The ramblings of a lunatic mind

De prime abord, (First, and foremost), I am obliged to demanti, debunk, a particular rumour running through the grapevine: according to a few people, (you know who you are). Two (2) days after my departure, the residents of Glen Ridge (NJ) threw the biggest party celebration in town history,...se fout manti, lies/unfounded rumours; YES, there was a block party in GR the following Saturday, but it had nothing to do with MOI traveling to Tanzania, said party was planned weeks, if not months ago. What can I say: Aux absents les os, (The bones to the absent).

Friday, 9 April, 2010 (21: 15) TZ time.- Un long voyage.-

KLM Airlines, Boeing 787 landed smoothly on the tarmac of Kilimanjaro International Airport, I was the very first one to make a beeline for the airplane exit, between airport lounges, and airplanes, I have just spent over 24 hours indoors; if I remember well, we did leave New Jersey the day before ( 8 April), jet lagged, groggy, chifonnen,(wrinkled), and all, I slowly walked toward the airport gates, noticeable, and noticed: a welcoming delegation of distinguished gents, I, of course, gathered that they were awaiting for MOI, but to my great chagrin, the welcoming delegation was awaiting for the Queen of Holland or was it the Queen of Thailand?

My personal welcoming delegation: a sea of giant bugs, each the size of a Volkswagen, my bald head must have been a friendly tarmac, because about a dozen of them landed safely on my tèt kokolo (bald head). Immigration was a breeze, except for an overzealous Immigration Officer who inquired about that particularly bright yellow shopping bag, Mr Officer just could not believe that we ONLY bought chocolate in Amsterdam; what family makes a 4 hour stop in Amsterdam (Europe), and just buys chocolate? The Noziers.

The drive from the airport was uneventful, and long, hence, I had enough time to inquire about the genius who designed, and built an International Airport 150 miles away from the nearest town! Must be the same genius who thought of putting road bumps every 40 feet, on a so called highway.

After about a 90 minutes drive, on "Bumpy Interboro Parkway", and surviving the stunts of a chauffeur, with obvious ambitions of joining the Nascar circuit, we finally made it safe and sound, to the place, where we hope, will be our new home for the next 2 or 3 years. I need to mention a delicious pwason gwo sel , bienvenue/welcome dinner, cooked by a Ayitian expatriate, before you even ask: pre-9 April , 2010, the entire Ayitian community in Arusha consisted of just two (2) natif natal, the Ayitian population, has of course doubled, post-9 April, 2010.Do not really remember much from that first night, I tried vainly to go zzzzzz, somnanbulated for a few hours.

p.s.- Does the verb somnanbulate exist?

Saturday, 10 April, 2010.- They came, they saw, and some conquered.-

Before I begin, let me say that the Noziers didn't hit the US Lotto, and escaped to Afrika, do remember that Tanzania is a 3rd world country, "à la Haiti" circa the 70's, $20 USD can, and will go a long way.

7:00 am: Overheard loud voices coming from the front yard, a quick look out the bedroom window, revealed a disturbing image, about a dozen people standing, walking, chatting by the entry gate, in my book, this is a crowd, and qui dit crowd, dit coup d'état, instinctively reached for my AK 47, dang! left it in the States, so with the bravery of Capois- la- Mort, I descended the stairs, and opened the door, I was first approached by:

Mr David Bossa.- "Big Boss Bossa".-

Mr Bossa, a rather pleasant chap, who looked 50, but claimed to be only 32 years old, introduced himself as a man of vast responsibilities, a bwana, gwo zotobre, (big shot), the one, and only Property Manager in Arusha, it only took me a NY minute to flag Mr Bossa as a "koutye", and Rent Collector, in plain English: we will see this negro every first of the month. Short, stocky if not pudgy, obviously educated overseas, he speaks the King's English with a slightly tainted East-African accent, he does have a future as a koutye, but his bull lacks some sh**, therefore, I have decided to be his mentor, for the next 6 months. One dilemma tho, to our great chagrin, we have discovered that Mr Bossa suffers from the Jehovah Witness Syndrome, it is common, if not normal, for Mr Bossa to pay us a cordial/friendly visit Sunday morning (7:30 am, the latest).

Mr Joas Giavarelli.- "Old Jo".-

Refusal Collector extraordinaire, Mr Joas Giavarelli, pitched an offer that no one could have refused, for the sensible price of 20 000 T Shillings a month ($14 US dollars), he will collect the refusals six (6) days a week, and he came prepared: contracts & letters of recommendation from countless business owners in town, it only took me a Brooklyn minute to realise that Mr Joas was the garbage man, had to wonder about his garbage truck, he reassured MOI, that he has been collecting "refusals" on his bicycle (20 years, and counting), and he has never missed one (1) day, never skipped one (1) house, or forgotten one (1) refusal bag, in fact more than forty (40) years ago, his father used to collect "refusals" on a donkey; his deceased father must be so proud of the "modern & model son". This is the classic:Si le fils ne dépasse pas le père, c'est qu 'il n'y a pas de progrès , btw, I know what you're thinking, Giavarelli sounds Italian, but Mr Joas swore on his father's grave, that he is 100 % black Tanzanian, and who am I to argue with a man about his bloodline?　

