The Weekly Sneak: What Does A Nationalist Wear

It has been a bit heavy weather lately and I thought it would be nice to take a break from the sky-is-falling sensation that the news has been giving me lately. So I tackled one of my favorite subjects, one that simply does not get enough attention: political fashion. Coming to The East African in a couple of days:

"Word in the backrooms of the various tailor emporiums of the city is that the real jackpot for design houses is to be able to reinterpret this basic costuming for big CCM meetings, campaigns, and spouses of prominent politicians. Anyone paying attention to the visual reporting on these events and people will have picked up on it. Given the restricted palette of green, gold and black and the requirement that whatever happens a tie cannot be part of the outfit, it is amazing what designers have been able to come up with. Especially considering the color green can be quite difficult for African complexions. More impressive still is the skill of the tailors involved: the socialist suit is very unkind to pot-bellies. Yet as waistlines have expanded one administration after the other, political dandies have managed to keep looking sleek rather than sausage-like in uniform."

Radio Tanzania Archives

Radio Tanzania Dar es Salaam is sitting on a huge collection of really good old music and other archives, no doubt. The State was the only broadcaster for, like, ever and I know that all its media organs are sitting on archives of seriously valuable pictures, audio and film recordings that are probably rotting in storage as I type this. So here's a project I am excited about the Radio Tanzania Heritage Project.

They got in touch recently with this message: "the Tanzania Heritage Project is an organization attempting to revive the Radio Tanzania Dar-es-Salaam archives through digitization, film, photography, and social media. Please let your friends and networks know what we're trying to do. We don't want to do this project unless we have the support and excitement of Tanzanians."

They are Tweetable @RadioTanzania and if you want further networking holler at the addresses online or let me know to hook you up with the project team. Fade out.

TEDxDAR: Sanaa Sana

Time for the post-lunch musical interlude. Sanaa Sana are performing a few numbers, on stage there are: three drummers, one guitarists and dancers/singers. It's all about The Beat, isn't it :)

So there's that thing about Africans having some kind of innate dancing ability. As I type this it is hard to keep from moving my body to the music, actually, which must be quite funny for the folks sitting behind me. Innate, though? Not so much. It's just a skill that, like many others, can be learned from childhood. And of course, practice only makes perfect... so never be shy. Just dance.

Dunda, dunda, dunda, eh!

Independence, Post-Colonialism, Post-Post Colonialism and Literature

Got my hot little hands on Binyavanga Wainaina's new novel 'One Day I Will Write About This Place' and it's been plugged into the 'to read' queue. Here's an excellent podcast about the post-post colonial literature that is emerging from writers of my generation.

I think that what excites me most about this new wave in African literature is that it isn't trying to drag the carcass of the colonial discussion around in it's wake. Much of the grandiloquence that I found a bit difficult to digest in the works of akina Ngugi et al (our dear Old African Men) is disappearing. The new approach is certainly more interesting to me: female characters who are complete in themselves as opposed to being the canvas upon which some male character is trying to project his story, the mundane details of life, kitchen sink drama, realism, candor. We are products of our time and so it is satisfying to me to see African literature moving with our contemporary realities. However, there is a little fly in the ointment.

It is a sad reality that we simply don't seem to be able to support our writers through commercial success on the continent, which means that to really hit the big time you still have to make it in it in Europe and America, South Africa somewhat. This has created an interesting situation.

While chewing the fat about African literature, a friend pointed out that Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's book Half of a Yellow Sun has one of the most puzzlingly superfluous characters ever created. There is a shiftless Englishman in the book who spends most of his time being confused by the political machinations around him and trying to sleep with one of the main characters who is clearly out of his league. He is a bit of a lump of unseasoned tofu, so why were we subjected to his narration? Come to think of it, isn't it interesting that the film The Last King of Scotland had us observe Iddi Amin through the eyes of a shiftless Scotsman who was confused about the political machinations around him and trying to sleep with a woman who was clearly out of his league?* This is not a motif that I detect in the books I have read from Chinese or Indian authors so far, not to mention Latin American authors. Food for thought.

