Bruises and Miscommunications...

So yesterday was an interesting day. It began with preparation for an interview with a gender equity NGO here in Dar es Salaam. I researched the organization, fine-tuned my questions for this particular organization and re-read the email communications I had been having with Tatu (the woman I was interviewing). Then, I grabbed my notebook, pencil, and sufficient change to pay for the dalla-dalla.

I began the descent from my fourth-floor apartment down concrete steps. Usually, I appreciate this obligatory daily exercise, climbing 8 flights of stairs everyday, but when I reached the third flight of stairs, I noticed they were wet. At the bottom of this particularly menacing flight of stairs was Omari, the cleaner for our apartment building, with a bucket and soapy cloth. Apparently, he was washing the flight of stairs?? I don't know why. Anyway, I carefully held onto the railing and began to slowly descend. I didn't even make it one stair before my feet fell out from under me and I went tumbling down ten cold, wet stairs. I bounced and bounced and bounced! At the bottom of the stairs, I dizzily stood up. No broken bones or serious injuries, but SO MUCH PAIN! I am in the process of counting the bruises, and have found 5 so far--and one of them is HUGE!

So, after this debacle, which got my skirt SOAKED by the way, I picked up my notebook, decided my skirt would dry and made my way down the rest of the ~dry~ stairs. Then, I caught the obligatory 2 dalla-dallas to Ubungo and began to walk down the street looking for the hotel in which I was supposed to meet Tatu. Along the way, my path was blocked by about 10 different taxi offers. One frustrating thing about being white in Tanzania--you are such a rarity that everyone assumes you are an out-of-towner. And, most white folks here--the tourists--do take taxis, because if you don't know which dalla-dalla to take, of course you are going to take taxis. Anyway, the culmination of these two factors leads to an unbelievably high number of offers from taxi drivers. It is to the point that if you are walking along the road, the taxis will honk at you and flash their lights. Over and over and over and over.... My old roommate used to get sooo annoyed with the taxis. For instance, another friend of mine was riding her bike along the road. A taxi driver stopped and said, 'seester, taxi?'. Confused, she replied, 'but, i'm riding my bike'. He said, 'yes, but you're tired and you need to rest. We will strap your bike to the top of the car'. That explains the taxis. Anyway, so I was assaulted with offers for taxis.

I continued to make my way down the road to the hotel, found it and made my way inside. I looked around the ground floor of the hotel and noticed that this place was large. I racked my brain for a number for Tatu, but realized that in all our email conversations, we had never exchanged phone numbers. So, I strategically located myself at a table in the middle of the ground floor of the main bar. I ordered apple juice and checked my watch. We were scheduled to meet at 2:00 and I had arrived at 1:40. Perfect. So, I sipped my juice and waited. I kept scanning the room for women who looked like they were waiting for someone. There was one woman, sitting alone, who kept glancing at her mobile phone, watching the door expectantly. I decided she had to be Tatu. So, I bravely walk over, smile broadly and say, 'hi, are you tatu?' She looks at me with a confused expression and says, 'nini?' This is when I realize she doesn't understand English, so I say, 'wewe nani?'--kiswahili for 'you are who?' And she says, 'Irene'. So I say 'polesana'--which means 'i'm sorry'.

Embarrassed, I shuffle back to my table and wait. I waited for an hour and then decided to leave. I emailed Tatu this morning to reschedule. I don't know if we were at different ends of the hotel or something came up... But, moral of the story--always confirm where EXACTLY you are meeting someone and get mobile numbers!!!

Then, I called my friends on the way home and they told me to come meet them, so we had Indian takeaway food and I told them the story of my day...which they though was hysterical!