I spent last week (from Sunday to Saturday) in, going to, or coming from Zanzibar, which by the way is one of the coolest places (not temperature-wise) on earth. I now have one more meeting with the mamas, and then will spend Wednesday packing, saying goodbye to friends, and otherwise tying up any loose ends. I fly to Washington on Thursday.
Needless to say, I'm CRAZY BUSY OH MY GOODNESS SO MUCH TO DO. So don't expect another blog post for a few more days. I have more stories to tell, though, and will write most of them when I get a chance (some tales will cost you a beer).
Monday, April 26, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
(mostly) dead snake
I was at Via Via yesterday morning doing some work, and all of a sudden a waitress screamed and one of the guys swore loudly, and everybody around them jumped backwards in fright. I looked, and there was a bright green snake (about the size of a garter snake) slithering across the floor. These usually tres-cool dudes were acting super scared (there were plenty of girlie screams, though the boys later denied this), and then the owner, Joe, bashed in the snake's head with a 2-by-4. It was a poisonous green mambo snake.
The neat thing was that even though it was clearly dead (squished brains), its muscles were still alive, twitching and reacting to touch. One of the guys picked it up by the end and the tail coiled around his fingers even though the head hung limply. I held it too, and had my picture taken. Its tail stayed "alive" for at least 10 minutes. Science!
The neat thing was that even though it was clearly dead (squished brains), its muscles were still alive, twitching and reacting to touch. One of the guys picked it up by the end and the tail coiled around his fingers even though the head hung limply. I held it too, and had my picture taken. Its tail stayed "alive" for at least 10 minutes. Science!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
more purchase info
I am delighted that so many of you are interested in buying some of the Mamas' products! Thank you so, so much.
So here's some more details:
I'll take orders until Saturday (as it'll take some time for things to be made). The easiest way for this to work is for me to buy everything here, and for you guys to pay me back upon delivery in Canada.
1 coaster: $2.50
1 bracelet: $2.50
Cookbook: $6.50
The cookbooks aren't very big, but they have a nice selection of regional staple recipes, and what's fun is that they're in both English and Kiswahili. I haven't made any of the recipes myself, but Zai makes everything in the book on a regular basis. All of the recipes are made of ingredients it's possible to get in Edmonton (plantains and passionfruit are the only things that might take a bit of hunting for), and are easy to adapt to your own preferences.
To order, either leave a comment on the blog, drop me an email (robin.collum AT gmail.com), or get in touch on facebook. If you've already done so, consider the order placed!
Thank you again!
So here's some more details:
I'll take orders until Saturday (as it'll take some time for things to be made). The easiest way for this to work is for me to buy everything here, and for you guys to pay me back upon delivery in Canada.
1 coaster: $2.50
1 bracelet: $2.50
Cookbook: $6.50
The cookbooks aren't very big, but they have a nice selection of regional staple recipes, and what's fun is that they're in both English and Kiswahili. I haven't made any of the recipes myself, but Zai makes everything in the book on a regular basis. All of the recipes are made of ingredients it's possible to get in Edmonton (plantains and passionfruit are the only things that might take a bit of hunting for), and are easy to adapt to your own preferences.
To order, either leave a comment on the blog, drop me an email (robin.collum AT gmail.com), or get in touch on facebook. If you've already done so, consider the order placed!
Thank you again!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Contrasts
This part of Tanzania is truly a spectacular place. The pretty terraced hills are covered in tree, the fields that were planted only a few weeks ago are already green with corn and rice, and there are always flowers everywhere. From the red, yellow, and purple bougainvillea (which I suspect are invasive species, but whatever they're pretty) to the orangey-red flowers of the African tulip tree, you can't walk five feet down the paths without seeing another splash of colour. The wild birds are colourful, acrobatic, and noisy (and the omnipresent chickens drown even them out). There are bees buzzing at the bush outside my window from the crack of dawn, and the crickets get going before the sun goes down.
