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I don't blog on louder than swahili any longer.

Please, visit me on my newest blog here.

Kina Klothing. Uhuru Street Collection. Kool. Very Kool!

 

Fantastic! Check them out here.

Naledi Fashion House. Dar es Salaam

  

Swahili Street Fashion

 
Yesterday I went  photographing Naledi Fashion House collections.

On Kawawa Road.

Much  more fun than the usual photography I do around here, and the girls rocked!

More vibrant photos to follow, here's just a few.

Panderiro Repique Duo (Brazil) + Carola Kinasha + Ashimba (TZ) - Tanzanian Tour March 2010

Experience two of the best singers in Tanzania together with two of the best percussionists from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, LIVE on tour in Tanzania.

Panderiro Repique Duo (Brazil) + Carola Kinasha (TZ) + Ashimba (TZ)  - Tanzanian Tour March 2010

First concert on the tour is:

Thursday the 11th of march, 20:00 

Masai Camp, Arusha

TSH 5000 only.

Presented by Maisha Music & The Brazilian Embassy

Organized by Alliance Francaise Arusha & Masai Camp

 

Do also read about the launch of the tour last Friday night in Dar es Salaam at Michuzi's blog.

More information about the tour or the performing artists: info@maishamusic.com & www.myspace.com/maishamusictz. 

Ni chumu. Wish me! (or kiss me!)

Finally a kanga which doesn't include the word 'mungu'.

But what does it say?

Big confusion in Uhuru Street last week.

The man selling it to me, said: it means 'kiss me'.

And true the Bengali word chumu does mean kiss according to the Urban Dictionary.

But in Kiswahili it should be 'good luck'.

Also very appropiate, though I got a lot more crazy associations out of the first one. This is gonna be a favorite kanga (among the 100s on board the cargo ship sailing to Denmark). 

DSM. City of nicknames and abbreviations

The inhabitants cut it short to Dar. The street wise dubbed it ‘Bongo’, deriving from ‘ubongo’ which means brain as it supposedly takes brain to cruise the streets of Dar es Salaam.

But literally translated Dar es Salaam really means ‘Haven of Peace’.

Thank you, India (Street)

Another good street in Dar es Salaam. Leads to Morogoro, Zanaki, Algeria, Mosque, Mission and Jamhuri Streets.

Rainbow Hotel...

for rainbow people?

Dar es Salaam. Good excuses

In Copenhagen I say: 'The bridge was up, sorry I'm late!'

Living on the Kigamboni site in Dar I say: 'Two big cargo ships just passed before my eyes.'

CCM. You scare me a little bit...

when you can wear this, anything can go down...

Ah, ah, mimi...I don't want gifts. I want variety!

Mwafrika, I need you again tomorrow!

 

Monday I handed in the keys to my house and my Nissan Hardbody which came with the contract.

Somehow a little traumatising, I must admit, as they made my life in Tanzania so easy.

Rather symbolic, today it all went crazy. 

I'm so priviledged to be staying with a friend who has a really nice house on the Kigamboni site, close to the beach and calm. All I needed to gear down, see people and sort practicalities before I return to Europe. It even comes with a car, called 'Rocky' (or 'Lucky') which I took to town today.

When I drove down Toure Drive I heard a loud gun shut, seconds later realising one of the car tyres had exploded with a big bang.

I've been cruising all over Tanzania for the past two and a half years in my Hardbody without a puncture. Today I had two. The explosion which tore the tyre into two on Toure Drive, and then another one one hour ago returning home to Kigamboni.

No transport officer at MS to call (or to blame for a car with worn out tyres). I had to find a solution by myself. 

I'm a little fascinated what a former development worker can do by herself when she has to (well, someone else (the police officer and an askari at the Danish ambassador's residence) actually changed the tyre - they just took over in this Swahili slow mode way, where they end up with the tools and I go for notes in my bag - and Bashir, the most famous taxi driver unlimited among my friends, lead the way into Livingstone Street and knew exactly what kind of new tyre to ask for.

