Coming Back…

Coming back to the Northern Hemisphere after living somewhere more human friendly is always interesting

First I had to face the Climate and completely ignore everyone’s cheerful: “But it’s only blablabla not very cold as it was blablabla…” Try telling my poor body that! The first three days I didn’t even tried going outside and was very thankful for a well filled fridge and freezer. Someone nicely said: “But come on, it’s at least +20 degrees indoor, you cannot be serious in all those clothes” Well yes I most certainly was. Nothing wrong with wearing double trousers, triple fleece and woollen socks, nothing wrong at all. And of course with my double duvets Maybe it would have been easier and not horribly cold if I gained those 20 kilos and had a nice thick layer of fat keeping me somewhat warm 8)

After two days I decided I needed a shower and happily entered my bathroom. I just completely forgot that there is something called running water, water pressure and hot water. I jerked and got scared when opening the tap and gosh, not only was there water, it became hot and were running massively! Laughing at myself I sat down on the floor and turned down the pressure as much as possible and felt safe. Seriously it only took a few minutes to get completely clean, amazing!

And still when I hear something rattle and rummage near my bed I just call out loud: “Ok Arnold, I don’t care anymore, but please leave my soap alone”… and when this animal suddenly were up in my face I freaked and yelled: “Grow up Arnold and leave me alone!” Only to face a very annoyed fluffy cat coming for a cuddle feeling most unappreciated and insulted by being called rat. Oh, that’s right there are no rats because I have cats… Oh, right, I’m in the isolated houses of Sweden in a modern over civilized society, we don’t have rats in the towns

When I at last gained courage enough to go outside I was almost run over by three cars in less than half an hour. Where do all cars come from? I stared at the traffic and people stared at me probably thinking I was an alien. I feel like one… Only recognisable thing is the slippery ice only difference it is ice and not mud from days and days of rain

I can’t believe I actually miss Arnold, but please don’t tell him, he will just get stroppy and tell all his friends

Same Same But Different?

How come we as humans almost always see differences rather than similarities? That it seems easier to see and focus on the other and different? That we tend to use the word “rather” than the words “too” or “same”?

Only when you compare you can say there are different conditions for life and development. Life is unfair wherever you are, no matter time or place. There is hopelessness and meaninglessness wherever we are. And there are happiness and blessing too wherever we are.

Depending on the context we have an approach and attitude to our lives and reality. We ask the same questions. It’s not different from anything else. First when we start comparing it becomes just that. Different and the other.

How can we compare development and societies, communities, countries or continents? What good does it bring? We all have development and progress, we all have an approach and attitude to our reality and lives. Why does it have to look the same? Who says what the right way is? And who says that my context of origin is the only one and right?

Yes I have spent some time in Tandala and yes, it might be something that not everybody does, have opportunity, interest or wish to do. But it’s nothing different from living a life where you are, wherever that is. It’s just life somewhere else.

I ate food, went to work, spent time with friends, did my exercise (well at least up to the point before realising I’d lost too much weight), cleaned my house, did my laundry… I was laughing, I was crying, I was singing and dancing, I thought about my life and wrote my diary. Just like I do back in Sweden.

Life in Tandala is no different from life in Sweden really. Sure the excitement of the news is fun, but by the end of the day it is truly the daily life, the everyday moments that is life and where the real joy, charm, fascination and thrill is. Kweli!

What is so scary in being present and experience life when it’s here and now? Why is it so important to focus on the other and differences instead of staying present and see the similarities, what brings us all together?

I cannot tell you how to live your life or which way of living it is the best. I can only take responsibility for myself. And it’s my responsibility to find peace, love, joy and contempt wherever I am when I am in it.

Home is within me. Where are you?

Kikwete The Man

I came to the remote nothingness, the village by the end of the world and by the gates of heaven, just in time for the upcoming election.

Since the election was the only topic for quite some time you may expect a huge interest in politics. Everyone was seriously involved in the different parties, the candidates for president and also very nostalgic about their first leader in freedom, Julius Nyrere. In all media possible there were debates and updates and information and I was also dragged into this most fantastic commitment

But I soon learnt that even though there is a big interest and knowledge about politics it wasn’t the normal issues that were intensely discussed, such as education, healthcare and other classic election stuff. Not even the infrastructure was a topic of concern even though there is a lot to say about Tanroads and their cooperation with both Chinese and Danish companies. And of course the road standard of the Danish tarmac roads is so much better than the Chinese Not even the question of corruption, which apparently was in Swedish debate, was on the agenda.

