I was robbed the other day. I was coming out of the daladala in the morning rush hour. I got out of the bus and started walking. Suddenly one guy was pushing me from my left side which made me turn my face to him. He was gone the same minute. Then I realised that someone was in my bag which was hanging from my right shoulder. I was holding it under my arm to keep the zipper safely unreachable. What I didn’t realise was that there was the bottom of my back unprotected. So before I could say or do anything another guy from my right side had cut the back open with a razor blade or a knife and my wallet and camera was gone.

I have experienced at least a dozen attempts so I knew not to carry a lot of stuff with me. I even leave my credit cards home when going to town. This time I was going to pay for some bills so I had my 300 000 Tsh (app. 200 e) with me. I also lost my camera which will cause minor problems in the future. Anyway, I have to say that I was lucky. The razor or the knife had only cut the bag which was close to my stomach so I can happily say that I was lucky that they were professionals and didn’t miss the bag.

Anyway, being robbed might be scary. My feelings were more or less just anger. Of course I hate to loose money but that is just money. The bigger thing was that someone had interfered with my privacy. I know getting raped doesn’t even come close to what I experienced but to some extend I know now what it means when someone interferes with your privacy.

So after being robbed I had to make a visit to a police station. It was quite an interesting visit. Back home when ever you are in trouble you can trust the police. I might be naive but I believe that I can trust them. They are there to serve and to protect. Well, here I don’t think they are there first of all to serve anyone. About the protection I am not so sure of. Probably if it is a matter of protecting their extra income.

I was told where the police station was so I took a daladala over. Soon I was told that I would have to report the crime in the main police station which was far from where I was at that stage. They said they would take my claim but they would have to send it to the main station anyway, so it would only add two more weeks for the procedure to be finished. I decided to go to the main station.

I walked in to an office, which was the size of 10 metres wide and long. It was divided in the middle with a hip height counter. I joined ten other people who were waiting on the seats expecting that my turn would be after them. Three officers were discussing with three clients who I assumed had something to report by the way they were behaving.

Two of the officers handling the cases were women, quite big sized, just like the most of the female police officers I have seen anywhere in the country. One male officer was looking more like a soldier. While waiting more officers dropped by, some bringing people in, some handling some papers, some just coming to say hi to their colleagues.

After sitting on the bench for half an hour, I decided to step to the counter to talk to one of the officers who didn’t seem to have anything to do. When I was approaching she quickly turned around and went away. I waited for a while to get to another officer. After handling another client she quickly ran away also. Then I decided to raise my voice a little. One female officer asked what I wanted. I explained that I wanted to file a report. She turned around, went to talk to the other two officers, who had just arrived to the scene, and sat beside them. I waited patiently but she never returned.

When I finally got attention from a male officer, he said that I should come to the other side of the counter to explain what had happened. I walked to the other side only to realise that there were already about 20 others sitting on the floor waiting for their cases to be handled. Most of them looked like they hadn’t taken a shower since birth, maybe not even then. I sat beside the officer who clearly didn’t want to handle my case.

He asked me what had happened. I told him that I was robbed and I would like to file a report. He asked me what I expected him to do for me. I said I wanted him to file a report. He said to file a report you have to first make an investigation and that might take 3-6 weeks. I said that was ok as long as I get my report. He seemed to be surprised with my answer.

We started to go through what had happened. In my opinion all I needed to write on that report was that I was coming out of the bus when someone pushed me while the other ripped my bag open and stole my money and my camera. Clearly that was not enough for him.

We started by going through why I was in the country, what I was doing, what I did in Dar es Salaam and with whom. I was surprised how interested he was in my life. I didn’t know what relevance there was with the political situation in Finland and what the weather was like in Finland to what had happened to me. I decided to answer to all his questions.

After an hour I realised that the 12 young men who sat beside me on the floor were waiting for someone to come and take them to jail. They had collected their “valuables” together and tied it with a newspaper. Then they had written on the newspaper their names to be clamed for them later.

Officer stopped writing for a minute and went somewhere. He left the piece of paper where he had written my statement on the desk with a pen. When he turned his back one of the boys on the floor took the pen and hid it into his shoe. When the officer returned he asked me if I had seen his pen. I said I hadn’t. I was still stunned with what had just happened. I didn’t know what to do.

We continued with my statement. He kept writing and I kept telling the story over and over again. His eyes kept wandering around the room and every once in a while he talked to other officers or to the boys on the floor, or who ever happened to be in the room. He didn’t concentrate on my statement at all.

It took two hours to finish the statement. He had written it on a piece of paper which seemed to be just a blank paper with a stamp on the corner. Then he walked away saying that we had a problem. It would take three weeks to start the investigation.

I sat in the corner waiting for him to come back. I had my book with me so I didn’t mind the wait. I knew that in Tanzania waiting was normal. If you are not ready to wait, you will only make yourself uncomfortable. Better get used to it.

Thirty minutes later the officer called me up and said that it looked good. I would have to wait for thirty minutes, then another officer would file my report and I would be called to the investigators office. Just sit and wait, he said.

I took my book out again and waited. I saw that the officer who had “helped” me leave and another shift came in. I continued reading. After two hours I was called back to the other side of the counter again. This time a female officer asked me what had happened. I started all over again. She had my report in front of her but she didn’t seem to understand written English. At that time I realised that most of my statement was written incorrect. I thought of making corrections but realised that it would take at least another four hours to make it right and even after four hours, there was no certainty that it would be correct even then. I decided to stick with the story which was written.

Female officer wrote something in Swahili for another piece of paper. Then she ripped off a little corner and wrote some numbers on it and handed it to me. Another young male officer came to me and said that I should come back on Monday at 7 in the morning to talk to the investigator. I decided to leave the station and come back on Monday.

