Live and die by umeme

Umeme:  Swahili word meaning “electricity”

Power outages are a near daily occurrence in Dar es Salaam.  It's always a strange feeling when you're watching TV in your air conditioned room and suddenly things become very quiet as everything powers off and it becomes stifling hot very quickly.  There are three options that you can take when this occurs:

1. Wait it out while sweating like you're in a sauna.  Try to remain calm and not let the heat+humidity combo get to you
2. If you're wealthy enough to afford your own generator, hope that it has enough juice to kick in.   The hum of electricity has never sounded so sweet
3. Escape to a place with good air conditioning and an even better generator – like a hotel

During one of our many umeme outages, we decided to take refuge at the uber fancy Kilimanjaro Hotel in Dar es Salaam where I ordered a bottle of Bitter Lemon.  It's a soda similar to Sprite, but less sweet and not at all bitter as its name would indicate.

It's interesting that in this city of nearly 3 million people, power outages are still a near daily occurrence.  It's like being in a time capsule from the 1970s.

Roadside shopping

Sitting in traffic sucks. And there's a lot of sucky traffic that you have to sit through in Dar es Salaam thanks to the explosion in the number of motor vehicles including the bajaji (three wheeled taxis) and the biki biki (motorcycle). Combine this with the near complete absence of traffic lights, road rules and aggressive drivers and it's a recipe for total gridlock. But whenever there's a traffic jam, you will always find guys walking between cars acting almost like a walking shopping center. In LA, you have Mexicans selling fruit, but these guys take it to a whole new level. 


Some random items I've seen for sale are fairly predictable like newspapers and magazines, cold drinks, fruits and snacks. They also sell a wide variety of household items like dusters, car chargers, cleaning supplies and some really random items like sunglasses, phone cards, childrens books... basically anything that can be carried by hand will be sold to cars waiting in traffic.


A few times, I've seen guys wearing chef hats selling aprons that I always find amusing.

Here's a bajaji in case you're curious.

African church

Pre-Wataturu blogpost 2 from Dar es Salaam, the capitol of Tanzania

Sunday service at Calvary Mission Church in Dar es Salaam

It was feverish. Dancing, singing, sweaty bodies, a frantic yet welcoming energy. No, this is not the latest bumpin nightclub in Hollywood, this is church! I think this was the most fun I had at church in a long time (no offense PCC ;) ) Africans have a natural gift and tendency for music and dancing and instead of whooping to cheer for something, the women quickly tap their tongues against the roofs of their mouths to create a unique howl. I've been to my mom's church in Dar es Salaam many times during my numerous visits growing up, but I don't think I truly appreciated the unique character of the African church until this visit. While the doctrine is still firmly rooted in the gospel, there's this elevated sense of life and energy and desire to connect with God on both a spiritual and physical level.

Maybe I should visit an African American church when I get back to LA :)

What is white?

Pre-Wataturu blogpost 1 from Dar es Salaam, the capitol of Tanzania

Kariakoo, downtown Dar es Salaam around 1pm on Friday

Mzungu: swahili word meaning “white person”

I never considered myself white. Asian American, Korean, or maybe even “chee-nah” or “jah-pahn” depending on what the men on the streets blurt at me at the countries I've visited. To me, white always meant Caucasian people with large eyes, pale skin, and fair hair. But in Tanzania, where the sea of black faces stretch far and wide, even someone of yellow skin like me is considered mzungu. Mzungu appears to represent many things to Tanzanians: financial prosperity and opportunities, physical beauty, cultural oppression, and sometimes, exploitation. It's an interesting feeling to be lumped into the same category as people of European descent. Color, like many other things, is so relative.