Nature here is bright, loud, and in-your-face in a way that it isn't at home, and not just because I live in the city. Whether it's the river valley, or the mountains, or on the coast, none of the Canadian natural ecosystems and "wildernesses" I've known have had this sense of crazy exuberance. Even when Canadian scenes are majestic an imposing, there's a sense of both dignity and struggle there. I can really sense that the plants and animals evolved through a real struggle with the elements; everything in Canada lives under the shadow of winter. The systems ahve adapted to survive in extremely difficult conditions, and I always feel that when I'm out in nature in Canada. Even in the spring, when everything's bright and fresh and cheerful, it only feels that way because you remember the winter that just passed and will return before too long.
Here, though, there are no such restrictions and it feels like evolution has just gone crazy with the freedom. There's water from underground springs to supplement the (right now, frequent and torrential) rain, constant warmth, and fertile volcanic soil. The results are incredibly beautiful in a way I've never had the chance to enjoy before.
This sensation is lost as soon as you enter the hot, crowded, and stinky streets of Arusha city proper, though. And it would be unfair and dishonest if I only told you about the beauty of this part of Tanzania. There is a lot of ugliness here too, and it's as much a part of my daily experience as the flowers and chameleons.
First of all, it's filthy. Few actually drivable roads plus no government money equals no organized garbage collection, so there's trash everywhere. The main streets in Arusha city are swept by a fleet of (mostly) women with brooms and wheelbarrows, but every other public place is full of garbage. Everyone litters everything. If they had the money, the government could end unemployment overnight, because an army of streetcleaners could work for a decade cleaning up the corn cobs, candy wrappers, empty bottles, and plastic bags out of the ditches and cornfields. And ever since I wrote a story for the Journal about the garbage-to-gas plant being built in edmonton, I see all carbon-based trash as just being just one $12M factory away from "clean-burning" fuel.
Which brings me to the fact that hardly anything here could be described as clean-burning (even putting aside the widespread burning of garbage). Most of the rural homes I've seen cook with coal, as do the mamas who serve up freshly barbecued maize from little grills on roadsides everywhere (I haven't eaten any yet, and am not sure I will). Though it's not like there's much alternative: it's not as if there are gas lines, and I don't know how many people have electricity. We cook on a single burner that's attached to a propane tank. You open the valve and light it with a match.
But the smell of coal smoke is nothing compared to the reek of exhaust. You should see some of the black clouds that trail most of the cars and trucks. Part of the problem is that so many of the vehicles here are really old and poorly maintained, as you'd expect. But Lema told me that it's also because a lot of the gas stations mix their fuels to save money; sometimes people buy the cheap stuff on purpose, and sometimes they have no other choice. There's a reason diesel and gasoline are in different pumps in Canada (and if even I know something's bad for an engine, it must be really terrible).
None of this has been meant as an insult to Tanzania. Both the beauty and the ugliness run to extremes, but 90% of the time the beauty wins. I just want to give an honest, informative picture of the place, that's all. You should all still totally come here.
Nature here is bright, loud, and in-your-face in a way that it isn't at home, and not just because I live in the city. Whether it's the river valley, or the mountains, or on the coast, none of the Canadian natural ecosystems and "wildernesses" I've known have had this sense of crazy exuberance. Even when Canadian scenes are majestic an imposing, there's a sense of both dignity and struggle there. I can really sense that the plants and animals evolved through a real struggle with the elements; everything in Canada lives under the shadow of winter. The systems ahve adapted to survive in extremely difficult conditions, and I always feel that when I'm out in nature in Canada. Even in the spring, when everything's bright and fresh and cheerful, it only feels that way because you remember the winter that just passed and will return before too long.
Here, though, there are no such restrictions and it feels like evolution has just gone crazy with the freedom. There's water from underground springs to supplement the (right now, frequent and torrential) rain, constant warmth, and fertile volcanic soil. The results are incredibly beautiful in a way I've never had the chance to enjoy before.
