I hesitate to write anything negative about Tanzania because I love it so much. Kind of like a child. You know, where you love it so much no matter how badly she behaves. Where you can say things about your own kid but if anyone else were to dare you would tell them off. You want to brag about her and her accomplishments. But there she is misbehaving right in front of you. There’s no denying she’s being a little brat.
Well, for me this stands out most of all once it gets dark. The first two weeks that I was here I was completely oblivious to the issue. I felt safe and comfortable from day one. That is until one night I was walking with a group of 8 people and one of the girls I was with got grabbed by a moving car and dragged in an attempt to steal her purse. She was then dropped on the ground and was knocked out for a few minutes (in the end she was fine, suffered a few scrapes and bruises).
This incident put a great deal of fear in me. All the negative stories of people being mugged came out of the woodwork. Why hadn’t I heard about this? So I wouldn’t run the other way the minute I got off the plane I guess. Now I have heard so many bad stories I tell people I don't want to hear as they begin their diatribe. How does it serve me? I get it, it's dangerous at night. Enough said, I am being careful.
So now I have heard so many stories of people being mugged (and worse) while walking or even by their taxi drivers. For a while I had no idea how to operate once the sun went down. I was told don’t carry a purse or bag of any kind (Crap! All my skinny jeans have fake pockets). I was suspicious of every taxi and bajaj (like a tuktuk) driver and taking phone numbers obsessively of those who seemed like they didn’t have ill intent (like I can determine this based on a 2 minute conversation in my broken Swahili anyway. What am I, an intuitive genius). For a few days I didn’t leave my home.
Now, it’s a few weeks later and I am feeling more comfortable. I am extremely cautious but realize that although I may be bordering on the poverty line back home, here I am rich and that makes me a target! The fact that there is so much poverty in a city that is becoming increasingly expensive makes it understandable that crime is on the rise as well. (This is a big issue that is way beyond my expertise-I don't have an expertise- but I hope some smarty pants gets on it). So now I know some rules of the road here in Dar at night and am navigating how I can go get some dinner without being utterly terrified (now I am just mildly terrified).
In the day, on the other hand, this is when sweet Tanzania is behaving and I am proud. Certainly I don’t go around flashing money, and I watch where I walk (mainly because traffic is INSANE here-I play frogger daily). People are kind and friendly the majority of the time and the most common word you will hear is Karibu (Welcome). The worst thing I’ve seen in the day is that I am stared at. (Which I think everyone should have a chance to experience since it is almost guaranteed that you have been on the giving end of a stare at some point in your life) People aren’t subtle either. There is no such thing as a glance to get a look at me. No, here, people will just stare at you for as long as they want. What I like to do is give them a slow smile then greet them in Swahili. 99% of the time you will see a big smile grow on their face and then they will engage in a short exchange of pleasantries. The next time you see them they will say hello like you are old friends.
I love it.
So here, the difference between night and day is palpable. Unfortunately, the days here near the equator are short, but each day I am grateful for that day and every evening I have something to look forward to, tomorrow.
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