February 28, 2014 - Once on this Island/Meet the Po-Po

I am not sure if I have ever specifically described where we live before, but sticking out of the coastal city of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania there is a little peninsula.  This is where we live.  And even though it is technically attached to the mainland, it oftens feels to me more like an island than a peninsula. 

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Maybe not totally unlike in your (or anyone else's) daily life, we tend to see the same people at school, the grocery store, the pizza place, the beach, the butcher, the cafe...but compared to living in Nairobi or New York City, our community here is really quite small.  In my head, we live on an island.

As an example: the night before Valentine's Day Kristoffer and I were attending a fancy dinner at a hotel in the city center (he was officially there for the World Bank, I was invited along which almost never happens).  It was lovely. First, there was a classical quartet playing Pachelbel in the courtyard and I noticed that one of the musicians was a fellow substitute teacher/colleague of mine.  Then, there was a jazz band compromised of two teachers from the school where I work, two diplomats, and my ob/gyn (usually Noah's ENT is performing with them too).  

Kristoffer and I had a good laugh that if I should prematurely go into labor "so far from the clinic" (10-15 minutes max with no traffic at that time of night), it's pretty convenient that our local saxophone player also happens to be my doctor.  An island, I tell you.

But we did have a nice evening at the dinner party...with sweet Valentine's Day pictures to prove it.

(pictures of the pictures...they were hard copies!)

Which leads me to describe what happened later that night, after the lovely dinner and on our way back to the peninsula with a friend in the car. The short story is that we had a pretty unpleasant encounter with the police.  

To be fair, we definitely broke the law.  It was our fault.  True story.  But also to be fair, there were a few minutes where we were both legitimately scared and I was wishing that the saxophone-playing-doctor was in the car, just in case my stress level induced labor.

The problem started upon leaving the fancy hotel.  There is currently construction all around it and all of the roads that pointed to home were blocked off.  It was 11 pm and the streets are poorly lit; there were a number of signs for blocked roads, and we just couldn't see anywhere to turn.  So we accidentally - and unhappily - ended up on the road in front of the State House (Americans, read: White House) where the President lives.  It is forbidden to drive there from 6 pm to 6 am.  Because we got dumped there by accident, we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

It didn't take long before a car pulled in front to block us. It was not a labeled police vehicle, but some kind of 4x4 full of guys in a not-so-obvious uniform.  We were later told it was the Secret Police.  The officer who approached our car did not start out with any pleasantries, instantly yelling at Kristoffer for disrespecting Tanzanian law.  Kristoffer started out apologizing, talking about the construction, asking how we could get home, etc.  He was calm, cool, apologetic.  But the police officer with his AK-47 (did I mention that?) proudly between him and Kristoffer was not buying any niceties. Normally, because we have diplomatic license plates we are not stopped by the police...but because we technically break the law - even if by accident - that was not helping us at all.

Kristoffer summarized the event to UN Security by writing this (he is much more succinct than I am, right?):

They asked me to get out of the car. I politely told them no. They asked to get into the car. I told them no. They asked me to turn off the car - I didn't. They asked me to walk with them (300m) so they could show me the no entry sign - I didn't. They said that if I gave them something they would forgive me - I didn't. They asked me how much money I had in the car - I told them none. They told me that they couldn't let me go unless I paid them something - I didn't. They told me to go to the police station, I told them ok but that I would then have to call "UN Security" because I am a diplomat - they let me go. 

When they asked us for all of the money we had in the car, that was the BOLDEST corruption I have seen here because it is usually much more like, "What do YOU think you could DO to solve this problem?" or "I am a little thirsty..."  This was just so overt and offensive...even when Kristoffer said, "You know I can't give you any  money.  It's against the law and I am a diplomat."

The whole process took 30 minutes; it was a little bit scary because we knew that if we just drove away that could shoot at the car, so we had to stay there to work it out.  There was that pesky AK-47 between us.  When I told them I was very pregnant and we were so sorry and just wanted to get home, they wanted us to turn on the light so they could see my belly.  Our friend in the back used her iPhone to record some of the conversation actually, but she was pretty worried too (and we were a little embarrassed because we don't know her very well!).  

