A Big Fat Tanzanian Wedding

I am in Violet and Oswald's wedding video. I am probably in some of Violet and Oswald's wedding photos. I definitely ate some of their cake :) This past weekend Jen got invited to a wedding and I got to tag along as her plus one. Thanks Jen!

The ceremony was earlier in the day, and the reception was being held at the YMCA, a ten minute walk from Seminar Block (the dormitory where we live). Jen went to get her hair done...well washed and blow dried straight at a salon we discovered in town. It took two hours...and the girl has straight hair.

We put on some of our best clothes (which for me isn't saying much as but now I can proudly say I wore dirty running shoes to a wedding) put on actual makeup and walked in down the hill to the YMCA.

The best things about the evening...1) the applause track 2) the roasted goat cake 3) the great music 4) the dancing (yes I know we have dancing at weddings at home..but not in the receiving line and during the presentation of the gifts 5) I fact I had an amazing time. Although some things reminded me of weddings in Canada...the bride wore white, the hall was decorated (in gold and white) with organza, balloons, strings of lights and flowers, there was a maid of honour, a best man and bridesmaid...and tons of free alcohol. Yes..this wedding had a lot of elements that made it seem like it was going to be just like a typical Canadian wedding...that is until it started...

When we got to the Y, Jen had to show the invitation in order to be admitted into the hall, and then the fun began...right away. We were offered Fantas, Cokes, Malt beverages, Kilimanjaro beer, Tusker beer , Castle beer and Safari beer...and last but not least...PEANUTS. We both took water and peanuts...and then said a little prayer for red wine. We were told to sit anywhere on the groom's side (Jen was invited by the groom's mother) and were joined by two very nice ladies (Lydia and Verynice..yes that is her real name) from Kiwawkukki (Jen's NGO).

Here is a my account of the evening...hopefully following the correct timeline.

First there's a ceremony....Once the couple is married, they parade through the streets of Moshi in a caravan of cars almost always followed by a pickup truck, with a brass band in the back belting away at the tunes, and a videographer capturing the moment for all eternity. Then it's off to the reception venue.

Guests are greeted at the door and invitations are checked and marked to ensure now one crashes the wedding. You are then given a drink and asked to sit down to await the arrival of the bride and groom...and they certainly make an entrance. The MC asks everyone to stand, the music starts and the procession starts, flower girl and ring "boy", 20 bridesmaids, the best man and maid of honour (who was more or less dressed like a bride), the bride and groom and finally the brass band led by the trombone player and closed off by the bass drum. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! There was going to be a lot of line dancing tonight (just no regular dancing as there wasn't a dance floor!) ...I just didn't know it yet.

Everyone takes a seat and the festivities begin...the first part of the evening was the introductions. The mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts, grandparents, cousins, milkman, teacher..EVERYONE in any way related to the bride or groom had their name called, were introduced, stood up and waved to the crowd accompanied by the (strange) applause track. (At first I thought people were applauding...so I was clapping along too...then I realized not enough people were clapping to make such a loud sound.)

Then it was time for line dancing part two. Toasting the couple..or as I like to call it...the conga receiving line. All the guest lined up and danced in a line, all holding their various beverages of choice, to toast the parents of the bride and groom, the maid of honour, the best man, the bride and the groom. Jen and I toasted each and every one of them, dancing in the line the entire time, with our bottles of Kilimanjaro water. I must have said "Hongera!/Congratulations!" to about 20 people.

Then...came time to cut the goat. Yes cut the goat. More music starts up and the servers all conga line dance in..followed by this skinny little chef with a tall white chef's hat on wheeling in an entire roasted goat (by entire I mean entire...hooves, head, eyes, hair etc) decorated with ribbons, palm leaves and orange slices. He then proceeded to dance with the goat and present it to the couple.

The couple then sliced off tiny bits of the goat, just like it was a wedding cake and fed it to each other, then to the maid of honour and the best man, then to their parents. It very symbolic but at the same time I couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor goat.

Then, thankfully there was an "English" cake. It was a architectural wonder...eight layers and cake supports and what looked to be a bridge. They cut the cake...same as we do at home then it was time to eat.