Mr William Taboka.- "Shifty eyes Will".-

Licensed, & certified gardener Mr Taboka, claimed to be the home's owner relative, in perfect English, he informed me, that he doesn't speak nor understand English, (ok) so Mr Bossa had to resign from his functions as Property Manager, and was promptly sworn in as the translator, in my humble opinion, Mr Taboka speaks English as well as Mr Bossa, simply because, I somehow spotted a sparkle in his eyes, whenever I mentioned US $ dollars, or T Shillings, he was hired in a Bronx minute, by Property Manager/Translator, (David Bossa), his responsibilities: in charge of the lakou (front/back/ side yard), and the lifting of any heavy objects; left me scratching my head, come to think of it, last nite, I did carry seventeen (17)  if not twenty (20) pieces of travel bags, up 1 flight of stairs, where was Mr Taboka when I needed him?

Security Group.- "Security tight, all the time"

Evance, and Nevance, two (2) enterprising young men from Security Group, the ultimate security company in town, paid a visit. I had to wonder, why do we need 24/7 security, isn't Tanzania, especially Arusha safe? they assured MOI that Arusha is as safe as paradise, Mr Nevance flattered my non-existent ego, and ventured: Such an important man like you Mr Nozier, lovely family and all, why do you want to be the one, and only family in the neighbourhood, without 24/7 security? Think of the neighbours? well, I replied: So far, in my life, I've never tried to keep up with the neighbours, in fact, I have always been known as a "Rebel without a Cause", Evance jumped in, and said: Sir, you are breaking my heart, I was obliged to excuse my faux pas, after all, who the hell do I think I am, to even think of crushing this young man's heart? besides I said to myself: less than 24 hours in Arusha, the Noziers certainly don't want to be accused of the abominable crime of dragging this exquisite area into ghettoville... somehow managed to wiggle out of this challenging meeting, promised Mr Nevance & Mr Evance, that if ever we reach a decision, Security Group Co., will be the first, and only Security Company on our list, hope and pray, that they understood, my delicate position, we have only been in town less than 24 hours, we somehow need to catch our collective breath, Mr Evance, the supposedly shy one, uttered in a quiet voice: No worries Mr Nozier, as a matter of the fact, our security guards have been posted at your front gate since last nite..."

Ms. Sia Wikie.- Manicured, and pedicured (MP2)

One (1) week before our arrival, Ms Wikie, was recommended, and hired, by a Tanzanian friend, for the important position of nanny, Ms Sia (I call her Yaya) speaks in a squeaky, ten (10) year old girl timbre, she does have the tendency to cook often (6 times a day), but since my kids are born gourmand, they simply adore her. It is imperative to mention, that Ms Wikie is petrified of sea foods (especially fish, and crabs). In her thirty-two (32) years, breathing, and living on this planet (Earth), she has never seen, touched or eaten crabs & fish; shrimps, lobsters, and oysters, are amazing creatures of legends, mythical beasts. I should mention that she does the laundry three (3) times a day, just because she has just discovered the joy of the electric washing machine. On her days off, Ms Sia, visits the spa (massage, mani and pedi).

Addendum.- On April 19th, 2010, the non speaking English gardener, was asked by Mr Bossa, to remove himself from 181 Weseko Street,  he was escorted manu military thru the gates, reason for the dismissal: being picky picky (a thief), at least that was the story from Mr Bossa, since nothing was reportedly missing from the house, I accused Mr Bossa of flexing his non existent muscles, didn't question his decisions further, after all: L'empire c'est la paix (The empire means peace);  Five (5) minutes after Mr Taboka's firing, Big Boss Bossa, hired Miss Veronique; how can I describe Mr William's replacement, besides that "baby got back" (big butt/gwo dada), and she has a tendency of exposing her derrière to the sun, unlike her predecessor, Miss Vero is not a licensed and certified gardener, and one can safely ass-ume, that in her life time, her ass-ets, have earned her many accolades and favours.