Looking back at the first visit I am proud to say that I have finally realised how to win these battles. First you should never show that you are ready to give up. Having my book with me showed them that I was ready to wait what ever time it took. They realised that I wasn’t going anywhere. Then explaining everything three times was another test for me. They wanted to see if that would make me leave without filing the report. Final test was the request of asking me to come back on Monday. I will go back. This battle I have decided to win.

Back at the station on Monday

I was asked to come back at seven in the morning. I have gotten used to Tanzanian time so I was at police station just before nine. First of all I saw the sign saying that office hours were from 8 to five and second the time they give you has no meaning here.

I walked to the counter which has gotten familiar to me already. There were close to ten officers “working” today. I recognised only one, lady who as soon as she saw me pointed me to another officer.

I walked to the other officer and showed her the piece of paper which was given to me the other day with some numbers on it. She asked me what I wanted and I said I wanted to see the investigator. We walked behind the counter and continued to another room were two men were handling some papers. At this point I should probably describe that papers is the only thing you see in the offices. There are no computers, no stationeries, just piles of papers which all have dog ears to a maximum. Another thing which you see all over is the paper scraps. Every table has some pieces of paper on them, most have something on them, coffee stains or writings. You can’t find any clear white paper anywhere.

Two men greeted me and I kept on standing at the door. They kept on writing. After 30 seconds one man left and the other pointed at a chair with his pen which I assume meant something like inviting me to sit down. I sat down.

I waited for ten minutes. He asked to see that little piece of paper of mine. Opened a notebook in front of him, wrote two numbers on it and room 19. Then he pointed the door with his pen again. I assumed it was time for me to walk out.

I walked back to the counter and asked where the room 19 was. I was told upstairs. I walked upstairs. On the way at least five male officers greeted me and smiled. They looked like they knew who I was and what I had come there to do for. I just kept on walking up.

Upstairs a nice man showed me the room 19 and asked me what I wanted. I explained that I wanted to get my report from the investigator. He just smiled and pointed a man sitting in a corner of one room. The guy smiled and greeted me in Swahili. He asked me how Mwanza was and how was my teaching going. I was amazed. It was like he knew me. He kept speaking Swahili. I understood bits and pieces and realised that my case had been handled during the weekend or early in the morning. He just wanted to ask me few more questions.

He asked me if I could recognise the guys who had stolen my money. I started smiling. First of all it all happened so fast that I didn’t even realise that I was been robbed. Second, without sounding stupid, they were both black men with short, curly hair. What else could I say? He asked me how old they were. I replied between 20 and 25. Not that I could really tell. I don’t know why but when being interviewed or investigated in cases like this, I always start feeling like I am guilty. What ever I say seems so stupid that I feel like I need to lie in order to make them understand how serious the situation was. By saying that I was just robbed by two guys who I didn’t see, makes my story sound like I had invented it. Then I already remembered that most of the facts on my report were incorrect anyway. Now I needed to remember to stick in that story, otherwise I would really sound like I was making up the whole thing.

I was asked to sit down while he left the room. I sat down beside two men who seemed to be under some investigation themselves. They smelled very natural, if you know what I mean. My eyes wandered around the room and for my surprise I found someone I knew. The boy who had stolen a pen on Friday from the police officer handling my case. He was sitting on the floor with his “mates”. They looked like they had been sitting there for the whole weekend. They all smiled at me. I smiled back. I felt weird. I was smiling at young men, who had probably done something bad, and now they were still waiting to be taken to jail. I felt sorry for them.

I took my book out and started reading. I have assured myself that taking a book out is the best sign to show them that I am ready to wait. Take your time, I am not going anywhere.

So I sat there and read while the investigator kept going out and coming back to the office and continuing with his job. After a while he took out a newspaper and started reading. I kept my eyes on my book and read.

While I was waiting “my friends” on the floor were handled one by one. Another officer kept writing on one of those pieces of paper with dog ears. Each piece of paper was less than half of a book page. He wrote something on them, and then called one by one to put their fingerprints on them. I was just thinking CSI. They must have the same filing system in CSI as they do here. I can already see how those dog eared papers end up to some filing cabinet, until someone else needs a piece of paper and there is just enough room in the corner to take that piece out and write on it.

I kept watching how they took the fingerprints. It reminded me of my childhood. We used to paint our thumbs with markers to make them blue and then pressed thumbs to a piece of paper to see our finger prints. They were very messy and you could hardly tell what they looked like. That was exactly the case here also. I don’t think you could really see the individual lines on them. Well, maybe that was better. I don’t think their files was that accurate anyway.

When they were done, they gathered around this officer in one group. Their backs were towards the other two officers so that you could see that something was going on. I was sitting beside them and they didn’t seem to be bothered that I could see it all. Maybe because I had already shown them that I was trustworthy by not telling when one of them had stolen that pen the other day. I was their partner in crime I assumed.

I could see them going through their pants, searching for something. Soon I realised that they were searching for money. One of them had succeeded to get hands to 1000 shilling bill (app. 60 cents) and now he was trying to give it to the officer. Officer looked at me, I looked down, and then I could hear them whispering something. Then the officer stood up and walked out of the room. Five minutes later he came back and my friends were gone. I sat still.

An hour later my investigator asked me to come to him. He had written something on a piece of paper. He asked me if all that was stolen was just money and my camera. I felt stupid again. That was the truth. Was I supposed to invent something else to make it more serious? I said only cash and my camera. He asked me to sit back again.

Twenty minutes later he came to me and said that I would have to pay to get a report. I felt stupid. I laughed and said, if I was robbed, how I was supposed to pay something for him. He said it is a government policy. If you wanted a document of some kind, you would have to pay for it. I paid and he left. He returned after another ten minutes with a receipt and my report. I was stunned. I had won the battle.

