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.

Dar Es Salaam Bloggers' Circle November Meeting

I mean, it would be stupid not to announce the Dar es Salaam Bloggers Circle on the blog, right? Wednesday November 16th at Cine Club (Mikocheni, oye!) from 6:30 pm. Our convenor is the ever-patient Chick About Town and she keeps us informed and on time with a smile. The beers are cold, we don't bite very often and there is always some support, advice and networking to be had with this crew. Karibu.

The Weekly Sneak: Reverend Mtikila Sues Again

Opps: sorry folks, I had to repost this after taking off the link to Christopher Mtikila's Wikipedia page. I lazily didn't read before linking and so did not realize it was hostile.

True confession: when I was a sapling, my secret ambition was to work for the government when I grew up. I still experience twinges of envy when I come across civil servants, and have to force myself not to question them to death about what work is like. The good ones never really tell you anything anyways- you have to pry stuff out of them with a crowbar and a bottle of whiskey.

And while I love politicians the way Premier League fans love their star footballers, I have a whole other level of awe that I reserve for good career public servants. It has been more than a little frustrating watching how the past couple of generations of civil servants have succeeded at killing the 'profession' in Tanzania. Of course it isn't all of them, but must such an overwhelming majority of civil display contemptible behavior? We the people are exhausted and apathetic thanks to their shenanigans. I place the blame squarely on the shoulders of one Mzee Ruksa, who softly led us into the land of laissez-faire. Lovely man, but really.

From time to time, I have to forcibly resuscitate my belief in the whole national project thing. The good Reverend Mtikila is unfailingly helpful in this regard. I love that the good Reverend keeps our Judiciary exercised by making a persistent nuisance of himself. He is at it again, this time suing them for trying to sell off their own offices. Not all great public servants are paid by the state :) Coming this week to an East African near you:

"Dar es Salaam recently lost the wonderful Nyumba ya Sanaa which had the ill fortune of being placed next to... a historic, flashily refurbished hotel currently incarnated as the Movenpick. There is a pattern here- obviously unique old buildings shouldn't be placed anywhere near hotels as they seem to attract a strange kind of predation. What makes the Forodhani Hotel case particularly distasteful is that the Kilimanjaro is proposing to put in a parking lot. Of all things, the judiciary is willing to give up this historic space in favor of a parking lot? This is exactly the kind of decision that exasperates citizens. If the highest legal authority in the land is not nuanced enough to understand the ramifications of such a decision, who knows what else they get horribly wrong?"

The Weekly Sneak: Lean, Green and Mean

I have had bicycles on my mind lately. I like bicycles. As inventions go, this one was a good one. They are fun. They make sense. And they are useful. And there's been a lot of depressing news lately flowing around locally (Jairo!) and internationally (Ghaddafi!) none of which is conclusive or comforting in the least. Time for something uplifting, like bicycles. In the East African:

"A reader asked recently why the fuel crisis did not result in a search for viable alternatives. Maybe we just didn’t look at the right t-shirt slogans."

And that's it. See you in the comments section sometime next week, I hope.

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.

Unexpectations

I have a lonely ticket sitting in my room, for the Hugh Masekela concert that was supposed to take place on Saturday. Took the folks out to celebrate the fact that they have now been married almost as long as this country is old. Besides, it was Hugh: only the man that God had in mind when She invented the trumpet. All around, I was poised for a stellar night of serious jazzical entertainment. I had my bourgeoise on, knowwhati'msayin?

But I only got a third of a night of excellent jazzical entertainment. Props to Sauda Simba who frontlined for Hugh- nice selection of standards, and I would be interested to hear her personal take on a few more of the classic tracks. But by 9:30 the songstress was done and the concert that was supposed to start at 8:00 was beginning to look a little flaky. Then the rep from the main sponsors strolled up to the microphone and told us that the concert was cancelled. Haha, we responded. So funny, joke yes?

Not so much, no.