Furnishing the "furnished house".-

It turned out that our advertised furnished house, didn't come with much, besides two (2) vinyl sofas, six

 (6 )chairs, one (1)  clopi clopant table, four (4) mattresses, and an old tv. Saturday afternoon, after the countless matinal meetings with all the solicitors, koutye, and job hunters, mentioned above, we ventured into downtown Arusha, to acquire the basics (cutleries, food, light bulbs, ect) I quickly discovered that driving a car, in Arusha, is not for the kokobe, the depressed, the anemics, the kapon, or anybody who may suffer from any heart conditions; Very revealing tidbit, from a Tanzanian native friend: the automobile made its debut in Arusha just twenty (20) years ago, I wisely deducted from the aforementioned historical fact, that local pedestrians still haven't grasped the simple concept of crossing the streets, and I've reached the factual/scientific conclusion that, the dala dala drivers (local tap- tap/ mini van) are all drunk, blind crackheads, and escapees from mental institutions.

Our town, Arusha, (TZ) (The boondocks) .- In 100 words or less.-

Besides of the danger of driving a car, and the risk of being hit by a pedestrian, Arusha is a small town of less than 1 million inhabitants, surrounded by 2 majestic, and sublime mountains, (Mount Kilimanjaro, and Mount Meru), a 6 hours drive from the capital ( Dar Es Salaam, it does rain daily, le soleil fait sa révérence around mid day, the greenery (verdure ) is breathtaking, and everywhere, from the top of the mountains to the valleys, roads are 50 % paved, the government strictly supervises the cutting of trees for chabon (charcoal), everybody owns an electric or gas cooker, and to my great surprise, literacy is above 90 % amongst Tanzanians!

Downtown Arusha (Mjini) is reminiscent of Grand-Rue (P-a-P) circa the 70's, Indians, not the Geronimo types, more like the 7-11 ones, dominate commerce, I have been told that they have a certain racist, xenophobic, better than thou attitude toward the locals (read black Tanzanians), but I still have not experienced their xenophobic attitude yet, but you know if I ever do, you will hear the following announcement on CNN: We interrupt our regular scheduled program to bring you breaking news from Arusha, Tanzania...

Note; Most, if not all of the people in Tanzania speak English, but Kiswahili is la langue du jour.

The mystical, and mythical Masai.-

The majestic Masai people of Eastern Africa are pastoralists, nomadics, and polygamists, proud beyond limits, revered, if not feared by most, they have refused to abandon their ancestors traditions in favor of modern times, well, except for their Blackberries/cell phones, iPods . They live in perfect harmony with nature, have the ability to communicate with wild animals, and the skills to farm in the desert. They somehow believe that all the cattles in the world are their personal property (God's gift to the Masai's tribe), and reserve the rights to raid the farms of any other tribes to claim what is rightfully theirs.

The rite of passage, or coming of age ceremony, from boyhood to manhood, is not for the faint of heart, or a kapon like MOI, boys are circumcised (sikonsi) in their early teens in a ceremony attended by the entire village, the induction of anesthesia is ignored, if not unknown, the boy who even flinches during this procedure brands himself as a coward, and brings shame to his family ~Another rite of passage to manhood: boys as young as thirteen (13) years old, must hunt, and kill a lion, with just a spear.

The Masai woman.- God's most perfect creation.-

If for some unknown reasons, one is skeptical about the existence of God, it is simply because, one has never seen a Masai Woman; I have been speechless only twice in my entire life (witnessing the birth of my first born, and twenty (20) years ago, one (1) young woman just slayed me, born in BPC (Bas Peu de Choses), raised by a non pareil father, I can safely declare, that I've overheard, witnessed, and experienced a few things in my life, that is 'till I had the honour, if not the privilege, to see a Masai woman, by the way, it is truly a privilege to see one up close, a Masai woman is too "precious" to be seen in public and/or to walk amongst , le commun des mortels. Even now les mots me manquent (still speechless).

1 May, 2010: While chatting with my favourite machan n at the outdoor market, an unreal phenomenon, equal only to Moses parting of the Red Sea, happened...The entire market went "quiet", people stepped/jumped aside, some even bowed, I turned around, and saw God's most perfect creation... a MASAI WOMAN, a Queen walking amongst her subjects, and for only the 3 rd time in my entire life, I went into a state of shock (gaga/bèbè), froze in mid air, mouth agape, could not utter a word, still cannot remember anything about that blessed afternoon, but her face, her smile, her demeanour, her black skin, her bald head, her clothes, her image shall remain engrave in my tèt kokolo 'till the end of time.

Addendum.- I just could not understand the reverence, and fear inspired by the Masai people in Tanzanian, and Kenyan societies, 'till I met, and shook the hands of a few Masai, If anything, I have always taken a certain pride in my logical mind, please do believe me, when I say that the Masai have a certain je ne sais quoi , certain things cannot be scientifically explained, especially by a nincompoop like MOI...let us just leave it at that.

Next week: I shall tell you about the biggest party in the history of the world , (SA 2010), one (1) billion plus human beings, over  fifty (50) countries...the revelry of a continent.