Yes.

Opened my inbox this morning to a wonderful email with very specific instructions:

"Hi Elsie,

...I'm writing to ask whether you could add a 'subscribe by email' feature to your blog to make it easier for me - and I'm sure other - interested readers to follow you.

Thanks!"

My pleasure, reader. And thanks for the great suggestion.

Articles and Blogs in the Pipeline- You Want to Contribute?

Hey folks. So every so often, someone gets in touch online with a suggestion for the East African articles. Which is nice, actually, because there are 52 weeks in the year and not every one of them is inspired*. So I thought I would open it up a bit to the hivemind that lives online- regular reader of passerby who got lost on the blog while looking for something else. Feel free to toss a potential topic this way. Caveat: I might never work on your suggestion, I might work on it immediately, I might sit on it for a while. Even I don't know what's going to happen from week to week, which is the only way a sedentary writer can build a little thrill into her life :)

Social Media School: Empowerment And Politics

So during this little hiatus I have been thinking about the teaching of Social Media for professional purposes- which was my last job and might become a thing I do from time to time. Social Media is a funny thing. As a new phenomenon it has people scrambling to come up with definitions and to describe how it functions and predict its impact. But this is a real game-changer, a paradigm shift if you will, and I don't think we can accurately predict yet what social media will do to humanity any more than medieval serfs could tell you what the long-term impact of mass literacy would be once the printing press was invented. We're all still groping along in the dark.

Philosophical musing aside, the core question that is always asked about social media when you teach it is a simple one: effectiveness. People and organizations want to know how to harness the powers of social media for their own uses. Usually that use is to tell people what to do, no matter how sweet and socially-conscious your intentions. This is politics at play. It all sounds very feasible until you embrace the fact that social media is driven by the social aspect of it more than the technology. That's when we have to admit things complex.

Traditional communications thinking is quite linear: you develop content or messaging, usually from an assumption that you are expert at what it is you want to say and that you are saying it to passive tabula raza recipients. You broadcast to your "target audience" (tabula raza, passive recipients) and sit back and monitor your impact. You then analyze what data you have, fix the problems, make new and improved content, broadcast, monitor your empty-headed little consumers, rinse, repeat. Very imperious in its approach. Social media? You can do that- in a sense that's what blogging does even if it allows for comments. However, mobilizing people through social media is a dastardly game for one simple reason: everyone is a politician. By virtue of the fact that fellow social media users are just as free as you to act upon you, the near-equal footing demands a whole new approach to politics. It demands... egalitarianism. This is revolutionary stuff.

We call it social because what a nice word 'social' is, you know, friendly. It masks the inherent power plays. When people are starting out a campaign and they ask how to get Likes on a Facebook page, what they are really asking is: how can I make lots of complete strangers come to my page and think I am cool enough to Like so that I can increase my social capital/influence by appearing to be a popular choice (and therefore a valid/authoritative one)? Same with hits on a blog, retweets and Followers. Playing the numbers game in social media gives the illusion of security and power: if lots of people are around me, I must be doing things right. Maybe you are, but then again maybe you are just the flavor of the month. That happens more often than we like to admit. And if almost no one reads your stuff, then it must be terrible right and nobody loves you? That might be the case, but then again you might be a wonderfully valuable niche commodity that is adored by true believers, connoisseurs and those with esoteric tastes.

Yet even this distinction is porous. Once you put something out there anyone can access it and use it. You might intend social media content for a particular group but it isn't exclusive*. Interested parties of any kind can join in the fun... or shut you down. Assuming you get it right and you manage to attract a community- for one must humbly beg for attention, no imperiousness allowed here- then how do you then convince them to do your bidding? In other words, how do you exercise the power of influence over them? Especially since your fellow citizens of the net not only consider themselves absolutely your equals if not your superiors, they are also your clients/consumers who can decide to abandon you at any moment.

Social media power is very fragile, everyone you are relating to is just as hip to the game as you are. You can't even speak on anyone's behalf: if they are online they will simply speak for their damn selves, thank you kindly. This precludes the comforts of traditional power: you can't always claim expertise, you must constantly beg for attention while staving off competition and challenges, and there is no such thing as a captive audience. To make things worse, it is time-bound: you can never work fast enough. Basically, it is survival of the fittest and wittiest, the most creative, and those who don't follow trends so much as make them.

None of which qualities matter if they are not supported by less tangible skills like some humility, longevity, acumen, craftsmanship and the willingness to remain a perpetual student. For all that it is democratic in nature, social media is ultimately as elitist as any other human endeavor. If you want to win, you have to learn to be good at it, exploit every advantage you have to the fullest and compensate for your weaknesses or just hide them. Basically, become a politician, and a damn good one at that.