The concert, which was full to capacity with people who had forked over between 50,000 TShs and 100,000 TShs (that's real money, folks), had been summarily cancelled. Just like that, my lifelong dream to see Hugh perform live, my deep pleasure at the thought of listening to him riff while enjoying the cool breeze off the Indian Ocean, the anticipation of treasuring that memory forever- pouf. Up in smoke.

Yeah, I was disappointed. Even worked up a modicum of anger. Some more cynical friends had held off their excitement with the argument that they would believe it when they saw Hugh on the stage. I spent weeks in a fever of anticipation. Guess who had it right? But I wasn't nearly as disappointed as I thought I would be, and finally figured out why: this is Bongo. Everyone expects to get swindled at some point by a service provider. Because it happens. All the time. With this particular producer, I believe I still have a ticket for Freshly Ground hanging about that I did not get a refund for... knowwhati'msayin'?

Anyways, listened yesterday to the EA drivetime show where the DJ was explaining what happened and sort of asking the audience whether it was Hugh's fault or the producer's fault. First up: DJ couldn't pronounce the man's name. How can any working African DJ in East Africa not know who Hugh is?! Second, half the callers thought that Hugh came from Zambia or Uganda or some such nonsense. Made me want to kill myself.

But most importantly: Soweto String Quartet: mishandled. Freshly Ground: mishandled. Hugh Masekela: manhandled. We seem to be earning a reputation here, knowwhati'msayin'? Mh hm.

Book Slam, Week, Launch.

The Book Slam was superfantastic, thanks for askin'. Louise Hoole, Morris Mwaviso, Nadir Tharani and our host of the evening Walter Bgoya read their beautiful works. They entertained and seduced us, crushed our hearts with bittersweetness only to lift them up again in song. The booze was flowing, the food was bountiful, the company delightful. It was that kind of evening. And the organizers... some people just know how to throw a party. Waiting on them to do it again, soon. No pressure, eh guys ;)

All this whoop-la was also a pre-event to kick off the Dar es Salaam Book Week. Ubungo Plaza big conference room, ends today (Saturday). Publishers, books, creatives, readers, folks from all walks of life and all different countries brought together by one love.

Finally, I am happy to finally be allowed to say: The Mama Dar book project has come to fruition under the tender care of a fantastic duo of American writers- Amy Brautigam and Debbie Ventimiglia. These ladies have cajoled and coerced 26 stories out of several writers on the theme of parenthood/ nurturing. This here, folks, is African literature live from Dar es Salaam.

And there is a cause behind it. Proceeds from sales will be directed to the Dar es Salaam House of Peace, a place for women escaping abusive situations at home and transitioning to something better. Now, this project is dear to my heart because it's my First Time getting some pieces published. I'm petrified, you can't control-alt-delete that kind of thing.

But I hope, here, to make it dear to your heart: if you have ever wanted to give thanks for the women in your life who have nurtured and protected you, loved you and raised you, fought for you and wiped your tears, then buy this book. Buy this book and give it to your mother. To your wife. Your sister, your daughter, your friend. Buy it for yourself.

The launch will take place at Makutano House in Oysterbay from 6:00 pm to 8:00 pm on Monday the 13th of December, 2010. I'll be there, a little tipsy because Amy and Debbie have threatened me with the possibility of a reading*. I might also have one or two "free" copies to hand out to the folks who buy me the most (alcoholic) drinks and/or flatter me stupid. There might be autographs involved. Everything else is open-ended. So, you know, come along. And bring the Her in your life you wanna show some love to.

*... erm. No.

Tutti Frutti: around the web in 72 hours

Oh, what goodies the internet has brought! Here's what's been on my multi-tab browser these past two or three days. I need to post this so I can close the damn tabs and open new ones. All content found through your tweets, emails, IMs, FB updates and various soc-med. High Five.

Vijana FM said they would do it, so they did it: crowdmapping the General Elections 2010 through crowd-sourcing. Ushahidi is running under the bonnet, but we have to gas the thing. It's YOUR country. Vote like you OWN it.