This sensation is lost as soon as you enter the hot, crowded, and stinky streets of Arusha city proper, though. And it would be unfair and dishonest if I only told you about the beauty of this part of Tanzania. There is a lot of ugliness here too, and it's as much a part of my daily experience as the flowers and chameleons.
First of all, it's filthy. Few actually drivable roads plus no government money equals no organized garbage collection, so there's trash everywhere. The main streets in Arusha city are swept by a fleet of (mostly) women with brooms and wheelbarrows, but every other public place is full of garbage. Everyone litters everything. If they had the money, the government could end unemployment overnight, because an army of streetcleaners could work for a decade cleaning up the corn cobs, candy wrappers, empty bottles, and plastic bags out of the ditches and cornfields. And ever since I wrote a story for the Journal about the garbage-to-gas plant being built in edmonton, I see all carbon-based trash as just being just one $12M factory away from "clean-burning" fuel.
Which brings me to the fact that hardly anything here could be described as clean-burning (even putting aside the widespread burning of garbage). Most of the rural homes I've seen cook with coal, as do the mamas who serve up freshly barbecued maize from little grills on roadsides everywhere (I haven't eaten any yet, and am not sure I will). Though it's not like there's much alternative: it's not as if there are gas lines, and I don't know how many people have electricity. We cook on a single burner that's attached to a propane tank. You open the valve and light it with a match.
But the smell of coal smoke is nothing compared to the reek of exhaust. You should see some of the black clouds that trail most of the cars and trucks. Part of the problem is that so many of the vehicles here are really old and poorly maintained, as you'd expect. But Lema told me that it's also because a lot of the gas stations mix their fuels to save money; sometimes people buy the cheap stuff on purpose, and sometimes they have no other choice. There's a reason diesel and gasoline are in different pumps in Canada (and if even I know something's bad for an engine, it must be really terrible).
None of this has been meant as an insult to Tanzania. Both the beauty and the ugliness run to extremes, but 90% of the time the beauty wins. I just want to give an honest, informative picture of the place, that's all. You should all still totally come here.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The exciting world of international business
Hamjambo!
I'm sorry for the recent dearth of posts. Since Alex went home my workload has doubled and I'm scrambling to fit in all the work and fun that I want to accomplish before I go home. For those of you who have been asking, I leave TZ on April 29 (so soon! Sob!), and then I'm off to Washington DC to impose on the hospitality of my friend Matt. I get back to Canada on May 5.
Also: Is anyone interested in buying bracelets, coasters, or cookbooks? If so, could you let me know by the end of the week? Bracelets and coasters are $2.50 each, and cookbooks are $8 (I think, I have to double check).
Anyway, business:
As I've mentioned, there are two Educare women's groups: the Machumba mamas and the Nazareth mamas. The Nazareth mamas were doing the cookbooks, but since they've been printed they haven't had anything to work on. But Alex and I didn't know how to help them before, so we concentrated on the Machumba mamas.
Now, however, we're integrating the Nazareth mamas into the safari project at the same time as we expand that enterprise. "Um, that sounds like a lot of work and a bit of a risk, seeing as how you've barely gotten the business off the ground," you're probably thinking. And you're totally right, but Alex and I really think it's the best thing for both groups: the Machumba group has always been a bit small (only 5 mamas) for the safari plan to really roll.
To begin with, the Machumbas were making bracelets and coasters for a company called Maasai Wanderings (MW). They are able to make one batch of 30 gifts (15 bracelets, 15 coasters) each week (6 items each). This is totally fine for one company in the low season, especially because MW also buys gifts from some Maasai women. But in the low season, it doesn't amount to much, and we have also started working with Soko Adventures (SA), a company run by a local couple. And Donna, the wonderful Australian woman who runs MW wants us to make lunchboxes for her company. Each lunchbox would take one mama a week to make (about eight hours total, working two hours a day four days a week). It would be hard to add that to their brtacelet- and coaster-making without slowing down gift production, but it's too good a deal to pass up.
