Seeing red

There are times when living the expat life can be a bit of a challenge.  Things happen that make you ache with homesickness, an ache that moves through your bones and goes right to your core.  An ache that makes you want to hop onto the internet and book a ticket home right away.  Today was one such day.

Like other places I’ve lived in, it’s an isolated incident that makes you want to hop onto a plane.  Most of the time life is quite humdrum and pleasant.  In Thailand it was the touts pretending to represent a travel agency who scammed money off me; in New Zealand a burglary that left me with just the dust where my furniture and belongings used to be; in Korea it was being nearly killed every time you tried to cross the road; in China it was the pushing and shoving, hoiking and spitting, and the globule of mucous left for me on my motorbike seat; in Angola it was my daughter’s camera being confiscated by the police because she took photos of some butterflies.  In Tanzania I have to say it’s the racism.  Not by the majority, but by a handful who target you because you have a white skin.

You see, a white skin seems to indicate that under that pale covering you are an ATM desperate to hand out cash.  You get charged more at the market than locals, parking attendants only demand money from you when you park in town, cops will pull you over and demand money for not having the right fire extinguisher, etc.

I parked on the main road, just around the corner from the market where I bought a small kerosene stove.  When I got back to my car, I was immediately surrounded by a group of young men all shouting at me, telling me I’d parked illegally.  Earlier on I’d had cars parked in front of me and hand barrows filled with pineapples parked behind me.  They had since moved on leaving my car the only one there.  Glancing behind me I saw that I was quite a few metres away from the corner so that was acceptable; I was the right distance away from the kerb, so that wasn’t a problem.  Their accusations that I had parked illegally made no sense whatsoever.  They crowded around me as I inspected where I’d parked, pushing me and poking their fingers at me, shouting, yelling.  One told me they’d put a thing under my tyre so I couldn’t move.  I guessed they meant a clamp, but when I peered between their legs I could see nothing on my tyre, no clamp.  At first despite their aggressive approach, I was calm and pointed out that I had not parked illegally at all.  Another pushed away some dirt with his foot, exposing a yellow square roughly a third of the size of a dollar note.  My front tyre was about 10cm in front of the yellow square which had been hidden under dust.  Obviously, I had to pay each one of the eight young men before they would let me get into my car and leave.  They had never met someone like me before.

I can be pleasant, I can be kind.  Try and rip me off and I undergo a complete personality change.

With my blood boiling I started yelling back at them, telling them I hadn’t parked illegally.  I threatened to call the police.  They told me to go ahead, calling my bluff as I didn’t know the number of the police station.  I opened my car door telling them I was going to drive to the police station.  Five of them crammed themselves into the back seat and one hopped into the front before I had time to lock the doors.  “We’ll go with you to the police,” they said.  “The police will confiscate your car and lock you up in jail.  You need to pay us the fine now for parking illegally.”

My blood pressure rose and I literally saw red.  After jumping out my car I ran around to the kerb side and physically pulled them out of my car with adrenalin-induced strength, still shouting and yelling at them.  They started crowding me even more, telling me that I was in Africa and I’d parked illegally and paying them the fine was the African way.  The way they did things in Tanzania.  This made my blood pressure rise several notches more.  “I too am a born and bred African,” I shouted back, “And stealing money from people or trying to bribe them is not the way we do things.  You are just criminals, tsotsis!”

I locked my car and stormed off to get help from the curio shop down the road.  The gang had my car surrounded, if I tried to drive away I’d end up knocking someone over.  A young man with a backpack approached me as I hurried back to my car with my dreadlocked saviour from the curio shop.  “They are corrupt; just jump in your car and drive!”  So while the curio man and the backpack man distracted them, I drove off fuming.  Nobody besides the backpack man and the man I’d called from the curio shop came to my assistance.  They all stood around staring, like they were watching a play.