I left the police station with one piece of paper saying that I had been robbed. I felt weird; happy and victorious, like I had just won a huge battle, when I actually was just being robbed. And the truth is, the real battle was still ahead of me. How could I explain all this to my insurance company, and which story should I tell them, one on the report or the one that had really happened?

27.7.2008 When my friend from home visited me, we got to talk about the gap between us and locals. Something she said has been in my mind ever since.

Today we visited a mall. Yes, a mall, right here in Tanzania. It is like another world inside the real world.

At first I was thinking that it is a place for those with some money. Not like the prices are really that high there, they are compared to the local standards, but compared to things at home, they are the same or a bit cheaper. The variety is better for sure. There were stores which reminded me of Wallmart or Citymarket. You can find everything from there. There were bathroom rugs, scented candles, vases, picture frames and so on. Lot of things which I haven’t missed but hadn’t seen for seven months. I just didn’t think they belonged here, not to this country anyway.

There were also some women’s stores which actually sold Mark and Spencer clothes or other brands that I never thought could be found here without being second hand. There they were, and I could actually find more than one size in each product. I was so surprised that I had to buy something.

When I got home I felt weird. I hadn’t felt like that before. I started to think. I have been here now seven months, mostly in the bush. Every now and then I come to Dar es Salaam, to civilization, to eat well and to buy some sanitary products which can’t be found anywhere else in the country. Besides those little things I really don’t miss anything while being in the bush. But today something was different. The moment I walked into the “Wallmart” I felt like I belonged there. I don’t know how to explain that. It is not like I had missed being there. Not like I had missed the variety. But for some reason I felt like I was home. If I had spent more time there I think the shopping hysteria would have hit me. I might have bought something which I didn’t need. Just like I used to do back home. Exactly what I came here not to do.

I don’t know if I pretend when I am around locals in Mwanza at my home. There are plenty of opportunities to show everyone that you have more than they do but I try to avoid that. I never pay for anything, never give any money to anyone, and never go to restaurants where locals don’t go. Partly because I don’t want to do anything alone and I am too cheap to take others with me knowing that I would have to pay for them also, partly because I want to blend in. I might be fooling myself by thinking that this is the way to get on the same level with them, but I know it isn’t. I will never be on their level.

I can fool myself by thinking that I am like them since I am not getting paid this year. I don’t have any big savings home but the rent that I get from my loft is paying my stay here, well as long as I don’t do anything special. Anyway, thinking that not getting paid makes me equal with them is a joke. I am able to take a year of from work and do this. That alone sets me to another level.

Another thing which is very hard to understand and except is that what ever happens, I can always go back home. In case of a sickness, or any other kind of emergency, I can always pack my bags and fly home. This is something which will always separate me from the others. So by trying to be on their level is childish which I will have to handle myself.

The biggest challenge is how I deal with the diversity myself. I came here thinking that I could make a difference. I didn’t think that I could change the world, but I thought that doing something I could be part of something bigger. Now that I have been here for seven months, what has actually happened is that I have become more and more certain that my contribution will not make a huge difference.

Today was supposed to be a day of rest and enjoyment but instead it turned out to be something else. It made me think. For the first time I didn’t know if I wanted to be more Tanzanian or if I really missed being home!

22.7.2008 The excitements of the week were the trips to Embassies to get visas for three teachers travelling to Finland, attending a volleyball game and welcoming Panu’s mother to Tanzania.

So since I have had lot of extra time in my hands I have picked up on reading again. I have finished all the novels that I had with me plus the ones that I borrowed from friends of mine around here. I have to start searching for more books.

I came back to Dar to give more presentations about the research I did in the beginning of year. I am not very surprised that our meeting with the Principal Secretary was postponed again. I don’t know when I am going back there. I am quite tired of the Ministry visits.

My biggest excitement was more or less the battle with the visas. For a Tanzanian to travel to Finland or anywhere in that matter requires visas. To spend a day on the way in Switzerland, which by the way doesn’t belong to Schengen, requires another visa. So my job was to apply visas for the boys. Only problem was that you are supposed to apply for them personally, nobody is allowed to do it for you.

I started my embassy hopping with the Finnish Embassy. As always you can count on your home country. I got the papers back the next day without any hassle. I actually had a nice visit there in general. I met some friends and got some Finnish chocolate. I thought things had started well. I should have known better. When I stepped outside the building a car drove by and hit the pothole full of water. You know how that goes; I was totally wet from the muddy water. And I tell you something. It doesn’t matter if you get the license number from the car that passed you. It won’t do you any good.

So my good luck started to turn already then. I decided to continue anyway. I walked to the Swiss Embassy thinking that I had everything I needed since Finnish Embassy visit had been so successful. It turned out that I didn’t. First I had to battle with the fact why I was there applying for visas and not the guys who they were for. I tried to explain that the guys were on the other side of the country and they would only be in Dar for one day, the day when they were flying off. Swiss Embassy required at least two working days to handle each case. They didn’t like my explanation. Then they wanted more copies of the passports and visas which Finnish Embassy had granted. So I had to go out to get more copies. It isn’t that easy here, you know. Back home you just walk to a next door building and ask to get some copies. You usually get them anywhere. Well, here you have to find a place which has a copy machine.

After walking for an hour I got all my copies and marched back to the Swiss Embassy. The lady was still confused and pointed me to talk to her boss. She was another lady. She tried to explain that you need to apply visas personally, that I couldn’t do it for someone else. She said not even Finland could do it. I told her that Finnish Embassy had already done it and it had taken 12 hours. I tried to challenge them by asking how long it would take for them. She didn’t seem to like my challenge. Then she asked me to get some kind of written letter approving that I knew these guys and that they would be the ones who they claimed to be. I said of course I can write it but what difference does it really make if I write something or I just say here and now that they are who they say they are. She was confused again.