Meanwhile, we also had the problem of what to do to help the Nazareths. So we decided: why not get them to do the same project? It solves both problems.
So right now, the Nazareth mamas are learning the banana trade, and they're learning fast! We've brought in Mama Caro, who originally taught the Machumba mamas. She's a great teacher, and the mamas are incredibly fast learners. After four lessons, their coasters are basically ready to sell, and I was blown away by the quality of their first bracelets on Friday. I am ridiculously proud of them. Alex, I wish you were here to see it.
As soon as they're fully trained (which is going to be way sooner than I'd expected), the Nazareth group will be in charge of making the bracelets and coasters for SA. Since there's 12 of them, they'll begin slowly: making three products each per week, so that we can ensure quality even though they're so new. By the start of high season (June), I hope that SA will want to up the size of their orders, because by then the mamas will be able to work more quickly. Irene at SA has already broached the subject of larger orders, so as long as they're happy working with us for the next couple of months I'm optimistic.
Giving the SA business to the Nazareth mamas will free up the Machumba mamas to start learning how to make lunchboxes. I met with Mama Caro on Friday to go over possible designs, and will meet with Donna this week to sort out the details. Once they've learned how, the Machumba mamas will be creating boxes and gifts for MW. That will keep them busy all summer, I think. In the even longer term, I hope that the mamas will be able to arrange lunchbox deals with even more safari companies. Most operators use either cardboard boxes or tupperware-like containers for their picnic lunches on game drives. Our lidded, woven boxes will be more environmentally friend and more beautiful than either of those.
If everything goes according to plan (and if each of you could cross your fingers, I'd consider it a personal favour), both groups should be busy and profitable for years to come. A small portion of each sale also goes to Educare to help fund future projects. The best part is that the mamas will hopefully be able to run this business themselves (with Mr Shija and Geoffrey, who speak English). I have created order forms, accounting charts, weekly schedules, and all the information I think they'll need to keep things running smoothly. I'll also keep helping through email for the next little while to make sure that the various phases of the expansion go as planned. But beyond that, I don't think much outside help will be needed.
This is the most important thing for me, and I think Alex feels the same. We both want this project to belong to them, not us; we're just here to help get the ball rolling. We came to share our resources, skills, and time, but that would all be wasted if the mamas didn't benefit in the long term from our visit. It's the old teach-a-man-to-fish situation. But it's more than that. The whole time I've been here, I've noticed that Mr Shija and the mamas have tended to look at Alex and I as if we're experts, deferring to our judgment. The mamas just don't have confidence in their own abilities when it comes to businessy stuff. I, on the other hand, have a huge amount of faith in them. These women work incredibly hard, running households, growing and selling produce, taking care of their animals, raising their children, and working on the banana products on top of that. Alex and I have done the planning and writing and that sort of thing, but the mamas' work is the heart of this whole project, and it truly is their business.
I want the safari project to make them lots of money, but more than anything I want the mamas to be proud of themselves and feel confident, and know that they are the reason for their success.
I'm sorry for the recent dearth of posts. Since Alex went home my workload has doubled and I'm scrambling to fit in all the work and fun that I want to accomplish before I go home. For those of you who have been asking, I leave TZ on April 29 (so soon! Sob!), and then I'm off to Washington DC to impose on the hospitality of my friend Matt. I get back to Canada on May 5.
Also: Is anyone interested in buying bracelets, coasters, or cookbooks? If so, could you let me know by the end of the week? Bracelets and coasters are $2.50 each, and cookbooks are $8 (I think, I have to double check).
Anyway, business:
As I've mentioned, there are two Educare women's groups: the Machumba mamas and the Nazareth mamas. The Nazareth mamas were doing the cookbooks, but since they've been printed they haven't had anything to work on. But Alex and I didn't know how to help them before, so we concentrated on the Machumba mamas.