Anyways, if you now feel like buying a book really cheap you are in luck! Dar es Salaam Book Week ends tomorrow but there is still time to check things out at the National Library. I believe participating booksellers are marking down prices in celebration, it is a good time to pick up local authors at crazy good prices. Happy reading.

*Ekse, give me the bad-ass women of Jacob's Cross any day! If you're going to be emotionally messy and make dubious choices, at least try to pick the millionaire in the sharp suit who lives a complex and interesting life.

Coming Soon: Two Tanzanian Movies.

I wish I had more to say about the TZ movie scene to frame this post, but the truth is that I stopped bothering with it when we started taking our cues from the execrable Nollywood tradition of craptastic moviemaking. As usual, the independents* have come to save the day! Check out these two trailers:

CPU is Dar like I've never seen it shot before... dynamic, in saturated colors, with actual actors who are acting and all the good stuff that goes with competent movie making. The execution suggests that maybe this director/producer/writer team should look into making a couple of these until they hit on the Great Dar Crime Thriller. Really digging the subject matter too. Friday 25th November opening: www.cpu.co.tz.

And then there is Mkwawa the movie. A biopic of the great Hehe chief who gave the German colonials proper grief in his hey day. Mkwawa may have been one of the great resistance generals of the early colonial period, warrior extraordinaire and peer to Shaka Zulu**. But... guns. You know? And that was that. This one opens timely on the 10th of December to give a sharp angular flavor to the celebratory energy of Independence Day: www.mkwawa.co.tz

On a personal note: it is simply not easy to get certain kinds of creative projects off the ground in this market. Whenever one comes to fruition, there is cause for celebration. So High Five: keep on trucking you gorgeous movie people! Love the arts, support your local artists.

* Arguably all TZ movies are independent since we don't really have a big studio system. I guess in this case the question is independence of creative vision...i.e. quality.

**It has been forever since Henry Cele and his granite jaw rocked the leopard skins in Shaka Zulu. Clearly we should do a lot more biopics. With historically accurate costuming.

Sophocles Goes Postmodern in Dar

When a classic Greek tragedy opens with a man playing the thumb piano while delivering the prologue- a summary of Oedipus Rex and Oedipus at Colonus- in Kiswahili, you know you are about to be subjected to Art. Anything might happen. Sophocles' Antigone was given the postmodern treatment in a joint production by the Parapanda Theatre Lab and Gothenburg City Theatre.

I have a healthy respect for Traditions, but never more so than when they have been subverted and deconstructed almost beyond recognition. This production used Antigone as an excuse to play with a dizzying array of ideas. The plot was clearly subordinate to the experimentation. Frankly speaking, for a story that opens with death and closes with death, the play itself was the only thing that died on that stage. But that's what we have classics for: like Lazarus they can be brought back to life to suffer someone else's murderous reinterpretation. This production wastes none of its 1 hour 45 minutes explaining anything to anyone. It rather tyrannically demands that you keep up.

Let's start with the fact that the lines are delivered in Kiswahili and Swedish, with the sound and lights guy projecting the English translation onto a light backdrop using black Powerpoint slides. Suddenly you are watching a trilingual play with music and subtitles, completely uncertain of how far they mean to go with this. There was no backstage- all instances of disrobing were symbolically done onstage where red costume pieces were exchanged by cast members to signal the handover of a character. At any given time, Antigone might be a Tanzanian woman or a Swedish woman. Haemon, Creon, everyone was up for grabs as actors were called forth to incarnate a character before fading back into the mostly quiet ether of the Chorus. It gave the play a rolling sense of duality: dead/undead, alive/unalive, on/off, black/white, modern/ancient, individual/collective...

At one point I realized that I was grateful that they didn't cross the gender barrier too because things might have unravelled with no constant for an audience member to hold on to. Antigone remained female, Haemon and Creon remained male and I firmly shut the door on gender identity politics so that I could focus on whatever else they were trying to say.