We talked for half an hour and finally she was ready to handle my case. I think that I was able to do that only because of my colour. So far I have never used my colour in any situation to get things working. Rather my colour has been more or less a problem for me. I have had to pay Mzungu price for everything and for anything. But this time my colour got me the visas I wanted. I was partly happy and partly sad how cruel this world really is.

On Friday, one week before the guys were leaving, I had all their paper work done. Guys are ready to go.

Volleyball came

I have been spending time with Tanzanians lately, of course, what other choice do I have, so that I have totally forgotten how different we are from them. I am not saying who is better but we are different. I have to say that I was brought back to reality in just a minute when I attended a volleyball game.

I was having a drink with Panu, Finnish boy in his thirties who is also a volunteer in Tanzania. She is studying to become a lawyer. Very smart guy, great and interesting company once you get to know him. He has a ponytail and wears some baggy clothes so some people would judge him without getting to know him. But I say, never judge a book by its cover.

So we were sitting in the bar while others started to gather around to get ready for their weekly volleyball game in Onnela. I have attended couple of times before but since then decided not to because they seem to take it a bit too seriously. Anyway, tonight there were only six players so they really wanted us to join them. We decided to help out.

The moment we walked on the court I could say that I walked into regular Finnish sports event. You don’t come there to have fun and get good sweat. You come there to have loud mouth and make fun of others. Bad jokes which can sometimes be too personal, is the name of the game.

Being a girl and knowing how to play volleyball, I was safe. On the other hand Panu was a target. We also had an Indian guy who didn’t seem to know the idea of the game, so he was also getting a truck load of shit from others.

We played for two hours. I was happy when the game ended. We had lost five sets but I didn’t mind. Others seemed to take it more seriously. Well, it was only volleyball, come on.

Back to the difference between Tanzanians and others. I hope by others I am not only meaning Finnish people, otherwise that means that my fellow country men are all rude, non-educated people and all the rest are nice people. Anyway, it is hard to describe without sounding ridiculous but again Tanzanians take you the way you are. Where you come from, what you do and most importantly what you look like, have no meaning. You are welcome just the way you are. But try attending a sports event with Finnish people. You will here the truth. You will probably be called a wimp, gay or a girl if you don’t play like a man. This of course applies only for men. But for us women, things are safer. Nobody expects you to know how to play anyway, so what ever you do you do wrong. So from the beginning it is better if you just try to stay out of their way. Sounds familiar? I tell you something, it never happens here with Tanzanians. I don’t think I will attend the volleyball next Wednesday.

Guest from Finland

Panu is leaving home in three weeks. His mother came for a visit from Finland to spend his last weeks here together with him. They are going on a safari, to visit Zanzibar and to spend some time in Mtwara where Panu has stayed his seven months time. I was a bit jealous when I heard his mother was coming.

Panu’s mother is a teacher and hasn’t travelled a lot. She sounds awful lot like a person who is very close to me, doesn’t she.

We spent a day together in Dar. It was a nice day. We walked a lot around the neighbourhood showing her the “sites”. It is again great to see someone’s expressions when they see something for the first time, things that you have already gotten used to. She was amazed by the cows and cars sharing the road together, by people walking bare foot carrying stuff on their heads, by women sitting on the road sides selling all kinds of things without really making any sales through out the day. I had forgotten things like that. They are so normal here. It is important to be reminded of the differences. Otherwise you just forget that life is actually different here. I wish my mother comes here. There is so much I want her to see and experience here. There is no other way of understanding all this. Karibu mama!

There was nothing to do this weekend, so I decided to catch up with my writings. Lately there have been too many incidents where the differences between our cultures have collapsed. Here is my seven Wonders for you.

Dating

The difference between dating in Tanzania and in Europe. Kanda, my house mate, seems to think that Tanzanians are more complicated. I don’t know, you be the judge of that. First of all there is the hand holding. In Tanzania holding hands is very common. Everyone holds hands; when greeting an old person, the conversation continues usually while holding hands. Boys hold hands together, so do girls. Everyone holds hands – except a dating couple. Showing your affection is not considered acceptable.

Showing your affection to your love one, is totally man’s job. Women are not allowed to take the first step. If a boy likes a girl, it is his job to let the girl know. If for some reason girl likes the boy, but the boy doesn’t respond, there isn’t anything she can do. She will just have to wait for the next boy to return her feelings.

Marriage

Getting married is another thing. In Tanzania parents still have lot to say about their children’s marriages. They have to approve their companions. Of course, there are those who get married without their parents “blessings” but then they are knowingly “leaving” the families. That might later cause them lot of problems, since families are strong units here.

When a boy and a girl decide to get married, they have to meet the parents. When the boy is introduced to the family, it is called killing the chicken. It has nice ring to it, right.

Girl’s family is also responsible of giving gifts to the future son-in-law. Today the usual gift is a hose, a panga (big knife) and chickens (see the paragraph above). The idea is that father of the house is by giving all necessary items transferring the responsibility of taking care of his daughter now to the future husband.

Bribing doesn’t stop there. In order to get the girl, her parents must be bribed. The more you provide the better chances you have to marry the girl. Depending on the tribe of the girl, the bribes differ. In Mwanza where the Sukuma is the major tribe, animals are the most common bribe. Five cows is the minimum followed by some Kangas or Kitenges (women’s garments) to the future mother-in-law and for the future grandmother-in-law. In some tribes, it is more common these days to give money and clothing, but even then chickens and goats are a must. I don’t exactly know what is the custom in my tribe (Side note, I can’t tell you how often I have been asked what my tribe is. They rarely settle with an answer European. So to get passed the question, I have started to say Viking). Anyway, I can hardly wait to see my mom’s face, if I marry a Tanzanian, who then comes to ask for my parent’s blessing with 10 cows, few chickens and some goats. Fortunately she lives near the Vantaa border; there is plenty of space to set up a little farm.