Luckily, I calmed down further along the road when I saw that Nakumatt, the Kenyan supermarket, finally opened.  There had been rumours of its opening for months.  Whether it was the lovely clean air-conditioned shop or the stocked shelves I’ll never know, but I decided not to jump on the next flight out.

If life was always smooth sailing it would be boring.  We need the annoyances as well as the happy times to keep us sane.  Unfortunately what happened to me is quite common in developing countries where you have people so desperate for money that they resort to crime and corruption to get it.  That doesn't make it right, but it does put it in perspective. 

Corruption is Corrosion

This year, besides the earthquakes, tsunamis and volcanic eruptions, has been the year of riots and protest marches.  The populations of many countries have stood up for their rights and banded together to oust those corrupt officials in their governments.  Some are still trying to take over the government and lives are being lost in the various struggles on a daily basis.  If you don’t like poverty, austerity measures or what have you, you down tools and strike and march down the streets waving placards.  Of course, the thugs in the marches aren’t really that interested in the politics of the protest, for them it’s just an opportunity to loot and vandalise the town.  Everybody gets caught up in watching the images on the news of the violent outbreaks and protests, but nobody actually asks why we are in this current situation.  What is causing the people to riot and protest?

Driving into Moshi town today, being hounded by the vultures in their orange safety vests, all wanting to rip you off for 500 shillings, the cost of a day’s parking in streets that will fail safety requirements in most countries, I found myself fuming at the corruption that is so prevalent in Tanzania.  The orange safety vest vultures get a percentage of the parking fees they collect.  They target mostly the mzungu (foreigners) and will write you a 500 shilling pink ticket for a full day’s parking when in fact they should be charging you 200 shillings and issuing a white ticket for a half day’s parking.  They start writing the pink ticket while they approach your car, so when you ask for the white ticket, they smile and point to the already completed pink ticket and try and force you to pay 500 shillings.  As you can gather, I’ve lost my patience with these vultures.  I know they are only trying to make a living and it’s not their fault.  It’s the corrupt government officials who are taking the bulk of the money they collect for parking.  What really annoys me is that none of that money is put back into the community, the roads and buildings are not maintained at all.  Instead the money is just pocketed, going to make some government officials on the take even richer.

TANESCO the state-owned power company is another example of a corrupt entity.  Daily power cuts make living here hard, but even if we only get half or less than half the power supply we should be getting, your TANESCO bill doesn’t reflect that.  You are charged the same, if not more, than what you’d be charged for 24 hour regular power supply.  And when I asked to get one of the prepay meters installed, I was told on Friday that my name was on the bottom of the list of those wanting to go prepay, and that I should spend the weekend thinking about what I could offer them that would make my name go to the top of the list. 

Corruption is corroding society.  Rusting it away until it starts to fall apart.  How did these power-hungry people get elected into the governments in the first place?  And how do we get rid of them when their corruption becomes evident (like Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe) and despite losing elections they refuse to leave?  How can we remove the rust without cutting it out with riots and protests?  Dialogue doesn’t seem to work.  It seems that old saying is true.  Absolute power corrupts absolutely.  Maybe we need more accountability measures to be put in place and harsher consequences for those indulging in corruption.

Reality of living in Africa

   I can remember years ago Nelson Mandela giving a speech saying that "All Africa is one."  In some respects I think he was right.  Despite the cosmopolitan appearance of some African cities, like my favourite city Cape Town, there are some frustrations which still raise their annoying heads.  It doesn't matter if you live in the wop-wops or in a modern city, there are just some things that you will experience.

