Ah, so now it has been two weeks since I arrived in Dar, so allow me to recap the events of one fortnight in Tanzania......
I arrived with my roommates Kelly and Rebecca after a full day and night of flying. The airport at Dar is small, but it was the fastest baggage claim I've ever had in my life. In other words, opposite of Air Canada :) Since I could not get a hold of the girl I was supposed to have stayed with, and there are no street signs or clearly defined directions in Dar, I opted to stay with Rebecca and Kelly. Thus began our introduction to the informal rental housing market of Dar es Salaam. What a nightmare, we were told that going through illegal touts would allow us to find a house that was more in our price range, as the property management companies cater only to rich Muzungu (foreigners), which I realized were apparently synonymous even if you are a poor graduate student.
It was at times hilarious. At no time in this adventure were we told the correct price of the rent. Each time we went to see a house that was "apparently" in our price range, we would slowly amass more middlemen along the way until the commission of each tout was so expensive that the rent was no longer affordable. At one point, I found myself squished inthe baskseat of some minivan with my roommates, two illegal touts, one official agent who didn't know what the heck he was doing, and our well-intentioned Swahili friend who was genuinely trying to get us a good deal. We were even shown a house that looked distinctively like a motel because, well, each room had a numbered key and, well, it WAS a motel. The askari (guard), the random informal agent, and the interpreter all insisted that the landlord could rent the whole compound to us because it was the low season. Whenwe finally met with the landlord late at night, he informed us tht he could for sure rent three of the five bedrooms to us, and that the guests using the other two rooms would"not bother using the kitchen or TV room because theyusually stay one night and leave." We politely declined his offer to live in what sounded more and more like a classy brothel.
Other interesting memorable snapshots of our search: Having grapes and orange Fanta on the Persian rug of a man who was showing us his home, while his children and two wives giggled in the background; getting squished in the back of a sedan with three other women and a spare tire (literally).
Luckily, this adventure has concluded with us now residing in a very nice little white house in a quiet neighbourhood in Mikocheni. The people are friendly, the children run barefoot and always with smiles, the cows move out of the way as enormous SUVs barrel down the rocky dirt road, and my life is slowly settling. Its heartbreaking to see the kids so poor, and to even dare to complain about my VISA issues while they are begging on the streets is an enourmous amoutn of guilt to handle. We had no water the first night we moved in, and I came to the realization just how much water our damned Western style toilets use. Sooooo much water, I can bathe and wash my hair with that amount of water.
But I digress. The food here is ...starchy. All those who are diet obssessed can forget about coming to Africa, I have never eaten so much beans, fried bread, and meat, and so little vegetables and fruit. What I would give for a salad right now. But I've been having a blast eating nonetheless. I've resigned myself to getting mild stomach issues and am letting my body slowly adapt. My favorite is to get up early and buy some maandazi (fried bread) and chai for breakfast. The people around my work are slowly getting to know me, and they call me "Mchina" and smile.
The girls and I are planning a nice trip to the beach this weekendso I should be getting some lovely pictures on this blog soon.