So I have been talking with my friends about the differences between European and Tanzanian marriages. They ask me why Europeans make things always so complicated. They tell me that here you meet a girl, you tell her you will marry her, and then some time later you two get married. If you are lucky, you learn to love each other. If not, you find yourself a nyumbandogo (translation small house, meaning extra-marital affair). I didn’t really know what to answer that. I think we get married when we are in love (not that I know of) but we still find ourselves our own Nyumbandogos. So what is the difference? Tanzanians are at least honest about it.

The difference between women and men in Tanzania what comes to marriage is obvious. Women are looking for someone who has enough money to provide a house for her and her children. Men are looking for someone who will take care of the house, take care of him, and most important who carries his children. In any case men are the ones who have some saying in anything. That is probably why women are more after the money. If the man decides to have more wives, at least she will have the house which was provided through marriage. Extra wives are only allowed if they can be provided with everything what the first wife has. That is why most women prefer to be second and third wives. They don’t get to go through all the family hassles. They get to enjoy the gravy.

Taking care of the family

Taking care of the family is a big thing here. By family I mean everyone who in any way relates to you or by being around long enough is now called family. So if any member of your family is in trouble, you are responsible to help out. Partly because it is your duty but partly because you never know you might need their help sometime also.

To give an example. My friend has been married now for just over a year. His mother is getting old. Their last born son is just over 20, lives with their mother, and causes more problems to their mother than good. So my friend decided to take his brother to live with him. Now his travelling a lot so the responsibility is on his wife. Little brother is now in the hands of his sister-in-law. She has no saying over it. She feeds him and cleans after him. But at the same time she takes full responsibility over his up-bringing. Imagine if there was a similar case where I come from. If I had a brother who was causing problems to my mom, he would be now in the hands of our sister-in-law. Would that be something!

Old people’s home

Then we have been talking about parents who are getting old and can’t take care of themselves anymore. There are no old people’s homes in Tanzania. If mother and father gets in such a shape that they can’t take care of themselves, family will have a discussion over whose responsibility it is to take care of them. In most cases it is the oldest son. Lot of responsibilities is thrown here to the oldest son. Being the first born seems to be a big thing here anyway. Again imagine if there was a case like that where I come from. Hypothetically there was a mother and a father of three kids getting old. Some day parents couldn’t take care of themselves anymore. It would of course be the responsibility of the oldest son to take them to live with him and his family.

We had a great talk about the difference between taking the parents within family compared to sending them to old people’s house. I felt ashamed to admit that we in Europe send them to old people’s homes more often than take them in. After discussing the possibilities, my Tanzanian friends laughed and said, well if we had a choice, we would also send them away.

How do you know when you are in love?

We continued on the matter of getting married when you are in love. So how do you know when you are in love? Again look who is giving all these advices. Anyway, I tried to explain that when you look into each others eyes, you will know. My friend asked what you will see then. I said, you will know, it is like magic. A day later he came to me and said that he had been thinking about it, and now he needs to find a witch doctor to see the magic. I am not so sure that my lesion was successful.

Honesty – overvalued?

To like a Tanzanian, there are some things you have to understand. They are always honest – well in some ways anyway. I don’t know how many times I have been complimented by being told that “you are fat”. You know where I come from, it is something you are not “allowed” to say to anyone.  It is considered rude. So first thing is to teach my future husband that I DON’T want to hear that, even if it was true. Not even as a compliment.

Another phrase which seems to be used quite often here is … to some extend. I have been told that you are beautiful to some extend. So how am I supposed to take that? I know it was a compliment again but still. Stop being direct, will you!

Feelings

Those who know me know how hard it is to me to go to a local supermarket and by ice-cream, not to mention sanitary products, because I am constantly thinking what they think of me if I buy such things. Well, here I have learned a lot. I can’t get embarrassed or it is not worth it, since what ever I do is always noticed by everyone, and if there is someone who didn’t notice, he or she will be notified it so that he will get the pleasure of knowing what the Mzungu did this time.

The interesting thing is that Tanzanians don’t have such a feeling as embarrassment. I have never seen them embarrassed. On the other hand their self-confidence is something else. They are always ready for everything. Well, these two feelings don’t go together, I guess. Because if I had that kind of confidence what they did, I know there wouldn’t be any room for the embarrassment.

The occasions where I would have felt embarrassed would have been passed by a little laugh. That is something where they are good at. If things get tough, they start laughing. And that happens here a lot. I have to say it annoys me a lot. But come to think of it. It might work at home also. Next time when I feel stupid of something foolish I did, I will start laughing. At least that will take the attention of the thing I did – probably!

I arrived in Mwanza yesterday at noon. What a feeling! Of course it would have been nice to stay in Dar in a cool weather (only 24 C) which is rare for Dar but it is just too expensive to stay there for long. I know I have become a cheepie, but you have to understand that in Mwanza my daily budget is less than 3 euros. In Dar there is not a day when I have managed with fewer than 10 euros. So we are talking more than three times bigger spending.

Another reason for coming home was that I got tired of waiting for the Ministry’s slow pace. I was supposed to give a presentation to Principal Secretary but the meeting got cancelled and postponed so many times that I said I was going. I asked them to let me know when to come back.

Third reason for my coming was that officially school is supposed to start at July 15th. Well we are in Africa. There is no hurry in Africa. It is postponed at least by a month. Why? Well, the Ministry hasn’t announced the names of accepted students yet. When they sent the list of names to colleges, colleges have to write hand-written letters to all students for their acceptance. Writing of 1200 hand-written letters will take approximately two weeks. Then there is the fact that all students don’t have permanent addresses. Not many people in this country do. So the address they have given might be of some relative, friend or any other acquaintance. The information of acceptance to reach the person meant might take a bit longer than what we are used to. Then after getting the letter of acceptance, person has to organise his or her things to get to the college. Most of them don’t have any money, so then starts the search for money through all the relatives. Some live totally on the opposite side of the country so the travelling by bus, which is the only way for them, might take 2-3 days, and cost 50 000 Tsh (20 e). We are talking about someone’s monthly salary. So to find the money and organise the trip will take 1-4 weeks depending on person’s situation.

