in order to be at the French Embassy for a 7 a.m. appointment with the First Secretary, Head of Development Co-operation a.i, a man named Arnaud. Upon our arrival an animated hour-long conversation in French ensued. I caught about every fortieth word this time, a couple hundred more of these meetings and I might become fluent yet. I think a better bet would be the courses offered at the Alliance Française, with 50 lessons costing a mere $37. Arnaud has been in Africa for the past 17 years, stationed all over the south and east. He was a wealth of information and stories. He encouraged us to go and visit the ruins of the Arabic trading port on Kilwa Island and to visit another Frenchman building markets and roads in the Morogoro region. The preparations for the Beaujolais Nouveau were well underway. It looked like it was going to be a gigantic event, both inside and out on the Embassy grounds. The $15 tickets would be on sale later in the morning up until 5 p.m. We promised to come by later.
Our next appointment for the morning was with Mwanga to go and get the permit for Journalistic Activities from the Ministry of Transit and Communication. We got to Mwanga’s office right on schedule and were off downtown. Again, Mwanga talked his way right passed the entry personnel and we marched up to the Assistant Directors office. Chantal, Sandrine and I sat outside while Mwanga went to liberate the paperwork. Sandrine then went to pay the $200 fee. Had a quick trip back to Mwanga’s office and headed over to DTP. The cab driver had a different understanding of what the rate for the trip was, and in spite of Mwanga telling us that it should be 1500 shillings, insisted that we pay double that amount.

Hanging out at the Ministry of Transport and Communication.

While the taxi driver stewed outside, we waited for Rafael to come again. We had unfortunately left the phone at the house and consequently missed the message he left about being a bit late for his appointment with us. He showed up in due time and we had another long, frank conversation, most of it around AIDS issues. Maasai are a very sharing based society, especially the young men. They share everything, meals, belongings, and even wives. As young Maasai men have started coming into the cities in greater numbers since 1997, the risk of AIDS in their communities has greatly increased. In Maasai culture, fulfilling of sexual needs is as important as fulfiling food needs. The Maasai men who come into town leaving their families behind will still find a way to satisfy their sexual needs. This typically involves going to a brothel where, as Rafael explained, the sex workers make 500 shillings ($0.50) per client. Unprotected intercourse is the norm throughout most of Africa. The Maasai men would then return to their villages and have unprotected sex with their wives or their friends’ wives, their culture also supporting polygamy. Rafael stated that a number of Maasai women had told him that they did not reach climax with men who used condoms. At first we thought this odd, but upon further contemplation and factoring in the effects of female genital mutilation, there might be something to it. All in all, the current sexual practices of the Maasai seem like a recipe for disaster.

Rafael showing us the location of his village and the area the nomadic Maasai migrate in.

We didn’t get very far with our plans to go to a Maasai school. Rafael had some more business to take care of in Dar before he could give us firm dates of his availability. After our meeting, we headed back over to the French Embassy to get tickets to the Bougoulias Nouveau, only to find that the event was sold out. This came as a great disappointment, as we were all looking forward to what seemed like the social event of the season. Back at Hanif’s house we decided to try and head up to Lazy Lagoon a bit early for a birthday getaway for Maina. Fortunately, there was room and we were able to arrange a taxi for $30. Maina and Anne Marie would join us the following morning. The hour’s drive north of Dar es Salaam was pleasant and our taxi driver got us there in good order. As usual, some confusion ensued at the embarkation point for the boat ride. It was resolved that we would take the big water boat that was sitting nearby, after wading out to it. The short ride was uneventful for the most part with the motor sputtering a little about two-thirds of the way across. We did find out afterwards that we were lucky to make it because the starter pull cord on the outboard motor snapped on the last tug before it sprang to life.

The fabled matoke, a savory banana mash, along the lines of mashed potatoes. Sandrine taking her recommended daily nap.

We had some tense moments as our precious gear was toted out to the boat. Caught a bit of spray on the way out to the island.

Vlad was happy to see us again and after we got settled in our rooms we joined him for drinks on the balcony of the main lodge. We moved down by the poolside for a delicious dinner. The others decided it was time to tuck in not long after the meal was finished. I stayed up for a while longer watching shooting stars streak across the moonless sky,