Now, however, we're integrating the Nazareth mamas into the safari project at the same time as we expand that enterprise. "Um, that sounds like a lot of work and a bit of a risk, seeing as how you've barely gotten the business off the ground," you're probably thinking. And you're totally right, but Alex and I really think it's the best thing for both groups: the Machumba group has always been a bit small (only 5 mamas) for the safari plan to really roll.
To begin with, the Machumbas were making bracelets and coasters for a company called Maasai Wanderings (MW). They are able to make one batch of 30 gifts (15 bracelets, 15 coasters) each week (6 items each). This is totally fine for one company in the low season, especially because MW also buys gifts from some Maasai women. But in the low season, it doesn't amount to much, and we have also started working with Soko Adventures (SA), a company run by a local couple. And Donna, the wonderful Australian woman who runs MW wants us to make lunchboxes for her company. Each lunchbox would take one mama a week to make (about eight hours total, working two hours a day four days a week). It would be hard to add that to their brtacelet- and coaster-making without slowing down gift production, but it's too good a deal to pass up.
Meanwhile, we also had the problem of what to do to help the Nazareths. So we decided: why not get them to do the same project? It solves both problems.
So right now, the Nazareth mamas are learning the banana trade, and they're learning fast! We've brought in Mama Caro, who originally taught the Machumba mamas. She's a great teacher, and the mamas are incredibly fast learners. After four lessons, their coasters are basically ready to sell, and I was blown away by the quality of their first bracelets on Friday. I am ridiculously proud of them. Alex, I wish you were here to see it.
As soon as they're fully trained (which is going to be way sooner than I'd expected), the Nazareth group will be in charge of making the bracelets and coasters for SA. Since there's 12 of them, they'll begin slowly: making three products each per week, so that we can ensure quality even though they're so new. By the start of high season (June), I hope that SA will want to up the size of their orders, because by then the mamas will be able to work more quickly. Irene at SA has already broached the subject of larger orders, so as long as they're happy working with us for the next couple of months I'm optimistic.
Giving the SA business to the Nazareth mamas will free up the Machumba mamas to start learning how to make lunchboxes. I met with Mama Caro on Friday to go over possible designs, and will meet with Donna this week to sort out the details. Once they've learned how, the Machumba mamas will be creating boxes and gifts for MW. That will keep them busy all summer, I think. In the even longer term, I hope that the mamas will be able to arrange lunchbox deals with even more safari companies. Most operators use either cardboard boxes or tupperware-like containers for their picnic lunches on game drives. Our lidded, woven boxes will be more environmentally friend and more beautiful than either of those.
If everything goes according to plan (and if each of you could cross your fingers, I'd consider it a personal favour), both groups should be busy and profitable for years to come. A small portion of each sale also goes to Educare to help fund future projects. The best part is that the mamas will hopefully be able to run this business themselves (with Mr Shija and Geoffrey, who speak English). I have created order forms, accounting charts, weekly schedules, and all the information I think they'll need to keep things running smoothly. I'll also keep helping through email for the next little while to make sure that the various phases of the expansion go as planned. But beyond that, I don't think much outside help will be needed.
This is the most important thing for me, and I think Alex feels the same. We both want this project to belong to them, not us; we're just here to help get the ball rolling. We came to share our resources, skills, and time, but that would all be wasted if the mamas didn't benefit in the long term from our visit. It's the old teach-a-man-to-fish situation. But it's more than that. The whole time I've been here, I've noticed that Mr Shija and the mamas have tended to look at Alex and I as if we're experts, deferring to our judgment. The mamas just don't have confidence in their own abilities when it comes to businessy stuff. I, on the other hand, have a huge amount of faith in them. These women work incredibly hard, running households, growing and selling produce, taking care of their animals, raising their children, and working on the banana products on top of that. Alex and I have done the planning and writing and that sort of thing, but the mamas' work is the heart of this whole project, and it truly is their business.
