It is not without a certain amount of embarrassment that I open Mzungu Days to page 5, to be greeted in 16-point capital letters by the dreaded J-word: Jambo. Pure, classic tourist Swahili. I look back at the Greg John who arrived so naively in Tanzania in November, 2004, eager to pick up the local language and customs, but blissfully unaware that in greeting Tanzanians with Jambo and expecting Jambos in return, he was falling into the tourist trap like so many others. It is, I would learn, rare for Tanzanians to greet each other with Jambo, but instead they use the more appropriate form Hujambo?, with the response being Sijambo. Literally translated, hujambo? means something like "You have no problems?", with the response, sijambo, confirming: "Indeed I have no problems." Jambo by itself means simply "Problem", and although you occasionally hear Tanzanians say it to one another, it is rare. I do wish that phony-baloney Jambo tourists would make a little more penetrating effort: a couple days of Jambos, fine. After that, I'm sorry, you need to think about graduating to Hujambo. If any readers out there are planning on visiting me in Tanzania, please take note of my jambo-phobia. And let's get something else out of the way while we're at it: it's pronounced Tan-za-NEE-uh, not Tan-ZANE-ee-uh.
 

   So enough railing on naive, defenceless tourists, so busy pumping their tourist dollars into the hands of a few safari companies. The first pictures I have chosen to post are those of one Julius Nyerere, first president of the United Republic of Tanzania, sporting a nice Hitler-style moustache that's still somewhat in style around here. Those who have read Mzungu Days and those who pay attention to my blog entries in the weeks and months ahead will, I hope, realize that I have a great admiration for Tanzanians and for Tanzanian society. Despite the abject poverty with which many Tanzanians are stricken, and the relative poverty of most others, it is a society whose compassion, acceptance, optimism and feeling of collective camaraderie are to be greatly admired.
   Tanzanian society's compassion shines through in countless situations: from extended families adopting orphans despite their very limited resources, to poor people donating a portion of their very meagre income to help those in even more desperate need. As for acceptance, on a continent and in a world so marred by ethnic or religious intolerance and violence, the way Tanzanians embrace one another regardless of tribe, religion or caste is a real breath of fresh air. Tanzanian optimism: my hujambo/sijambo standard greeting description above provides a good example of this: in reality, the person responding sijambo ("I have no problems") probably has problems far greater than the vast majority of Canadians will ever face, starting with how they'll find money to cover life's basic necessities for themselves and their family in the days, weeks, months or years ahead. Yet that same person, instead of becoming angry about the difficult life they've inherited, quite likely thanks his/her God on a daily basis for all the blessings he or she has received. As for Tanzania's collective camaraderie, the more you live in Tanzania the more you realize that Tanzanians really do think of one another as brothers and sisters, mothers, fathers and children who are all in the same boat together, struggling, together, to make a better life.
   It's not a perfect society, it has flaws, but its national slogan, Uhuru na umoja ("Freedom and unity") is one that is at the forefront of its collective conscience. And that is a beautiful thing, credit for which, it is uniformly accepted, goes to a single man: Julius Nyerere, Baba wa Taifa, "Father of the Nation", pictured above. Nyerere was a school teacher before entering politics and eventually becoming Tanganyika's leader after its independence from Great Britain in 1961, and Tanzania's leader in 1963 after Tanganyika's formal union with Zanzibar. It must be said that according to many Nyerere's policy of collective socialism set his country economically back 20 years, but some (myself included) would argue that this is a small price to pay for a country whose citizens take their greatest pride from living in peace and helping one another. I must say I'm often cynical about cults of personality, for they may be imposed on a people as a form of propaganda. But in Tanzania's case, its deep love and affection for Mwalimu ("Teacher") Nyerere is, in my estimation, both sincere and appropriate.

Alright, time to get to a few pictures that will give you a fleeting and tiny introduction into a few aspects of Tanzanian life as described in Mzungu Days chapter 1, Jambo! (shudder).

My young brothers 

The first picture relating to life in Tanzania is a group of Tanzanian (male) youth intently watching an outdoor music performance, with a Tanzanian crowd in the background. The reason I'm posting this picture is just to emphasize the fact that for the majority of my time in Moshi I am surrounded by a huge number of people that have a different skin colour than me. Be it at a music concert with thousands, at a soccer game with hundreds, in the daladala or the markets with dozens, or in a quiet restaurant with just a few, I am often the only white guy in sight. In some cases, such as at this music concert, nobody particularly cares that I'm the only white guy around--in these cases I'm just a guy, not a white guy. In other cases you very quickly become the centre of attention, an object of curiosity, something that can at times be disconcerting. Getting into a crowded daladala I'm sure there are eyes on me, just checking out how the mzungu does. It feels great when the daladala riders all realize you know exactly what you're doing: passing change, holding babies, rejecting outrageous prices, buying stuff through the windows, cursing the lack of leg room, greeting friends you pass by, laughing at jokes, and so forth.

 
Take me to the candy store 

Next picture. This one is taken in Dar es Salaam which, by the way, translates into English as "Haven of Peace". I mentioned the amount of business that goes on in the streets, here my Mom and I are standing near someone's small roadside business. This guy's selling candy, salty snacks and cigarettes and appears to be pretty well stocked. The orange packet of cigarettes towards the back right of the table is the most common brand, called "Sportsman", but the commonly used short form "Sporty" has almost become synonymous with the word sigara, "cigarette". To the extreme right of the picture is a small hut offering mobile phone services, either recharge cards or the use of a mobile phone. In the background is Dar es Salaam's port, otherwise known as "the place where things get stuck in customs".

Flycatchers are your friends

Penultimate picture for this first posting is one of me speaking to a flycatcher. This particular flycatcher is located outside Dar es Salaam's main port for ferries going to Zanzibar. He is a little older and a little classier than your standard flycatcher, but his appearance of trying to talk me into something is very typical. He probably works for one or more of the ferry lines and receives a commission for every passenger he convinces to travel. Of course the more he can get tourists to pay for services such as these, the more commission he will receive, so shopping around is a pretty good idea. Nonetheless, flycatchers know their stuff and can be goldmines of good information.
   Anytime you're new to a Tanzanian town that contains any tourist-worthy sites, you can expect to receive a lot of attention (and a lot of Jambos) from guys like this. One final note to visitors to Tanzania: I know these guys can be a pain in the ass sometimes, and sometimes help to define the word officious. However, if they do provide you some valuable assistance like walking you to a hard to find place when you were truly lost, do think about slipping them a tip. At least in my opinion.

The stimp-meter says it's slick

Final picture from post number 1. A putting green at Dar es Salaam's golf course, made from packed sand and engine oil (I'm told). Cutting the grass short isn't really an option due to the hot sun and lack/cost of irrigation, so this is their solution. This woman putting with an iron took another 8 or so strokes to finish the hole, not to mention 2 stokes penalty for not removing the pin.

Tanzanian Moment of the Week (note for future reference: Tanzanian Moments of the Week may not have actually happened in the previous week, but they definitely did happen)

My large metal hot water heater falling off the wall of my bathroom of my round house. Water everywhere, one large dent in my hot water heater, and one shelf bent severely downwards due to water heater's impact. Had a fundi ("tradesman") come in the next day and together we fixed it the day after. Total cost including parts and labour: $6.