For those who believe that autocracy in Africa equal economic growth and a steady supply of Kitenge and prosperity and safe, affordable public transport and all the other good stuff? William Easterly says you are wrong. :).

In the arts: Dar Sketches is about to put on a show. Don't miss, the prints are way worth it and if you love Bongo you will have a great time. Also: FaceBook is on the big screen in the Social Media movie. Yup. FB, the movie. Just... yeah, I know. Lastly, The First Grader. The casting is appalling, yes, and the tear-jerking is unfortunate. But the story, the story... there might be something there.

And a little modern feminism: the little college that would. :)

Going Bureaucrazy

I don't know about this official documentation/regulation business. On the one hand, imagine the possibilities for social research if we could insert a tracking and recording device under the skin of every forearm in the country so that we could track, record, document and interpret information about everyone, everywhere, all the time. We should start with politicians as an expendable experimental grou... uh, I mean pilot study population.

On the other hand, being documented is a pain in the ass. There is constantly something expiring, being lost, being required that I do not have and that takes forever to chase down: Taxpayer Identification Number (s), Vehicle Registration, Annual Road Licence, Insurance (s), Driver's License, Voter's Card, Passport, Biometric Passport for the USA, Birth Certificate, Travel Health Card, Original Documents for the Driver's License, High School Diploma, Certifications and Degrees on paper, Various certificates of religious sacraments (can't find a single one. hmmm), Luku Receipts (just in case), DAWASCO receipts (for Operation Kata Maji), Housing Contracts, Library Card(s), Video Library Card (s), Student Cards, Social Security Card (you never know), Simcards, Client Contracts, Bank Cards, Mobile Phone Registration Forms, Application for another piece of plastic with my face on it, Register this, Renew that, Something Always on The Verge Of Expiring Especially If You Need It To Travel Next Week, paper, plastic, photobooths and forms, always carry a pen, you need a pen to live...If done right, you can easily accumulate your own weight in paper trails over a lifetime. Which is why I loved this piece when I saw it here. Click to enlarge the pix.


Few things in Bongoland can cause more confusion, distress, loss of money and time and sanity than trying to get the right document in a timely manner from an official through legal means. But today, I won! Take that mister traffic cop, all my paperwork is watertight :)

By the way, is it just me or would this make a perfect torture chamber to lock bad bureaucrats in when they have been mean? Question for the artist, perhaps.

Tanzania is a Poor Country, but Bongoland is Blingtastic

I was staring out the windscreen at a 100,000 USD car and praying that we wouldn't scratch the metallic paint on it when La Dee piped up: 'Tanzania is a poor country?' Um. Maybe, but not judging by that car... We were on the peninsula trying to pick up something to eat after a surprisingly long-winded wedding planning committee meeting, because grease makes everything better. Sadly we had forgotten: Sunday Night.

On Sunday Night inhabitants of the city center, Upanga and other surrounding areas get into their vehicles and go hang out on the Peninsula. Every single establishment we passed was crusted with people- malls, bars, restaurants, shops. And showing off? Forget about clothes: it is all in the cars. Gleaming vistas of air-conditioned 4x4s in all their variations were practically parking on top of each other wherever they could find space. Same people that bitch up one side and down the other about traffic congestion*. Genius.

It occurred to me as we- phew- avoided scraping the expensive metallic paint job that Tanzania might be poor... but much of Dar doesn't seem to be. The number of new cars on the streets in the past three years, the blinging ego-mobiles people can afford, the number of families treating themselves to a nice meal in the most expensive part of town- disposable income anyone? Nothing at all like the 'bad' old days when I was a kid and we had to forage far and wide for any kind of eatery that had seen fresh produce in the last month. You couldn't throw money at anything back then. There are definite benefits to being an emerging market, why lie.

But for me the deeper issue is a tough one. For every dollar Bongolanders spend making themselves feel good about living in the 21st century with all its modern conveniences, how many cents are making it down the chain of consumption to our brethren and sistren who are living simpler lives out in the hinterland? Why does the Village Supermarket stock beans imported from Argentina? Seriously? Have we gotten rich off the fat of our fellow countrymen's poverty? Where the hell is all this money coming from, and how much of it is ethical (forget legitimate)? Oh, and can TRA actually try to come up with a rational and progressive taxation system?

