Starting week two

It’s the beginning of week two. It feels like we only just got here yesterday, but already the routines are starting to fall into place. No progress on the house hunting yet. Read, I haven’t even started yet. Somehow this house-sitting deal has made me more relaxed about the housing situation but maybe too relaxed.

On our late afternoon walk today I saw I great looking property with a for rent sign outside and plan to walk by there tomorrow morning to note the phone number. I seriously need to get started!

This weekend completely felt like vacation. It seems surreal that I’ll be working in this environment and when you can chill in a hammock and drink chilled white wine with a view of the ocean, reality seems so far away. Peanut and I put a good 13 km behind us on Saturday and has a great walk on Sunday plus a play date with Shaki and Rocca, resident puppies at the house we’ll sitting on from Thursday.

But it’s not all a dream. Sunday also brought a reality-check—a reminder that despite the kilometres of white sand beaches, this isn’t a resort town and mzungus (foreigners) are the favourite target of beach gangs.

Driving to work last week, I was amazed that the beautiful beaches all seemed deserted. But then on a Tuesday morning, what else would you expect. On our Saturday morning walk we briefly walked on Coco Beach, which at 10:30 in already sweltering heat was also empty, except for a few small vendors. We only walked about 200m on the beach before returning on to the road. And after Sunday, I’m glad we didn’t walk further.

After arriving at the beach house, Carlos and I decided to take the peritos (he’s Columbian, so the puppies are addressed in Spanish mostly when he’s around) for a short walk on the beach outside their house. Carlos had been working on a little beach clean-up project with his guards and was digging in the sand when I arrived, so we threw our flip-flops but he kept his hoe/pick with him as a walking stick. It was low tide and there was lots of room so I let Peanut off leash. She was thrilled to be running free, tearing up and down the beach and sniffing out crab burrows. Further down the beach from us where three other older mzungus out for a Sunday stroll. Carlos and I walked about 300 m before stopping to sit beside a beached dug-out canoe. There were some children just on the other side, so I leashed Peanut and we sat and talked. I had my bag with my camera and Peanut’s long leash and treats with me.

Just after we sat down a kind of sketchy looking local came up to us. I whispered to Carlos that this is when Peanut was trained to bark on command. The guy sized us up and Carlos did the same, telling him to keep his distance because Peanut’s name was Killer. The small peritos were running around in front of her, so Peanut was a little jealous and vocalizing with howls.

A few minutes later a group of guys walked passed us, exchanging words with the guy who was stilling hanging around us. They walked past without giving us much attention. Sketchy guy made some off hand remark about the beach mafia, which we just attributed to trying to translate Killer to Kiswahili. Then we heard screams.

Both Carlos and I jumped up and hurried around the corner we had been sitting at. The three other tourists were being circled by the group of guys and herded toward the water. In a split second reaction we both start yelling and Carlos takes off running towards them, two month old puppy in one arm, and the raised garden tool in the other. Peanut starts barking like mad and the guard who had stayed by their gate started blowing his panic whistle. The group of guys quickly dispersed, two of them fleeing further toward the water with Carlos in hot pursuit, tool raised, screaming, “I am going to kill you!”

Peanut and I walk over to the three tourists and I yell to the guard to press the panic button and call the security company. While I talk to the three tourists, Carlos, who dropped Rocca off with me, and two guards (one from the neighbouring house and one who guards a telecom tower on the other side of the house) take off running down the beach to try cut off the guys from coming back into land before the security company arrived.

One of the ladies tells me she didn’t know what to do so she just started screaming. One of the guys had pulled a machete on them. They weren’t walking with bags or money on them just some small jewellery. Sometimes, I learned, it can be more dangerous to have nothing on you at all if your mugged, the muggers being angry that they aren’t gaining anything are more likely to hurt you than if you have something to give them.

“I thought this sort of thing only happened in South Africa,” the woman says through a thick Afrikaans accent. “We’ve been here for three weeks and nothing like this has happened, and today is our last day.”

Eventually Carlos and the guards came back to the house with the back up from the security company. They hadn’t managed to catch the guys (I’m afraid to think what could have happened if they had) but called the police to file a report. By this time the tourists were gone even though I had told them we were calling the police.

We stayed off the beach for the rest of the day, the episode providing us with a sobering reality check. Even as the tide came in later in the day and the water was almost all the way up to the gate, shrinking the beach to just a meter or two, and some local kids were bathing outside, we decided that the beach was off limits for the rest of the day.