If you got this far down the rant, high five and let me know your thoughts. Am going to end here for now but ultimately this is all supposed to be background thinking to support the eventual design of a social media for social change Master Class which I would love to co-run at least once in my life before becoming as obsolete as parchment :). Happy surfing.

*Target audiences don't exist, and I know it. Here's why: the internet was never designed to 'speak' to an African woman of indeterminate age (ahem) with feminist leanings and a fetish for Tanzanian politics, or any of the other million "minorities" it never considered during its design. And yet. So, don't sweat the audience thing. Ever.

The Weekly Sneak: Elephants, Lemonade and Arm Chair Economics

The East African's deadline regularly sneaks up on me unannounced so that it can breathe down my neck, which can be a good thing. I am a last-minute thinker, sometimes my most creative or interesting writing comes from the combination of fear and desperation that a looming deadline inspires. And since I don't want to give The Men In Nairobi any reason to call me in for a "friendly little chat" about delivering on time...

This week's article was written on the fly, and in reaction to the fact that one or two of you have subjected me to that Tanzanian question/command thing. You know, the one where you ask a negative question: "I am surprised to see that you haven't written anything about the fuel crisis..." when what you really mean is "Get off your big African heritage, slacker, while this topic is still relevant." Okay, here goes:

"Is there a dirtier business in the world than that of petroleum? As an end consumer, I am always amazed by the reasons fuel retailers come up with not to ever reflect a drop in the price of petrol at the pump. The most common one is that they have bought the fuel at high prices and so must keep selling the more expensive stock at high prices so as to recoup their costs at the very least. Add in there the vagaries of the world market and currency exchange rate shenanigans amongst other sophisticated tools of modern capitalism, and retailers can effectively confuse the argument in their favor. It seems that no matter what else is going on, fuel prices will always increase, taxi drivers will always have a reason to extort higher fares and public transportation operators can also squeeze a few more vijisenti from the citizens. I am not sure, but I think this is the kind of thing that economists refer to as “growth.”

So this ka-fuel crisis? Sijui. I am not picking any sides except mine, as an exasperated citizen. The fuel shortage is practically over and by the time the article prints it will be yesterday's news. It has been an interesting political case study, though, hasn't it? Happy motoring.

The Weekly Sneak: Powered by Estrogen.

Due to an unexpected series of meetings and events, my feminist affront has just been shocked back to life again. I had been sitting on a piece about Voice for a long time, and I guess it was time for it to finish gestating and come out already. One of the reasons I tend to stay away from the F-word on the column is that it doesn't lend itself easily to humor. Feminists, like Ujamaa Socialists, are tediously serious about their causes and we just can't make the funny. And the column, it is supposed to bring the funny at least a little bit.

But it has been such a long time since I had a good rant, and I have been a little annoyed because I haven't emptied out the bin where I keep all the trash that casual chauvinism throws my way. In light of the fact that The East African edits my copy*, this week you are getting my two favorite paragraphs in the preview section:

"My President, Jakaya Kikwete, once said that it was his ambition to leave behind a parliament with a larger number of women in it than when he first came into office. Unfortunately we have tried parliamentary affirmative action, and the results are disappointing. Tanganyika turns fifty this year, yet all those decades of Special Seats Members of Parliament have failed to yield sufficient maternity wards in hospitals, prosecutions for rapists and child-molesters, equal pay for equal work... the list of grievances is long. Electricity rationing is tedious, yes, but let me tell you: giving birth on a concrete floor is an entirely different level of inconvenience."

And in conclusion, I have been looking for an excuse to sneak these James Brown lyrics into a 'serious' topic for a long time. What has 1960s Funk got to do with women in Tanzania?

"Feminism is an eight-letter word with a four-letter attitude. It is a cause that is familiar with extended guerrilla warfare in the rough wilderness of inflexible traditions. Social media is the AK47 of the present, at whose point many have demanded better treatment. To quote the King of Funk, James Brown (RIP) “I don't want nobody to give me nothing. Open up the door, and I'll get it myself.” Huh."

*Some writers like to be edited. I am not one of those blessed people. A couple of you regulars have told me that the style and tone of the EA articles is not quite in keeping with the style and tone of the blog. I appreciate the feedback, and I am working on the parts of that discrepancy that I can control.