Praying in the right direction

 
In Dar es Salaam you can buy these fancy mats with inbuild compasses. A guideline follows, telling you how you face the Black Kaba.

A street full of words

In fact, people stumble on them in Dar es Salaam.

Maneno means 'words' in Kiswahili, and in Kisutu close to Uhuru Street there is a street named Maneno Street.

Multi-tasking. The Swahili slow mode way

 
I did a quick visit to Mbagala last week, a little suburb along Kilwa Road.

These two women were multi-tasking big time (in a remote corner of the village).

Selling icecream, listening to the radio, babysitting (easy baby is asleep), playing cards and overviewing older kids and village life.

Laughing.

Really cosy moment.

Hey, hey, stop a second. Just because I'm going home...

I don't stop blogging.

But have patience.

The rule is: 'A new country: A new blog'.

I'll put my new blog out there the latest on March 19.

My house. Till the contract ends

And my contract ends today, which means that I'm leaving my house in Dar es Salaam tomorrow.

A fantastic house. Mainly due to the people filling it up.

I want to say thanks to the ones who came from everywhere and filled up the beds; the overlanders from Zimbabwe and their mother-in-law from Skjern; the coordinator who missed her train to Zambia (though the TAZARA appears to be the most set inetiary in this country since the 70ties); the easy-going Swedish director working with forests at Lake Victoria; the married couple who had a life-altering fight in my guest room; a couple of students trying to define essences of this country, colleagues in transition, fellow NGO workers from Congo, Sudan and Uganda; two PhD candidates (and maybe some future ones), family and friends; the ones who stuffed the fridge with wine; turned up the volume; never complained that there's no air condition; sat on my veranda till the sun got up; complimented me for being the coolest non-smoker; the ones who tried (in vain) to figure out the logic of my next-door container bar; interviewed my askaris; took me home (in spite I refused to leave Garden Bistro); for Dr. Wang's magic acupuncture every Thursday; the Msasani Beach Club Annex 2 (which cemented my love for linghala as a loud backdrop on weekends); lazy Saturdays in kikois under the fans on the couches in the lounge; not to forget my Icelandic nephew who turned the front yard into a play ground making five adults laugh till their bellies hurt.

It takes a lot to beat the vibe of this house.

I'm checking out of Dar es Salaam pole pole. I leave my house tomorrow and go to stay on the Southern Beaches in Kigamboni at a friend's house till March 19, where I fly home(ish).

  
 
  

The African woman with the bottle on her head

Here's a greeting to the ones of my friends who know exactly what it means when an African woman grabs your beer bottle and balances it on her head (and then sometimes lie down on her stomach to perform a snake dance).

Here, you'll have to do with a water bottle.

Maulidi Celebrations in Dar es Salaam

 
According to the Wikipedia Mawlid (Milad an-Nabi) “Birth of the Prophet” is a term used to refer to the observance of the birthday of the Islamic prophet Muhammad which occurs in Rabi' al-awwal, the third month in the Islamic calendar.^[1]

The term Mawlid is also used in some parts of the world, such as Egypt, as a generic term for the birthday celebrations of other historical religious figures such as Sufi saints. It is not a part of Islam as a faith, but rather a cultural practice.

In Kiswahili it is Maulidi, and this year the siku kuu fell on a Saturday, though we'd all hoped for Friday.

In Kisutu in central Dar es Salaam the Maulidi celebration was in full swing last Monday.

 

New blog: Land Affairs

My good friend Rasmus - with whom I produced this video and this one last year - is now back in Tanzania to research for his PhD candidate on land rights and land reforms. Most of the time roaming between Kiteto, Handeni and Dar es Salaam.

Check out his blog here (you might easily guess who helped him creating it).

Rasmus mixes writings about land and land institutions in Africa, both academic stuff and non-academic open-minded reflexions on questions arising during his PhD project about land rights in Africa.

Diversity. Live it

You can say what you wanna say about conflicts and political turmoil in Africa, and how those ones never seem to get it together.

