"Welcome to Tanzania!"

Of course I woke up at the crack of dawn to birdsong of a new language and the distant singing of an all night church service or maybe it was a morning Muslim worship. In any case, they were the sounds that marked the beginning of a whirlwind orientation. The stories are many and all are worth retelling. However, here are just a few of this weeks firsts:

Pick-n-Pay: To stock up my kitchen Liza brought me the an Indian run general store called Pick-n-Pay which actually had shelves full of all kinds of food, both local and imported, some in bulk and others a rarity that even Liza was surprised to see (whole wheat flour and Thai red curry paste). Except for a few imported items (granola from England: $8, biodegradable liquid detergent from Maine: $25), everything was so cheap I couldn't believe it (organic pure peanut butter for only $3?!?!). And in some cases the variety made me dizzy: 5 types of honey, most of which were locally manufactured and a half a dozen types of Marsala spices. While I was squatting down to choose my Marsala spice I experienced my first power-outage. I already knew it was a regular occurrence in Tanzania and when a shop worker came back to my isle to assure me that their back-up generator would kick-in at any moment but offered to lend me a flashlight in the meantime, I told her I was fine with my little key chain light and resumed my spice pondering. And when the lights finally did come back on a few minutes later I was still squatting near the spices only I had moved over to the vast abundance of chai tea.

In the end I spent a little over $100 to stock my pantry for the year and provide a good choice of spreads, snacks and such for the month. And to top it off, on the way home we stopped by a vegetable stand where I bought a weeks worth of organic veggies and fruits - zucchini, carrots, garlic, ginger, tomatoes, sweet potato, pumpkin, cabbage and of course, bananas - for just under $5. While my first reaction to the prices here was pleasant surprise, I was soon sobered by remembering why it was so. And the reality of the economic disparity would reveal itself again and again. While we give ourselves a pat on the back for recycling or planting a tree or biking instead of driving, I have in just one week come to see a reality so vastly different its mind numbing. Here they reuse till the object is literally falling apart, they bike to work because they can't afford a car or walk to work because they don't have either, vegetables are organic by default, their national parks are the tourist industry's big money makers while at the same time cutting trees is a quick-cash business, pesticides are increasing not decreasing and sustainable farming means survival of the land before crops can no longer grow from its depleted soil. I believe it will take some time before I can wrap my head around what it means to be a "developing" country and what the gap between the two realities implies. In the meantime, I join them in a way, for I have no income and absolutely every penny counts the number of days that I can be here. I just hope my work will somehow help bridge the gap now wider than I had ever imagined.

Beans and Rice: My first Tanzanian meal was at a local canteen and consisted of beans and rice, a fried banana and a stale doughnut. Besides the doughnut, it was delicious and once again, shockingly cheap - $3 for lunch for two. While enjoying the simple yet satisfying meal, Liza and I casually talked of cross-cultural dating and the life of expatriates. And although Liza sat only four feet across from me, I felt that we were worlds apart. I was fresh and clearly taken by the beauty and color of Arusha with its abundant canopies of green reaching high above the roofs and roads, including stunning blooming trees of purple flowers giving way every once and awhile to a fantastic view of Mt. Meru. Liza, on the other hand, had not yet tired of such beauty but saw it through a veil of hard realism with a delicate fringe of cynicism fluttering beneath her breath. A few days later I sat talking with her while eating my second Tanzanian meal at one of her favorite restaurants. This time I had the pleasure of rolling balls of ugali - a stiff porridge made of grounded corn - in my hand and scooping it with beans and steamed greens. In between bites I listened to her expressing the inevitable sense of confusion and loss of direction that comes when disillusionment and hopelessness seep into the consciousness. And yet. She is still here and still brilliantly teaching and leading at Umoja. I hope to wave these dark clouds from her mind so that her energy and drive remain untainted. I hope.

Toilets and Showers: On a lighter note, the first time I sat on my toilet seat I broke it. Since then I have figured out how to sit on it without getting my ass pinched in the crack but the day Umoja can afford a new one will be bright as my full-moon. And when it rains it pours. The first time I tried to take a shower, the PVC pipe burst and water flooded my room. On the fourth day my light burnt out and while I was praising myself for finding a bulb and stool and fixing it myself, there was a POOF and smoke and the sound of shattering glass. I looked up at two singed wires dangling from the ceiling and back down to fragments of a socket swimming in the glittering dust of what was once a soft 100w bulb. Welcome to Tanzania, they said.

Drive to Market: Rumbling in Liza's hell of a Jeep, we pushed our way one day into the thick of Central Market. She was looking for one vendor in particular who sold pillows and mosquito nets. I thought it would be impossible as men swarmed the car pushing this and that through the window. "Make sure your door is locked," she warned. "Can we park?" I asked. "No, you can't leave your car unattended in here." And just when I was about to suggest that we come back another day she shouted, "Hujambo!" and shook the hand of a man who had just appeared at her window. "It's him!" she said and then started spouting out rapid Swahili until he disappeared. To get out of the main stream of traffic she pulled forward about 100 meters and parked to the side. I offered to stay in the car while she went out but she said, "No, he'll come find us." And sure enough he appeared a few moments later and started pushing pillows and mosquito nets through my window. Speaking once again in fluent Swahili she cut a deal and we were off with two pillows and a net for my bed.

Already inspired by her success in opening Umoja here in Arusha, this little adventure deepened my respect for Liza even further. And I began to realize why she has gotten as far as she has in a place where two weeks means four months and trust is a word not taken for granted. Not only does she speak flawless Swahili but she has naturally developed relationships with Tanzanians from all parts of the community. She knows people that can work magic both at the market and at the municipal authorities. People at the phone shop, the local cafes and even particular street children know her by name. And I truly believe it is merely a result of her being herself, which speaks clearly of her depth of character and heart. Liza, you ROCK!!

....more firsts to be continued.....