The Weekly Sneak: Keep it Green

Not that it comes across very strongly, but I have a thing for environmentalism and the green movement and all that tree-hugging stuff*. I am a bit of a provincial actually: Dar es Salaam is the biggest city I have ever lived in in my whole entire life. Mega cities give me the willies actually. I like them the way people like rollercoasters. A couple of rides and it is time to go home. Trouble is that Bongo is trying to become a bit of a modern urban mess. Which makes me sad because if there was one thing that I always relished, it was the feeling that by living in Dar I was getting away with a delicious advantage. Everyone is obsessed with Nairobi, thank goodness, leaving us tourist-free residents to our own devices. It has remained a wonderfully under-appreciated corner of tropical heaven for the longest: hot, humid, torrid, complex, confounding, stagnant, vibrant, dynamic, sarcastic, inscrutable, welcoming, warm, playful... evidently I could go on for a bit, this here love affair has twenty-something years on it.

But of course, change must come. Recent work with some activists was instructive: the practice of urban farming is alive and well. I hope we stick with it, that would go some ways to making up for the visual assault of all those inorganic, mirror-fronted, puce- and violet-tiled, no-car-park having monstrosities that are going up around the city with impunity. Anywho, I wanted to do a combination love-letter, nostalgic commentary and "think green" piece for The East African this week. Here's a bit:

"Now that prosperity is trying to knock on Tanzania’s door- in spite of the fact that all of the lights are off inside- we seem to have found entirely new uses for the open spaces in our lush city. Land grabbing seems to be in Tanzanians’ blood, as anyone will tell you who has legally bought a plot and left it unattended for a month or less. Bars and food establishments are usually the first offensive: it is a rare space that hasn’t at some point been taken over guerrilla-style by a handful of plastic chairs to become the refuge of after-hours folks who prefer to have dinner and catch the evening news away from their domestic arrangement. Such a gentle approach to land-grabbing usually left a little patch for neighborhood kids to play, not to mention a corner for an enterprising sort to hook up an illegal water connection and grow vegetables."

Don't worry, the ranting comes later. One way of getting a bit of a feel for the Dar that rarely shows up in popular consciousness is, of course, to buy the Dar Sketches book :)

*a propos tree-hugging: how is that an insult? Everyone has tried it at some point in their life. Believe me, you ate bugs as a kid and we both know you've hugged a tree or two in your time. Nothing to be ashamed of.

Weekly Sneak: Customize Your State

Every so often I have this recurring discussion: is Tanzania really a democracy or is she not? Reason being, we've had the same party in power since independence in spite of nearly two decades of multi-party rule. I get the premise- a change in party is a good measure of the robustness of a democracy, or its maturity. While I agree that this is not something that will happen in Tanzania anytime soon, that one measure* is no reason to go pretending we don't live in a democracy. It just needs a bit of tweaking. Anyways, this argument never fails to make me indignant. So of course I rushed back to my keyboard and pounded out another take on a familiar theme: polities are quite individualistic entities. You can't prescribe universal measures of democracy or change without looking at the reality of the political structure in question... and in Tanzania, we have a rather unique set of circumstances:

"This is a measure of how good we have it- we think that we can afford our complacency. Tanzanians know that we don’t have to take to the streets in order to effect change. We can and regularly do talk ourselves into it, however incremental it is. Multiparty politics have done us a world of good in the past decade: the political competition in Bunge is starting to weed out the weak, Zanzibar is coming along quietly as an experiment in power-sharing. We need not fear that Jay Kay will do anything ridiculous to try to stay in power indefinitely, like pretending not to know how old he really is. We can afford to anticipate a change in administration, and we can afford to let complaint be our main method of political action. But we shouldn’t end there."

I do find that the positive political articles are not particularly popular on the blog or in print- readers love a good rant, I guess we all have the taste for blood. And the macro-level stuff really tends to make eyes glaze over :) Well, sometimes I feel optimistic and it will be interesting to see if this one sinks or swims in next week's East African.

*Seriously, folks: we're not Europe. We're not America. Deal with it. And the quest for a political party that is not embarrassing to belong to goes on...

The Weekly Sneak: Cooking Men

Here is the theory: four weeks in a month, four columns. Makes it ideal for a rotation across three or four focus areas: one political piece a month, one social commentary, one feminist and one for whatever burning issue has been hitting the headlines that month. The reality goes more like this: staring at the screen, sifting through half-finished word documents hoping for inspiration, and a lot of hand-wringing. Last night in the wee hours I was staring at a document that had the word "tanesco" on it only to realize that writing that piece would rob me of the will to live. So I gave myself permission to have fun. Coming soon to an East African near you:

... on the opposite end of the spectrum the forces of African conservative fundamentalism are horrified by this creeping trend: a man, a self-respecting African man, in the kitchen? Good grief. What will these insufferable liberals ask for next! Equal opportunities and basic human rights for all? The world is going straight to hell in a kikapu. They are right to be scared, I am afraid. The world as we have known it for generations is going to hell in a finely handcrafted vessel made of sustainable organic local materials. And I, for one, am happily waving it on its journey to oblivion.