What I can't help noting, coming from where I come, Tanzanians are masters of finding ways to make it function in practical life. I'm not talking about politics, but about everyday life.

Maybe because that is your only option: to make it work.

In Denmark you've got options, and you can choose to make things complex. One of the biggest political issues in Denmark over the recent years have been if women can wear a veil in public space. 'I wouldn't feel comfortable if my doctor wore a veil,' people argue with nothing but an irrational emotion to draw upon.

The debate, it seems, somehow really is more about acceptance of Muslims representing a culture most Danes know too little of; and of (not) knowing your own grounding ( (or boiling it down to some presumably Danish core concept monopolised by the Danish People's Party. The arguments raised are in my opinion ridiculing a modern democracy and the people living in it.

To me one of the biggest assets of a community is namely  the ability to accept diversity and find a way to gain from it, instead of rejecting it.

I myself have been raised in a rather conservative, safe, Danish setting, and on a positive note I believe it has given me the solid grounding of who I am before I went exploring diversity (I also went through a period of my childhood where I though I had to be adopted originating from somewhere more exotic).

This also means that I think one has to try things before you reject it. The Tanzanians live with diversity everyday, and I am rather impressed on occasion how it isn't an issue.

The camera woman from TBC wore a veil - and a flowery dress - when she recorded the parade at the Sauti za Busara. I have no idea of her qualifications as a camera woman, but it is evident that she lived in a community where I'm the only person paying attention to what she wears.

Stay. Or come back

There are three countries where I have lived for longer periods of time - Serbia, Uganda and Tanzania. All three places have the tendency to work against you when you have made the decision to leave.

In a positive and complimenting way, and it always made me smile when the Serbs said: 'When will you be back?' and the Tanzanians 'Lakini, you must stay.'

As if there is no other alternative.

I come from a country that indulges in law-making which can keep foreigners out; make integration an everyday challenge; who don't involve people who are not part of their usual circle; who do dinner table dinners with pre-set guest lists; and who aren't very good at complimenting foreigners. After almost 40 years they'll still criticize the Prince Consort for his Danish prononciation, though he speaks Danish grammatically correct. And they will never say: 'Oh, you speak Danish!' like the waswahili positively conclude: 'unasema Kiswahili' when you're embarrassing yourself trying to figure out the right tense.

Maybe that's why I've always noted the hospitality in other countries.

Africans love Africa. I used to know South Africans, Congolese, Nigerians and Tanzanians in Copenhagen who got lonely and restless. Europe will always only be a middle station to most Africans, at least mentally. You go to Europe to educate or work, to use your skills to send money home. There was the Zulu who poured alcohol on my door mat in my Copenhagen flat back in June 2005 as a fare safely ritual; and Prince, Prince, Emeika and Sonny, the Nigerians, who would take me to Guinea Bissau, the African bar, drinking Carlsberg Elephant Beer.

Today I had my farewell reception at work. My second last day for the NGO I have worked for for the past 10 years. Whereas the Danes will say what they think I want: that obviously I'll get a new job in Copenhagen just like that, the Tanzanian auto-reply is straight forward, lovely naive: 'But you have to come back! How can you not be in Africa?'

I'm obviously flattered. I know a great deal of it is based in the swahili politeness. That it really hasn't so much to do with me as a person, as it has with the fact that Africa per African definition is just a better place to be.

Enchanting, considering the image Africa has in the rest of the world and how many empty words we fill into our poverty reduction strategies. Nevertheless, Africa is just so much more self-confident.

Mzunguuuuuuuu!

 

Photo from today's trip to Mbagala in Dar es Salaam.

United nation of contrasts

While Kikwete calls on embassadors to find solutions to African poverty during a visit to Turkey, the pastoralists from the Barbaig and Iraqi tribe carry spears and arrows to guard the Gawal farm in order to stop the partition of the farm to the farmers at Mulbadaw village in Hanang District in Manyara region.

From today's Citizen.