Taking all these into consideration we are talking about at least a month delay. And since we are in Africa, my guess is closer to two months of delay. Oh well, why should I worry, everyone else seem to take it like it is as usual as anything. Time really has no meaning here.

Coming back to Mwanza was great. First welcome came from the neighbouring kids when they run to me to give a huge hug. It was amazing. Best welcome you could ask for.

Then came the others. I love Tanzanians and how open and direct they are. Sometimes I just wish they weren’t so honest. I have been on the road for four weeks. Staying in Dar the best thing is of course the variety of food available. Taking advantage of the variety will of course leave marks on your hips. I know that. I just don’t need to be reminded of that. But Tanzanians want to give their compliments. After being here barely a day, I have already heard five people tell me that I have become fat. And they say it as a compliment. How should I respond to that – thank them!

I arrived at noon, so I was able to attend our basketball practise right away. I was happy to be back. The team was happy to have me back as well. We practised for three hours and we had a good practise. Well, being fourth in the national competition gave them a boost to try harder for our next tournament in September. I am looking forward to our future practises. I know we will kick some buds then!

Coming home is always nice. For some reason when being away, you only remember the good things. After coming back you are quickly reminded of the other things also.

First the food. By the end of the day I had had already twice rice and fish. I better get used to it. That is on the menu every day from now on.

Second was the fact that I was living with the guys. There was no soap, no toilet paper and no washing powder in the house. They said they hadn’t needed them lately. For some reason the house looked clean anyhow.

My room was exactly as I had left it. We had had two guests staying at our house while we were away but I was told that they were quite party animals so they didn’t really spend any time at the house. Maybe that was better.

Taking a cold shower was the final reminder over the fact that I was home again. I don’t know what good things I can think of that minor fact that water is cold from now on, but at least it will be environment friendly, my showers will be shorter for sure.

The first night in my bed was restless. June and July are the coldest months in the country. So sleeping with windows open is probably not too smart. Well, I love the fresh air. I will just have to add another sheet for tonight.

Last and final welcoming gift from Mwanza was the morning awakening. Some thing which I haven’t missed at all. The damn chickens! They start at 4:30 in the morning and continue until seven. They make sure that you are not sleeping late.

I just love to be back in Mwanza!

Second hand clothes

Everyone here wears second hand clothes or dead white man’s clothes as they say here. Why would anyone throw away anything which could be still used, unless he or she is dead?

Tanzanians feel that Europeans buy lot of things, maybe wear them ones or twice, and then give them away. How right are they?

Mitumba, which literally means parcel and goods, is quite ironically the word that is nowadays used to mean second hand. Mitumba is the best and the almost the only place to go shopping in the country. In cities you can find something new but in the villages, where 90 percent of the population lives, mitumba is your only choice.

You can never tell a Tanzanian that the clothes are donated, because they never get them for free. They will always have to pay for them.

Second hand markets are interesting places to visit. You have to have lot of energy when going shopping. First you try to find what you are looking for. Then you try it on. If it doesn’t fit, it is ridiculous to even think that there would be another, size bigger or smaller. When trying it on, you have to trust the salesman opinion, if it fits you or not, since there are never any mirrors around. And of course you can trust his word, he is only doing business.

When buying something from a second hand market, you have to be careful. You are not going to get a receipt. Even if they give you a receipt – which happens only if you are lucky or desperate – it doesn’t mean that you can return it. Well, of course you can return it but your money is gone.

There are advantages in second hand shopping. You are the only one wearing that kind of shirt.

Another advantage is that you don’t really have to go anywhere to shop. They will come to you. You can find mitumba on road sides anywhere, clothes are hanging from the trees, or fences, or there are people on the streets walking between cars trying to make a sale. Shopping is done very easy for you.

There are some discussions over abandoning mitumba. Some people think that it is not supporting the local economy. Well, to those who feel so, come here and see that it is the best economy in the country.

Which one is better, wear the mitumba or same China made t-shirts what everyone else is wearing and which isn’t going to last as long.

Recycling

It was in Africa a long before you even thought of it. When you walk around, you are constantly reminded of its importance.

Good example is the truck tires. After being used on roads by cars, as bumpers by boats or other things, they end up on people’s feet. Maasais are the most famous tribe using Tyrell shoes but there are so many different styles already that many others have found good use out of them. I have to admit that some of them are quite comfortable. Maybe it all depends on the brand, and I vote for NOKIA Hakkapeliitta!

Bribe

It makes the world go around. When asking a secondary school student how he feels about bribes, the answer is interesting. He says it is good.

First it helps the economy; money gets to go around. Secondly it helps you to get what you want. Third it helps you to succeed in life.

When asking more details what he means by that, the reasoning has been well thought. Today it is not very easy to pass the national examinations. So in order to get to university you have to pay to someone to get in. So if there wasn’t such a thing as bribe, how would people get to universities?

8.7.2008 Today it is very usual for fifty plus years old men leave their wives and find themselves younger wives. They get away with it since it is normal for men during their mid-life crisis. Still there are lots of people who consider it abnormal and look down on these people.

Finland is still a very conservative country. First black people came in the 80’s to play basketball. Today the number of black people is bigger partly because of some refugees. Still the mixed marriages are very rare and therefore not acceptable by many people.

Majority of Tanzanians are black. There is a noticeable amount of Indians in the country but they seem to live their own lives and many don’t even consider them Tanzanians even though they have been born here.