I have been neglecting the feminist discussion on the blog, as someone pointed out recently. Time to go back to my roots. Also, I might have been listening to James Brown's "This Is a Man's World" on high rotation for a couple of hours. It is a man's world, yes it is. But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing, without...

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.

Tell It Like It Is

One of the outcomes of blogging that has been an unexpected perk is the correspondence. Although the comments section on the blog remains quite modest, a number of readers have found gmail much more to their liking :) The one drawback is that between the power rationing and my own writing habits, there tends to be a bit of a time-lag between getting emails and responding to them. I'm working on shortening the response time, but at least I can pretty much guarantee that I do respond to all emails- that's the advantage of having a small blog.

In the meantime I thought I would give you a little info on what kinds of responses I get from readers, since that is the first thing that people ask me. With regards to the East African articles: don't worry, Big Brother hasn't come a-raiding Mikocheni looking for me. And He won't: Tanzania actually is a society in which free speech is tolerated if not necessarily encouraged. Don't take my word for it, try it yourself and see. Besides, the Kiswahili media is far more dangerous, and critical, than English media.

Responders profile: most of you who write in are liberals. Hello, tribe :) Always good to meet you. Some of you are decidedly ujamaa socialists. I'm sorry for your ailment, I hope you get better soon but in the meantime thanks for visiting. Gender dynamics: you are all of you male, except for that one lady who got in touch last week about blogging tips. In fact, you are all male and either in your twenties or fifty and above. It is such an intriguing phenomenon that I have to comment on it.

I am of course obsessed by female voice in public debate. While in Nairobi, someone pointed out that when "disempowered" "minorities" such as women are given an opportunity to express their opinions publicly, they tend to decline. I have no problem with that since the flip side of freedom of speech is the freedom not to speak. Enforced participation is so Ujamaa, you know? Not my cup of tea. And yet... this gendered silence is making me wonder what the situation is. Even the anonymous commentators who reveal themselves in face-to-face meetings are male. You're killing me, here, ladies. Tell me- is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? A feminist blogger without female online companionship is a sad and pathetic thing to be.

That said, most of your correspondence is about politics and governance and what it does to your individual lives. We're all in this mess of a national project together, aren't we, and talk is therapy. Once in a blue moon someone gets in touch to feed me info about a cause close to their hearts: don't take it personally if I don't put your suggestion on the blog. Sometimes it is off-topic, sometimes I simply don't know enough, sometimes the information is compromized and sometimes it involves a fight that I have decided not to join. But I do try to respond anyways. So, you know, if you have something you want to say feel free to holler. If you use a female name you'll really make my day :)

So to conclude, I have to agree publicly here with fellow Mikocheni resident Kato Lukaija who has been emailing me his campaign to get the issue of male circumcision discussed in the print media. There is something a little bit coercive about the current drive to get men to circumcise so as to minimize the risk of HIV infection, although massive public health drives tend to have that approach. Still, you have a point sir: men are just as entitled as women to defend their bodily integrity and no one should chop anything off you that you intend to keep. Good luck with your endeavors, although you know that the papers will not print such well-researched, explicitly detailed argumentation about the advantages of the foreskin. Sadly, neither can I. Maybe you should start a blog...

Tanzania Blog Awards 2011: TMR Is a Contender

A couple of days ago I got an email telling me that The Mikocheni Report has been nominated for a 2011 Tanzania Blog Award in possibly two categories: best personal blog and best political blog. Excellent news to wake up to :)

I did ask a few questions when I got the email, just to get a feel of who is behind the initiative. Turns out that it is a reader-led project by a group of people who love the medium and want to boost blogging in Tanzania. A people's choice award, basically. Quite apart from the nomination, do check out the award website for the most comprehensive current blogroll I have seen in a long time, and please do look at the nominees in the various categories. There are a quite a few decent blogs out there and it will make your day better.

And sincerely: thank you to whoever nominated The Mikocheni Report. You have reminded me that just because the comments section is not on fire, it does not mean we aren't in the middle of a long conversation. I'll be putting the vote badges up later today, Tanesco permitting. High Five.