The Swedish minimalism was a nice touch. If a Swiss army knife turned into a play it would look like this: clean lines, strong visual branding, red and grey with multiple ideas efficiently packed into a small space. Take the make-up, for example: nothing but a white line on black faces or a black line on white faces, a passing reference to the Greek actors' mask, a demand that we never forget that the Black/White encounter is a central theme. Like the Nike swoosh or the monochrome Apple logo, it collapses some very big ideas into a lethally efficient visual metaphor. In its own understated way, the production was visually lush.

The Swedish actors came bearing the gift of their acting style: high drama mixed with naturalism, that steely direct gaze, a touch of mild buffoonery with the messenger role. There was an interesting dynamic going on there: Johan Karlberg played lighter roles leaving Creon mostly to Frederick Evers. Physically Johan looks like the guy who gets called up by Viking reenactment groups on a regular basis, while Frederick looks like that guy who sells you carpets and bathroom fixtures at the local showroom. The reversal they pulled off was a rather sly poke at typecasting, but also just good casting: Frederick's regular-guy Creon lurks beneath a thin veneer of civility and good humor. It was hard to tell whether/when he would turn monstrous, one of the best way to play a villain. I really enjoyed Nina Zanjani's scene where Antigone goes to her death: fear, regret, damnable pride and unexpected vulnerability. But I have to say, Anna Bjerkerud seemed underserved. The matriarchal Euridyce role was too easy for such a regal woman, I wish they had messed with our heads a little by maybe giving her some Antigone or maybe the messenger.

The Tanzanian performers? Not so contained. Parapanda are a troupe in the Bagamoyo tradition: they sing, they dance, they act and they play music. They do it all. Naturalism, minimalism, long brooding silences followed by explosive emoting have little place in this style, and when that stuff happens performers rarely drop the barrier between themselves and their role. What the Tanzanian performers brought to the play was a certain light-footed, emphatic energy. They also saved the production from getting too cerebral, too ephemeral. I never thought I would be grateful for a little humor in a Greek tragedy but by the time the witch doctor showed up, I know I wasn't the only person to exhale in that room.*

But it wasn't all songs and jokes: Daudi Joseph might have smiled and snorted and relished swatting flies as a blind witchdoctor, but his comedic timing is flawless and like with Frederick's Creon something genuinely frightening hid itself behind his playfulness. Eva Nyambe's Antigone is exactly the kind of jaw-clenched woman you never mess with at a market stall or at a board meeting. She manages to channel Antigone's fatal flaw in a world where death and glory are masculine pursuits. She reminded me that this is in many ways a feminist play, and complicated. Antigone is not a sympathetic character, even if Nina Zanjani showed us the cracks in her facade.

Amani Lukuli turned out to be my favorite performer in a night of solid work. His Haemon was a warm and appealing young man, affectionate with his father and brimming with excessive passions. His Haemon was obviously stuck in that interesting extended adolescence when it is all or nothing, death and glory. He painted the Anarchist sign on his father's wall as a farewell. We all know that guy- he wants to get the revolution started right this minute and keeps posting Facebook updates about Global Poverty or Western Imperialism or The Environment or why Hip Hop is dead. He's terrified that he might turn into his father, and when Creon is your father this is a real problem. Amani also got the physical aspect right, prancing around yelling and brandishing his can of spraypaint even though his online pictures show that he's growing a nice set of crow's feet. At no point does he make fun of Haemon. Though the audience might chuckle- he's careful with him. Well played, sir**.

