The Art of Assuming, revised
Two years ago—and I here I need to pinch myself, since it feels more like a couple of months—I recall writing a post about 'The Art of Assuming'. This wasn't meant to be facetious by any means, only a subtle reminder that life abroad is different, and nowhere more so than in Africa.
So, as a public service, here is a reprisal of 'The Art of Assuming'.
Only recently, my nephew from Germany paid me a visit here. He's certainly a good kid, and Liebi and I (not to mention the boys) enjoyed having him around. This was his first trip to a third world country, and it showed. I think Tanzania, at times, was a little too much for his logic driven German brain.
Let's take a scenario that I remember from growing up in Germany. When I was my nephew's age, I remember commuting to school with my mom, who, fortunately, also happened to be the teacher at said school. We had our routine in the morning down pat. Get up, maybe chow down a little breakfast, out the door, drive the ten or so miles to school, rinse and repeat for the next six years.
Even the occasional emergency couldn't rile us. So there would be snow…that meant ice on the streets. Okay, so we would have to leave a little early, even take an occasional detour to get to school. These things happen, even in a land as nice and organized as Germany. If there was engine trouble or the car had to be worked on, Dad would take us in, fix the car (he was a gifted mechanic) and we would be back on the road again ourselves the next day. La di da.
I only remember one hiccup, when my dad forgot to pick us up, and the three of us—Mom, my sister, and I—ended up walking home. Ten miles, panting and complaining all along the way. That was the worst I saw, and even so, we still got a week's worth of exercise out of it.
So the formula was clear: distance, time, roads.
Fast forward to the year 2016 and Tanzania. Here, my nephew was trying to get an idea about how long it would take to get to a certain place, maybe the airport. So the first question was: how many miles (actually kilometers) is the airport from here? That's like asking me whether I prefer swimming or sailing on the highway to get there.
Here in Tanzania, the distance between two places is as irrelevant as rotary dial phones and two ton microwave ovens in the west. If that street in Dar is riddled with potholes or, worse yet, flooded (especially the latter), chances are you will be stuck in traffic until they invent time travel before people come to their senses and learn to clear the road in any organized fashion. So the proper question should be: what is the weather like? What was it like a few days ago? Any floods left? Any special events we should know about, like church or a beach concert?
I only recently explained this to another tourist, who went shopping to buy herself a drink. She thought I was kidding. Here are the questions you need to ask yourself before you go shopping, even if it is for something as simple as a half-liter bottle of coke:
Only recently, my nephew from Germany paid me a visit here. He's certainly a good kid, and Liebi and I (not to mention the boys) enjoyed having him around. This was his first trip to a third world country, and it showed. I think Tanzania, at times, was a little too much for his logic driven German brain.
Let's take a scenario that I remember from growing up in Germany. When I was my nephew's age, I remember commuting to school with my mom, who, fortunately, also happened to be the teacher at said school. We had our routine in the morning down pat. Get up, maybe chow down a little breakfast, out the door, drive the ten or so miles to school, rinse and repeat for the next six years.
Even the occasional emergency couldn't rile us. So there would be snow…that meant ice on the streets. Okay, so we would have to leave a little early, even take an occasional detour to get to school. These things happen, even in a land as nice and organized as Germany. If there was engine trouble or the car had to be worked on, Dad would take us in, fix the car (he was a gifted mechanic) and we would be back on the road again ourselves the next day. La di da.
I only remember one hiccup, when my dad forgot to pick us up, and the three of us—Mom, my sister, and I—ended up walking home. Ten miles, panting and complaining all along the way. That was the worst I saw, and even so, we still got a week's worth of exercise out of it.
So the formula was clear: distance, time, roads.
Fast forward to the year 2016 and Tanzania. Here, my nephew was trying to get an idea about how long it would take to get to a certain place, maybe the airport. So the first question was: how many miles (actually kilometers) is the airport from here? That's like asking me whether I prefer swimming or sailing on the highway to get there.
Here in Tanzania, the distance between two places is as irrelevant as rotary dial phones and two ton microwave ovens in the west. If that street in Dar is riddled with potholes or, worse yet, flooded (especially the latter), chances are you will be stuck in traffic until they invent time travel before people come to their senses and learn to clear the road in any organized fashion. So the proper question should be: what is the weather like? What was it like a few days ago? Any floods left? Any special events we should know about, like church or a beach concert?
I only recently explained this to another tourist, who went shopping to buy herself a drink. She thought I was kidding. Here are the questions you need to ask yourself before you go shopping, even if it is for something as simple as a half-liter bottle of coke:
- Do they have the drink you want? Even Coca Cola?
- Do they even have anything potable where you are? Is it clean, or does the bottle look like it was used to drain an overflowing toilet?
- Is any cash register open? If so, is there a cashier there?
- Do you have the right change for the product? If you have a 10,000 Shilling note (less than five dollars), changing it can take you longer than it takes to drink the contents of your bottle and get home.
- Will you make it home? Are you sure people didn't see you reveal those bundles of Shillings that were in your pocket?
And stop assuming.
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