Everything was piled on to one plate, salad, wedding cake, goat, rice and we all had to eat with our fingers. Nothing is wasted...everyone patiently waited their turn to get their plate...and almost everyone ate everything on their plate. I just couldn't eat the goat...and it's accompanying goat hair...sorry Violet and Oswald!

After eating...it was time for speeches (strangely only the fathers of the bride and groom make speeches) and the gift ceremony. At this point the MC announced, "Some people here really smell...so no one is allowed to hug the bride and ruin her dress"...um OK :) The gift ceremony was another conga line...people lined up by family, or work relationship, or by themselves, were announced, then had to line in a line up to the bride and groom and present their gift. (The couple was very lucky to receive a milk cow and its calf from the groom's father).

I wasn't about to miss out on this part, and I don't think the ladies we were sitting with would have let me....I danced along with everyone else up the conga line and down to the bride and groom and helped to present the gift. I then proceeded to be almost trampled by the crowd of women who grabbed the mother of the bride, all the while making strange noises (kind of like a native war cry...sorry can't think of a better way to describe it) and hoisted her over their heads. A genuine outpouring of joy...

The gift ceremony took about an hour and continued right through a power outage that lasted 1/2 hour. It was just business as usual. People were happy. People were drunk. People were smiling. In Tanzania the entire community gathers together to help a couple get married. People contribute money, whatever they can spare, to help make the occasion a happy one.

Oh yes a wedding is a happy occasion in Tanzania...well..unless you are a goat :)

Food Glorious Food!

Although we are by no means hungry here in Moshi...something is missing and for me it set in almost right away. What is missing? Choice...and I don't just mean President's Choice (Although when I speak to Patrick on the phone and he tells me he had a President's Choice Chicken Tikka Masala for lunch...I want him to slow down and say it again).

There are Chinese, Indian and Italian restaurants here, but they all seem to put their own unique Tanzanian spin on things. The other night I had chicken chow mein...the noodles were rigatoni. RIGATONI.....and served on a sizzling fajita plate. Although I just douse whatever they give me with pepper sauce and it all goes down nicely.

Tanzanians...tend to eat the same things for lunch, dinner and breakfast and for most Tanzanians going out to dinner is a luxury. So most of the non-Tanzanian food restaurants cater to ex-pats and the prices (even though they are still low to us) are exorbitant to the average Tanzanian. For example....An entire meal at the campus cafeteria where we have our weeknight feasts of wali (rice), maharage (beans) and pili pili (chili peppers) costs $1...it used to cost 50 cents...but apparently inflation has hit the cost of rice and beans. At the ex-pat places....an entree starts at $4-$5.

A typical Tanzanian food diary would read like this: (At least here in the northern highlands where Moshi is located)

Tea (Breakfast) 10:00am

Option A:

Chappati (same as the Indian) a flat fried wheat pancake or roti

chai or kahawa (coffee)

Option B:

Boiled Cassava or Banana

Option C:

Supu (A beef broth served with chunks of beef and a plate of salt and chili peppers on the side)

Lunch 1:00pm

Option A:

Wali (rice) or Ugali (cornmeal porridge like substance)

stewed meat (usually beef or chicken)

greens (local spinach or cabbage)

maharage (beans)

Option B:

Fried chicken (including a few feathers)

chipsi (fries)

Dinner 7:30-8pm

Same options as lunch

Yes I know there are people in this world who go to bed every night with empty stomachs...and I should be happy for whatever I can get...it's just that I have never in my life been so preoccupied with food.

Case(s) in point:

• I have been having dreams about cheddar cheese.


• I made Patrick (for those of you who don't know he's my poor suffering - but very very lovely in the British sense of the word -boyfriend) go to the grocery store, call me when he got home, and describe everything he bought in detail as he unpacked.


• When I see people eating salads on the TV in commercials...I can practically taste them.


• The other day I saw a mini-bag of Doritos in the grocery store....and almost wept.


• I have actually considered doing unmentionable things for a Diet Coke with Lime.