No there was only one thing everyone talked about and I literarily mean everyone and that was the former and also re-elected president, Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete. And it had nothing to do with his politics or competence as president, no it was all about his looks 8)

And what surprised me the most was that everyone was very much agreed on the fact the Kikwete is not only the man but THE man. It didn’t matter if you spoke to women or men or children no matter what age they were, they all said the same thing: Kikwete is the most handsome man you can get.

It wasn’t just for the obvious fact he is a man of power and money, no he is The Man, handsome and attractive and even my supervisor reverent Phone agreed that this is a man to get your hands on. And of course they asked me of my opinion and were appalled when I declared that I couldn’t find anything especially handsome or attractive with that man at all. Because I can’t! And they just couldn’t believe I don’t find him handsome or attractive…

The women were very curios and challenged me in telling then who I find good looking if I was strange enough not to appreciate Kikwete. And I thought and thought and thought and came up with one of the Daudis from the diaconical centre, because I think he’s good looking. And they stared and started laughing and said: “you just say that because he shaves his head”

Thankfully I think he’s still very much unaware I called him handsome, because shortly after that he was the one who named me Twiga

 Is Kikwete The Man or not?! See for yourselves

You Men…

If the women were disappointingly unfluffy in general the men were as short and half fluffy as you can imagine. I don’t know how the genetics went this way but it did.

In my imaginary world of prejudice I thought that there would be tall, slim, athletic and of course barefoot  men all over the country since it is the home base of the Masai, but maybe living in between Livingstone and Kipengere mountains just pressed the DNA a bit and made them they way they are 8) It is just amazing how small they are!

Actually Yona might be the exception confirming the rule, he is both tall and I’ve seen him barefoot more than once. Maybe because it’s easier to slid around chasing kuku’s on the loose in rain and slippery mud, but still…

And soon I discovered that they have a marvellous way of compensating their size with laughter. I guess size doesn’t matter after all

I don’t think I saw any sad or serious or plain faces there! And they are kind of irresistible with their bright big smiles and laughter making you forget the fact that you are mostly a head taller than them Especially when they happily can call you from miles distance when they spot you only to greet you for the fifth or sixth time this day and then just serve you that completely liberating laughter.

And hearing them giggling like teenage girls…. how can you but completely fall?! Not even with your biggest effort to try being grumpy, sad or frustrated and feel sorry for yourself works when facing any of them. They just spoil everything

But what fascinated me most was their extremely brilliant way of ignoring all fashion and dress codes possibly invented in the strange western world, just as they completely ignore the idea of female beauty as skinny and slim. So if actually managing to catch them in the middle of something of importance with a somewhat serious face, having a look at their way they dressed made the trick

Nowhere else can you see flowers combined with squares and dots in an impossible colour combination and admit it’s actually not too bad after all Add to that the giggling and laughter and there are no troubles whatsoever to try holding on to!

 

Asante sana kwa mmenipa kucheka siku zote!

You Gorgeous Woman

I think we all were a bit disappointed when it turned out that my sweet lovely maid Mesia was as far from fluffy, chubby and barefoot you can get. But still she’s a master in cooking and baking and for sure is great company Overall women were disappointingly slim or at least not very fluffy…

You also know by know that being fat and big is beauty in Tanzania and that I never ever will get compliments for my giant over nourished body shape I wonder if snorting, inhaling or shooting peanut butter would help at least a bit?

Anyway there are big gorgeous women and one of my absolute favourite ladies is Benita. Benita is not only a worker at diaconical centre she is also a jolly member of my choir and a mama, of course! And I guess I share my admiration for her with all local men still luckily unaware of western anorectic influences, still believing a big fat woman is someone to trust 8)

Benita is a lovely woman always smiling and laughing and very shortly after my arrival in Tandala we developed our own greeting ritual, as I have with like the whole village by now…

Normally you start gently with the Kikinga greeting: ”Mapembero” followed by the “Mapembero vavene” and then move on to the Swahili greetings of morning and how everything is from yourself to your house, the colony’s farm and everything else, which can take some time before you can move on to whatever you really want to share. But here you have nothing else but time so it doesn’t really matter

But Benita and I skipped the Swahili part and instead I roared with warmth and laughter: “Benita, you gorgeous woman!” with the stress on gorgeous. And Benita always answered with a big happy smile and hugged me. And I tell you that is a hug both worth dying for and dying of!

Being hugged by this absolute gorgeous woman is the best comfort you can have, because sandwiched in her bosom makes everything disappear besides some wisps of your hair It would make a perfect cartoon strip! Just picturing me completely surrounded by the body of Benita with only some blond wisps visible blowing in the morning breeze… And for sure picturing Benita with blond bosom hair is an even better cartoon strip And it also makes you fully aware exactly where your ribs and rest of your anatomy is. Gosh I had no idea you could get bruised of caring

Benita you gorgeous woman, ninakukumbuka sana!