This Writing Life: How Bloggers Can Cheat

Hello! Sorry about the silence, total inspiration collapse in the past few days. I have a sneak preview for you, as a peace offering. Well, it is only kind of a sneak preview since I reheated some leftovers for The East African in an effort not to blow my deadline. Barely squeaked through. But since I did cross-post between the two platforms, here's a bit of what's coming for budget week:

"Every year during the pre-budget frenzy, the conversation is usually being held far above the civilian’s head. Civil society watchdogs want the government to do this or that particular thing, the donors suspect that something fishy is going on but are prevented by the rules of international relations from saying so directly, and the government is busy performing a very delicate and graceful balancing act to keep everybody happy- especially itself. The Tanzania Revenue Authority is the only institution that cares quite directly about the taxpayer, and that is the one institution that nobody wants anywhere near them."

The idea originally was to do a riff on the famous "death and taxes" statement and then somehow stuff other subjects into the article- donors and their role in our governance structures, what does it mean when civilians are treated as recipients and not really seen as healthy contributors to the national project, civil society's watchdogging, individual agency, and the fact that nobody willingly pays public officials- especially when you know that your government is corrupt...

But, you know, it's only 800 words. I had to get a grip on reality.

Truth be told, I find blogging much easier that columning. Blogging is relaxed, like throwing on a favorite pair of jeans and a crisp white t-shirt. Writing a column, on the other hand, is like constantly panicking about your business formal attire. This week, I caved in and reworked an old blogpost idea for the column, which I suppose is like wearing the white t-shirt under your jacket and pairing sneakers with your pinstripes. I'm sure it'll happen again, when the deadline is breathing down my neck. So that explains the title of the post: this is how a blogger can get away with feeding her column reheated leftovers.

Technically speaking, it is not exactly a cheat. People do it all the time- recycle the same content across various outlets. It has it's uses, but in principle I'm not a fan since I am obsessed by the idea of Original Content. One of the writers whom I admire tremendously offers OC across a mind-boggling number of platforms. And if I ever grow up, I want to be just like that.

How Did Easter Get Here So Fast?!

Easter weekend is upon us, and every year I try to get out of Dodge for some RnR. Clear the head, forget the smell of petrol fumes- that kind of thing. This year is particularly generous- with Tuesday a public holiday it feels like school has been let out for the long holidays :) So I'm off to Tanga to see what's happening in that wild and crazy party town.

And of course I missed my third blogiversary. Again. Which means that it is a tradition to do so (I totally love invented traditions). Missed it might be, but it must still be celebrated. I'm going to put the snarkage aside here and say a few things:

1. Thank you for reading. In all sincerity. Oh, we writing types, we write and most of us are guilty of hiding our works under a rock of insecurity, not believing that our written voices have a place in the cacophony of the world, convinced that we're atrocious at it but compelled nonetheless to write. In this age of over-achievement, it is especially hard to imagine anyone bothering to stop by your musings when there's so many more out there who are far better at marketing themselves, who are far more well-regarded, who are far more talented. But when the hit meter tells you that someone is reading anyways, a piece of life's pure gold falls into your lap. So, thanks for that.

2. Original Content: okay, I'm gonna get a little preachy here. Blogging is NOT akin to Tweeting, FB-ing, SMS campaigns or any other form of social media. Like the novel, or the three-act play or the Delta blues song, the shairi, the High Mass, the football game- it has a form. This form is tied to a history. Blog is the abbreviation of Weblog- originally a kind of online journal-keeping that could be shared at the author's will. Log: as in to document experiences, the subjective view of life from one tiny human perspective, to the best of your ability, in order to bathe in and hopefully contribute to the ever-flowing river of (written) human discourse through time. Whatever iteration of blogging you are into, if you blog, do respect one tiny thing: the blog demands that you be there in person. It is still a writer's craft, a creator's platform. And Original Content will always remain the foundation, the soaring archways and quiet cathedral sanctity of this medium.

3. Have a great super-long weekend, and if you're in Bongo: may the potholes on the way to your house not flood too badly.

If You Dish It, You Better Know How to Take It.

And I quote:

"I am very disappointed that I didn't see you or anyone else from the 'youth troop' at the Nyerere week fest at UDSM. You guys always talk about what's missing from Tanzanian discourse and here was an opportunity where there was the real deal in all its rawness..."