Don't get me wrong: I have no beef with legitimate affluence. Hell, I aspire to it. Kind of. But I do get a bit twitchy about callous inequalities- how does one drive a Shangingi around town when you know in your bone marrow that the majority is getting totally shafted. So, economists, I have one question for your number-loving brains: what is Tanzania's Gini coefficient? First one to give me a reasonable answer and explicate it without mentioning elasticity wins a couple of cocktails with one cantankerous liberal blogger who likes to annoy economists for sport. How can you resist :)

*Yeah, I own a pair of wheels as well but they are superbly fuel-efficient and well-maintained Japanese works of art with little mileage on them. Heh.

Traffic Jam at 2:00 pm

So I'm driving back from city-sides this afternoon at around 2:00 in the afternoon, and to my surprise there's crazy traffic. I thought to myself: 'Where the heck are all these office folks going? Shouldn't they be food-comatose in the corporate rec room trying to digest the day's portion of ugali-samaki?' Apparently not.

I am evidently still getting used to the New World Order of traffic in Bongoland, and I spend much of my time trying to maintain my composure while navigating the general chaos. But who expects traffic at two in the afternoon? It was full blown misbehavior all around- cars overtaking on the left and on the right, people driving down the wrong lane*, pedestrians testing my braking skills, kuchomeka, gridlocking, totally inappropriate lane-changes, those (expletive deleted) bajaj... you know how it goes.

It all put me in mind of something that was said during an excellent discussion recently on the politics of development. In other countries (alert: totally unquantifiable generalization), traffic takes care of itself when there are no cops around. I had the chance to see this in South Africa at some four-way intersections where people went one by one all around- no gridlock, no road rage.

Can't we just do this in Bongoland? I figure (and we all more or less agreed during said excellent discussion) that it is because of those all-important substructures. Call it culture, informal institutions, whatever. See, in other countries (warning: seriously unquantifiable generalization) folks are used to taking care of business for themselves. Active citizenship, like. This means that they don't need to rely on the state, i.e. traffic cops, to come up with a set of rules for them to get on with life. But I am optimistic- something's going to give.

Remember the bad old days when folks would not queue up at a bank and just skip the line, coming up to the teller while you were still counting your loot? Not so much anymore. I suppose that we are on the same slow learning curve with our road manners. And I figure, once we can deal with each other somewhat politely on the road, much of the rest should take care of itself.

Aside: the Mo Ibrahim foundation has decided not to award anybody for the second year running. But they have announced an initiative to incubate talented young African leaders of tomorrow. Tenterhooks.

*Seriously? Only if you are The President, The Prime Minister, or The Army. Otherwise you are asking for it, and it shall come to you.

TEDxDAR: Mejah Mbuya and Sarah Markes

Attention: Dreadlocks on stage! Mejah Mbuya is presenting a brief history of Dar es Salaam, accompanied by Sarah's fantastic drawings. Because, like me, Sarah considers microphones to be mortal enemies. Nice management of the situation, Sarah ;)

I have blogged about the Street Level Project before, check it out if. Chema chajiuza. It is also an excellent lens through which to present Dar es Salaam in the 21st Century, this city which some of us love so much. Karibuni Bongo, kuna historia...

TEDxDAR 2010 Live Blogcast

Hi Folks-

Salaams from Masaki. I am sitting at the back of the tent at TEDxDAR, cursing the forest of tall men sitting in front of me getting in the way of the screen and trying to hear over the sound of the three massive fans behind me. It's going to be an interesting ride. I hope to take you along with it, in this the first liveblogging event for the Mikocheni Report.

Nadeem Juma has just welcoming us all to the event, introducing the organizers (big up Kathy Bomz) and taking care of some housekeeping. I am slightly distracted by the rain- sitting at the back of the tent it is hard for me to ignore the fine mist that is messing with the computer...

