Puppies

Friday morning I woke up to a basket full of puppies. Four to be exact. And before I left for work an hour later, two more had arrived with it looking like there might be more on the way. Luckily, there was just one more bun in the oven, bringing the total to 7 puppies. Poor Shaki is just a puppy herself, being under a year old still. But she was amazing and knew exactly what to do and popped those seven out without any assistance. Broke the amniotic sac, licked the babies clean, chewed over the umbilical cords and cleaned up the whole mess.

The puppies weighed between 395 and 450 grams on Friday afternoon after about 6-8 hours outside the womb - my kitchen scale came in handy.  There are four girls and three boys. Three of the puppies have an extra dewclaw on each back paw (kind of like a fifth toe). Their poppa is actually double dewclawed on each hind leg. Dew claws are common on the front paws of dogs but more rare on back paws and apparently more prevalent in some races (commonly agility, herding and racing dogs). Tanzanian mutts seem to be one of those races. 

Anyway, they're gorgeous little puppies and their momma Shaki is doing great so far. Poor girl is super skinny now that she's given birth, despite being fed more under her pregnancy, so I'm super-upping her food while she's lactating to make sure she says healthy. I did a puppy weigh in this afternoon and they're all gaining weigh well and everyone seems to be nursing regularly. 

Cicero, my kitten who has been part of the household for just about a month now, is interested in the whole affair. Shaki snapped s at her once but has since be okay, although her ears perk up with he comes too close. I'm hope they'll learn to live with each other. If nothing when the puppies are a little older and she's less protective. I'm traveling for work the next 4 days and this is the first time I've left Cicero "out" while I've been away. He usually gets to spend a little outside time in the mornings while I get ready for work, then is inside while I'm away and comes out again in the afternoon for some quality exploring and leaf-hunting. BUT he's started to be more and more interested in the outdoor world and I thought Sunday-Thursday was an awfully long time for him to be cooped up, so I left the window a crack open and instructions with the guards to keep an eye on him and help sliding the widow open and shut when he's wanting in or out. Let's hope he survives the next few days.

I'm hanging out in airports... again

This time en route to home sweet home in Tanzania. I'm being all grown up and have a day room (or in this case a night room) in the airport in Zürich.

I've just had a wonderful 40-ish hours in London with some of my best girl friends in this whole wide world (and it's a big one!). First time in London can definitely be rated a success. Loads of sunshine, lots of walking past historical type places, and a little wine-drinking in parks - what more could you want from a short stop over to (re) connect with friends?

Tomorrow I'm Dar bound again and am looking forward to being home with my doggy (ies?) and chilling out in the evening before starting a hectic week on Monday.

I really am lucky to do what I do and go where I go. And even luckier because next week my darling cousin in coming to spend a week with me in Tanzania. On our agenda in a trip to Kizimkazi to hang by the beach, snorkel and enjoy some dolphin watching before wandering Stone Town and then heading to a lovely tented camp for a few days in Mikumi National Park. I can't wait!

From the dashboard of MM

If you look carefully, you'll see three guys sitting on the back of that truck. Awesome.

I just love the ladies in their black coming from mosque.

And even more I love the sparkle-y sparkles on the headdresses of these women... there must have been something special going on today because there were lots of people around these little back-roads which are usually almost empty and all of them were in their special sparkles.

From the dashboard of MM

MM is the working title for my car... short for Miriam Mobile, which was a text mistake from my good friend Ashley one day. MM still needs to be christened with a more catchy name though.

In the meantime, here are a few pictures from the dashboard of my car. Yes, this first one was taken while driving... I assure you I was going no more than 10km/h and was still driving more sanely than the majority of the drivers on the road. I'm not sure if you can read this, but the sticker in the back of this car reads: Prit Boi

What can I say, it deserved a photo.

Here we have Miss Peanut, who isn't even supposed to be in the front of the car. She's supposed to ride in the back. But here we are at 7am, waiting for Minna so I can let her out for doggie day care at their house while we're at work in the day.

And as soon as I turn my back, look what happens. Good thing I took the keys out, or who knows where she would have driven to!

Teenagers!

Now if only I could take photos or videos of the traffic cops while I'm commuting to work in the morning. They are totally awesome.

Finding fuel

I had been planning to get diesel for the generator all day yesterday. Being new to the whole house thing, I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it. I share the generator with my neighbour Serena. But she is just about as clueless as me on the matter of getting fuel since it was the former occupants of my house who had always dealt with the refueling. Suggestions from her office included a contact number for a company that delivers to your door.

The rate? 15% above pump price for 5000l or more or 20% above pump price for anything less that 5000l.

