The lone Mzungu writes again...

I don't have any kind of Swahili phrasebook or dictionary, so when people teach me words interpret things for me I just have to take their word for it. I've heard two different definitions of Mzungu: one person said it means White and another said it's more friendly and means Traveler but has come to be used for most white people. Both were westerners so I don't completely believe them. Personally I think from the way people use it that it actually means Honkey. Yesterday a guy was walking down the beach selling t-shirts and one said Mzungu on it. I was so tempted to buy it and wear it every time I go into town. Hey, look over here - a honkey!!

 

I'm still trying to formulate a plan for the next step (should be doing that now instead of writing, but...). I couldn't bring myself to go into the city yesterday as I'd wasted too much time there the day before, due in large part due to dodgy P2, and the beach kept calling to me, so I've got yet one day less to get to Cape Town.

 

I've decided that I wouldn't have had nearly so much frustration thus far in Tanzania if I didn't have a combination of elements: no plan, tiny budget, small time, travelling solo. I thought for a while I wouldn't come back here alone, but then realized that's just crazy - I'll take whatever opportunity I can get! But I think the people aspect I've ranted about in the past wouldn't be so frustrating if I wasn't also worried about how much money they were trying to get out of me; and I think getting around wouldn't be so hard if I had a little financial flexibility; or if I was on a tight budget but had a better idea of where I was going, or someone to bounce things off of and split bills with; or if I had no idea what I was doing and little hope of funding it, but had time to think without being bombarded with strangers when I walk anywhere.... No one thing makes it hard, maybe not even two, it's everything together. Then again how many times do you get to land in Africa with virtually no money, no plan and nobody to talk to aside from people who think you've got it all to give freely.

 

Things are feeling better anyway. When I came back to the town 'lovingly referred to as Dar' (who would refer to it lovingly as anything I'm not sure) I ran into someone from before who looked me up & down and said, 'Ah, now you look like Africa!' Sunburnt nose, steeped in my own sweat from hours on the bus, filthy & tired. Whether I'm settling in a little or just getting used to it, it seems a bit easier to get around these days without drawing quite so much attention, or at least without noticing.

 

Passing through various towns and remote areas I've seen groups of 10 people or more doing laundry together, kind of like antelopes at a waterhole. I started to think it's a survival strategy carried into the present day - safety in numbers. Even in town, people rarely seem to be on their own unless they're going somewhere or doing business. I've started to think that Tanzanians are naturally gregarious, which would explain why they keep asking why I'm alone and trying to walk with me, or why nobody thinks twice about yelling to you from any distance repeatedly until you finally turn around and acknowledge them. Perhaps there's no concept of personal space??

 

It's a weird paradox but with so many people around sometimes I find myself wishing for company. But not random people who always seem to want something, or fellow travellers that you meet on a hi-bye basis. It would be nice to sit with a friend that I know, who knows me, and talk about familiar things or not talk at all, or listen so some favorite music and know that we've got common memories attached to it. I've been a little jealous watching people here who are locals in their own neighborhood, remembering times when I was the person walking down the street saying hi to everyone or knowing which face to look for in which window. Good times. But unfortunately you can't fit those in a backpack.

 

On the bright side [stop me if I've said this before... er, just skip this part] I was talking to someone recently about how when you travel, people just know you're gone for a while, and then one day you're back. And you can share stories and photos, but there's no way you can fit a whole trip into one or two conversations, and really nobody will ever have any idea what you've experienced. So I'm stoked to be able to share this journal, and to know that people are actually reading it. Instead of a big question mark that disappears into the background of time and distraction, people who want to can actually fill in some of the blanks. And maybe when I get back a few people will have a little bit better idea about the kind of things I've been up to all these years when I just disappear. One step closer to understanding. Doesn't everybody want that to some extent, to really be known by the people we care about?

 

And I can say oooooooooooooooooh, and everyone would know what I was talking about... (Talkin bout diamonds on the soles of my shoes.)