I want the safari project to make them lots of money, but more than anything I want the mamas to be proud of themselves and feel confident, and know that they are the reason for their success.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
(ramble)
Today I saw a Maasai man in full traditional gear wearing wraparound shades and carrying a briefcase. Arusha's pretty cool.
There are plenty of Maasai (especially men) in Arusha, and most of them do wear the the traditional garments: red or purple robes and blankets, walking sticks, dagger, and often beautiful jewelry as well. Most of them have stretched earlobes as well, and I've noticed designs scarred onto the cheeks of both men and women, but I don't know what they mean. It's interesting to see these elements of Maasai traditions in the middle of the city. It's especially striking to see actual Maasai going about their daily lives in these clothes while at the same time being surrounded by the commodification of Maasai culture. The image of the Maasai as the archetypical African warrior is especially strong here because they're from this region, but I'm told you see it everywhere in East Africa.
There's a metaphor in here somewhere about the way the various tribal cultures of Tanzania are being changed, exploited, and often destroyed by modernization, westernization, population growth, etc...but I can't quite figure out how to put it right now.
There are plenty of Maasai (especially men) in Arusha, and most of them do wear the the traditional garments: red or purple robes and blankets, walking sticks, dagger, and often beautiful jewelry as well. Most of them have stretched earlobes as well, and I've noticed designs scarred onto the cheeks of both men and women, but I don't know what they mean. It's interesting to see these elements of Maasai traditions in the middle of the city. It's especially striking to see actual Maasai going about their daily lives in these clothes while at the same time being surrounded by the commodification of Maasai culture. The image of the Maasai as the archetypical African warrior is especially strong here because they're from this region, but I'm told you see it everywhere in East Africa.
There's a metaphor in here somewhere about the way the various tribal cultures of Tanzania are being changed, exploited, and often destroyed by modernization, westernization, population growth, etc...but I can't quite figure out how to put it right now.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Sports!
I have discovered to my delight that the local secondary school soccer league plays on Wednesday evenings at the pitch near my house. I first saw them last week, and since they were there last night too it must be a regular thing.
Last Wednesday when I got off the daladala and started walking down the Dubya Road as I always do, I was distracted by the sight (and sound) of a large crowd behind on the other side of the maize field cheering about something...
Hmm, maybe a digression is in order:
So where was I? Ah yes, walking down the road last Wednesday. The aforementioned maize had just been cut and the field plowed on the weekend, so this was the first time that I'd had a good view of the pitch from the road at this time of day. My attention was drawn by the shouts, but it took me a second to figure out what the gathering was all about. When I saw a soccer ball sail through the air behind the crowd, my Holmes-ian skills kicked into gear, though, so I went to check out the match. It was high-school aged boys playing to a crowd of at least 300 people, most of whom were still in their school uniforms.
It took me a bit of time and questioning in both English and garbled Kiswahili, but I eventually discovered that it was a match between Tengeru Boys' Secondary School (wearing yellow jerseys and cheered on by fans in grey and green), and Duluti Secondary (blue and white supporters). Duluti wore red, but while Tengeru's shirts were proper matching jerseys, theirs were just mismatched red tshirts.
The pitch itself is in pretty rough shape; dirt patches, no lines, and I think the only mowing is done by machete (maybe), and goat (definitely). [Those who are disappointed that this site has turned into "Robin Blogs About Goats Dot Com" can skip ahead to the next paragraph.] I know for sure that goats are involved in the upkeep of the field because that they are so dedicated that they were still there working as the game went on. Half a dozen of them stuck stubbornly to their pasture and grazed obliviously at one end of the field. So the teams just played around them. Actually, I think I was the only one who found the whole scene remarkable; the athletes played around and through with no obvious break in concentration, and the crowd made to real effort to herd the animals away. The animals were occasionally startled by a ball landing in their midst or a player dribbling between them, but would soon go back to eating (looking slightly indignant, in my opinion).