In the end, we had to drive back to the hidden sign that we should have seen for them show us that we should have known not to drive there...which, of course, we did know.  We pointed out to them all of the road blocks and do not enter signs, but they told us just to go down one of the streets and we would have been fine.  But we have heard that other police are lurking in that area to catch people where they shouldn't be during this construction phase. It's just a trap in that neighborhood right now and we are avoiding that area entirely.

All's well that ends well, and we are lucky that this was likely an isolated event because we have friends here who are not diplomats and do have to interact with the police pretty regularly at road side check points (where they ask for bribes) and otherwise.  We were reminded that we are lucky, and will be grateful to never have such an interaction again!

LMW

August 6, 2012 - The New DG

Remember when we asked our security company to replace our day guard (DG) because of petty theft?    Well now this...

Mrs. S (landlord) learned that the samba boy, Anthony (the guy who cleans up around the compound and does odd work for the landlords), and the New DG have been sitting in her son's car listening to music when nobody is home at either house.   Then his CD case from the car disappeared.

Suspects:  The New DG and the Shamba Boy.

Both were questioned.  Both denied it.

Security company now getting involved.

Will we be getting another New DG?  Should we call him NDG2?

LMW

June 2, 2012 - The DG

Oh, Day Guard...we were trying so hard to like you! But alas, you're fired. 

I have written about our clueless-but-friendly Day Guard before. Since then I think he has grown on me a little bit...or at least he has gotten a bit faster at the gate so I don't have to honk for him to let me in or out and that makes me like him more. And Noah likes to wave to him and bring him flowers when we are walking around outside. But there is something about him that is a little bit...shady. So today when Kristoffer found a pair of his fancy squash socks (easily his favorite article of clothing) hanging in the guard's shed, the DG became a suspect. 

Kristoffer asked the other workers on the compound who the socks belonged to and they told him "the guard." Then he asked Rose and she suspected the DG because she thinks she saw him taking stuff from the other workers one time when they were on a lunch break. She said she never leaves anything outside now because she thinks he is a thief (great insight...would have been great to know that sooner...). So then he went to the DG and had a conversation that went a little something like this (as immediately reported to the security company): 

K: Are these your socks? 

DG: Yes they are my socks.  

K: Are you sure? Because I had two pair of this same type of socks. They were given to me by my sister in-law two Christmases ago. They are special socks because they are used to play the game squash, which I play, and you can only get them in America. [shows him the special reinforcement for squash players] So are you sure they are not mine? 

DG: OK, they are yours. 

K: You know, sometimes I dry my clothes on the balcony and sometimes they fall to the ground during the rains, but it still means they are my socks. 

DG: Sure. 

The email to his boss that followed requested that we get a new DG and that the current DG not be allowed back on our compound to work. This was a difficult decision, actually, because we don't like to get him fired and because, of course, he knows where we live and could end up knowing our next guard. But if we let it go thie time it is likely that he will just take more things or more valuable things. So we are not likely to see him after this weekend. His day off is Tuesday and the guy who works that day is no big treat either...he takes two plastic chairs, puts his feet up on one of them, pulls his hat down and sleeps until I honk for him to let me in or out. So let's hope that he doesn't get promoted to permanent DG and that our next guard is as great as our day guards were in Nairobi. Michael and George...we really miss you guys these days! I am so glad we tipped them well when we moved.

LMW

May 10, 2012 - On why you should always lock your car doors...

Last night Kristoffer and I drove into town (the city - downtown Dar) to go out to dinner with two American guys from my cousin's church in Florida who are here on mission.  One of them is her Pastor and the other is a financial planner/missionary.  We were looking forward to the dinner and ended up having a really nice time with them.  It was really interesting to hear about their projects here.

But first...

Before leaving for dinner our house was crazy.  The newly-fixed washing machine had died and the fundi (repair guy) decided to come at 6:30pm without telling me.  While I was putting Grace to bed, Noah (already in bed) started freaking out because he had somehow dislodged his mosquito net from the ceiling and was completely smothered by it.  So after dealing with the fundi, Kristoffer had to hang up Noah's net and I got both kids settled in bed.  Anyway, we left just a little late but were definitely frazzled.