Like African Time.  I have lived and traveled in many African countries and this seems to be a consistent feature.  You might be in a hurry but that will mean nothing to the person you are dealing with.  This was brought home to me yesterday when I was buying internet data for my dongle.  The assistant took my dongle and removed my simcard, then proceded to help a few other people who jumped the queue and brought him their phones.  Then he stopped working while he flirted with a female customer waiting in another queue.  The flirting ended when his mobile phone rang and he took a call which must have been entertaining as he laughed a lot while talking.  Another assistant came to him and perched on the edge of his desk for a quick chat that took up his attention for about 10 minutes.  Before you know it an hour has gone by for something which should only take 5 minutes tops. 
My new kitchen is another example of the wonders of African time.  A one week job tops took 2 months to complete.  Instead of arriving with all the toold that would be needed, they come to look at the job to see what tools they will need.  You wait about 5 days for them to return with the tools.  They start the job and then they say they are going off for a tea break.  They return a week later and all that time you are having to keep the contents of your kitchen on the floor as they've removed the cupboards.
It doesn't help voicing your frustration as that will make them go slower.
Then you get the queue.  We are taught to wait patiently in a queue for your turn to come.  While some do this, others saunter nonchalantly to the front of the queue and ask a question.  Then before you know it the assistant is helping them.  What gets me is that everybody accepts this and nobody complains  That idiot has pushed to the front of the queue and nobody seems to mind!  Yesterday I spoke up.  "Excuse me, I was here first."  The culprit smiled, nodded his head and then moved in behind me in front of the others who had been waiting patiently.
Driving is another frustration.  Mini bus taxis stop wherever and whenever without indicating and the onus is on you to take quick action to avoid a collision. 
And then of course there's the corruption.  Anybody who finds themself in a position of power or authority must do a Bribing 101 course.  In Tanzania you give someone money and you get a driving licence.  You don't even have to do a test.  You need a safety sticker for your car?  Give someone some money and they'll pick up the sticker for you.  Your car doesn't have to be present for the roadworthy check. 
Despotic leaders and civil unrest seem to dominate the news.  Child soldiers, AIDS epidemics, it all seems quite scary. 
But the most amazing reality of living in Africa for me is the people's ingenuity and disregard of danger.  If they need electricty they think nothing of climbing up an electricity pylon and with very limited tools, connecting wires from the box up there to their house.  The fact they are working with thousands of volts doesn't phase them at all.  And if water is needed, they'll spend the weekend digging up a pipeline so they can attach a diversion onto it that feeds water to their house.  Need extra cash?  Remove 500m of power cable to sell.  I can't believe more people aren't killed playing around with electricity like they do.
All over Africa you find people living under the most dire of conditions in absolute poverty.  What you see will often bring you to the point of tears.  You will hear the most unbelievable stories that will break your heart.  But you will have to accept that there is no way you can help everyone.  There are just too many in need.
And we can't forget to mention the crime.  But with so many 'have-nots', can you expect it to be any differen?  Let's face it, you experience crime all around the world, in every major city.  Africa is not unique in this.

What you will find all over Africa is the most vibrant and friendly people on the planet.  Beautiful beaches and landscapes, a continent of so much potential it will blow your mind.  When some of the frustrations get you down, this is what you need to focus on.  Clear blue skies, great weather, a wealth of animal life, lovely people, a lifestyle that lacks the frenetic activity you get living in a place like London or New York.  There is much to be said for living in Africa.  Maybe we just need to learn to go with the flow and not get frustrated so easily.

Omigod! Civilisation!

We'd heard quite a bit about Dar-Es-Salaam from people who'd been there before.  Dirty, busy, horrendous traffic.  Nobody, however, told us how civilised it is.  Especially on the Seacliff side.  Enormous mansions, beautifully tarred roads, great restaurants, shopping malls, we thought we'd accidentally left the country without realising it.  In comparison, Moshi is a one-horse town, and the horse died several years ago.  I do like Moshi though.  We don't have much traffic.  The traffic in Dar is a problem, but not nearly as bad as Mumbai.  I didn't find it dirty at all, and yeah it's the capital so it should be busy.  It was a great getaway but I'm not sure if I could live there, as there are far too many temptations to spend your money on.  I'd be flat-broke in five seconds. 