The game itself was pretty good, at least to my inexpert eyes. The boys had good skills: smart and accurate passes, fancy footwork, and the game had pretty good flow. You could tell that these guys' spare time is all spent kicking a ball around, practicing and showing off.
It's been a million years since I last saw high-schoolers play, but I'd be willing to bet that either team could beat or at least hold their own against any similarly aged Canadian comp team (especially Duluti, the red team. They were better than Tengeru). Regardless, it was really really fun to watch - fast-paced and entertaining. But the really cool thing for me was just the atmosphere and the fans.
The spectators were loosely segregated, with each school's supporters taking one side and one goal end each. And good golly were they into it. When Duluti lined up for a penalty kick, Tengeru fans raced across the field and massed themselves behind and around the net to the point that the ref had to herd them into an acceptable, non-disruptive formation. When Duluti missed, there was absolute jubilation from the green-and-greys. But there must have been something wrong with the penalty (don't ask me...maybe the goalie stepped forward too soon?) Duluti were awarded a re-kick: pandemonium. The blue-and-whites hoorayed, and the Tengeru students stormed the field to argue their case to the ref. Of course then the Duluti kids had to have their share of the yelling, so they came onto the field...you get the picture. The ref was an old pro, though, and had quickly sorted it out and cleared the pitch. Duluti missed their second shot anyway.
But when Duluti did eventually score, on another penalty kick, it was total madness! Their fans stormed the pitch, dancing, cheering, cartwheeling (seriously), and hugging the players. I even saw one guy on his knees, genuflecting to the scorer. All this happened again with Duluti's second goal, and at the end of the match.
I've spent a lot of time in sports crowds, especially smaller, non-commercial ones like this, and it was cool to try to identify the similarities and differences between these crowds and ones in Canada. I don't know if I gleaned any deep cultural insights, but it was interesting all the same.
Yesterday it was different teams, same goats. I think I must have just never noticed the games before because of the maize and the fact that Tengeru's so noisy anyway.
This game wasn't as good and didn't keep my interest beyond halftime, but it had its moments. I had a lively debate with the guy next to me about the accuracy of a foul called on the blue team: I argued that it was a clean play and that the red man had tripped on his own and played up the fall for effect, while he felt it was a fair call against a dirty bit of cheating. Or at least that's what I think we were talking about. I was speaking English and him Kiswahili, so in truth he could just as well have been asking me if I've ever worked for the Mongolian foreign service. I still say the tackle was clean, though.
Last Wednesday when I got off the daladala and started walking down the Dubya Road as I always do, I was distracted by the sight (and sound) of a large crowd behind on the other side of the maize field cheering about something...
Hmm, maybe a digression is in order:
A daladala is a cheap, packed, and frankly dangerous minibus. They're on all the main roads, and are my main form of transportation after walking. I must remember to dedicate a whole post to the daladala experience later on.
The Dubya Road is obviously just a name I made up for the road that goes North from the Arusha-Moshi highway and eventually past my house. If it even has a real name, it's probably just "Meru Hospital Road" or something like that. But I've christened it after the ex-President of the US because the first kilometre or so of it was originally built for his visit to Tanzania a few years ago. He was scheduled to come see the hospital (which is maybe 500m from the highway), and the government decided that their distinguished visitor couldn't be driven there on the existing rutted, rocky dirt road. So they paved a stretch up to the first intersecting path. All well and good, I suppose, though certainly extravagant - there are schools here that don't even have desks... So anyway, the secret service showed up to do their standard recon before the big guy's arrival. They looked around, saw the direct view from the terraced foothills to the road, and visions of sniper-fire danced in their heads. So Bush was driven to the hospital along a presumably very bumpy backroad, and probably never even saw or heard of the newly paved and ditched street. A strange tale.
