I thought it was about time to give an update and a few photos of my new town.  My first two weeks living in Ifakara were, to be honest, a little frustrating.  It can be difficult for an American to get used to the pace of life here in Tanzania.  We are used to things happening quickly and efficiently.  We WANT things to happen quickly and efficiently.   But life simply moves at a slower pace here and efficiency is not really a cultural value; it is something that nearly every expat I know struggles with.  Many aspects of this slower-paced reality are wonderful.  People really take the time to greet one another.  The workday is shorter than what many of us are used to (I’m speaking of course about office-type jobs; there are many Tanzanians who work very hard and long hours in factories or agriculture for example).  You don’t feel you have to check your email on a near constant basis in case you miss something important.  Families eat all meals together.

Road to the hospital lined with shops

But there are frustrations as well.  Customer service in stores doesn’t really exist in the way we think of it and it’s not uncommon for a quick five minute copy job to take over thirty minutes because the shopkeeper is stopping every few minutes to take a phone call, run next door, or talk to their friend who just came in.  Waiting in line is a pretty fluid concept so just because you’re next, doesn’t mean you will be helped next or that you won’t be pushed aside by a newcomer.  For those of us used to instant communication, the lack of anything resembling it can be frustrating and I often find myself showing up on an appointed day to pick up/drop off something, only to be told that the person isn’t there after all or the item isn’t ready and to come back next week.  And perhaps most of all, nothing seems to every get done unless you are at the place itself in person.

So despite over a year of trying to figure out my housing situation in Ifakara, I of course arrived two weeks ago only to be told that they had no housing arranged for me and furthermore, there would be no housing available my entire trip.  I had originally been told to go immediately to the campus-owned guest house only to show up and find it full.  Hence my shower-less guest house way out on the edge of town.  Then the person in charge of hospital housing suggested I just stay at that guest house the entire six months I was here.  Given that it is quite far from the hospital, has no kitchen or fridge or way to cook at all (though it does have a restaurant which, despite a full two page menu, only served two meals), no shower, and is one of the loudest places I have ever stayed in my life, this was not a possibility.  In spite of all of the workers there who were very sweet and nice to me and decided that I should be their new best friend/ticket to an American green card.

The main road in town (and the only paved one)

So with a little further pushing, I found myself back speaking to the Principal of the medical school here, who was my original contact at the field site and a friend of my professor back home.  He has been really welcoming and supportive, and fortunately found a room for me in a house currently occupied by one of the medical school instructors.  The person who had my room just left to study in Japan, and the instructor was currently on maternity leave so the house was empty.  After a few more days of phone calls, I was finally able to get in to see the house on Thursday of this week and it looked great.  Near the hospital, with a kitchen, and three bedrooms, one of which looked like it was currently used for storage.  It definitely exceeded my expectations, so I was thrilled.  The person who showed me the house told me that the medical instructor would be coming back with her infant daughter in a few weeks, but in the meantime, I could move in and get settled.

Therefore yesterday, Friday, was moving day for me.  I called Mpundo, my taxi driver, to come pick up me and my bags and we drove over.  I then spent most of the day making various trips back and forth to town to procure things for the house.  Although there was living room furniture, my room was empty other than a bed and desk and the kitchen was pretty sparsely stocked.  With no idea where to buy things like bedding, dishes, a washtub, etc., I wrote myself out a list in English and then used my Swahili dictionary to write the correct word next to it.

The road to my house

And this brings me to one of the things I love about Tanzanians.  They are incredibly welcoming and helpful as a group.  More than once I have found myself helped out of a sticky situation by a Tanzanian who saw me struggling and took me under their wing.  So as I walked down the main street in town peeking into little maduka to see what I could find, I had an ulterior motive.  I planned to buy something at the first shop I found with something I needed, and then to use my limited Swahili to see if the shopkeeper could point me in the right direction to obtain the rest of my goods, perhaps even convince them to draw me a little map.  About a third of the way down the main road, I spotted an iron in a glass case of a shop.  Given my intense obsession with avoiding mango flies and the role of irons in defeating them, I figured this would be a good place to start.  I walked in and behind the counter were a young man and a middle-aged woman.  I pointed to the iron and inquired as to its cost.  It was reasonable, worked when they plugged it in, and was only covered with a thin layer of dirt, and so I said I would like to buy it.  Then I brought out my list and made my request.

Me taking pictures of roads in town

It went better than I could have hoped.  At first, the young man tried to tell me where to go, but the directions were too complicated for me to understand.  He called over to the woman, and showed her the list.  She then started gesturing and I was able to roughly follow what she meant.  Trying to clarify, I repeated back my understanding of her directions.  She nodded along, but then after pausing and looking at me (and my obvious new-ness to town), she told the boy to watch the shop and taking my arm, pulled me out to the street.  All I can say is bless her, because she spent the next half an hour walking me all over the market and into various shops, helping me with shopkeepers to be sure I got a decent price, and made sure I got nearly everything on my list.  She then helped me carry it all back to her shop and let me leave it there while I made multiple trips back and forth to my house to get it all home.  On my last trip, I bought a few more things from her shop that I didn’t really need and then went next store to buy a couple of cold juices for her and the young man as a thank you.  They laughed and thanked me, welcoming back with a “Karibu tena!”

Most of this weekend has been spent unpacking, doing laundry, and getting myself set up.  I hope to spend more time exploring my new home in the coming week and getting started at the hospital with my study.  In the meantime, here are a few pictures of the outside and inside of my new house, which is actually one unit in a triplex-type building.  You can see the back yard, porch, hallway, bathroom (yes, it’s a “squatty potty”), living room, kitchen, and the extremely messy unpacked bedroom.  Just to give you an idea of where I am living!