Now I understand how the beautiful white sand beaches along the Msaki Peninsula are deserted despite home to most of the ex-pats in Dar es Salaam. I also understand why people pay the exorbitant membership fee at the Dar es Salaam Yacht Club so they can go to a “safe” beach. Before I didn’t understand what they meant by “safe” or why you’d pay hundreds of thousands of shillings to use a beach.

There is a lot more to write about. Look forward to the tale of Peanut and Miriam joining the Hash House Harriers Dar es Salaam Chapters Monday evening. And on Sunday I’m off to Kampala for fours days, so I’m sure there’ll be an update or two from that adventure.

Eva, Lukas, and Minna sitting down to lunch on the first floor balcony Sunday afternoon. That giant glass of white wine is mine.

Until next time, stay safe and don’t underestimate the deterrence factor an excited Dire Dawa Street Terrier (or Shepard… who knows exactly her lineage) can have on the beach mafia or any other bad guys out there.

Dusk over Msasani Penninsula

Here's the photo I look last night while eating dinner at The Waterfront Restaurant in the SlipWay plaza/concourse.

The Preface

I’ve decided that these first posts are what you would call the preface of this blog – an introduction for both you and me to my new life.

As an introduction to this life, I caught a dala dala (spelling?) home from the office today with a colleague, Isabel. Dala dala are the city busses here. Although full and with standing room only when we got on, it was surprisingly comfortable and not smelly or cramped. Isabel and I jumped into a purple mini-bus about a block down from the office. Helpfully the dala dala’s are colour-coded and have their destination painted on the front of them. We managed to get caught in a traffic jam and the pleasure of the bus ride was a little longer than usually, but eventually we arrived at the junction by the international school where we jumped off. From there it’s about a 10 minute walk back to my apartment, but we (Isabel and a friend/neighbour of hers, whose name I think is Joe, and I ) jumped in a bajaj, stopping at my “home” first and then continuing to their street.

We made plans to meet up later for a drink on the pier and watch the sun go down. After dropping my things at home, I ran to the supermarket in the Slipway plaza and bought a bag of dog food (51,000 TZS!), a cutting board and some dish soap. Maybe it will be cheaper to make my own food here after all! A 7kg bag of Pedigree for 33 USD is a little steep. Then again a half-kilo of ground beef here is pretty pricey too. Add to that the cost of rice and veggies, and I’m not sure which will add to be more. I’m so not a numbers person so a cost-breakdown of the two options isn’t exactly in my cards. Plus, I’m not sure how long the dry food will last. *edit* Although I must admit that when I convert it to USD, it actually isn't as scary as it sounds when you pay over 51,000 of anything for dog food. *edit*

When I returned from my (stressful) walk with Peanut (she had a melt down or two where she just snapped and started attacking the leash and then growling at me), Joe and Isabel were waiting for me at the gate and we walked down to the pier for a drink. It’s great to meet some people and drink a glass of wine in the company of others, even if it’s only a Monday night.

After a day at the office, I’m trying to digest the contents of my first day and first meetings. On the agenda for this week are technical briefings with all of the staff on the project so I can better understand what we’re doing with this project. I’ve already got a list of tasks to throw myself over. I definitely won’t be bored at work for the next long while.

I’ve agreed to meet Isabel on the corner by the international school at 7 am tomorrow. We’re planning to get to work early so we can beat the traffic in the morning, and leave earlier so we can beat the traffic in the afternoon too. I’m off to bed now so I can catch my 8 hours of sleep and still have time to take Peanut for a good walk (hopefully more successfully) in the morning before heading to the dala dala corner.

Second Landing

It’s 8:30 on Sunday night. Peanut and I have been in Dar es Salaam for six hours now. I’ve just finished unpacking my suitcase arranging the few things I brought with me. I’m renting a two-bedroom apartment at a hotel on the beach. I’d just organized my clothes into the wardrobe in the one bedroom, when I discovered the other bedroom was bigger, with more furniture and a better closet. Although the air-con in the “master” bedroom is older and perhaps less efficient, the room is better organized, so I moved all my things over.

After arriving and throwing everything into the apartment, I screwed Peanut’s tie-out stake into the ground on a little patch of grass and set her kennel up beside it. Although I’m fairly certain she’s had enough of her kennel after the flight from Addis Ababa to Dar es Salaam, I figure she has to learn to love it again. Especially since we’ll be moving at least once more before we’re “settled”.