• I have considered the logistics of opening up a Tim's here...yes in a place that has some of the best coffee in the world...

If anyone in my family is reading this...don't worry...I have enough food and I am. There is no need to send care packages of chocolate bars, salads, cheese......aahhhhhhhhhh! Wait maybe there is...but the Tanzanian government will hold it hostage until I pay $100s in customs fees. I appreciate the thought though...

The Snows of Kilimanjaro

Although a few things have happened in the last few days that are less than positive...I find it hard to stay in the culture shock phase of my internship for too long. I really am surrounded by beauty. Every afternoon when I walk back to the dorm for my afternoon siesta (I wonder what the Swahili word for siesta is ???) I travel down a road lined with beautiful trees covering in magenta, lilac and pink flowers...I catch fleeting glimpses of jewel-coloured birds and butterflies. I hear the beats of Bongo Flava (amazing Tanzanian music)...I smile at groups of the cutest kids I have ever seen in my life...I feel the warmth of the sun beating down on me (something that I have never experienced in November) ... I smell wood fires burning and cassava frying...and lately I have started to see a few familiar faces travelling the same road.

I am happy that what was once so unfamiliar is starting to be recognized and that I am slowly getting comfortable and carving a small piece of home here. Even if sometimes what home means to me is purchasing cleaning products and spending an afternoon scrubbing my floor...that's what I do at home :)

One breath-taking moment that I am lucky enough to experience on a daily basis, if we leave for dinner at the right time, is a glimpse of Kilimanjaro. (Yes I did take the photo above) In fact, the best thing about living in Moshi is getting to see that snow-covered peak every evening. I think it's my favourite mountain...if you can have a favourite mountain.

Every time I see it (and you can really only see it's peak early in the morning and from 6-6:30 in the evening..the rest of the time it is covered by clouds) I stop and stare in awe. It's very existence is unfathomable.

"Kili" as I, and others affectionately refer to it, is the highest peak in all of Africa and the tallest free-standing mountain in the world. However, I think it's also the most recognizable mountain and the site of a it's snow-covered peak towering over banana trees always seems to be a bit of an illusion.

Every year thousands of tourists come to Tanzania to climb Kili, and it isn't cheap. To do it properly costs at least $1000 (US) and only 1/3 of the people who attempt it actually make it to the summit at Uhuru peak. Kilimanjaro, the Every man's Everest, is a seemingly easy climb but about 10 people die each year. There are tons of sites explaining how to prepare for a climb safely and everyone advises to go "Pole! Pole!" (Slowly...slowly)

Still...it is an accomplishment and a chance to stand at the roof of Africa and a great photo opportunity. At the summit, there is a sign posted by the Tanzanian government. The sign (printed in English only) reads "Congratulations! You are now at Uhuru Peak, Tanzania, 5,895 m. Africa's Highest Point. World's Highest Free-Standing Mountain. One of World's Largest Volcanos. Welcome."


Sadly, the snow on Kili is melting. The ice cap of Mount Kilimanjaro is one of the most famous landmarks of Africa, but it may be gone in less than 20 years because of global warming.
About one third of Kilimanjaro's ice field has disappeared in just 12 years, and 82 percent of it has vanished since it was first mapped in 1912. Some reports say the snow could be gone by 2015...but others are saying it will last until 2040. Kili just won't be the same without its crown of snow :(

If you are planning on climbing Kili...Good luck and Safari Njema! Take lots of photos :)

What is up with that?

Some strange (well to me) things that people do here that I hope to have an explanation to before I leave:

1) They name the buses. The most excellent example so far is one bus we saw on our way to Kiboroloni Market...this bus was called "Dick Cheney" (I am sure he is proud).

People also have very unique names here as well...see my post entitled, " Hello Bananas!".

2) Winter hats. Yes...it is 35C outside and people, old men, women, and a lot of babies are decked out in knit winter hats. I don't think they are all hip hoppers so there goes that explanation...and I also don't think they are cold. We have even seen people in winter jackets on days that are so hot that even the devil would be ordering iced tea.

