How the other half lives

How the other half lives

10/22/09

Over the past few weeks I’ve had a chance to see up close and personal how the other half of the world lives. Ibrahim is a friend from Dar es Salaam who has made it his personal mission to show me the true Tanzanian life and people. So far our excursions have included visits to neighborhoods like Mianzini and Kaloleni, true local restaurants for chips, kuku and football games, a small music production studio, and even a Muslim funeral. I get the distinct feeling that its as much of a trip for me as it is for the people I’ve met. Not many foreigners venture to these places-evident by the surprised look on people’s faces when I enter.

It was quite interesting to participate in the funeral ceremony. The mourning/funeral period for this family was about 5 days long. The deceased was a good friend of Ibrahim’s and young wife and mother. She had been ill for awhile and finally succumbed. She left behind a 3month old baby girl, such sad story. Many people in the community came by the house the women to pay their condolences and offerings of sugar, tea, or money. As in traditional Islamic fashion, the women stay in one room, the men come in to say hello, but then congregate in a separate room or area. I greeted the women of the group and stayed with them while my friends went to stay with the men. Unfortunately, due to my lack of language abilities I couldn’t say much to the women and thus sat quietly trying to pick up on the conversations. I was invited to stay with the family for the next day’s ceremony. It was the last day of the mourning period and the sheik would be at the house to conduct the prayers. It was an opportunity that I couldn’t pass up for two reasons-I’m not sure when I will have such an opportunity again, and I couldn’t be so rude as to refuse a personal invitation from the family. In the morning I sat quietly with the women again in the living room and was served chai tea and mandazi-fried sweet bread, much like a donut hole. They give you a heaping plate of mandazi, the other women finished their plates, but I could only eat so many donut holes. The tea was amazing! The word for tea is chai, so I was surprised that the chai served was actually what I would consider chai-Indian style chai.

After breakfast I hung out with my friend and the husband until about noon when the sheik arrived. Since I was in a tshirt and jeans, the husband borrowed Kanga (the African fabric that every woman wears) from his mother. Ibrahim and Mohammed wrapped me in the kanga and even wrapped my head properly. If there was anything I learned its that no fair skin woman can look good wrapped up like a muslim woman. I was invited out into the living room where the ceremony had begun, but had to sit off in an adjoining room since women and men don’t participate jointly in Islamic traditions. While I couldn’t understand everything, I could get the jist of the process. The sheik led the men in prayer often doing a ‘call and response’ type and then invited the people present to call out the names of deceased family members to offer respect and remembrance. After awhile I was led back to another part of the house-I think due to additional ceremonial things during which women can’t be present-but not sure.



Apparently as my friend led me away, the sheik has joking offered to convert me and then perform a marriage ceremony when he was done with the funeral ceremony. (At least I think he was joking…) In the more traditional areas women are not often friends with men. Either they are married or looking to marry. Many of my friends here are more progressive, but when you enter into some of the neighborhoods with an African male, the first question you are asked is if he is your husband-to-be. A follow up question is often how many kids do you have. One woman was shocked that at 26 I had no kids. ‘Not even one?!’ she demanded. After I convinced her that I had none, she asked if I could help her find a husband-a white husband. So for all you single (white) men out there, there’s a lovely, independent woman with 5 children who runs her own shop who is looking for love.
Bdai