The airports in both cities hit my wallet hard. In Addis, Ethiopian Airlines charged 189 USD for Peanut as excess baggage, despite that I’d already booked cargo space for her, which was only supposed to cost 62 USD. Apparently someone had dollar signs in their eyes and changed their mind. That was the first unexpected blow. The second came when we landed in Dar es Salaam and went through customs where they insisted on charging duty on her and asked me her value. Of course she’s priceless, but I said, she’s a street dog, she’s lucky to still be alive, really she’s not worth anything. The stern customs clerk didn’t seem to find my argument amusing and charged me 100 USD plus a 25 percent VAT, totally to 71,200 TZS (Tanzanian Shillings). Of course they couldn’t take Visa so I had to leave Peanut and my bags behind, exit the luggage claim area, find a bank machine outside and then explain the whole thing to the security guard to get back in. The cab back to the hotel-apartment cost 40,000 TZS, mostly I think because he was uncomfortable with dogs. Surprisingly, Peanut behaved like an angel in the car ride (when not in her kennel, she usually opts to communicate her discontent with a combination of yawn-groaning and arm-biting).

Once secured, I left Peanut to chill alone and walked down to the hotel complex to explore. The Tanzanian sure have understood the tourism concept, especially compared to Ethiopia. Granted, white sand beaches are definitely more attractive than red dessert, but there’s a whole different level of services (and customer service) here. At least so far.
I quickly figured out how to buy wireless access and sat at the Classico Caffè (yes, that’s how they spell it) with an iced frappaccino and some net access. The café is in the middle of a plaza of small souvenir shops, interior decorating stores, a well-stocked grocery store (where I later bought a few essentials, like tea, ground beef, and hangers), an icecream shop, and a number of restaurants, among other things. I took a quick walk around and decided that it’d be a perfect place to explore on Peanut’s evening walk.

We walked around the pier, if we can call it that and then headed down the road the hotel is located on, toward a residential area. Earlier, I had seen two women jogging down the dirt street. While we walked, we met a handful of other runners, a masaii, and at least a dozen SUVs driven by expats. It’s a posh neighbourhood with big garden, bigger houses and through the compound walls, I spotted swimming pools a number of places.

After dropping Peanut off at “home” again, I headed back to the café for dinner- fish and chips (or butter and lemon grilled red snapper, fries and some super yummy courgette and carrots) and a glass of white wine. The plaza was humming with activity. The playground which had been only been occupied by a handful of children earlier was teaming with them. The ice-cream parlour had a steady stream of customers and the restaurants were all full. Sitting on the other side of a little terrace, was the Italian couple who I’d sat beside on the airplane. I watched the sunset over the activity with palm trees and the Indian Ocean in the background before heading home again.

The entire afternoon I’d been cursing my camera. It had gotten switched on in my carry on, and I didn’t notice until I got to Addis, without my charger. There the outlets use the clunky British three-pronged plugs and my charger is North American and the only adapter I have is the mainland Europe model. Tomorrow at lunch I have a mission.

It’s 9:00 now, and I’m going to feed Peanut, then walk her over to reception to find out how much time I should budget to make it through the morning traffic tomorrow. First day of work, here I come!

oops!

I wrote a long blog post last night. Of course I managed to forget my flash drive so I can't post it now. Look forward to updates soon!

First landing

I could feel the wet air sticking to my skin as soon as I stepped out of the 777-800. I arrived at about 25 minutes past ten in the evening. The flight tracking system had shown 22°C when we landed. The moisture made it feel hotter. It’s definitely a different kind of hot here than in Dire Dawa, which I’ve started describing as a dust bowl, compared to this.

At close to eleven, the trip through the city to the hotel was a breeze with empty roads; the trip hardly took 15 minutes. When I planned to come to the airport again today, I was warned to budget at least an hour to get to the airport. The traffic here really is horrible, a colleague told me as we were crossing the street to get me another set of (unflattering) passport photos. This is the fourth time this year. These ones will be used for my work id, my residence permit, and my driver’s license among other things and were taken against blue background which made my purple shirt and reddish hair look more garish than a white background might have.

I managed to drop by the office for a few hours this morning—conveniently right next door to the hotel I stayed at last night. I’m now equipped with a desk where I unloaded the stack of papers I acquired during my briefing in Geneva earlier this week. We managed to get the computer up and running with a username and email address for me. I met a few of the colleagues I’ll be working with here and had lunch at the canteen in our building before rushing back to the hotel to catch a taxi to the airport again.

I’m off to pick up Peanut who has been staying in Addis Ababa with friends since I left Ethiopia almost two weeks ago now. I’m anxious to see her again, hope she’s behaved herself and with any luck, matured a little in the last two weeks.

Sunday we turn around and fly back to Dar es Salaam and Monday is my first real day at the office. I’m looking forward to a weekend in familiar surroundings, and hope the wine, cheese and deli meats I picked up in Amsterdam can even start to repay Rafa and Lisa for dog-sitting last week. I also hope the wine makes it there without exploding in my checked baggage.