The Studio

When you're in Africa, there are times when things are just so surreal, you have to do a double take, pinch yourself, and ask, is this really happening? And usually the answer is yes, it's really happening because indeed, you're in Africa.

On a recent trip to the shamba (rural cotton areas of TZ), I had a few of these moments. The week prior to the trip, I had sent several emails to folks trying to arrange for transport from Mwanza to Bariadi, Shinyanga, and Kahama. I was passed around to a few different people on our program team, and finally spoke to someone whose organization had an available vehicle, but it needed servicing. i asked for the vehicle to be serviced prior to my arrival because I needed the vehicle pretty much immediately after landing in Mwanza.

Of course, when I arrived in Mwanza, the vehicle was not yet serviced nor was there a driver lined up. I didn't get upset because I've been in Africa long enough to expect these things, but I was fairly concerned because my training schedule was severely in jeopardy as I had scheduled everything quite tightly. I was told the vehicle could be serviced in a couple hours, but knowing how car servicing goes, especially in Africa, I knew this could take the rest of the day. I asked for the car to be taken in immediately, but also began making phone calls to try to arrange for an alternative solution. Little did I realize that with each phone call I was making, I was in essence invoking a phone tree - except that the cotton network is not so large, so the phone tree was a bit circular. Soon, everyone I was calling was receiving multiple phone calls about my transportation problems, and information was flowing faster than I could coordinate. Before I knew it, I had two viable transportation options, and the vehicle that needed servicing had finished sooner than expected and I had a driver. Cool.

when we arrived in Bariadi, a small town not connected to any tarmac roads, it was already dusk. We had only narrowly missed having to be on the roads at night time. We pulled up to the one hotel I had stayed in previously and went to see if they had rooms. I hadn't made reservations because last time I was there, we didn't have reservations and it was extremely easy to get 3 rooms. Plus Bariadi is a small sleepy town - or so I thought. Turns out the hotel was full, but one of the employees there offered to ride with us to show us to a different hotel that might have vacancy. The second hotel was also full, but we picked up someone who could show us to another that might have availability. We repeated this scene at least six more times, and soon we were a large expedition party in search of lodging. It was comical. All the while I'm texting with my contacts back in Mwanza to ask for additional recommendations and jokingly mentioning that I might be sleeping in the car. This really sets the ball in motion, as my contacts in Mwanza are now reaching out to their contacts in Bariadi. Our poor driver was zooming back and forth across town, following leads received via phone or via random "guides" whom we had picked up. We turn up at a pretty local establishment which had plenty of rooms available, for 10,000 tsh ($7) each. My colleague was a bit hesitant about whether I would be comfortable there, but I'm not that high maintenance. I could deal with the fact that there was no a/c or running water. We were only staying one night after all. There was a mosquito net, a fan, electricity, and a bucket of hot water could be brought for me to shower. The door had 6 different latch locks, so it seemed safe, albeit not all that comforting. we said we would take 3 rooms because they seemed like better options than sleeping in the car, but we would first go have dinner and meet up with one of the TCB cotton inspectors in charge of Bariadi who was instructed by his boss in Mwanza to find us lodging.

When we met up with the Bariadi cotton inspector, he informed us that he had arranged rooms for us at a nice hotel, but wouldn't tell us which one. We kept asking for the name of the hotel because we had gone to ALL of the nice ones. The cotton inspector directed us to a lot that was pitch dark with no signage, and where the guard would not let us in until someone could come vouch for us. I kept asking if this was really a hotel because it looked more like a private residence. When our contact finally arrived to vouch for us and "secure our interest", we were permitted to enter. Only then did I learn that we had arrived at a hotel that was not yet open and that was under the final stages of construction. Ha. This was where we would spend the evening, partially because the rooms were clean, the property secure, the air conditioner brand new, but also because it would be rude to turn down the arrangements since we had utilized many different relationships to get access to the property. I still didn't have running water that evening, and the tub of water that was brought to my room was cold and there was no ladle or cup to use for a bucket shower, so I had to make do with some quick rinsing instead of a proper shower. We ended up paying 20,000 tsh per room that night. Who can say which hotel was the better deal - at least we didn't have to sleep in the car.

Other shocking things witnessed on this trip:

• A big cotton truck laden with a full load of cotton plus 30 passengers sitting on top of the cotton, being pushed by 6 people. Dangerous and illogical.
• Another big cotton transporter, probably also over loaded, on its side, cotton spilling everywhere.
  
  
  
  
  
• A different cotton transporter not 10 meters down the road that had lost 10 bags of cotton off the back.
• Shinyanga town with multiple diamond companies lining the main street. Apparently Tanzania has diamonds, and virtually all of it comes from Shinyanga.

Next topic up for discussion: What makes some uninvited interactions creepy and unwelcomed and others a surprising delight? More details and examples to come...