Hakuna Matata

We’ve only been in Tanzania for a few days, but it already feels like weeks have passed – it’s not that we’re not enjoying it (quite the contrary), but that our days have been packed. If it’s true that things move slower in Africa, then we’ll probably look back at the last few days as an aberration.

After spending 3 days in Dar getting mugged, setting up local appointments, meeting other expats (through friends in the US), and having meetings with several NGOs & potential business partners, I feel that were are off to a promising start. Strangely enough, the fast pace of our days has manifested itself not in stress, but in optimism. In fact, the tension in my upper back and shoulders that has been bugging me for over a year (borne from stress and extended computer usage) has simply gone away.

The reason for my reduced level of stress came to me as our boat docked at our weekend destination of Zanzibar and I read the slogan that greets visitors to the island: Hakuna Matata (no worries). Kat and I had arranged to meet a few of our new friends (other expats from the US and UK, who are around our age) on the northern tip of Zanzibar, and the 20-odd hours that the six of us spent there was time that I absolutely relished.

Every once in a while, you have an experience that – while living it – you know will be engrained in your memory for life. I’m not sure that describing our time there really does it justice, but the heavily Arab-influenced island still maintains an old-world charm that made me feel truly immersed in a completely different world. This immersion allows a vacationer – even a 20-hour vacationer – to escape common worries and live the crap out of every minute.

Nearly every moment of my time on Zanzibar can be characterized by details that I’ll look back on fondly: the distant sound of Arabic and Hindi music and the smell of saffron as I walked through a narrow cobblestone spice market in Stone Town…the satisfaction of talking down a taxi fare from $50 to $35 for the one-hour trip to the Northern end of the island…the faint sound of the Muslim call to prayer as I walked into the cooling Turquoise-blue water just before sunset…the taste of locally-grown cloves as I bit into the vegetable pakora that I had for dinner…the suspicion we had about our “native Tanzanian” waiter who had an East-London accent (as identified by the Londoner among us)…the view of African dancers and flavor of hookah at the beach party we attended…the alternating reggae, hip-hop, and Swahili music and the feeling of soft, cool sand between my toes on the outdoor dance floor …the view of a star-lit southern hemisphere sky as I floated on my back in the Indian Ocean at 1am…the fun of wading through waist-deep water at 3am to get back home during high tide…and the birds-eye view of the greenish-blue reefs, small fishing boats, and beautiful coastline as we flew back on a single-engine plane from Zanzibar to Dar Es Salaam, are all details that I will not soon forget.

Now I’m back in Dar, refreshed and eager to get back to work. I may have sand-soiled clothes and a phone that hasn’t recovered from being dropped in the ocean (by the way…email will be the best way to reach me for a few days), but that’s ok...Hakuna Matata!

Duality of Dar

I got to Dar Es Salaam yesterday morning, and the first few hours here – starting from my first descent on the African continent – showed me the tremendous beauty of the place, as well as the importance of knowing the locals, staying safe, and blending in. The following are some excerpts from my journal (a new practice for me…we’ll see how long it lasts).
Wednesday March 25, 2009 – 6:00am British Airways, London to Dar Es Salaam
I woke up from “sleep” a couple of hours ago – glad I got a few hours, but wasn’t able to sleep for the full 6+ hours I wanted. Neck sore from weird sleeping position (bent across 2 seats), and I’ve stretched out a few times. Breakfast was just served (interesting that in a few weeks, I might be missing plane food), but British Airways has been great so far. I try to sit quietly, reading, watching tv on the In-Flight entertainment system, etc – to calm myself down, because I am filled with excitement and today will be a long day once I land.

I open the window shade to my left, and there’s suddenly no hope of containing my excitement – I see the Eastern Horizon of the continent at sunrise (I’m over Kenya, crossing over to Tanzania), with the sun rising over the ocean, creating a gradient of orange, red, purple, etc (ROYGBIV, basically), as the clouds below me cast their shadow on the Indian Ocean. I can see where land meets water below me, as the tides descent on the beach gently.

Since I’m hella superstitious, I take the scene as a sign that good things are to come. I once again try to close my eyes and get some rest during my last few quiet moments, but it will probably be of no use – I’m just too excited!
Wednesday March 25, 2009 – 1:00pm
Dar Es Salaam - Oyster Bay District
HOLY CRAP – This has been an eventful day already (a little too eventful if anything), and it’s only mid-day! Kat and I made our way to Q-Bar Guest House in the Msasani district, and got a room that’s modest but comfortable. After checking in, we walked to Coco Beach (maybe a mile aw ay), and walked into the water (EXTREMELY warm – not much relief from the scorching rays of the sun). We then started making our way back to our room, drinking as much water as we could.