The number of foreign people, Mzungus (whites) is rising. There has been foreign help since the independence in 60’s. Many, who came, decided to stay. Nowadays they all have local wives, so it is very rare to see white couples living in Tanzania. Most Mzungus have local companions.

To me it is all the same if people marry outside their “tribe”. I have always thought that when you are in love, it doesn’t matter what religion, what colour or what political point of view you represent. At the same time I have always known that it isn’t enough that you and your partner are ready for it, the problem is that rest of the world might not be ready for it.

I was an exchange student 16 years ago. I still remember how my grandmother said to me that just don’t bring a black boy back with you when you come back. When I left to Africa, my mom didn’t say anything like that but I know that she is worrying over the possibility.

I have been here now 6 months. I am not even close to getting married with a Tanzanian, but I have to say that the thought of that happening has crossed my mind. Don’t worry mom, I am not getting married yet. There isn’t a perfect candidate out there yet, if I leave out all the daladala drivers who offer to marry me daily.

Anyway, now that I have gotten to know many Mzungus (whites) who live here and have Tanzanian partners, I have become to understand their choice. I know that many people think that if a white person marries a black person, it is because he can’t get himself a white girlfriend, therefore he has to settle with the second choice. I find it very prejudiced, like black people were somehow lower than white people. Yes, it might be partly true that they can’t find themselves a white companion, simply because there aren’t many whites around here to choose from. But I don’t think it is the only reason.

Today I had an interesting discussion with a British friend. He has retired two years ago. His wife has died and he has come here to do a volunteer job since he is not interested in retiring totally yet. He has been here almost a year now and now he has a black girlfriend who is ten years younger than he is.

We talked a lot about their “situation” and also the reasons why I haven’t “found” myself a local husband yet (read not that I am looking). I have to say that my understanding grew. It is also nice to share things with someone who knows the reality here. It is not very easy to describe to someone how the situation is here without sounding like you are undermining the locals.

My friend said to me something which opened my eyes. He said that it not so bad to be 60 years old, live a simple life in Tanzania with someone who appreciates your company. The situation could be something else, like living in a Britain, alone with no one on your side. I could see his point, and to me the age between them didn’t matter anymore.

My case is something different though. It is not like I am thinking already that these are my last days so why not take everything out of it. I feel totally the opposite. I feel like I am still looking for that life companion who will be there through the whole life. It isn’t enough for me that there is someone who appreciates my company. The conversation kept getting more and more serious.

Dating a Tanzanian or anyone else in that matter, who comes from a totally different culture and has totally different perspective over life, is hard. I have lot of good friends here in Tanzania. I spend time with them a lot. But after a while you just need someone, who has something more to say about US elections than Mrs. Clinton would be better candidate because her husband was in Tanzania once, or who has seen the Oscars even once, or who has heard the name Beethoven, or not to mention the fact that it would be nice if the guy could even pay his own daladala ride on your first date. I am not trying to say that all Tanzanians are dump, poor and not educated. That is not true. They just lack the experience which I have. Therefore it is very hard to carry an interesting conversation over to your second date. When you have covered the issue of risen food prices, you are left with the how was your day today.

We talked also how easy it is to get caught in helping others. My friend outlined that of course it is nice if your companion thinks the world of you. For a thirty year old African, it is like winning a lottery when dating Mzungu. Mzungu will take care of you, tell you everything which you have never heard of and top of all, Mzungu will treat you better than other Africans, at least that is how they think.

At the same time it is easy for Mzungu to enjoy it too. Africans have totally different idea of beauty; in addition they find difference beautiful. Therefore the what ever size you are, or what kind of clothes you were, has no meaning in search of that perfect companion.

 

In order to find your companion here, you have to rethink your standards. There are plenty of good looking people around; some have an education, few the life experience you have or what you are looking for.

 

Most of the Tanzanians see you, Mzungu, as a key to a better life. Therefore you really have to work hard to find out what kind of relationship they are after. As long as you know the kind, and as long as you are happy with what you are getting, I don’t think there are any relationships between outsiders and locals which shouldn’t be considered suitable in western standards. Bottom line is after all - If it makes you happy, I say, go for it!

7.7.2008 I don’t have children. I can only imagine how great it is to share things with your children when they experience things for the first time in their lives. That is one of the reasons why I love coaching. Nothing can top the feeling of seeing someone’s face after succeeding in something he has practised for long time for. That same feeling appears when you get to share a moment when a person is tasting his first ice-cream, first slice of pizza or first piece of brownie.

I have spent the last week in Dar with my student who is here to play in a netball tournament. Most of the time we have been hanging out at the field but yesterday I decided to show her the other side of the world. I was a bit worried since I knew that the contrast between her real life and Masaki (the upper class area in Dar) was quite big. Everything turned our great.

My student, Anitha, is 24 years old. She is studying to become a physical education teacher. She has finished the first year in studies and she is now getting ready for the compulsory second year field practise. After a year in field she has to take final exams to become a secondary school teacher.

Anitha is from Bukoba, town in north-western Tanzania. Her dad still works but mother is suffering from asthma. They can’t afford to buy medicine for her, so she is not feeling well. Anitha has two brothers who are both studying in Dar es Salaam and two sisters who are living in other parts of the country. She has been away from her parents and family since she was 17, which is quite usual in this country.

She is a very likable girl. Since I am her teacher she greets me like other elderly which is the custom in the country. It makes me feel old and superior; I wish they didn’t do that. She dresses up very conservatively, especially if she is coming to meet me. She is extremely polite and well-behaving. Furthermore she is one of those Tanzanians who you would like to help to get a better life.

Inviting someone over to your house or out to eat means in this country that you are ready to take care of all the costs which appear. That is why you have to be a bit careful when choosing the location for the coming get-together.

I took my chances and invited her to Onnela. She loved the place. I had hard time convincing her that it is not just for rich Mzungus, it is for who ever wants to live here. There are also some locals who live here.

