Yes!

When we lost Amina Chifupa, the young female voice in parliament was dealt a severe blow. I wasn't sure that we would recover. I thought we'd be stuck in silence in that ghetto called Viti Maalum. Especially since Jay Kay was ill-advisedly suggesting even more special seats for women as a way to increase our political clout!

But I did notice that Amina hadn't been entirely alone: there was a quiet young woman in nerd chic glasses sitting somewhere behind Rashid Hamad Mohamed (CUF-Wawi). He tends to push up the bar and many parliamentarians sound remedial if they speak within half an hour of a contribution by the leader of the opposition. This first-time Special Seats MP did not suffer that problem as she earnestly clutched her written speeches with trembling fingers and powered through her stage fright.

I have yet to see her screaming like Anna Kilango Malecela of the overwhelmingly dramatic soliloquies. I'm conservative like that, I like my leaders to handle themselves when they are in their formal role.

I was very, very happy when she announced her Kawe candidacy (Christmas came early this year). Although it was a risk to endorse her on the blog* she came through like a champion. And now I get to have Halima Mdee as my very own shiny, brand-spanking newly elected, self-made-woman, kick-ass MP. I know it is a bad idea to fall for a politician, but The Gut tells me that this one might just be the one of the good eggs in the tray.

*The last time I totally bought into a young politician, he pitched a wobbly in his mid-term and I haven't been able to figure out his behavior since. Once bitten, twice shy.

The Kawe Candidate Question

Ask the blogosphere and the blogosphere shall provide. Turns out that not only is Ms. Rita Mlaki not running for the Kawe constituency, Halima Mdee is :) High five @ shurufu for the retweet.

Baptism.

It took us about two minutes to walk the wending inner streets of Mikocheni and arrive at the primary school. The room was nicely signposted, the government officials as warm and polite as one is likely to get. I got my picture taken after the nice lady told me to sit up straight and then adjusted my bra strap so it wouldn't show. Decorum. I asked the nice registration man if he was okay with me taking pictures too. He was nervous but he consented. People are kind to you when you tell them that it's your first time.

The classroom was peaceful and quiet, a civic cathedral where we all sat on the same narrow wooden pews that children would fidget on tomorrow. Someone had left a lesson on the greenboard in beautiful cursive. Kwa. Kwe. Kwi. Kwo. Kwu. It only took me ten minutes and a few questions to get inducted into the Tanzanian diocese of the Church of Electoral Democracy.

I was born in Mwanza City, Bugando Hospital, same as my four siblings. I will vote in Mikocheni, Kawe, Kinondoni- same parliamentary constituency as my three siblings and two parents*. I was handed yet another photo ID encased in hard plastic. Like so many of the best moments in life, it was wonderfully mundane.

Walking back home, the colors seemed brighter and the crows less annoying. This afternoon, I shall cook and dine with my favorite political operative and my oh-god-i-have-to-deal-with-government-hand-holder-in-chief to celebrate. While buying some brew, I asked my Duka Guy if he'd registered. He laughed and said he'd done that long ago. Everyone around me seems to have voted before, and I feel a bit silly being so terribly excited about this.

I can't wait. Have a blessed Sunday.

*That is where the similarities end. We have far too much fun twitting each other over political choices to sing from the same hymn sheet.

Trash Talk: smelling sweet again.

Woke up this morning to the whistle that signals the garbage truck's arrival. When I asked the guys whether trash day was now Wednesday, they mumbled and shot a look behind them. Today, they had turned up with their boss, the money-collection lady.

We like each other: our household always pays her fee on time, no fuss, and provides a glass of water if she requires it. I figured we could have a civil conversation about this business of delaying the trash collection. We couldn't. Unlike the Municipal people, she tried to dismiss my concern. Then she cooked up an excuse for why they were late. And then she completely stonewalled when I asked for a number that works in order to keep in touch with them. The kicker: she subtly warned me to abandon this train of active customership by letting me know that the number does, in fact, work and it belongs to The Manager Himself, and that He Is Overseas On Business. And since our fees for March were due... where is Dada, who she usually deals with?