The production had quite a number of flaws. The interactions between the characters didn't always work across the language barrier and sometimes the differences in acting styles also got in the way. The pacing was uneven, there was some dead space, I would have liked to see a bit more physicality because that's what makes theatre thrilling. Especially in a play that demands such massive suspension of disbelief on the part of the audience. It was an overwhelmingly ambitious project but I think they pulled it off in the end, perhaps because they approached the cross-cultural conversation with care and respect.***

Two nights is not nearly enough in a town where professional theatre is almost impossible to come by. Music, Dance- they get lots of love, but Theatre is definitely neglected. I watched Antigone for the first time when I was around eight and I haven't recovered yet. I asked a couple of kids who attended this production what they thought. They were popping with energy and excitement where kids normally wilt into a nap, escape or complain incessantly to cope with incomprehensible adult entertainments. This is the kind of production that should be staged at the national theatre, free entrance for all primary and secondary school students. It has a fighting chance at recruiting some impressionable young minds to the highbrow arts, so that we can start to heal the wounds inflicted upon us by Nyerere's brutal political decimation of Tanzania's cultural and intellectual life. It might even inspire the Tanzanian theatre scene to come out of its defensive coma.

*I'm straight-up grim when it comes to acting. I like my actors tortured and soul-searching and slightly unhinged, I like to see the naked fear in their eyes, I despise burlesque lighthearted treatments of dark brooding plays. There is far too much levity in the entertainment industry as it is. But I think that Parapanda have convinced me to re-examine my prejudices.

**Haemon, he's got the same problem as Ophelia. The doomed lover, utterly peripheral to a central characters' self-absorption. I think Amani rescued the character from forgetability. No mean feat.

***One has to be careful about collaborations. If you don't watch out, you can end up "supporting" Shakira as she bellydances in some vile animal print me-tarzan-you-jane outfit on your stage while you provide the background vocals yelling "Waka,Waka, eh eh!" But that's a rant for another day.

A Note to Binyavanga: It Can Be Done.

Score. Two great pieces going around that combine personal observation with Bigger Picture reflections on the soul of Tanzania. Nothing wrong with the impersonal reportage style of writing that dominates much of the blogosphere. Facts here, cross-references there- all very solid, and admirable, and useful in terms of pushing whatever development or intellectual agenda there is. But sometimes, it is nice to hear from... people. Which is what makes Binyavanga Wainaina is so eminently readable.

M.G. Vassanji asks: "In Tanzania, is it that they complain too much or they expect too much?" You know, the magic of that first line that gets the core question exactly right? Years of practice, man. Years of practice. Frigging beautiful when it is done right.

Pernille has come up with a different set of observations and personal experiences which lead to a similarly conflicted opening statement:

"'What I love about Tanzania is the deep complexity and the massive contrasts'. I can hear myself formulate this pretentious sentence at a presentation somewhere in Denmark where I have to pass on the idea that I know exactly what's going on between me and Tanzania. Being honest - I am not perfect - this is also the kind of relationship which on occasion makes me so kali that I long for the Danes' obsession with organising things and sticking to plans; their telling the plain truth and not fearing consequences; and with their 'we're all equal and all entitled'."

Heh.

What I like most about these is that they are outsider/insider perspectives of Tanzania that manage to expose something about the core of our society. This place isn't just complex- it is complicated too. The minute you convince yourself that you know exactly what is going on, and you have mastered the country, Tanzania is likely to buck you like spastic ostrich. Even if you are the President. She's wonderfully egalitarian that way. Its nice to read folks who get that about her.

Ugali Na Dagaa: A Contemplation.

Who knew that something as docile as ugali could be a cultural conversation? While I don't really pay it much mind, I am vaguely aware that folks who haven't grown up on the continent find it difficult to embrace. Ugali is not a taste that is easily acquired as an adult :) Apparently adding dagaa as the relish makes it particularly heinous. I have heard quite a number of people express their puzzlement over this apparent delicacy.

I can kind of understand how a sub-par lump of ugali made from over-refined flour that has been sitting in a silo half the year coupled with a watery mishandled dagaa stew might fail to convert a newbie to the delights of the ugali-and-preserved-fish combination. I hope this essay goes some way to convincing you to try again.

