Bagamoyo and Bongo

I'm writing this post with a little frusteration, because I already wrote it once but it got deleted when I tried to post it. Serves me right for not saving in Microsoft Word. You are all probably tired of hearing about our technology troubles by now, but I just don't seem to be able to escape computers that erase my stuff!

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Saturday, we took a trip to Bagamoyo, which is about an hour north of Dar es Salaam. Bagamoyo was the German capital of Tanzania under colonialism and was also a major point in the East African slave trade. Slaves from mainland Tanzania and Kenya were held in Bagamoyo before they were sent to work on plantations on Zanzibar, the Middle East, and islands in the Indian Ocean.

After eating lunch in Bagamoyo, we visited an old Catholic church that had been converted into a museum on the slave trade. Outside the museum was a tower were Dr. Livingstone's body rested for a night before it was shipped back to England. As we were leaving the museum, we saw about a hundred and fifty school children in white and marroon uniforms, waiting to go in. They were very excited to see us, and wanted to kiss our hands. I'm making a connection that isn't really there, but it was sad to leave a museum on slavery to see students who wanted to kiss our hands just because we were white Americans.

The bad condition of museums here also makes me sad. The museums we have visited all have very good content, and the staff seem very knowledgeable, but the displays themselves are falling apart. The text is peeling off the faded construction paper it was mounted on, and the English translations are sometimes too convulted to understand. It would be irresponsible to spend a lot on museums in such a poor country, but it's still sad that the children of Tanzania see such a run-down version of their history.

After the museum, we went to a crocodile zoo, and then to Kaole. At Kaole, there are ruins of two mosques dating back to the 13th century. By this point, Musa's eight year old niece, Anita, was getting bored, so I taught her how to take pictures with my camera. She was much better at it then I am. If you see any photos from my trip that aren't blurry, she's probably the one who took them. To her credit, she was very patient for most of the trip, although I expect her 'fall' in a puddle at the end was more of a 'jump.' Luckily Eleuthera had an extra towel.

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Sunday, Inno took us to have lunch with his colleague, Joseph. Joseph lives in one of Dar's many poorer neighborhoods. (Can you still call them slums when that's where most people live?) He and his wife and three younger children all live in a two room cement house with a tin roof. Inno says that when it rains (an everyday occurance here in June) their house floods because there is nowhere for the water to go, so they have to bail it out.

They were so happy to have us over, and cooked us a delicious lunch of wali and stew. They didn't eat with us, but just watched us eat. They insisted that we drink bottled water and beer with our meals, expenses that must have used up a fair portion of their monthly earning. Joseph's brother spoke very good English, and told us how excited everyone in the neighborhood was that Joseph was having Americans over for lunch. He said America was a good friend to Tanzania. (Tim asked Inno about this later, because such a pro-American attitude surprised us. Inno said that most Christians in Dar were very pro-American although there was more diversity of attitude among Muslims.)

Earlier that day, Inno had told us that bongo was local slang for Dar. Bongo means brains, and people use the term because you have to have brains to survive in Dar. Joseph's brother echoed this sentiment. "To survive here is very, very, very difficult," he said. "Life is very, very, very difficult. And yet, indeed, we do survive."

When Joseph first recieved a cell phone for the work he does with WILMA, Inno was frustrated because Joseph never charged his phone. Later he found out this was because Joseph didn't have power in his home, and was ashamed of his frustration. Since then, he and Paul Armington have given Joseph seven hundred dollars to buy a plot of land and build his own house. Inno says Joseph cried when he gave it to him. Right now, they are working on the roof.

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I wanted to write more about Swahili class, Kuinduchi Beach, and the National Village Museum, but I'm almost out of time. Hopefully, we will post again soon.