Obviously she wasn't about to let some little housegirl-looking person get in her face about the quality of their service. Heh. I could have threatened her back by mentioning that I had called the Municipal Office about this, but it is a cool morning, and the street smells like dust again, and who hasn't had to cover for their company's mistakes. I paid the fee. I can afford to lie in wait for now.

What has changed? Nothing outwardly measurable, that's for sure. Ofisa Usafishaji hasn't gotten back to me yet, for the record. Here is what I do have: the number of my Ofisa Usafishaji, increased trust in my Municipal Office, a few helpful things to say to The Manager when he gets back. One day the customer will be right, even with Lyoto and Co.

Talking trash.

The household rubbish has been sitting at the corner of our gate since Monday morning... just like everyone else on the street. Lyoto and Company Ltd, who hold the contract for garbage collection in our area, are nowhere to be sniffed. In this heat, things are going to get very ugly in the neighborhood if someone doesn't come by soon.

You see, last November, Lyoto and Co. sent us a nice letter informing us that the Regional Government of Dar es Salaam has shut down the Kigogo waste disposal site because it is full. Instead, trash will have to be taken to the new Pugu Kinyamwezi site, which is roughly a 100 kilometer round trip for the garbage trucks. In the fine tradition of passing on the cost to the consumer, Lyoto and Co. were very sad to inform us that we would be paying TShs 10,000 a month for their services instead of the TShs 4000 we had been accustomed to. Furthermore, instead of collecting three times a week, they would be collecting one day a week.

In the sweltering heat of a Dar summer, this had implications, so off we went to buy industrial-strength plastic bags in which our trash could brew over the course of seven days instead of two or three. January was mostly uneventful. In February, things got a little smelly- the truck might come a little late on Monday, but it would come. This week? Not a whiff of them, and it is Tuesday evening. The number on the receipts given out by Lyoto and Co., which is the same one that appears on their letterhead, is a mobile number that no longer exists. What's an urbanite with a sensitive nose to do?

Well, she could go to her local government rep. at the ten-cell level (who she has never met before) and ask him to handle it. And maybe he would, because doubtless his trash is out there brewing in the sun too. Or she could, to save time, merrily skip the somewhat hazy chain of command and take her chances with the Municipal Offices of Kinondoni.

The lovely lady on the other end of the Kinondoni Municipal Office general landline (which works, by the way) listened to me all the way through to the end of my story, and promptly gave me the mobile number of their Ofisa Usafishaji. He's the guy who oversees the waste collection contractors. This nice gentleman listened politely to my plea for a number for Lyoto and Co. He was candid- he has the same number as I do, the Tigo one- but he promised to get back to me as soon as soon as he has any information. By text message, even, if necessary. It always surprises me how therapeutic it is to have someone take the time to listen to a complaint, even if they can't provide an immediate solution*.

So many of us believe that chasing down some public service using only a telephone and some manners is a foolish waste of time. But I live in Kinondoni Municipality, where Tanesco has been known to pick up calls on its complaints hotline even at 3:00 am*. And this is 2010 when officers have mobile phones, not 1990 when urban waste management was a mythical creature only found in foreign climes. I'm betting that my gamble will pay off a fine dividend in the form of a contact for Lyoto and Co. Ltd. And all this done without disturbing my ten-cell leader from his coma, because that's the kind of considerate person I am.

* I once spent roughly an hour unloading several years' worth of backed up frustration on the guy who picked up one of those late "I have no power!" calls. Turns out I had caught myself a manager. He spent that hour saying "mh-hm" and"I understand" and "I'm so sorry to hear that" and "You're right, we can do better" and "I am so glad when we get detailed customer feedback like this m'am, it makes our jobs so much easier." I still get intermittent power cuts, and the odd sullen Tanesco brush-off on the phone. But because of that guy, I am and will remain for a long time, a major fan of the Mikocheni office.

Whisperings...

Shhhhhh...I really shouldn't do this because at this point, it is all just rumor and hearsay masquerading as journalism... but Mwananchi wrote an article today suggesting that James Mbatia, Chairman of NCCR-Mageuzi, might be gunning for the Hon. Rita Mlaki's constituency...It might be a good year to live in Kawe, after all :)