Ugali na dagaa is definitely one of my very favorite comfort foods. I love it in almost all of its iterations: strong, stiff Sukuma ugali with larger Lake Tanganyika dagaa, Zanzibari Ugali wa Mhogo with Dagaa "wabichi", sauce on the side, Ghanaian Kenkey with a tin of sardines and fresh tomato-onion-chili relish, flaky pap with pilchards in spicy chakalaka... I would even go so far as admitting that my favorite version is rough-grained cornmeal crispy-skin ugali with a side of steam/fried cabbage and crispy fried mackerel, for sentimental reasons, although that might be stretching the "dagaa" criteria a little. But then I would have to consider the magical combination of oversized Lake Tanganyike fried sato so fresh that their eyes (the best part) drip with unctuous richness over ugali steamed so long that it separates softly without leaving sticky residue on your fingers...

If you want to adventure down the road of ugali-na-dagaa cuisine, here is a list of tips and opinions that I have accrued over many years spent in pursuit of the ultimate ugali experience:

1. Know your ugali: there are lots of different grains and roots that ugali can be made from. The concept is simple: flour, water, mix, cook until desired consistency is reached and starch is cooked through. This simple formula hides a complex world of ingredient selection and techniques that can turn an unpromising ugly sister of a dish into a real cinderella for the palate. For the more adventurous, I would recommend trying cassava flour ugali with a bit of cornmeal (dona) thrown in for textural integrity. Also good: wholemeal corn ugali, sorghum ugali, millet ugali and combinations thereof with cornmeal. I have yet to try mixing in groundnuts with the starch but it is on the To Try list. Some South African restaurants offer interesting mixes where the pap is flavored with things like cheese or chilli or whatever. Lovely innovation, I am sure, but as a purist I am admittedly skeptical.

2. Know your texture: all the ugali I have eaten in Zanzibar has been cooked to a soft consistency, while the ugali I have eaten in the lake zone is usually stiff enough to be used as a weapon. There are regional variations in preferences for texture, and it is generally wise to know what works for you. For example, I can't really abide the southern African flaky ugali technique, and definitely have a great respect for cooks who can put a crust on their (medium-stiff) ugali. crunchy crust is always good in my books!

3. Know your cook: Ugali-making is a skill that not every cook has mastered. First up: ugali served in local restaurants in Dar have to balance the expectations of clients who come from all over the country, so it is generally the blandest version there is: medium, white flour, nothing interesting going on. However, if you are lucky enough to travel around, then you have to try the regional variations at the local 'hoteli'. Tips on where to find truly good stuff: find where the men hang out to eat and drink (i.e. where they go to escape from their domestic arrangements). Usually that's where the local brew is the nicest, and the cook has mastered the art of serving an ugali that meets the local critics' approval.

Of course, the ultimate ugali is the homecook's ugali. It is like the curry test: you can eat them in restaurants, sure, but if you eat a homecooked curry the improvement in quality is dramatic. The 'home table' is where an eater can truly experience pinnacles of ugali cookery. My best ugali experience in Zanzibar was the result of asking a rather indulgent waiter at my hotel to personally cook me some ugali wa muhogo and dagaa wabichi with a side of greens for my evening meal. Zanzibari hospitality can really be quite fantastic. Which brings me to another tip: for some reason, I have generally been served better ugali by male cooks than female cooks although this is not always the case. I suspect it has to do with the muscle-power required to stir an ugali into consistent smoothness and cookedness. So beware: if the cook looks a little runty and underfed you might be gambling on his or her ability to produce an ugali that has been properly subdued.

3. Know your fishy relish: okay, so obviously dagaa are a traditional accompaniment because they keep well and so can travel the huge distances between oceans and lakes across the region without the aid of refrigeration. Same with the smoked and dried larger fish that are now hard to source as tastes change. While it is easy to get Mwanza contacts to source you a bucketful of fresh sato that arrive dripping with condensation off the Precision Air flights, getting a proper-good butterflied smoked fish isn't so simple. But I digress. There are many different dagaa to be had: Lake Tanganyika produces premium large ones that are sweet-fleshed and easy to clean before cooking and also don't remain impossibly hard when cooked. Then there is the range of products you get from Lake Victoria in a variety of sizes and quality. Finally there is the ocean fished dagaa where they dry those little fishies that you can spot jumping with joy, usually at sunset, if you are having a sundowner anywhere along the bay in Dar. In-between might be local variations of dagaa fished from ponds and lakes dotting the countryside.