Although cold is a relative thing. People here cannot even begin to imagine how people can survive on an icy cold 10C day in Canada...in fact they shiver when we tell them about it. Of course as most travellers do, when we tell them about the snow in Canada, we break out the old winter of 1998 story. The time the snow was up to the top of the roofs and Toronto's mayor called the army in to help shovel the sidewalks. By the time we leave we will have them all convinced we live in igloos, ski to work and eat penguins. YIPPEE!

3) The mullets. What is the deal with the mullets?
For those of you unfamiliar with this hairstyle sometimes referred to as "hockey hair" in Canada. From Wikipedia: A mullet is a hairstyle that is short in the front, top, and sides, but long in the back . The hairstyle was popular during from early 1970s to the early 1990s and many think it has died out. However, I am happy to tell mullet fans everywhere that the mullet is alive and well in Moshi.

There is a small Indian population in Moshi. Most of them are shop owners and judging by the Sikh temple and the Hindu temple and the handful of Indian restaurants, they are very active in the community. However someone needs to make a desperate call to Tanzania and tell the 25-45 year-old Indian male set that mullets are no longer cool. One guy, I think he is one of the owners of a big ex-pat overpriced restaurant in Moshi called Deli Chez, not only has a mullet. He even has the first few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned and gold chains. I think he thinks he's Shah Rukh Khan's twin...


4) The roundabout way of speaking...two prime examples are when we were looking for a bus to go to Arusha. We walked to the bus station and we soon surrounded by a friendly group of people all trying to convince us to try their buses. We had decided on one bus, a coach sized bus, relatively road-worthy, no missing tires which would allow us to travel in relative comfort for the low low price of 2000 Tsch ($2). As we were about to board the bus, someone offered us his bus, which was smaller and MORE EXPENSIVE. Yes...those were the selling points...smaller and more money. Another example of this is a recent ad for Heineken. (Heineken is desperately trying to make inroads into Tanzania...I think they are marketing themselves as the hip, young, poa/cool beer). The ad extols the fact that the new Heineken bottle is not only SMALLER...it's more expensive. I just don't get it...

5) Mob Justice- If someone has a problem here...everyone has a problem apparently. The other day we witnessed the negotiation stage of a car accident. Two cars had apparently collided, the damage was minor and no one was hurt, but judge and jury was being conducted right there on the street. A large crowd had gathered and all were "assisting" the party they had decided was wronged obtain monetary justice from the mazungu (white person/foreigner) who had done the "wronging". This brought to mind something my professor at Humber told us about car accidents in Africa."If you are ever driving and hit a chicken, cow, goat, person...don't EVER stop and get out of the car as your fate/fine/guilt will be decided right then and there by a mob." I don't think anyone here factors in the mental state of the person driving, their bad childhood, or the fact that they were late for work into the sentence.

Note: Of course if you hit a person with your car you should report it immediately to the nearest police station....I don't condone committing hit and run ANYWHERE. Unless you just hit the village chief ;) If you have hit the village chief...here's my advice "JUST GET ON THE PLANE!".

6) The snotty ex-pats: (From Wikipedia- expatriate (in abbreviated form, expat) is a person temporarily or permanently residing in a country and culture other than that of the person's upbringing or legal residence.

Here is my impersonation of an expat in Africa..." Ooooo I am sooooo African. Look at my kanga (traditional east African cloth) that I had made into a dress. Watch and listen as I speak Swahili like a pro. Aren't I clever I am in Africa. I spit on all North Americans/Europeans/People from developed countries. I spit on consumerism. I spit in your general direction. I am an ex-pat in Africa and all those who cross my path who are not African are to be reviled."

Almost all of the ex-pats (aside from the hostel dwelling partiers who conversely want nothing to do with Africans) want nothing to do with ex-pats. They are a unique breed of people, possibly born on the wrong continent to the wrong parents. Perhaps many of the choices they have made in life have been bad ones. Perhaps they are escaping something..but now they have found their home and walk amongst the "poor and unfortunate Africans" (note: my tongue is so firmly in my cheek!). However these same ex-pats are most often spotted in the ex-pat places drinking cappuccinos.

