Ifacara Tour

Sunday 19 May 2013

Ifacara, a city of ~150,000 people, seemingly has various forms of electricity.  As I could not sleep, during another walk at midnight tonight, I walked to the city center (20 minutes) with half a moon in the sky to light my way.  All the businesses were closed by this time along the main street except one which was lit by two kerosene candles emitting thick black smoke.  A few pieces of chicken and a tray of hard boiled eggs were still available for the hungry.  The proprietor asked “where are you going Mzungu (foreigner, white man)” I shrugged my shoulders and pointed in the direction I was walking not knowing myself where I was going.  Other businesses may have been open by the sound of voices coming from inside the shadows of the moon light.  Other businesses, unseen in the distance, on adjacent blocks could be located by the sound of their generators running.  Generators could be heard in many directions.  

Imagine walking into a closet, light off and shutting the door behind you.  Take a picture with the flash off.  The picture would resemble the city center after midnight on a cloudy, moonless night.  Tis an eerie feeling to me in a city with a population about the size of Hickory, North Carolina.

The hostel I am staying has gas generated electricity and advertises rooms with AC for TZS 15,000 and without for 10,000.  I have learned the electricity only comes on when the generator is running which is apparently in the evenings till maybe midnight and sporadically during the day as other hotel services are needed.

Earlier I walked perpendicular to main street meandering in several directions until I came across a Roman Catholic church.  The church was having a musical event outside with a couple hundred spectators watching a dozen singing groups, each group wearing unique colored uniforms.  An elderly local man (maybe 60) approached me speaking broken English and asked me if I wanted to go inside the church fence for a closer look.  He escorted me in one of the two main church yard gates.  He pointed out the padre (father) sitting at the top of the steps.  There was a wonderful rhythm of African drumming, dancing women wearing colorful dresses and the singing groups performing various groups performing dance movements while singing.

After listening to a couple songs, I remembered my main purpose of my walk was to get food in my stomach.  I asked him where I could find barbecue chicken or pork.  We left, and only a block further along form the city center, he led me to a rudimentary restaurant with several charcoal grills outside cooking pork, chicken quarters, and fries.  One grill used real chunks of coal, not the Kingsford briquettes, while the fryer  was fired by 3” sticks poking out the bottom.  All I wanted was meat and vegetables as I am back on the low carb diet.  The only vegetable available came from a bottle of tomato sauce for the chicken quarter I bought off the grill for TZS 3,000 ($1.88)

While eating, another seemingly nice man about my age approached saying he was a “doctor of the human body”.  Doctor Harry or Henry he said many times as he was very drunk and hard to understand his English.  He offered me also many times to give me a tour of the hospital and talk to the patients.  Had he been sober, I would have enjoyed the invitation but his constant repeating, boasting on himself, and his breath made me eventually say no to his offer of which he immediately got up and left.  

The older man and I conversed while I ate.  He said he had a cooperative farm consisting of 50 hectares about 1km south by the river with many fruits and vegetables.  We continued walking as he pointed out various landmarks in route.  He said we were in a village now (a suburb form the city center) and asked if I wanted to meet his family.  As we walked through his family compound, he pointed out many dwellings where he said an aunt, uncle, brother, sister, mother, son, daughter, son or daughter-in-law, grandchild etc…lived.  As we approached his house, he introduced me to his several sisters and brothers (he said he had 17)  and some of their significant others and about 15 children ranging in age from 4 months to 8 or 9.  The youngest was being carried in a sheet wrapped around the front torso of the elderly man`s daughter and looked like the baby was nursing on the mother`s milk.  

As we left walking through the family compound, we approached a dark hut with a faint light coming from inside the door and smoke coming out.  Ten feet before passing the door, he hollered to his mother who came out form the cooking fire to meet me.  I am very thankful he or his mother did not invite me in the smoke filled room to visit.  I could see flat bread being cooked on a smoldering fire just inside the door in a hut with a dirt floor, the only light coming from the glowing embers.   Out of all the people I had just met of his family (at least 30), none spoke any English except maybe HOW ARE YOU or HI, but I heard the word MZUNGU many times being muttered.  There were many handshakes with varied forms of handshake greetings which I fumbled through to laughter of the handshake recipient. After leaving, he said his mother was the village leader, the political head of the area.  During each of the introductions, I understood only two words he would say, America and Mzungu.  He said everyone was very happy to see me as they do not see many people  from America.

Last light in the sky was approaching as brief introductions were made.  Walking back to the guest house, he pointed out other land marks:  the hospital, an ATM machine and bank, the HIV/AIDS clinic the college of nursing, the technical college, the internet café (which he said was inside the hospital).  As we walked past the hospital, he asked if I wanted a tour and meet some of the patients.  Approaching the guards, we were informed the time now was for patient visitation by family and to come back another time.

We came to the city center, which I had not yet seen.  The area where 4 streets came together, he called the rotunda (roundabout) a “go lefty” as all traffic which enters the circle goes left (instead of right in the USA).   This is where I walked to at midnight tonight from the guest house.   He asked if I wanted to tour his farm, agricultural centers, the hospital or any other points I may have interest in seeing during my stay in Ifacara tomorrow or the coming week.  Oh, YES Asante Sana (Thank you very much) I said. 

I asked him about the national park near here.  I can`t remember the name but when he said it, I said, yes THAT`S IT!  The national park, I read has mountains up to 4,000 meters.  The park is about 30 kilometers (~18 miles) north of here containing safari animals (Lions and Tigers and hyenas OH MY!) such as those I saw yesterday on the way to Ificara from the bus.  I thought of renting a bicycle and asked if or where I could rent one.  He said they cost about 1,500 per day (1 USD=1,600 TZS) I thought of an adventure of renting a bicycle and making a multi-day trip to the national park.  As is typical, there are many guest houses,  they were to be seen from the main road between Dar es Salaaam and Ificara.  Each promoting specifics from their sign: flushing toilet, toilet, hot water, Air Conditioning, private rooms.  Here in Ificara, I picked the first one I came to from the bus station.  This room has a cold water shower, private room, and the style toilet I saw in South Korea, the squatter or hole in the tile floor with a tank of water head high for flushing.

I have found very few people who speak English here.  I was told this was so by the Kiswahili Institute director in Dar es Salaam. Benjamin`s suggestion was to find one who does (this older man easily found me, the Mzungu) and make friends with him or her.   He said he had to go away to another nearby village by bus on Tuesday for an overnight business trip and asked if I wanted to go.  He said there was a modern college there with many English speaking village dwellers.  Of course I want to go, I said.  He walked me the next 20 minutes (this walk I timed at midnight tonight) from the go lefty to my guest house for he wanted to see where I was staying.   He said he would come pick me up tomorrow for him to show me around.  He told me his name but unless I see the Swahili common name in writing, I easily forget.  

My compute`s battery is about to die as the generator was turned off before I arrived back from my midnight walk.  Tis also close to 0300 local time.  We are 7 hours ahead of those on the east coast of America and 9 and 10 hours ahead of my friends in Hailey, Idaho and San Francisco, California respectively.  As I sit here trying to get acclimated to the heat, on the bed with the mosquito net surrounding me, I will be able to fall asleep to the buzzing sounds as they try find a way through the net to suck my blood though the night.