Warning Contains Nudity

Rich Mzungu

Monday 3 June 2013
Mzungu

James met me unexpectedly last night after I had eaten supper at the parish house.  I asked if he wanted to join me in drinking a beer.  He said he did not drink but would join me.  We first went to his aunt`s house to look for his cousin Stella who could join us.  Stella apparently knew the best social spots for a lively evening but she was not at home.  Only her mother was home.  The mother asked what kind of beer I wanted.  Through James` limited English, I was able to say I wanted to try the beer with the higher alcohol content.  The mother pulled out two empty bottles from beside where she was sitting in the living room and handed me a Kilimanjaro (4.5%) bottle and a Serengeti (4.8%) bottle for me to read the labels.  She then asked for money to go buy beer and bring back to the house.  James and the mother thought I had wanted to drink a beer in the mother`s house.  I tried explaining I had wanted to go to a bar and socialize, possibly a place with English speaking females.  The three of us left walking only 100 meters to a place with loud African music videos playing on a small TV, many children wondering around as we entered and  8 to 10 guys sitting at the bar drinking beer.  The mother and I drunk two Serengeti beers each.  After James said to me directly the bill was 8000.  Tsh 2000 (US $1.25) for each beer for 500 mL (roughly 16 fluid ounces).

Being irritated as James and the mother had EXPECTED me to buy her beer.  The Tanzanian people assume as I am a Mzungu (white man or foreigner) that I have lots of money.  I politely said I do not have extra money to be buying; others must pay their own way.  

This was only the second time I had been asked directly for money since leaving Dar es Salaam.  The other time I was looking for the house of a family whom I had met the previous day near the Ifacara village center.  Sarafina had called 30 minutes prior and had invited me to their house to visit.  I knew I was close while riding my bicycle through the narrow streets apparently passing some of the same locations several times as I tried alternate routes to find their house.  A Muslim dressed man had been walking through the neighborhood and had seen me pass several times while I was looking for the specific house.  The third time I saw him, he put his hands in the air as if to say what are you looking for.  Smiling, he motioned for me to come to him.  He spoke no English as I asked him if he could talk to Sarafina (she also spoke no English) and ask directions to her house.  I handed him my phone as I dialed Sarafina`s number.  He briefly talked to Sarafina, hung up and looked at me quizzically.  I did not think he understood my meaning in asking for directions.  Using my arms, I pointed straight ahead then pointed left, then right then straight ahead again.  The Muslim man finally had a look of understanding on his face as he took the phone from me and redialed the number.  By this time, a friend of his had shown up on a bicycle.  When the conversation ended, The Muslim sat on the bike rack of his friend and motioned me to follow them, hopefully to Sarafina`s house.  After about 300 meters we stopped in front of the Sarafina Guesthouse.  With a big smile on my face, I said no, this was not the right place.  Once again in route only another 200 meters, we arrived at Sarafina`s house.  Before the two left, the Muslim approached asking for money to buy food or a soda.  This I did not mind giving for.  I gave him all the coins in my pocket consisting of 3 coins of Tsh 200 each.  A total of Tsh 600 (US 0.38).  They rode away smiling.

I was sure to make a mental note how to find their house again after later leaving to go home.

Asking for money happened many times a day the two days I spent in Dar es Salaam by mainly the street children (the homeless) among others.  When I first met James in Ifacara, I had explained to him almost immediately I had no extra money to be giving away.  He said he understood.  I had been warned by Father Kayera and nuns from the convent in Ifacara and Mbingu that James has certain mental incapacities.  Even before the warnings by those who knew him, the first few days with James, I could tell he was not completely right in the head as he had problems focusing with a racing mind.