If you've ever doubted how interactive social media can get, you should try waking up to text messages like that one up there. To address the issue: where indeed were the young bloggers during Nyerere week? It's a damn shame there weren't more of us, I concur. I can only speak for myself here, and this is what I have to say about it:

Sorry, my bad. Timing was off. Every so often, I get a summons from somewhere: "Hey, there's this training/event/social media thingy and could you..." When the blog still qualified as a hobby, this was exhilarating. Freebies, networking, possibilities. Things have changed in the past month or two: a one-time source of creative pleasure has morphed into something that is pushing its way deeper and deeper into my life. It's basically taking on a life of its own and we're in negotiations about that.

Trouble is, I am fickle. Not by nature mind you, but this is new territory and I am still figuring out how to weigh my choices: which obligations laid against me must I honor? Which ones can I safely ignore? Should I just go full mercenary and charge for event coverage? Or half-mercenary and charge on more subjective criteria (perceived affluence of customer, annoyance tax, subsidies for youth, vegetarians, feminists and guitar-players).

Then there's the fact that it was Nyerere week. I'm having a bad break-up with my traditional Leftist leanings. Bad. And since I am in the process of defecting towards the Right, the last thing I need is to be guilted to death by a mob of Nyerere-ists. Besides which, my current interest is in the living politicians rather than those who have passed on. Yes, Mwalimu is important and he will always be. And I love a bit of Afro-nostalgia as much as the next patriot. But the man is stone-cold dead, and there's a couple of live ones I need to focus on now now. Heresy? Perhaps.

Tell you what- how about next year I promise to gird my loins and enter the lion's den? I'll come and fight clean and fair about pan-Africanism and it's discontents. I'll bring some fiery invective and denounce the current CCM for having "lost it's way." I won't even make fun of the Dashikis. Deal? Until then, here's a consolation prize: the always-excellent Jenerali Ulimwengu's ruminations on the relevance of Mwalimu in this day and age. You haven't lived, my friend, until you have been subjected to the word "hypothecated." Enjoy.

The Stalker: A Local Story of a Woman Who Gets Called By Her Phone.

Oh yeah- leapfrogging. When a technology is adopted so late in the game that the adopter skips merrily past the costs and technological constraints of earlier models of said technology and arrive fresh at the very edge of things. In East Africa, we have leapt the frog on mobile phones and mobile banking. With the right provider you can pay anyone, find out anything and practically fly any plane with your trusty little made-for-EA Nokia (warranty provided in Kiswahili and English). What's not to like?

Well. My phone has started calling me. To be more specific, my mobile phone service provider has started calling me directly. It all started out innocently enough: Bharti Airtel, the Company Formerly Known as Zain, Formerly Known as Celtel, added a nifty new feature. Every time I made a call, it would let me know how many of my Shillings I'd just tossed their way and my balance. No problemo, for those of us on prepaid it's a handy way to keep track of things.

Then, whenever I would send a text message, the phone would let me know how much it had cost me and efficiently suggest that I send a couple more texts to tap into their gajillion-free-sms a day promotion. Alrighty then, I thought- nothing wrong with a suggestion or two. After all, I am already their customer, right? How nice of them to "save" me some money.

Then one day I made the mistake of checking the day's exchange rate. The next day, I was considerately sent a text with the exchange rate for the currency I had checked up on. Shades of Big Brother, but okay. There was an escape clause (so I thought): you could send the word STOP to their five-digit code. So I did. And lo and behold, the next day I got the exchange rate text again. So I said STOP again. And lo and behold, the next day... you get where this is going don't you.

So now, I get the daily text message I do not want. Every time I talk on the phone I get an instant replay after disconnecting. And every time I text message, the little cheerleader that lives in my phone gets a sugar rush and starts yelling at me to send More! More! More! I thought that this is about as bad as it can get.

Until the day my phone called me. I picked up, thinking that a long local number like this might be attached to a potentially lucrative networking/work connection. "Hello?" I went with Professional Voice- alert and friendly but slightly cool to the touch. Silence. Then the pre-recorded message in Universally Annoying Female Voice began. I had just been cold-called by an android from my phone company to sell me services that I don't want. This, in addition to their newfangled habit (borrowed from Vodacom) of dropping your calls mid-conversation for the fun of it.

No one wants to be called by their phone. Ever. What's next, refrigerators that purse their lips in disapproval every time you reach in for just one "last" slice of chocolate cake?

How marketing departments come up with such evil schemes, I do not know. But there is a special circle of hell for them in the eternal inferno where they are hung upside down with their heads in a boiling river of fire and angry customers pelt them with early-model mobile phones while yelling "One minute for a third of a Shilling!" and "Hallo! Hallo! We Nani? Mzee Juma yupo? Kwani we ni nani?"