Serena’s office contact noted that they spent less than 5000l per month on average on diesel for their generator.

That still wasn’t a lot to go by. After a few inquiries in my office, it seemed getting the diesel yourself at a gas station would be the best route. My office just gets is from the gas station across the street from the building and our office guy told me we use around 3000l per month if there are lots of power cuts.

This information helped build my strategy (buy a jerry can and tank up close to home), but without knowing my generator capacity or anything, I was still a bit clueless. But if our office used 3000l for a building housing 70+ employees with an air conditioner in every room and cafeteria, surely the amount for two houses sheltering to single women, must be drastically below this.

So began my hunt for a big jerry can that would be the safest way I can think of to transport fuel. My office partner had promised that she’d get one of the cleaners to run out and get me a jerry can, but alas, that didn’t pan out. I asked the hascari (guards) at my colleague’s house where Peanut is currently staying. They have a generator so I figured the guards might be able to give me some tips. But Umari didn’t seem to understand the jerry can concept and instead suggested that I use an empty water bottle. I was skeptic, but took an empty 12l water bottle from him anyway.

I headed for the gas station close to my home hoping at if anyplace sells jerry cans, it would probably be a gas station. The attendant seemed to understand me and disappeared around the corner, getting my hopes up. He reappeared carrying a plastic water jug, much like the one I’d gotten from Umari. Not willing to admit I’d brought my own water bottle and hoped for something more, I agreed to buy the 10l bottle and had it filled with diesel, repeatedly asking whether he was sure this was a safe way to transport fuel. This might have been a silly question in a place were traffic laws are routinely broken and multi-story homes are constructed with the sketchiest scaffolding.

Now this is not the kind of water jug that goes on top of a cooler, which is at least somewhat heavy duty plastic. No, it's like a giant bottle of water - and that plastic is far from durable.

I was a little worried about the safety implications of transporting fuel in a flimsy water jug. But off I went with Peanut in the back and the 10l of diesel in the passenger’s seat. I was glad I’d chosen the gas station closet to my house rather than the cheaper one further away, especially once the container fell over as soon as I turned the first corner on the road.

I got home just as dusk was swallowing the last of the daylight met by the sound of generators running around the neighbourhood. Power cut. Good thing this has been on the top of my list today, I thought. Our generator ran out of fuel before I left for Christmas and I would have had to sit in the dark all last night. And go to bed in the sticky heat without even a fan to circulate some air, which would have made sleep impossible – not exactly an appealing thought while I’m still trying to recover from jet lag.

The hascari from my house and Serena's house and I huddled around the generator to refuel. Without a flashlight we found the funnel, filled the tank in the generator, and started that monster up.

Serena's hascari said it's a 20l tank, so half full isn't half bad, I thought, and a better clue to how much fuel we’ll need on a monthly basis. The 10l should get us through the next week or so at least.

As we're standing around the generator I notice there's a 20l jerry can beside the generator. Great, I think. I suppose I would have known this had I checked around the generator before beginning operation refuel. But honestly, I only thought about the refueling at work when the power cut and our monster generator here was started—that and remembering that on Tuesday night when I’d come home from swimming, the power had just come back.

The jerry can is a great discovery as it eliminates the issue of transporting diesel fuel in a used water jug. Later that night, I decided that it'd be a good idea to put the jerry can in the back of my car in the morning and then fill it up on the way home. That way I could top up the tank and have a bit of a reserve on hand. Of course, I completely forgot about that this morning when I left for work. So I guess I'll have to try again tomorrow. If I'm rememberful enough today, I'll pop it in the back of the car when I get home with Peanut.

Settling in

This was a big week for me. Wednesday I got the keys to my house. Thursday I got the keys to my car.
Exciting stuff! And just in time to settle in for Christmas. My shipment has arrived in Tanzania and is waiting for my diplomatic clearance papers from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Hopefully these come sooner than later. I can't wait to unpack all my things. Especially my kitchen things!

There's my driveway with my little RAV4. 

Stepping into the livingroom/dining room

 

Looking back at the entrance

 Into the kitchen

 Kitchen from the doorway in

 Hallway

 Guest bathroom

 Small guestroom

 Small guestroom from another vantage point

Storage/electrical panel/water heater room

 Bigger guestroom

 My bedroom

Closets in my bedroom

Ensuite bathroom

View of the double porch - the front door is beside the sofa outside

Jacuzzi/pool thingy in the front yard

Looking back at the house

There is a big backyard too - the perfect place for Peanut to run around. And there's a swing set in the backyard, so I might get some swings for it. That could be fun for the young and young at heart.

More pictures to follow when my things arrive and I start to unpack

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.