Poa Kichizi Kama Ndizi (aka Cool As A Banana)

Today is a dark day as I perform that which I swore I would never do.
I am blogging.
It just sounds wrong.
But I am far too lazy to respond to individual emails and messages, so this was the easiest route.
Do not fret, I will keep things short.
So, join me on this magical adventure into the lowest form of written word, wont you? (FYI, this site will not allow me to do apostrophes, so I have opted to simply skip them. Its not poor grammar, so dont judge me).
Also, editing on this computer is pretty much impossible, so keep your snide comments about my syntax and spelling errors to yourself! This is pretty much just stream of consciousness, pouring forth from an exhausted brain.
Judgmental jerks.

And on that note, lets begin.

October 14th, 2009


My flight arrived at the Kilimanjaro Airport. It was the longest succession of flights I have ever endured. Beginning in Los Angeles and ending in Tanzania was 26 hours when all was said and done. One thing was nice though, every flight was on time and my bags arrived in perfect condition.
Anyways, when you arrive at KIA (Kilimanjaro International Airport), you walk down the airplane stairs and onto the tarmac that guides you into the "airport". The airport itself is nothing more than a large room. There, all of the white people gather and fill out forms handed to us by people in doctors coats with face masks on, asking us to swear that we are not bringing any diseases into the country. I hoped for the best and checked the CLEAN box, attempting to hide my smokers cough for fear of a cautionary swabbing. From there, you hand over your passport to a couple of teenagers in uniforms, who stamp it and proceed to hit on you with yellowed eyeballs and Cheshired grins.
Glad to not be subjected to a slobbery cavity search, I proceeded to the baggage belt and gathered my things. Two friends from Amani (the place that Im going to be working at while in Tanzania, aka the reason I came), were waiting to gather me and my bursting bags of bulbous belongings. We proceeded to Backpackers Hotel, where I put down a payment for a week, put my bags away, and virtually ran to the bar. We all enjoyed a few adult beverages and then decided to call it a night.

My room was the one right past the two logs and under the sign.

October 15th-18th, 2009
My first full day in Africa was eye-opening. I use that phrase because many of Moshis strengths and weaknesses were revealed to me in one days time. I visited Amani Center for Street Children (where I was to begin working the following Monday), for the first time that morning. It was a very inviting place. Every child had a smile on their face. You would never walk onto those grounds and guess the reality of those childrens past. I was introduced to the staff, who met me with a friendly but skeptical eye. Which was completely understandable since I was, after all, the new kid on the block. Step by step, ooooo baby.
After Amani, I settled in for a few noon beers. As I was sipping the sweet suds of Serengeti Lager, I witnessed an accident directly below the white mans perch atop my Hotel. An auto repair truck clipped and subsequently smooshed the front, left side of a Jeep, causing the headlight to shatter and fall off. Immediately after the two vehicles pulled off of the road to settle up, a crowd of men flocked to the street mess and distributed the shatterings amongst themselves like ants descending upon leftover food. In a matter of seconds, there was no sign of the accident and the street looked just as it had only moments before.
The next day, I awoke early and sauntered over to the sister hotel of my own. There I had a few morning beers with a Kenyan, a German, and a Canadian. And yes, I am very much aware of the fact that this sounds like a set-up to a bad joke. After we discussed refugees and American politics for a few hours, I headed out and purchased my new mid-90s inspired cellular telephone.
After a much needed beer/jetlag nap, I headed over to a restaurant named the Sikh Club to meet up with some friends. Surprisingly enough, Moshi has a very large Indian population so the restaurant was notably divided amongst Indian and Tanzanian. Having a good buzz from good beer, good food, and good conversation, my friends and I decided to hit a small locals bar on the other side of town.
The bars name was Pamelas. It was an aluminum-sided hangout filled with mismatched chairs and a rickety old pool table smack dab in the middle of it. And like most of Moshi, it played the best of Michael Jackson, which we all agreed was one of the best parts about this town. Until We Are The World got stuck on repeat for 30 minutes. Anyways, my friends and I knew that we were the center of attention anyways and so we decided to grab the pool table and give everyone a show. As the night ended, I asked my friend where the bathroom was so that I could empty my bladder before the taxi back. He laughed and asked if I was sure, then pointed me in the right direction. As I followed his directions to go around the last table, down the darkened alley, through the rusty gate, I realized that this was the rapiest bathroom I had ever seen. Allow me to explain.
As soon as you round the last corner, you see a patch of gravel commingling with broken glass. On the other side of that pit of torture, you see a sink covered with rusty water tracks lit only by a flickering fluorescent light. Next to the sink is a metal door. Upon opening the door, ones nostrils are immediately hit with fecal and urinary unpleasantries. Then you notice that it is, in fact, a squat toilet. Oh, and the door doesn lock. Thats really where the rape comes in. Here you are, vulnerable and squatting, unable to stand quickly because your pants are bunched around your knees so as to avoid not only your beer-stream, but also the floor that appears to be literally crawling with bacteria the size of centipedes. You would be like a deer caught in the headlights. The headlights of rape.
Enough about rape bathrooms.
Onto the next day. Or, yesterday if you prefer. The morning found me going with this man named Musa (the reception clerk from my hotel) to look at his friends house that is available for rent. Cut to me drinking beer with a bunch of Tanzanians, posing for stupid pictures and talking about Obama and Lil Wayne. After we left, Musa and I went to get my passport photos taken for my Residency Visa. Now, passport photos taken here are not exactly quality controlled. I sat in front of a blue towel while who I swear was Damon Wayans long lost twin took my picture with his digital camera. We then went on a mission to find a goat skin wallet that I had seen a few days earlier, which we found, and which I bought. We then parted ways.

Immediately after saying goodbye to Musa (thats Moses in Swahili!), I headed up to the hotel bar (again) and ran into yet another Tanzanian guy I had met a day or so earlier. Well, technically I had met his friend, but his friend had been saying that he wanted to fill me up with yogurt. I think he meant it literally now that I see it in hindsight, he IS a grocer and he DID later give me free yogurt. Or yogHurt, as they spell it here.
Anyways, we ended up spending the day together. They showed me all around Moshi, taking me into places I normally might not feel comfortable going into alone as a whitey. They helped me with my Swahili, which went from two words to over 15 in one day! WoW MoM (that one is for you, Katie)! I am on my way to perfecting Swinglish!
After they took me to the local market and a few other random locales, I called it a day.

Side Note: Never give your phone number to a Tanzanian guy under any circumstance, no matter how pushy they are. They just call and call and call and call. Even if you tell them that you have a husband and children back in the States. Although they do send awesome text messages. Here is an example (I told this guy I could not hang out because my friend was sick and I had to go and help her):
Hi Cassie! Hope u Ar doing cul since yesta day. How is ur friend getting on? Hp is getting better! With us good. Just to say hi 2 u. Cheers!

Alright guys, hope this satiates you. Ill update as often as I feel moved.

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