More "What exactly is up with that?" examples will follow in the coming months I am sure :)

Hello Bananas!

After two weeks of saying "Hujambo!" (hello!) to everyone...and then following it up with "Habari?" (more or less how are you?) and then smiling like an idiot as I don't know anymore Swahili...we have started Swahili lessons! The best response I had to someone speaking Swahili to me was the other day when we were walking back to campus. (For the past two weeks people have been greeting us...I thought I had greetings down).

Here is the exchange:

Lady on Street: "Ndizi?"
Me: "Hello!"

Ndizi means banana and she had a big basket of them in front of her... So for those of you following...Someone said "Banana?" and I said, "Hello!". So...I really really need Swahili lessons.

We had a two hour lesson on Tuesday, a two hour lesson on Wednesday and we are going to have a marathon (broken up by the tea break at 10am) 4 hour lesson on Thursday. We are being taught Swahili by Mr. Masera, a communication prof at the university. He possesses a very mysterious accent...a kind of African-British accent, yet when I asked him if he had been to university in the UK he said, "Oh no!" in his funny accent...and then did not offer any more information. He's a closed book this Mr. Masera.

Some info about Swahili: Swahili is a language spoken in Southeast Africa. It is the primary language of over half the East African coast. Swahili is the seventh most commonly spoken language in the world with a conservative estimate of 45 million speakers as a first or second language. Swahili is a Bantu language and incorporates thousands of words, the majority of them Arabic.

Thanks to the British and various other English speaking wanderers and traders it turns out...we already knew some Swahili. Among Swahili words "borrowed" from English are:

motokaa - motorcar
Mashini - machine
Soksi - socks
jeansi- jeans
televisheni- television
treni-train
Wikiendi- weekend
benki - bank
hoteli - hotel
baiskeli - bicycle
petroli - petrol
sinema - cinema


The best bit of Swahili I have learned so far is how to say, "really!" Which in my Rough Guide to Tanzania is "I say!" as in "Old chap!". I haven't used this one when actually speaking to a Swahili speaker yet...and when I do I hope I don't have another "Chello!" incident like I did in India. My guide said "Chello!" meant, "GO AWAY!" in Hindi...it really means, "Let's Go!". This explained the smiles I got when I used it on various men who were bugging me while I was on the beach in Goa. Never trust a guidebook!

People here also have some interesting names...so far we've met or Jen (who gets to hang out in the real Tanzania in downtown Moshi)..people named Happy, Godswishes, and VeryNice. If only names had something to do with destiny right? (If anyone has read Freakonomics they will know what I mean...)

Tonight we (Jen and I as Pat has already mastered this) promised our favourite waitress at the the campus cafeteria (CoCasa), her name is Hadija, that we would know how to count to ten in Swahili by tonight...I feel like I am five (or Tano in Swahili) as I have been practising all day and keep forgetting words...here is my final practice for the night.

Presenting one to ten in Swahili, moja, mbili, tatu, nne, tano, sita, saba, nane, tisa, kumi...I had to ask Pat how to say 8 and 9 while I was typing this...I think my brain is fried.

P.S. Also..for all you Lion King fans...you can't go around Tanzania saying "Hakuna Matata!" No one here know's what the hell that means...stupid Lion (Swahili: Simba) King (no idea...Mustapha?)...

The "Ridoinkulous" Goat Ceremony

On Saturday, Pat, Jen and I, took a trip to Arusha. It's the closest major city and a good test of your strength of character...and stomach. As the highway there is the deadliest in all of Tanzania. This reputation can be partly blamed on the potholes, but mostly blamed on the fleet of buses in disrepair and the slew of crazy drivers who captain them.

We made it there in one piece and immediately began to appreciate the small town atmosphere of Moshi. As we had all forgotten our guide books we were a little lost as to how to proceed...we need our Rough Guides! Thankfully we had a contact, a former IPMP student named Andrea, who has been living in Arusha for the past six months. I sent Andrea a text message and she agreed to meet us near the Central Market. (The most amazing site at the central market were the basket upon basket of dried sardines...I thought they were dried slices of ginger until I noticed they had eyes).