Goings Ons

I meant to update the blog but you know what they say about Good Intentions. I had a thingy written up for April Fool's day, and another thingy about women's work and then I thought maybe tackle politics again or something then I got distracted by the offline life and that was that. As a peace offering, here's some stuff I have been marinating that hasn't made it to blogpos/rant status yet. I thought I'd put them down as questions and take the "social" bit of social media for a spin:

1. Have you ever noticed that women are excluded from the streetlife and Kijiwe culture? What do you think about that, and what it does for women's participation in politics/public life? What is a woman's work in this decade, anyways?

2. So there's oil in Zanzibar, and gas and stuff, that's going to be explored anytime now. To share revenue, or not to share revenue- now that's the questin? Apparently natural resources are not a Union matter. I want to hear from the Mainlanders: fair? Not fair?

3. Speaking of: is anyone still interested in dissolving the Union? I mean a Mainland movement, since Zanzibar hasn't exactly been shy about telling us exactly where we can shove our Muungano these past couple of years.

One new development with the blog is that I have recently begun to sell my soul at roughly 800 words a week to the East African. Cross-pollination between media or something of the sort. I tried to keep it under wraps for a while since I'm still figuring out how this thing works (ie. surviving frequent deadline-induced panic attacks). Now that I think about it, trying to be undercover about writing a weekly column in a regional newspaper is not the brightest idea I have ever had. So I'm coming clean... for accountability's sake ;) And on that note, I have homework to do and bail-money to save up for so let me get cracking.

Some Days.

I was watching the news this morning, getting my daily dose of Grim Shit From Around The World when I stumbled across a reporter for BBC in Tripoli who was talking to a Libyan supporter of the coalition thingy that's trying to oust Ghaddafi. After about five minutes of listening to this guy herding his interviewee into a coalition-friendly sound-bite (dude was only too happy to oblige) I heard him ask "...so do you think that this means that Libya will have to be split into two: Western and Eastern Libya?"

That's when I switched off the TV. There was something horribly formulaic about the whole thing. See Developing Nation. See Developing Nation's Despot. See Younger Generation revolting. See Despot Refuse to Relinquish Power. Watch Revolt collapse. See International Intervention. Watch World Leaders Double-Speak. Entertain self by noting which words chosen by International News Media to headline story: Disaster. Crisis. Revolt. Uprising. Coalition. Nato. Unrest. Opposition.

And this after they switched to a report about Japanese mothers in Tokyo who have been told not to give their young babies tap-water because of radioactive pollution? News: the 24-hour cycle of doom for those who are addicted to misery and fear.

TV dead, off I went to do my toilette where I discovered My First White Hair. Crisis! Disaster! Uprising! Let me tell you: this media-watching/development grinching work thingy that I do has an inbuilt negativity to it. The posts and articles I have been producing lately seem to be coming from a rather dark and dissatisfied state of mind. Obsessing about local politics and the odd international news story was never supposed to overtake the blog like this. So I'm rolling it back a little, time to recalibrate.

I'm battling not to read anything too pessimistic into the fact that Tanesco hasn't rationed power so far this week. I'm admittedly glad about a couple of other bits of good news, such as the fact that Dawasco water has been spotted for the first time in two months in our neighborhood. And the fact that the CCM Youth League actually look like they might take on the old guard in the coming year or so. And the fact that because there's electricity my barber was able to take care of a little problem for me today. So all is well with the world again, especially since I won't be staring at my Disaster, Death and Crisis Media-Induced White Hair of Despair for at least the next two weeks.

Vegetable Love*

Look at that beauty. It's the size of a small child. We ate it's brothers and sisters over the past few weeks and they were sweet and juicy and hung so low I could literally lie underneath one and wait for gravity to take its course. Paradise...

Sorry about the silence on the blog. It has been a strange month- to be honest I am still trying to synchronize my writing bursts with the Tanesco electricity schedule and it's not going as well as it could be. In order to soothe my frustration, I have come up with a new obsession: vegetarian cooking. Whenever my muse is not in the mood, which is a bit too often these days, I spend the online time perusing the interwebs for recipes using cabbage, using magnificent purple eggplants and surly, aggressive mint.

I doubt that My Lady of the Verdant Smiles has bought greens in years. Like, years. And no, I can't name the thingy in the bottom left corner as I have no idea what it is but I can tell you it tastes about as good as an unnameable leafy green can hope to.