My book launch was great, A Novel Idea is one of the nicest bookshops I've been in, a great selection of books, I felt quite privileged to have my book launch there.  They're opening a branch in Arusha in June, so that is definitely something to look forward to.

The first two nights we stayed at the Jambo Inn in the city centre.  It's very budget and has a good restaurant downstairs.  Good for one night if you are catching the ferry to Zanzibar in the morning, but I wouldn't recommend it for longer than a night.  Our last night we stayed at the Q-bar and this I recommend highly.  Double the price of the Jambo Inn, but worth every penny.  A great English breakfast with proper filter coffee is included in the price.

Of course being me, there has to be some crazy madcap adventure to our weekend away.  We once again fell foul to corruption on the roads.  What is it with me and these traffic guys?  On the way to Dar we were only stopped twice, and both times the little traffic policeman looked in the car and asked if Siobhan was my daughter.  Although, the first one actually first asked if she was my son.  When I said yes, they waved me to continue driving.  Most bizarre.  Did they think I was kidnapping her or something?
But on the way back, a loose wire somewhere in the car was telling the car a door was open, which caused my hazard lights to flash on and off all the time.  I slammed all the doors closed so forcefully, that I almost sprained my wrist.  But, that damn loose wire was still sending out the wrong signals.  We left Dar confusing all the other drivers in the torrential rain, as they didn't know which way we were turning.  There's nothing like a car not doing what it's supposed to be doing, to put me in a bad mood, which poor Siobhan got the brunt of.  My girl, I'm sorry for snapping at you when you only wanted to give me a piece of melted chocolate while I was trying to negotiate the road in the pouring rain with my hazard lights flicking on and off like a disco.

As I gathered speed, the loose wire stopped making the hazard lights go on and off, and the trip became quite pleasant.  Even the rain stopped.  Unfortunately, as I overtook a staggering truck that was going so slowly it was almost going backwards, a little traffic man jumped out from next to a 30km speed limit sign.  Now you can't overtake a truck at 30km an hour, and you can't magically change from about 80km an hour to 30km an hour in the space of one metre.  He told me he thought I was speeding.  Obviously, I denied it, so he called over his little helper with the speed camera thing.  71km an hour.  "How do you know that's my car?" I asked, noting that their speed catching contraption does not record photos of the vehicle or licence plates.
"Look," the little helper man said, and took the speed of the next car.  21km an hour.  "See how slow he's going?"  Of course, he didn't realise by doing that, he was wiping out the speed of my car.
"Well," I said with a grim smile trying to feign patience, "He's only going slow because he can see you and me dancing around in the road.  In fact, he's going so slow he's a hazard to the safety of the rest of us on the road.  He should be the one you stop and fine."
The main traffic guy didn't fall for my advanced female logic.  "So do you want to go to court, or can I write you a ticket for TSH 20 000?"  That's roughly $20.
"But what speed was I going again?  Show me?"  I knew that I had them foxed as they had replaced my speed reading with the reading from the next car.
The traffic guy laughed.  "If you go to court you'll win as we don't have your speed anymore, but think of how much time and expense fighting it in court will take?"
He had me.  His English was far too good.  "Well then, I fine you TSH 20 000 for having such a bad road with potholes, it's a danger to drivers," I countered.
He agreed with me, and by then all the traffic police were laughing and pointing to the potholes in the road.  I thought I'd won the battle, but then he produced the ticket book again.  "So, court or fine?"
Bastard.  "How about, I just give you TSH 10 000 and we forget about court and fine?"
"Sure," the greedy corrupt bastard said as he held out his hand to take my money.
Civilisation comes with a price, I reckon.  It opens the doors for corruption.

BACK IN cAPE tOWN AND FINALLY ABLE TO ACCESS MY BLOG!