Andrea took us to "Via Via", an ex-pat (Belgians) owned hangout near the court where the Rwandan Genocide tribunals are taking place. The most amazing site at this place was the menu...a traditional Tanzanian meal of rice, beans and spinach was 6 000 Tsch ($6). We pay 700 Tsch ( 70 cents) in Moshi....now that's markup!

At every Saturday night some local Masai gather to perform a traditional goat ceremony for a mostly ex-pat or tourist audience. A goat, normally the same innocent creature seem innocently eating grass on the lawn hours before, is slaughtered to "entertain" dim witted tourists. Now I have no issue with Masai...or goats...or Masai slaughtering goats...or goat slaughtering ceremonies. I have issue with things becoming spectacles in order to amuse dumb tourists.

Every Saturday night, these local Masai gather in what looks like the CNE band shell to slit the throat of a goat. The blood is gathered in a bucket, and stirred regularly to prevent it from congealing. They all drink some of the blood and eat the kidneys and other organs. The goat is then skinned and roasted on a nearby fire pit for all to enjoy. Masai dancing, beer drinking and merriment ensue.

I don't want to get in the way of merriment...but let's just say that I won't be attending any staged goat ceremonies. If one day I am walking through the bush, meet a Masai and I am invited to attend, I will (and I'll close my eyes at crucial moments). I wonder what's going through the heads of the the people who sit there, taking photos, drinking Kilimanjaro beer and already conjuring up exaggerated stories for the people back home..I really really wonder.

Ingenious Ingenuity

I am amazed by people's here ability to make the most of their situations...sometimes their solutions are a bit Pythonesque....but the ability to laugh at silly things is a gift I think :)

Here a a few examples of this ingenuity (shady and otherwise)...ask yourself if this would work in Canada.

1) Plastic bags - They are everywhere. Sometimes I think a nice environmentally related (we know how much CIDA-Canada's foreign aid granting agency loves proposals that have an environmental slant) micro finance project would be to start a tote bag making factory and distribution system. Plastic bags are evil...but even more so here, when they litter the postcard worthy landscape and seem to try to mask as leaves on trees. Children here gather the plastic bags, roll them around each other layer by layer, and secure them with plastic bags to make soccer balls.


2) Photo Ops- There is an extremely ugly monument in the centre of town. I tried to take a photo of it yesterday and ended up encountering another form of ingenuity. As I was about to press the shutter, a face appeared in my viewfinder. The person spoke..."Charge!". I said "What?" He said "Charge...1000 Schillings (that is about $1). He tried to convince me that there was a charge for taking a photo of the monument...I told him he shouldn't lie. I am not sure he understood me...but I left without taking the photo. We asked some locals later, apparently there is no charge for taking a photo, I had just encountered some more African ingenuity...a local who spotted a tourist and thought he'd make a quick schilling or two or a thousand :)

The monument:

It is a monument of an armed solider, dressed in camouflage, with a very menacing grimace on his face. Underneath the statue is written "Water for Life"....due to the scary solider...we've nicknamed it "Water or Life!". Apparently the monument is meant to commemorate African Soldiers who died in WWI and WWII....in reality...people in the area have told us that the monument is a local joke. As the surrounding fountain runs continuously and the surrounding landscape is watered heavily and daily. A little bit of an joke in an area with water shortages.


3) Enhanced Cement:

It seems there is a building boom in Moshi. Apparently with inflation, if you have some extra money the best thing to do is buy some land, and build a house...as a house will always appreciate in value...where as money you have socked away in the bank may not. Our project co-coordinator, Helen, is having a house built in a new sub-division on the outskirts of Moshi town and took us to visit the site (photos on Facebook). They are still working on the foundation, but the wall surrounding the property is built...well kind of. As we were inspecting the wall, she gave it a really good shake, it almost fell over. African ingenuity....seems the construction workers have been "supplementing" the cement with sand...and selling the "extra" cement to make a profit. Apparently sand and cement...like oil and water...do not mix very well :)


Ways to make a buck...ways to stretch a dollar ...and ways to make toys out of what you have...how ingenious :)