This place is IT'd to the teeth. We're talking livecasting, blogging, tweeting, texting, not to mention the usual recording and stuff. Unfortunately, the rain wasn't factored in and this means we're pausing a little bit as the people up front figure out how to protect all this sensitive electrical equipment from the ultimate enemy- water.

In the meantime, waiting on Peter Mhunzi whose talk, titled 'The Need for Bilingualism' has just been demonstrated quite nicely by our host :) Seriously, this is a topic close to my heart as well. I'm listening, more later.

Quick and Dirty Restaurant Review: Boodles

So last Friday, La Dee says to me: "Russian Ballet in town. Shall we brave it?" Hm. You have to understand, my tastes in art are rather particular and entirely limited by visceral feeling. I get: syncopated beats, heavy brass and percussive strings, electric guitar, the color blue, righteous vocals. I don't get: ballet, woodwinds, chinese opera, italian opera, modern painting. Still, you have to try to expand your boundaries...

Luckily for us, the tickets were sold out. Plan B turned out to be excellent- since we were in town we were at liberty to explore Boodles Bar and Restaurant at JM Mall. Their ads have been teasing us with the promise of Creole food* for a while now, and we finally had a chance to see if they would have some jambalaya and gumbo, blackened catfish, jazz and moonshine. We went for the A la Carte menu.

I was going to write a long review but I haven't the heart for it. Here, instead, is the condensation:

A la Carte menu = Unacceptable substitutions. Unacceptable omissions. Dried out fish, ugh. Good vegetables. Exceptional honey mustard dressing. Decent salad. Middling dining room. Charming view. Suitably heavy, matching cutlery. Clean linens, if musty. Decent staff. Dismal lighting. Nice South African wine list. Surprisingly manageable prices. Maniacal air-conditioning. Soulless atmosphere. Overall: okay, I guess, for a conversational dinner where the food should not distract. But the wine is Not Box. That's the best I can do.

*Yeah, right. And the jazz? Not so much either.

WEF, eh?

Apparently, it's all good. TUCTA didn't strike *big gasp* after Jay Kay told them not to. On the TBC news today, we got treated to the sights and sounds of opposition leaders telling us how undemocratic Jay Kay's threats were in juzi's speech. Right. When has the state ever allowed the unwashed masses to embarrass it in front of foreign dignitaries? Besides, the Tanzanian in me must ask, how did TUCTA appease its members after such a volte-face? Hmm.

In the same sweeping gesture that saw TUCTA muzzled, the police revoked march permits that had been previously issued. Which is how this story came about: spunky NGO gets ready to march and hand over a letter to the WEF- something about government keeping their healthcare promises, especially the ones pertaining to HIV treatment:

"Hi everyone,

Please see press statement from African civil society advocacy forum taking place in Dar Es Salaam, in lead-up to World Economic Forum on Africa that opens tomorrow. We held a press conference today that was well attended, tomorrow we'll protest at the WEF. Meeting docs will be uploaded onto the website soon...

Governments being callous and unwise about health commitments

African activists decry backtracking on health funding commitments at opening of World Economic Forum on Africa

4 May 2010, Dar Es Salaam – Donors and African governments are making callous and unwise decisions on funding commitments to HIV and global health, according to a group of African health and human rights activists gathered in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, to carry out strategic planning and advocacy in the lead-up to the World Economic Forum on Africa from 5-7 May.

And then the police told them the march would be illegal:

"Dear all

We have just been informed that the march planned for tomorrow to the

venue of the World Economic Forum has been banned by the Government of

Tanzania. Apparently, a strike had been planned to coincide with the

Forum, and all demonstrations were subsequently banned. A call was

then received from the Police advising of the decision to cancel the

consent to the demonstration, even though it was planned as a peaceful

one."

Then they were told (and here is where things get murky) to go ahead. To the WEF, where they were promptly taken into custody, and a natural progression of things:

"hi everyone,

from what we have heard it was 10 activists arrested. Apparently the police thought they were sneaking into the Forum after agreeing that a small delegation would hand over the letters. They are at the police station but are expected to be released today."