Copenhagen>Belgrade>Copenhagen>Kampala>Dar es Salaam>Copenhagen

Saturday night I hosted another farewell party.

The 5th in the past 10 years.

Copenhagen>Belgrade>Copenhagen>Kampala>Dar es Salaam.

When I left Copenhagen for Serbia in February 2000 I left initially for three months which nevertheless turned into seven and one of the best experiences in my life. Nothing beats living in a city among strong people who had been isolated, sanctioned, had just overcome a bombing campaign while in high spirit preparing for a good old-fashioned revolution.

When I returned to Copenhagen I have never felt so lost. I lacked purpose, craved a mission and the idea of Africa began to concretise. When I left Copenhagen for northern Uganda in June 2005 I was so ready. And when I left Uganda for Tanzania in August 2007 it felt like one of the best decisions I had ever made.

Now I am packing up all my stuff after almost five years on the African continent.   

You have no idea how good I am at packing.

Logistically and organisationally I know exactly how to do it.

Emotionally I'm improvising. I hate to say good-bye.

I know very well that Africa will do without me. I'm honestly more worried about how I will do without it. But maybe even more worried about how I will do with Europe.

Europe has changed a lot in the past five years. So have I. And I have no idea of how we’ll match.

The thing is that Africa makes me feel comfortable and free. Africa makes me feel this extremely strange mix of being capable, humble and confident at the same time.

Africa always makes me want more.

Europe makes me feel I have to do such a bloody effort to fall into certain categories I don't even give a thing about.

When I left Copenhagen for northern Uganda a South African friend wrote me a line saying 'it is your dream come true'. I found the note yesterday, and here close to the end of this African momentum of my life I must agree in spite it sounds theatrical.  I did make the right decisions at the right times, in spite it included a lot of farewell parties.

However, in Danish we have a proverb saying 'that you ought to break up while the game is still fun'. I do leave in a positive spirit, knowing that I did my best, and that I did make the most of it.

Besides, you know, it isn't really over with me and Africa. This is just a break. (Probably for a little longer than I'd like to admit.)

# 11: Sauti za Busara: Swahili Nostalgia

Yugo nostalgia is a famous concept on the Balkans, not only present among the people living there missing what once was, but also exceptionally strong among the ex-Yugoslavian diaspora and among former ex-pats. 

In my case a cocktail of turska kafa, loud Boban Markovic, Kanda, Kodza i Neboisa, Darkwood Dub, Bregovic (though I'll be scolded by Serb friends from admitting this) but I can't help liking the song from the 'Underground'-soundtrack: 'Ka-la-sh-ni-kov'...lots of slivo and casually rolled gandja.

When it comes to Swahili nostalgia - I found mine:

Zanzibar taraab played out loud. Like the Ikhwani Safaa Musical Club. Taraab is this great mix of Muslim musics on the African coast mixed with heavy influences from Indian film music, Egyptian and Lebanese musics. Read more here.

Makes you feel the breeze and hear the waves from the Indian Ocean (basically makes you forget the dirty side of the Swahili Coast).

I know this is going to be played a lot in Copenhagen. Thanks to Sauti za Busara, not sure I'd got it under my skin without.

# 10: Sauti za Busara: Mzungu Kichaa (Denmark/Tanzania)

'Does his family also call him 'Mzungu Kichaa'?', a friend of mine asked the other day.

No. That would be crazy.

Karibu Inn. An infamous hotel in the heart of Stone Town

 
OK, Karibu Inn has a hard time.

I know. I stayed there for four nights last week. The notice on the wall in our hotel room only makes up a 5th of the total amount of notices put on display in the hotel.

The kali way. Kind of like the style, though it did make me feel that I would be punished (with no one to blame) if I left valuables in the room.

Interesting example of a behavouristic way of running a hotel.

The most expensive parking place in Tanzania

 
The port of Dar es Salaam is often the subject of many conversations if you're waiting for goods to arrive. Well, the ships usually arrive - but have to park at the entrance to the bay of Dar es Salaam.