We got a little lost on the way back (forgot our map), and around 10:30am, Kat turned to face me as we were walking down a shaded road, and started yelling in fear. I looked behind me, and there was a guy with his left hand on my backpack, and his right hand above his head with a 8-10inch hunter’s knife, coming down towards me. Kat ran forward on the road yelling loudly to get the locals’ attention (a few street merchants and artisans were on the road), and I realized that I would have to give up my bag before the knife blade made its way to me. I slipped out of the backpack as the knife came down, avoiding the blade (and as I thought, ending the episode), but the guy kept coming towards me, with his knife lifted, swiping at me. I walked backwards toward the side of the road, facing him, and I either fell or was knocked down (can’t remember – it was too fast), landing on my back. I could hear local merchants screaming as people appeared on the road, as I said “take the bag” and tried to slide away from the guy, on my back. I didn’t understand why the guy wouldn’t just leave with my bag, and suddenly felt the fear that I could really get hurt.

Luckily, Kat’s screaming had created quite a commotion, and the guy felt a sense of urgency. He rushed toward me, and felt the cargo pockets of my shorts to see if I had any other possessions (but somehow didn’t feel the camera and phone in my real pockets), then ran away. I got up, and ran toward the villagers as I looked over my shoulder and saw the guy jumping over a nearby wall into some sort of compound. Kat and I asked each other if we were ok, which we generally were (though a little shaken up), and we decided to get a cab to take us back to a safer area.

As we walked away, the locals all yelled to us, gesturing that we should come with them, and saying something like “pori sana” (very sorry) repeatedly. We just wanted to get out of the situation, but the people were very apologetic about the situation, and wanted us to follow them. We followed about 10 people down the road (about 20 meters pas t he point of the mugging), and a guy emerged from wall on the side of the road with my backpack! He was covered in sweat, and he handed the backpack to me, apologizing for the mugger’s actions.

I kept repeating “Asante, Asante” (thank you, thank you), as I took the bag from him, and he insisted that I check the bag to make sure that the contents were still in it. I felt EXTREMELY fortunate that the locals had watched out for us, and that we were unhurt, with all of our possessions. I thought the episode was over, but there was more…

A few other locals yelled to us from the wall, insisting that we go through a door into the compound. We walked through (with about 20 people, by this point), as they guided us into the compound. We could see a couple of men running, trying to catch the mugger! The were furious that someone would do what he did in their neighborhood, and just getting my bag back wasn’t enough.

We didn’t see the guy, but the locals kept guiding us through the compound, into the courtyard between a few buildings (belonging to a foreign health organization, I think). There was a crowd gathered in the courtyard, with an armed guard holding the locals back, while a fairly elderly man tried to mediate the situation. Sitting on the ground next to the man was our mugger.

When Kat and I appeared, the mugger looked at us and said “I’ve every sorry; I won’t do it again”, but we were too furious to engage with him. Instead, we spent the next 15-20 minutes trying to understand the exchange between the mediator and the locals (in Swahili), who seemed to be insisting that the mugger be somehow punished. Finally, a man emerged from the building with a rope, and tied the mugger’s hands together (hand-cuff style).

The locals then led us to the gate of the compound, where there was a car waiting to take us to the police station. They wanted us to sit in the back seat next to the mugger – which we were not willing to do – so we hailed a cab. We then put the mugger in the trunk of the cab (mafia victim-style), as Kat and I were driven to the police station in the back seat.

At the police station, the police took our statement, as we could hear the mugger having the crap kicked out of him by the police. Another local man at the station said to us “Don’t worry, he’ll be taught his lesson. He’s lucky that he’s here – usually, he would be burned alive by the people in the neighborhood” (In the background, the mugger’s moaning continued). We dealt with several officers, each of whom spoke some English, as the local that had retrieved my backpack described the incident and told the police the exact location of the mugging (once again, in Swahili…We should learn this language). It was good to know that the police were dealing with the situation, but they kept asking us “What possessions are you missing”, and didn’t seem to understand that we wanted to charge the criminal, even though we got back all of our things. Finally, the police had us sign our written statement, and gave us a case number with a description of the charge: “TRYING TO STEAL”. We then gave a few thousand shillings (a couple of dollars) to the local that had retrieved our things, and found a cab to take us back to our room.



Looking back, I have some mixed feelings about this:

Should I take this as a bad omen, just as I took that sunrise as a good omen?

Was it somehow our fault that we were mugged? I’m sure we could have been less conspicuous and not carried a backpack, but it was 10:30 in the morning.

Is it ok that the criminal was physically abused by the police? This might be too weak a charge to imprison him, but will his experience being beat really deter him from attacking the next group of Americans that walks by? I feel a little bad for this, but I felt absolutely no remorse hearing him pleading with his abusers as I filed the report. Now I’m not so sure.

In the back of my mind….Crap, I should have gotten a shot of the tied-up criminal being put in the trunk of the cab! It would have made a great picture for this blog entry!

Most of all, I’m thankful – Thankful that we have our things, thankful that we are safe, and thankful that the locals took the effort to look out for us. I think this episode reminds me to be safe (and that it’s ok to be a little paranoid sometimes). We have since introduced ourselves to the police, introduced ourselves to the staff at the guest house, and made sure that we have some local resources to call on.

For now, to Kat (for her screaming), to the locals (for alerting the police and creating a commotion), to the police, and to the guy that got our bag back and tracked down the mugger: Asante.