There is in fact an alternative event being held at the Tanzania Gender Networking Progamme (TGNP) grounds during WEF where the weird kids are welcome- sorry, I don't have a link yet. And there's this going on. And this. Thus went some of day one.

A little rain, a little traffic, a little meeting in the 'hood.

I can't be the only one chuckling at this: Nairobi hosted East Africa's World Social Forum (WSF) 2007 where all the lefties, greens, civil society beasts and other fringe types come together to wag a collective finger at Evil Corporations and Bad Governments. This year Dar gets to host the World Economic Forum on Africa where Governments and CEOs come together to make big economic plans, preferably without the drippy intrusions of the fringy folks. Nairobi got the Lefties. Dar got the Corporates. What is the world coming to?

Whatever. My real beef here is congestion- something that has been bothering Bongolanders of all vehicular stripes since the masika rains decided to go for broke. I wasn't going to say anything- lord knows there's been enough yakking about drainage systems and urban planning to satisfy the bitterest grouser. However the combination of flooding, road damage and totally insane road closures because of the WEF has tipped us over the edge of RIDICULOUS commuting times. Oh, you should hear the pathetic stories from people who live in the Outer Reaches of Beyond, like Kimara. Waking up at 4:00 or earlier to wade through backed up sewage/drainage pipes and being forced to push their stalled daladalas. It is inhumane.

So while it is nice to hold this Big Important Meeting to which Watus Are Not Really Invited right here in Dar es Salaam, my beloved center of the universe, I must admit regretfully that we don't seem to have the infrastructure for it. Mister Popularity was cracking jokes amidst his thinly veiled threats to TUCTA about not striking tomorrow, but if they do and lock up the city center we're going to end up killing each other at gridlocked intersections.

Likelihood is that tommorow is the endtimes anyways. They are closing Ali Hassan Mwinyi for four hours per day! Decades of Tanzanian civilization will be wiped out in one day. We should have traded in a couple of State House Taxis for helicopters so that your people could fly these Very Important Nuisances hither and yon and leave us alone. Because life is already plenty hard enough. Just sayin', Jay Kay. You'll be that president, know what I mean? The Weffers might go home with fond memories of how fresh the fish was from the buffet and how gorgeous the view from Level 8, but we the Watus will remember it a little differently.

The stories.

Teachers, eh. How awesome can they be? I was lucky enough to meet a wonderful old professor of African politics during my undergrad, who had come to Tanganyika in the 1960s as a fresh young political scientist. He came to observe the first elections of a newly independent African state. Met Julius Nyerere and everything. Told me a couple of stories during office hours as I was struggling to understand enough to be able to pass his class. About the sixties, about Nyerere, about the sheer hope that floated this continent of ours in the halcyon days before it all went to shit. Oh, those stories. I was hooked.

I have a "friend" who came by today. Our discussion was a typical one for Bongolanders- what started as a rant about the weather, the floods and the state of our infrastructure evolved into a discussion about politics, leadership and the elections. Nothing new there, but she did share this exceedingly interesting anecdote:

Her local councillor had dropped by the neighborhood sometime before Easter to encourage voters to sign up for a rather novel program. Basically, anyone who wrote down their name and voter registration number on his sign-up sheet would get a t-shirt and other freebies 'when the time comes.' And to hear her tell it, the other folks in the gathering were only too happy to hand over their names and voters' cards in anticipation of said t-shirts and future freebies. They like their councillor, he comes by to hang out from time to time. Prince of a guy. When my "friend" politely declined to take part in this, uh, 'program', she got called a few names.

Ah. So that's how it's done.