So where was I? Ah yes, walking down the road last Wednesday. The aforementioned maize had just been cut and the field plowed on the weekend, so this was the first time that I'd had a good view of the pitch from the road at this time of day. My attention was drawn by the shouts, but it took me a second to figure out what the gathering was all about. When I saw a soccer ball sail through the air behind the crowd, my Holmes-ian skills kicked into gear, though, so I went to check out the match. It was high-school aged boys playing to a crowd of at least 300 people, most of whom were still in their school uniforms.
It took me a bit of time and questioning in both English and garbled Kiswahili, but I eventually discovered that it was a match between Tengeru Boys' Secondary School (wearing yellow jerseys and cheered on by fans in grey and green), and Duluti Secondary (blue and white supporters). Duluti wore red, but while Tengeru's shirts were proper matching jerseys, theirs were just mismatched red tshirts.
The pitch itself is in pretty rough shape; dirt patches, no lines, and I think the only mowing is done by machete (maybe), and goat (definitely). [Those who are disappointed that this site has turned into "Robin Blogs About Goats Dot Com" can skip ahead to the next paragraph.] I know for sure that goats are involved in the upkeep of the field because that they are so dedicated that they were still there working as the game went on. Half a dozen of them stuck stubbornly to their pasture and grazed obliviously at one end of the field. So the teams just played around them. Actually, I think I was the only one who found the whole scene remarkable; the athletes played around and through with no obvious break in concentration, and the crowd made to real effort to herd the animals away. The animals were occasionally startled by a ball landing in their midst or a player dribbling between them, but would soon go back to eating (looking slightly indignant, in my opinion).
The game itself was pretty good, at least to my inexpert eyes. The boys had good skills: smart and accurate passes, fancy footwork, and the game had pretty good flow. You could tell that these guys' spare time is all spent kicking a ball around, practicing and showing off.
It's been a million years since I last saw high-schoolers play, but I'd be willing to bet that either team could beat or at least hold their own against any similarly aged Canadian comp team (especially Duluti, the red team. They were better than Tengeru). Regardless, it was really really fun to watch - fast-paced and entertaining. But the really cool thing for me was just the atmosphere and the fans.
The spectators were loosely segregated, with each school's supporters taking one side and one goal end each. And good golly were they into it. When Duluti lined up for a penalty kick, Tengeru fans raced across the field and massed themselves behind and around the net to the point that the ref had to herd them into an acceptable, non-disruptive formation. When Duluti missed, there was absolute jubilation from the green-and-greys. But there must have been something wrong with the penalty (don't ask me...maybe the goalie stepped forward too soon?) Duluti were awarded a re-kick: pandemonium. The blue-and-whites hoorayed, and the Tengeru students stormed the field to argue their case to the ref. Of course then the Duluti kids had to have their share of the yelling, so they came onto the field...you get the picture. The ref was an old pro, though, and had quickly sorted it out and cleared the pitch. Duluti missed their second shot anyway.
But when Duluti did eventually score, on another penalty kick, it was total madness! Their fans stormed the pitch, dancing, cheering, cartwheeling (seriously), and hugging the players. I even saw one guy on his knees, genuflecting to the scorer. All this happened again with Duluti's second goal, and at the end of the match.
I've spent a lot of time in sports crowds, especially smaller, non-commercial ones like this, and it was cool to try to identify the similarities and differences between these crowds and ones in Canada. I don't know if I gleaned any deep cultural insights, but it was interesting all the same.
Yesterday it was different teams, same goats. I think I must have just never noticed the games before because of the maize and the fact that Tengeru's so noisy anyway.
This game wasn't as good and didn't keep my interest beyond halftime, but it had its moments. I had a lively debate with the guy next to me about the accuracy of a foul called on the blue team: I argued that it was a clean play and that the red man had tripped on his own and played up the fall for effect, while he felt it was a fair call against a dirty bit of cheating. Or at least that's what I think we were talking about. I was speaking English and him Kiswahili, so in truth he could just as well have been asking me if I've ever worked for the Mongolian foreign service. I still say the tackle was clean, though.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
