Sis and Bro in Africa

So there I was, suddenly in Africa. Some three weeks ago already. I stood on the steps exiting the airplane and got my first whiff of Africa. Nice. Fresh and spicy. Here at least. Later I would find other scents, sometimes less appealing…

“Night has already set in. It’s winter here, so for now the landscape hides in the dark. I look forward to unspoilt nature, lots of green, very different from Holland. At the airports exit other differences become apparent: we are being overwhelmed by taxidrivers and all of a sudden I am no longer Nienja’s older brother, but she has become my big sister. She bargains with the african men in a strict and experienced way, because the driver that was supposed to pick us up is nowhere to be seen. I stand to the side, feeling awkward but a fascinated onlooker. In the end our ride arrives and we drive through the Tanzanian night towards Moshi. The first images of african life unfold at the edge of the road. It looks busy, messy but also serene somehow. For now unspied in the back of the Jeep I drink it all in and wonder what the coming week will have in store…”

The diary that I’ve kept since already fills a whole notebook. There is so much that stands out, is different from home, that I’m still amazed every day about the things I see, hear, smell and feel. I will therefore limit myself to the the things that most impressed me.

Nienja
My (used-to-be) little sister moves through Africa in a way that suggests she’s always been here. In social exchanges I notice by the way the african people react to her that there is some kind of mutual understanding. Nienja is not ‘mzungu’ (white) like us, tourists. Bargaining and haggling is difficult for me at first, because “oh, these poor people”, and “it’s already so cheap!” I couldn’t have had a better teacher. Even I can haggle now.

Dala dala
One of the best things here: going to town with 30 people packed like sardines in a mini-van. In a very literal sense being amongst the africans. The smells (here sometimes less appealing). The looks. Children ride on everybody’s lap, matrasses, bicycles, huge sacks of food can all be taken along. From the hospital to the centre of town: 20 eurocents. Never so much pleasure came so cheap.

Titi and the others
The enthousiasm with which I’m being welcomed is heartwarming. Karibu! (welcome) is a widely used phrase. Being Nienja’s brother I have a slight advantage, but I feel the Tanzania people are very hospitable, helpful and affectionate. I really feel welcome here.
One of the best memories: playing pool at at night at Mapipa’s, a local bar. Just Titi, some other black guys and me: just one of the boys. Wonderful.

Oppositions
People with laptops, lots of mobile phones, luxury 4-wheel drives… And just 10 kilometers away I see a little naked boy playing in the dust with a discarded plastic bottle in front of a clay hut without electricity or water. It hasn’t even got a door.

Communication
What becomes painfully apparent is the way everything in Holland and the western world is aimed at transparency, efficiency and service. Never more so than when you’re left without explanation in a mini-van in a place where you don’t want to be. Despair, frustration, boiling and fuming you demand to be informed but moments later you find yourself once again trudging behind an indifferent african wondering “But, how… why… and at what time??” In the end there is but one option: hakuna matata. No worries.

Going home
With mixed emotions. Just when I feel I’m getting the hang of things it is over for me. But maybe it is best to quit when you’re up. The good thing is that now I know where my sister lives and what she is doing there. But that is also the difficult part. Now it will be just Sis in Africa. And that can sometimes be really hard.

Bye bye big little sister! I’m so very proud of you!

Love, Harald