Blocked website
For some reason known only to Big Brother, the last month and a half in China, all blogs and nings and many other websites were blocked. It probably had something to do with the Tianemen Square Anniversary. Well, finally, I am able to update my blog! So many things have happened which I could have blogged about, but as I'm getting old, my memory is fading. Maybe an onset of early Alzheimers.
To cut a long story short, Tony finished his exams and Grade 12, and lolled around for a month and a half watching TV and playing on his computer and doing no packing. We all nearly died of shock at the school's award ceremony, when he was awarded a certificate for the most improved student. He has worked really hard at school though, and I am proud of him. Monday, he received a large trophy for sportsman of the year. While I was terribly proud, I did wonder where the hell we would pack it into our luggage.
I completed the thirty hubs in thirty days challenge and have been working quite hard on my latest book. My goal is to complete heaps of writing this holiday. That way, I won't spend any money!
The rest of the month of May flew past so quickly, with my birthday, Kerri's birthday and the farewell parties and end of year functions that start to fill up your social calendar. It's strange how you start to feel yourself subconciously withdraw from people, as you know that you'll be leaving soon. I think, it helps to cure the pain of leaving close and dear friends behind. But, when you close doors behind you, other doors always open in front of you, and that is something that bears remembering. It's probably hardest leaving Kerri behind, but so many people and her friends told me that they'll take care of her and I mustn't worry. I know that she'll probably be the one taking care of her friends rather than them taking care of her, but she's with a great community of people, so I must stop worrying. I'm too young to go completely grey. Even if I do have the early signs of dementia.
Swine Flu
The Swine Flu Pandemic is causing strange behaviour. Not only are Hong Kong primary schools closed because of Swine Flu, but Nanjing Airport is taking temperatures of all passengers on the plane before they are allowed to get off. If they detect someone with a sniff, cough, sneeze, runny tummy or temperature, they put them into quarantine. Last Thursday, one of our teacher's husbands was on a flight into Nanjing. Someone on board had a fever and was put into quarantine. We had a big farewell party at their house on Friday, went with them to the staff party on Saturday night, and then on Sunday they had China Health Services knocking on the door. The guy with the fever had swine flu, so everybody who had been on that plane was put into quarantine, including all the people they'd been in contact with. My friend and her husband stretched the truth. Okay, they lied, and said they hadn't been in contact with anybody since he'd returned. Forget about a wild party at their house with easily fifty odd peopl on the Friday following the flight! There gate was chained up, and a security guard was put at their gate preventing them from leaving and others from visiting. What a way to end their time in China! At least, the Chinese Government delivered restaurant of their choice food to them every day! Imagine the expense of doing that to everybody who had been on that flight?
Leaving Nanjing
Our trip home on Wednesday was an adventure, or rather, a series of adventures. But then again, this is us we are talking about, would you seriously expect anything different? The school has a tradition of students and teachers going into the gym to do a yearbook signing and saying their farewells to each other. I headed to the gym with good intentions. Andy, one of Tony's friends asked me to sign his yearbook, in the corridor outside the gym. I could feel my eyes well up with tears and knew instinctively that if I set foot in that gym, I would break down in front of everybody. Leaving, is so hard to do. Great friendships you've made over three years, people you've traveled with and got to know so well. It's very hard and not something I'm good at dealing with. So, I just turned around, headed to my classroom, hid out there and drank a sprite, waiting for the final bell to go, ending my time in China, and escaped through the back door, too cowardly to leave through the front and have to say goodbye to everybody. I am yellow from head to toe. My blood is yellow. I am a coward.