According to a report, referred to in the Citizen on January 22: 'a ship now waits for only 3.8 days at the outer anchorage compared to an average of 12.7 days in January 2009. The time needed to prepare a ship for a return trip (turnround time) has improved to 6.7 days from 18.9 days in January 2009.'

On clear days, going down Ocean Road, you can watch the long line of cargo ships waiting in the distance at the outer anchorage.

Fascinating sight. So full of resources, so difficult to turn when in motion. Such an expensive parking place, though probably among the most beautiful in the world.

However, on January 22 the Citizen also wrote that:

Signs of a functional Dar es Salaam port are finally emerging to give hope to local and regional business community members who have for years complained of corruption and inefficiency by operators.

I might have been around too long to really really believe so.

# 9: Sauti za Busara: Sosolya Dance Academy (Uganda)

 
These Ugandans rocked the stage. Literally. Massive energy and beautiful confident performance. The Ugandan performances are slightly more aggressive - in a cool way - I think - compared to the Tanzanians.

# 8: Sauti za Busara: Swahili Viking?!

# 7: Sauti za Busara: What to wear?

‘Aren’t there unusually many wazungu this year?’ some people asked.

 

I don’t know, I am waiting for Busara to share some statistics on their homepage. My impression is that this festival was promoted much more heavily in Dar es Salaam than before, and that it in general has got a lot of media attention. My assumption is also that the festival mainly attracts the wazungu clientele when it comes to Dar which does have a rather diverse expat scene – but I might be wrong on this?

 

However, what is still unusual with the Sauti za Busara, is that it attracts the Zanzibarians who blend in with the diverse group of wazungu.

 

Or is it the other way round?

 

One of the more amusing things is namely that the density of wazungu wearing kanga, kikois, kitenge, beads, shells, flip flops – and who get their hair braided or their bodies painted with henna - probably hits the highest point at the Sauti za Busara. And add to that: the greatest variety of ways of wearing it.

 

It is in deed a very visible way of expressing that you have been taken away by this place, that you can’t resist it. You have to wear it.

 

Either you like it or not (as long your consciousness still can reach your brain and make you understand that it doesn’t look as cool on the other side of Equator when you overdo it there).

 

However, we all do it to certain extents, getting caught by the Swahili Flava. Me too, and apparently to the extent that one of my friends recently had to raise the question:

 

‘But you will not wear that back in Copenhagen…will you?!’ pointing at my Indian, long shirt/dress thing (which I have got in three different colours).

 

Of course, I will. (I say now).

 

But maybe the same thing happens, that when I go back I will again need to match the majority?

# 06: Sauti za Busara: Thandiswa

I think Thandiswa's performance Saturday night stood out. Not just because I am South Africally biased, but for its professionalism and in particularly for its energy, drive and optimism.

More than once Thandiswa referred to the 1976 uprising in Soweto, and out came the Amandla fist, reminding us what power music can play.

# 05: Sauti za Busara: Crowd meet stars

'Great concert', I say to the guy behind me in the crowd cheering at Banana Zorro & the B Band last night.

The man nodds, smiles and asks: 'You like me?'

I answer yes, and that I thought his concert on stage some 30 minutes ago was pretty cool, but that I know little of Mozambiquan hip hop.

Apparently so little that I cannot tell the star on stage from the guy in the crowd.

'Me?!' the guy says, 'I'm Zanzibarian.'

'Ah, ah'... I say. 'Kweli!?'

But before he gets the message through - that he isn't the Mozambiquan hip hop star who played for Simba & Brown Band - my friend has already passed it on to an Australian backpacker struggling even more with finding head and tail in this festival:

'Is Banano Zorro Mozambiquan, and are they singing in Kiswahili now?' he wants to know.

It is not unusual that the stars on stage at the Sauti za Busara infiltrate the crowd or hang out in the bar, some indulging more in their stardom like others.

Unfortunately I didn't catch the confusion on camera last night, but here's a crowd meeting star Jumbe Fresh from Saturday. 
This is in fact one of the more curious things at Busara.