After showing her the sights of Onnela, we took a walk around the neighbourhood. We passed by residences of different ambassadors, a yacht club and some other private houses which were hiding behind tall walls. She was really enjoying it. We had a lunch at Mzungu restaurant. We ordered pizza which was something she had never seen or tasted before. Afterwards we had ice-creams. I had hard time explaining to her what a dessert meant. She didn’t understand why you had to eat something after you had just eaten. I decided to forget all about explaining the difference between different courses of dinner.

Taking my friend out to Mzungu places is not cheap. It would have been cheaper in another part of town. I have to say though that it was worth every penny. Seeing how much she enjoyed, and hearing her talk about it rest of the day was something that can not be measured in money.

I don’t know how to explain this without sounding stupid. Bottom line is that doing something like I did today made me feel good. I am not saying that I did something which will change the future of anyone but at least I did something which will have a little affect on someone’s life.

It is not like I spent a lot of money. Living a year without a pay, even 50 euros makes a hole in the budget. But like I said already, that little money makes a huge difference here.

What I did today didn’t just have an affect on my friend. It also had an influence on me. I can see now how people get caught up with different charities. You have to be careful though. It is very easy to do things like I did today. It makes you feel good. But in the long run you might even cause more problems than good.

So far I have been very careful with giving money to anyone or paying for anything. There are lots of people who expect Mzungus to pay for everything and give their money away. That is our own fault. For many years now, all development has based on bringing in the money. We have taught them that, if you just wait, you will get help. We have taught Tanzanians to be dependant.

But I know my limits; instead of trying to influence on big things, I am starting to concentrate on little things. I will leave saving the whole world to some other people with more money and more energy.

President Mkapa and the FC Vito team getting ready to travel to Helsinki Cup

3.7.2008 Ari is in town. He came to help the team from Mtwara to get things ready for their trip to Finland to Helsinki Cup. Of course there was lot of other things to be solved concerning our future project in the country.

Today was more or less about the boys. I enjoyed it a lot. The FC Vito team consist 14 players from Mtwara region. They are 11 years old. Most of them have never been out of their village, not to mention in Dar es Salaam, or in an airplane or abroad, in Finland. I wish I could be in their heads now. There must be some serious thinking and wondering going on.

Anyway, after an early meeting in the Ministry of Education Ari and I headed to the Embassy of Finland to meet the team. We were supposed to have a press conference there at ten. The former President Mkapa was also invited since he is from the region where the boys are coming from. The place was packed with media.

The Ambassador, Ari, the team and us others welcomed the President Mkapa. After lots of handshakes we stepped inside in front of the media. After an hour of introductions and speeches the media took over. It was interesting but a little shame since all the attention was drawn to the President instead of the boys. Well, what can you expect when the person is not famous of his sports talent but rather the miss usage of the government money.

I think it was a good conference anyway. We were all on TV later that night so all my local friends kept sending me messages after seeing that. Although, I don’t think they noticed me on TV because of the issue. More or less it was very hard to blend in when you are the only Mzungu in the picture with 15 eleven year old African boys. I really stood out of that picture.

The boys had an afternoon flight so we took them to the airport with their luggage. They had left their home villages with no money at all, with two t-shirts, shorts, pants and sandals. Sponsor had given them t-shirts which were all size XL so they were really a seen. NGO had brought them second hand football shoes, so most of them were wearing their dress pants, new t-shirts and football shoes. Their luggage was all in one box at the airport.

The team is coming to Finland to attend Helsinki Cup. Those who are interested to follow their games can find their schedule through LiiKe web pages www.liike.fi. If you are interested, feel free to go and see them. And if you have any sports equipment to pass along, take it with you. I assure you that it will be in good use afterwards.

Joy of sports!

2.7.2008 I have one my students in Dar es Salaam attending a netball tournament. I have had a chance to follow their games and spend some time with my friend. It has been great.

First I have to say few words about the sport it self. Well, you cannot really call it a sport at all. There are seven players in each team but only one takes few steps during the game. All the others stand still in their posts.

Then the uniforms. Everyone is wearing skirts and a vest which says which position they play. You have to be stupid not to know which is whose position.

Then there is no contact aloud. If you even touch the other, you are fouling. So there is not really ways to get the ball away from the others, other than getting a ring bound (yes ring, not rebound).

Well, the advantage of the sport is that anyone can attend, and I mean anyone. Enjoyment of attending, place the biggest role when watching the games. I don’t think the players are there to get an exercise or good sweat; they are there to enjoy time out with friends.

I have to say again, I have learned a lot. First there is no way that I would were the uniforms they are wearing, and I would probably be one of the thinner ones in the tournament. Second, I could not enjoy the rules which make you stay still, not have any contact and basically keep you away from all the action. I think British should have kept this sport within themselves.

Anyway, it has been fun to follow the tournament and spend some time with my friend. The place where the tournament is held is out of town and is quite an experience itself when visiting it. I make sure I am out of there when it gets dark. It is not a place for Mzungu to be around in the dark.

The guesthouse where they are staying is not any better. It is a block away from the “main road” and opposite of the best nightlife in the village. There is no way you can get any sleep in the rooms. The players are sharing a room and one bed with one or two others. Luckily my friend is sharing a room with one of the younger players. There are some big mamas in that team and they have their babies with them. So just imagine sharing an 80 cm bed with a mama (real African big mama) and her baby. There must be some real spooning going on in order to fit in that bed.

Again these ladies have nothing to complain about. My basketball team players, boys had to share a bed with three. So imagine three tall players in one small bed. Even the spooning wouldn’t do the trick. Now we are talking hamburgers.

When I ever get back to Finland and travel with my team anywhere, I know for sure that I am not listening their complains over sleeping on the school floor. One visit to Africa and you start appreciating the little things. School floors are just fine.