Generally speaking, the larger the dagaa, the better. This is because it is easier to get the guts off the fish which prevents the bitter taste. It is virtually impossible to gut a small dagaa and have anything left over worth keeping which makes for bitter stews. Also, the bigger ones don't dry as hard as the smaller fish, so they absorb liquids better when cooked and soften up considerably. On the coast, the dagaa 'wabichi' are only sundried for a short time before being sold to prevent the overdrying that results in tough fishlets.

4. How do you feel about fermented animal proteins? Part of the flavor profile of ugali and dagaa is whatever bacterial and yeast action happens during the preservation process. This means that dagaa is a strong taste. It packs an umami punch complete with its fermented funk, and that's is part of it's status as a delicacy. If you like things like cheese, kimchi, caviar, canned mackerel, greek yogurt, liver/kidneys, soy sauce, pickled herring etc. then dagaa might just work for you. If most of the above items make you recoil in fear and loathing, skip the dagaa and go for another side dish.

5. The cook angle, again: listen, don't eat ugali and dagaa in certain parts of the country. Like, say, if you are on retreat on some gorgeous hill in the Kilimanjaro region. Or doing fieldwork deep in Mpwapwa in Dodoma. Dagaa make sense in regions surrounding freshwater lakes, in areas with lots of estuaries, places that border the ocean. So naturally that is where the best dagaa handling is likely to happen. With a bit of research and savoir-faire, it is entirely possible to wangle invitations from the right kind of home tables in pursuit of a good ugali-na-dagaa.

6. The devil is in the details: When that steaming hot ugali comes, there are a number of things to consider. First is the accompaniments- I strongly recommend using whatever variation of pilipili is offered to highlight the flavor profile of the dagaa. Also, as this is fish, a squeeze of lemon somewhere in the process brings a little pep to the party. Finally, a side of greens is a good mediator between the intensity of the dagaa and the subtleties of the ugali. Cabbage works, but really some bitter greens cooked simply really pop- chards, kales, mchicha, kisamvu, sweet potato leaves... the options are endless.

If you are new to the game, one final caution: only ever the right hand can be used to eat ugali truly authentically, and yes this does affect how you taste the dish. Especially in shared plate situations. Knowing how to pinch off a piece of steaming ugali, scoop up the sauce/greens/pili pili and pop that in your mouth, chew, swallow without burning your tongue is part of the experience. This requires as much practice as learning how to use chopsticks correctly, or any other utensil. In some areas it is alright to roll the ball of ugali in your palm first, put in a dimple with your thumb and use that to scoop up the relishes. In others, using anything more than the first two knuckles of your fingers is a sign of complete heathenness, and uncouth scooping is especially horrifying. Learning how to navigate the variations in style is a huge part of the fun of ugali cuisine.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to tell you that I simply do not cook my own ugali and dagaa. I have learned through years of kitchen disasters that I lack the touch with flour-based cookery. Can't bake, can't make chapatis worth eating, can't cook an ugali worth serving. I suspect this will have a depressing effect on my brideprice ;) I am quite content to outsource the preparation to experts, which is how I know a good ugali when I eat one.

Since it is Saturday and I am home, The World's Best Housekeeper is currently preparing the treat that we both enjoy immensely. She has just ground some dried muhogo in the coffee mill fixture of the blender, special stock that she brings me from the family farm in Mtwara every year from her annual holiday. I hoard those little dry sticks like the finest beluga, and only ever share them with My Lady of the Refined Smiles.