The driver had arrived at 7am to pick up our bags, but saw that we had too many, so he booked a small van to take the baggage and he would just take us. Mike, our driver, we'll miss him greatly. I'd struggled to sleep, knowing that we hadn't quite finished packing and sorting stuff. Talk about leaving it to the last minute! So, I was up at 4am, packing, sorting, but we still managed to leave Siobhan's guitar behind! Probably just as well, as we would never have been able to carry it with all our luggage! We had two large suitcases, two large backpacker's backpacks, one large gym bag, two small gym bags, three small wheelie bags that can only just fit on as handluggage, a huge metro bag with teddies and two Wii fits, two laptops, another laptop bag with Siobhan's Wii in it, and my big sling shoulder bag. As you can tell, we had a lot of luggage. The smaller wheelie bags were each heavier than our hold luggage. We were seriously overweight, and not from eating too much KFC either!
Nanjing was not a problem, until the vigilant check-in lady happened to cast her eyes towards our laden trolley loaded with hand luggage. She immediately called security and ran after us, shouting, "You can't take all that hand luggage on the plane!" She probably had a point, as we had only checked in the two large bags, one of the backpacks and the large gym bag into the hold. I quickly explained that we were still sorting out the hand luggage. So, we sat down, discarded Siobhan's rollerblades which she'd forgotten to put in the shipment, the kids' Vietnamese straw hats and my Timberland boots. When the security and check-in lady weren't looking, we jumped up and quickly went through immigration. The flight was delayed about 3 and a half hours, which didn't really impact on our traveling as we had originally had a 7 hour stopover in Hong Kong. Imagine my dismay, when we spotted the vigilant check-in lady and her security man at the boarding pass gate! But, ever quick-thinking, I quickly dispersed our hand luggage amongst other friends also flying to Hong Kong. What would we do when we left Hong Kong?
For the first time ever, I was strong-willed and didn't go shopping at Hong Kong Airport. The thought of having to carry our purchases on top of everything else was enough to put me off. Instead, we left Tony at the gate with all our luggage, and Siobhan and I headed to the sports bar to meet up with some friends who were on our flight and waiting in the airport for their connecting flight to Amsterdam. A couple of apple ciders later and we had time to eat dinner at Burger King, before heading to the gate where Tony had fallen asleep while supposedly guarding the luggage. Luckily, nobody removed any of our belongings! We managed to somehow or other carry our 'hand luggage' onto the plane and make out as if it weighed nothing. The flight was a little bumpy, but uneventful. I had a Chinese man sitting opposite me who spent the whole flight hoiking loudly and spitting into his air sickness bag. As we headed to South African immigration, he hoiked loudly and spat on the floor, leaving a delightful blob of mucousy mess. Ah, what we'll miss about China!
Bribery and Corruption!
Then we arrived in Johannesburg. Collected our luggage, had three large trolleys piled high! We decided to check in straight away for our flight to Cape Town, to get it all out of the way, and then have a leisurely breakfast. SAA are much stricter on luggage and hand luggage than the other airlines we'd used on our trip. Luckily, we'd only approached with two trolleys and Tony had stayed back with the hand luggage trolley. The guy on the weighbridge weighed the two trolleys and we were 70kg over the limit of 60kg! Three of us were allowed to take 7kg of hand luggage on board each. Although I begged, the man would not grant me any slack, and then the porter chipped in and said they should help us. I quickly realised that they were playing a good cop/bad cop routine. I've watched enough American TV to recognise the signs. Anyway, he finally put us down for being 26kg overweight, so we had to pay about $70 (R700). They then signalled for another guy to go and do our check-in, which he did without blinking an eye at the obvious discrepancy between what we were checking in and the weight of our luggage written down on the paper. Definitely a whole team of them at work running this operation. Of course, nobody helps without demanding anything in return, so we had to pay $90 (R900) as a thank you gift. Thank God for bribery and corruption! We would have had to pay more money otherwise, and they completely turned a blind eye to our third overladen trolley.
Lost luggage
However, the story doesn't end there. Three of our bags failed to arrive in Cape Town! All Tony's clothes and underpants, his trophy he won for being sportsman of the year and other documents we need! Hopefully, they'll be found and they won't have items missing. Of course, our bags weren't locked! We are too trusting! I'm not sure if it was the scammers who removed our bags, or if there is another operation working there. Hold thumbs they locate them today!
But, yippee we are HOME!
love
Cindy
(Already missing everybody from Nanjing!)