I am, metaphorically-speaking, drowning in curry sauces and stir-fry noodles, freshly roasted groundnut pastes, garlic and ginger and out-of-season mangoes. Don't get me started on the things a girl could do with a courgette or two, some spring onions and mounds of knobbly potatoes with thick red skins... That's it. When I grow up I'm going to be an urban farmer, just like my folks.

The black dot in the middle of the picture is a bumblebee. I have never seen an actual pumpkin show up in the patch. I think someone needs to be fired for lazy pollination.

Stole the title of this post from Barbara Crooker.

Reading, Culture.

So the first Pen & Mic event was, by all reports, fantastic. If you want some of that flavor, Facebook Friend the group (Pen & Mic) and get clued up for the next session. Meantime, here is some good press for the event from The Daily News.

One Year, One Month and Seventeen Days...

That's how old The Mikocheni Report is, and I missed the blogiversary... again. What can I say, it's turning into a tradition.

I was going to wait until after Christmas to write up the blog's performance as promised. But. I have this pending assignment and I would rather have my toenails torn out than face the draft report again, know what I mean? So here's me procrastinating.

First up, some numbers. I have the use of three blog trackers, one in-built and two free. None of their numbers match on a day-to-day basis but they do give me some relatively similar information on performance. Yes, you read right. Three trackers. I am anally retentive that way. Here are some highlights:

- Visits: Tracker One says 11,771 hits and 7,441 visits* since January 2010. Tracker Two says 7,402 page loads and 4,210 unique visitors since July 2010. In-built tracker says 11,352 page loads since May 2010. Having very little ambition, I think those are great statistics!**

- Popular posts: Tracker One says that the TEDxDAR post on Modesta Mahiga is the most popular with 145 hits since January 2010. Tracker Two is not equipped to deal with this data. In-built Tracker tells me that Elections 2010, Social Media got 146 hits since May 2010.

- Where y'all from? Turns out that most of my readers have Tanzanian ISPs. Tracker One says that 39.9% of you are resident in Tanzania, followed by 23.6% in the U.S. and 6.38% in the UK. Tracker Two is constrained to 500 entries but it reflects a similar pattern: 51.6% from Tanzania, 20% from the U.S. and 5% from the U.K. In-built tracker doesn't give percentages but the top three countries are: Tanzania, followed by the U.S. followed by the U.K. in similar proportions.

- And for a little fun: Tracker One tells me that 68% of y'all using Windows, 23% using Mac and 33% y'all using Firefox followed by 30% on Internet Explorer and 19% on Safari. Tracker Two ain't equipped to deal with this kinda thing. The In-built tracker says that 74% of you use Windows, 20% use Mac with 34% on Explorer and 31% on Firefox and an impressive 16% on Chrome.

Okay, conclusions. First: there are more readers of the blog than I would ever have expected, to be honest. Second: the graphics aren't as horrible on a Mac, for ya'll laboring with a decrepit Windows machine. Just saying. Third: y'all love you some Modesta Mahiga :) Fourth: readers outside of Tanzania are concentrated in prime areas of the Tanzanian diaspora: the US (East Coast) and the UK. Also, big up to the significant minorities: readers in Canada, Kenya, Scandinavia, Norway, Switzerland and India. Hello, friends.

Major big-up: the reader(s) in Russia who have inboxed me some of the most fascinating Tanzanian-Russian political analysis it has ever been my pleasure to read. My goodness, you guys. You rock. But why y'all been so quiet lately?

Which brings me to the most important thing: you.

I "outed" my blog because a cantankerous friend of mine wouldn't stop nagging and nagging and nagging me about doing better. So I did. And then I met blog friends. And artist friends. And I found perfect steak. I got contacts, content, professional opportunities and intense conversation. I got laughter, and a wee bit of stress, but mostly I got some incredible and unexpected support and a platform from which to speak my sarcastic mind.

If I were to go into the debt of gratitude that I owe my readers, my friends, my blogfriends and all of you who have challenged me and given me content and made it all more than worthwhile... well, this would have to turn into a Hallmark movie. So I'll keep it simple.

Thank you, so very much. I hope you keep reading. I hope you keep commenting. I wish you the very best for the holiday season, and the coming year.

*The difference between hits and visits is that hits can come from anything: webcrawlers, wetware, misguided souls and various internet ghouls. Visits, however, occur when someone deliberately clicks on your blog/link and then spends some of their time reading your content. So visits are the human subset of hits. Also: every tracker has it's own jargon. Go figure.

** I was planning to put up pictures of the blog trackers and then realized that I couldn't be bothered. It's December in Dar es Salaam. Enough said :)