Firstly, can I just express my admiration for beautiful simplicity of the scheme. A low-cost, effective and non-coercive method of gathering, uh, 'support' long before the big day itself. Gorgeous piece of work, that. Still, there is a part of me that wonders what my old professor would say about this if he were to come by and observe our 2010 general elections. Nothing like the sixties, I imagine. I Imagine that we'd sit down for a cup of coffee as he breaks things down for me and helps me look underneath the hood, so to speak. I imagine that this time around I might have a couple of stories to tell him too about the lived realities of Tanzanian politics. Like the one about how a "friend" of mine unwittingly taught me a sweet method for purchasing votes several months ahead of the elections...

Women's Work: The Nanny

So, let's talk women's work here. More and more of us are joining the formal labour force: how do we pull off the multiple demands of being wife, mother, housekeeper, cook, cleaning service, stellar employee, supportive friend, occasional party girl in a very brief dress and all-round paragon of feminine virtues? By outsourcing! It is my pleasure to introduce my first guest blogger, the fabulous multi-tasking yummy mummy Sarah Majengo who has this to say about the women who stand behind the successful working mom:

They say everything changes once you have a child. It does indeed, and not in the ways one would take into consideration pre-baby delivery. I was dragged kicking and screaming into the world of nannies and housegirls soon after the birth of my daughter. In a span of 15 months, I've been through 4 housegirls and 4 nannies. In between however, I had a slew of temporary replacements on loan from my mother to fill whatever gap was required in the housegirl or nanny department.

The separation of duties in our household has the housegirl taking care of all matters domestic and culinary. The nanny concerns herself with the baby- diapers, feeding, entertaining, and so forth. The one in charge of the house comes and goes while the nanny lives with us. Being an HR practitioner by profession, I realized that the two roles- housekeeper and nanny- had to be separated. One person would be overwhelmed, and while having two people is slight overkill, it does ward off any friction in the house. Naturally, I pay over minimum wage to both. Of the 4 nannies I have employed, two ran away and one was fired. The latest addition to the statistics is only a week old.

When things are good, they're really good! My baby thrives while the household seems to run on automatic pilot. The first threat to domestic utopia is the neighborhood in which you reside. Domestic workers need to be able to gossip with their counterparts. Failure to provide that outlet shortens the employment span of the domestic worker in your home. The second threat is the day off. Like I said, I am an HR practitioner and know all too well the downside of having an employee that hasn’t taken a break. The day off exposes your employee to events she may be missing out on in your household: advances from men, a chance to flaunt her attire, coiffing appointments and just generally being ‘in the mix’- the hustle and bustle of everyday life. The third issue that can throw the harmony in your house off is the employee who misses home, usually the village. Enough said.

Both of my nannies that ran away were really good with my baby girl. One wanted to return to her home while the other fell into the trappings of the 'day off'. Being a working mother, I can’t begin to tell you how the heaven on earth that is your household quickly becomes a hell on earth. Naturally, the responsibility to restore the balance falls on the mother. I tell you, “mother” is “multi-tasking” by definition. When a nanny leaves, the euphoric days of a thriving baby with well-adjusted parents quickly come to a halt as the scales threatens to tip over. Here, I have to give props to my husband for pulling his weight and then some during these times. He's been stellar and hasn’t succumbed to frustration in the same way that I have been known to do.

As a working mother, when all matters related to the baby aren't as they should be, the 8-to-5 job also suffers. I almost want to add a clause in the nanny pre-employment screening interview: 'I also have a job, therefore I'd appreciate it if you would give me notice when you want to leave.' And why not? We always complain that the girls don't know better, maybe what we need to do is manage them better in order to make our own lives a little less complicated.

How did our parents manage to keep the same house help for years on end? Why is the same not happening for us? More importantly, how can I blame the media for this turn of events? Clouds FM? Local tabloids? I kid. A little bit. Perhaps there is a high demand for nannies and housegirls, hence the huge turnover. Have our housekeepers picked up their own version of Generation Y-ism? You can give them a great salary, show them the respect they deserve for taking care of your house and loved ones but in the end, the decision to stay or go is theirs and we are entirely at their mercy. Their departure from our lives has a domino effect: everything suffers until the balance is restored. Lord, and the process for hiring a new one!

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.