We got into the city without traffic, which is great, but it was night time and we hadn't driven in the city at night (at least I hadn't...I don't think Kristoffer had either).  The Garmin was giving us directions to our destination and when turning down one street, we somehow missed the very odd "do not enter - one way street" sign ("Jill" from the Garmin does not know one-way streets in Tanzania, FYI).  We looked at it later and still couldn't quite decipher the picture (no words) and also it was not lit up at all, but regardless we went the wrong way down a one-way street. 

And we were pulled over by the police.

Who were mad at us.

And tried to get into our car.

*Imagine that here I have uploaded a picture me nearly having a heart attack.*

You do not want police in your car.  If police get into your car, as they tried to do, they might demand a significant amount of money from you before they will get out of your car.  Thankfully, the doors were locked (always for safety...lots of robberies and car jackings happen because of unlocked doors) so they couldn't enter on their own. They tried and told us to let them in.  Kristoffer - super fast thinker that my wonderful husband is - rolled down the windows to show them the two car seats in the back seat...as in, "look, there is nowhere for you to sit."  So we managed to escape their car invasion and just had to pull over.  I was almost too scared to talk - I am a really big wimp in situations like these - but Kristoffer was super calm and smart.  He had to get out of the car so he locked me in while talking to the two officers (and I silently prayed that nothing would go wrong out there).  There was a lot of talking and A LOT of Kristoffer playing dumb.  I heard him say things like, "I am so sorry! I have never seen a sign like that in my life!  I did not know what that sign meant!  We are just trying to get down the street to dinner.  I've only lived here a couple of months. I am so sorry!"  

In the end they let us go without giving us a ticket or taking us to a police station.  One officer asked for some money to buy a coke.  Normally we don't do this - we are definitely against paying bribes, don't get me wrong - but it was dark.  We were in town.  We had technically broken the law.  We gave him the equivalent of $1.25 to buy a coke.  We just couldn't risk anything else going wrong!  

C R A Z Y.

When they were both trying to open the car doors and get in...well, that was one of my worst moments in Africa to date.  I am sure nothing too bad would have happened...but really, you just never know.

Luckily the dinner that followed was lovely.  But you can be sure this weekend we'll be studying up on traffic signs in Tanzania.

LMW

March 25, 2012 - A Driving Experience

(Kristoffer's first blog in Dar)

Every weekend here in Dar, Grace and I go to the World Bank to drop off my clothes for the week as I am now biking to and from.  This is also an opportunity to run a few other errands on the way and do some father and daughter stuff. I also have a small “stress ball” in my office that she enjoys playing with.

Today she fell asleep going there so not much fun for me although I enjoyed her quiet company.  On our way back home I saw three police officers on my side off the road. Now the last 4 years in Kenya we have had diplomatic plates on our car. We must have past more than 100 police check points but were never stopped because of those plates. Unfortunately our new Tanzanian car is just being registered in our name and still has Tanzanian plates in the interim. So I was pulled over by these police officers although I wasn’t driving fast or doing anything wrong.

I pulled down the window and a young, female Tanzanian police officer dressed in her beautiful white uniform greeted me in Kiswahili. I greeted her back, but on the second greeting I got slightly confused and she said with a smile, “Sema poa,” which means the response I am supposed to give her is the word for “cool”. I said “poa” and looked at her.

“What is your name?” she asked me in Kiswahili.

“I am Kristoffer,” I replied in some language.

She looked at me in a shy way; maybe she hadn’t expected a white (expat) person to be in this car. “I just want money for lunch!” she said with a big smile, while looking down at the ground.  I am thinking: NOOOOOOOOOOO, I have lived in Africa for more than 4 years and have never given a bribe.  How do I get out of this one, and with my sleeping child in the back?

So after a three second pause, I replied, “But I can’t give you that.”

And then she replied: “OK.”

I asked her, “What?

“Just go,” she said still smiling.  I put the car in drive and slowly spun off.

KW