Our special flour will be carefully mixed with a robo or nusu of the duka's freshest cornmeal since we are out of dona, and then transformed into a medium stiff ugali. Which we will have with dagaa, naturally, of which we keep a stock of various types and sizes in the freezer. The hard part is going to be deciding: should we cook the dagaa with okra, or with nyanya chungu? And which green this time? I think I am leaning towards steamed mchicha with a hint of onion, but it depends on what TWBH is feeling. I forgot to ask her to bring some morning-tapped Mnazi to wash it all down and give a pleasant buzz to the afternoon as we gossip and nap. To properly respect the ugali is to know that sometimes a little lie-down after the meal is a natural outcome of the process.

If you consider yourself a connoiseur of things ugali, I would love to hear from you about any lessons, techniques etc. that I should investigate. And if you have ever wondered what the heck there might be to appreciate about the unpromising lump that has just landed on your plate with a side of sauce and some smelly little fish, I hope I have convinced you not to run off screaming. As for me, I am waiting for the day I make it over to West Africa to sample their iterations although to be honest I am just jonesing for some Kenkey. Ghanaian in Dar es Salaam? Hello! We could be friends... ;)

Happy eating.

Dar Sketches Is Now Available

Good morning! At the Green Room at Slipway on the inside of the Msasani Bay of the Peninsula in Dar es Salaam city, Tanzania, you will find this here book:


Please: go out and buy it. It is a labor of love, a love letter to the city of Dar es Salaam, and a coffee table book that will impress everyone who glimpses it with your cultural savvy. It will make you richer, slimmer and smarter and irresistibly charismatic. This book will give you mojo, along with a dose of that laid-back Bongo Cool you've always wanted. Go get your copy and support your Bongo creatives! And then pass by Sarah's to let her know how lovely you think the final product is :)

If/when we throw the party, I'll let you know.

Pen&Mic II

No point in lying about it dear reader: I had a long detailed post all drafted up for your consumption about Pen and Mic II. And Blogger lost it all during it's recent maintenance fiasco. I just want to have a moment of silence here in order to embrace the realities of being a social media user when you don't own the means of production.

Alright then. Pen and Mic was just as good as advertized and a lot more diverse that I had expected to see. Case in point: where else are you going to have a violinist solo for the opening act, meander through feminist poetry and listen to Mzungu Kichaa back up Kwanza Unit within the space of a couple of hours?

The talent in the room was inspiring and fearsome. If this is just a sampling of the culture we have lurking around this city, well we're sitting on something very hot. Actually, I am not in the least surprised- I am old enough to remember the emergence of BongoFlava and East African Channel Five through we've been exporting our brand of Bongo Cool to the neighborhood for a couple of years now.

But don't get me wrong: this is an open-mic kind of event. Which means that after the scheduled programming, we got to listen to some rawer talent. Some of it was magnificent, such as two singer-songwriters who can obviously compose rather well (no beat box!). One of them even has a voice that is pure Motown gold. But then there were others, some of whom I would very lovingly encourage to head back to the drawing board and explore what lies beyond the rhyming couplet.

That said, a major shout-out to those who got up and performed. I know from experience how incredibly hard that can be for writers, which is why I don't demand it of myself*. But I want to send vibes of love, encouragement and inspiration to every single one who faced the mic. I also want to big up the gang behind the event: the organizers, the hosts, the volunteers who supported performers and took pictures and video footage and the audience who put something in the collection plate. Art should be free and accessible. Our government can't do it, so support your local scene where possible.

The event is free, quarterly and if you are interested follow them on Facebook.

Jazz, The Military and Democracy Too.

To follow up on the Gongo la Mboto munitions dump explosions, Swahili Street has put up some links to excellent articles about the military in Tanzania. Not easy to find this kind of information, so the links are quite valuable.

Better late than never: FREE Jazz tonight at the Black Tomato from 6:30-8:30 pm- Top Brass. Yeah, it's army guys...

And a little something something that brings gaming joy to political buffs: I can't recommend this simulation enough. It really brings a touch of perspective about the interesting complexities of keeping a votership happy. Kinda like SimCity or Flight Sims, but for wanna-be politicians :) Just be warned, it takes a LOT of effort not to get booted out within a couple of cycles.