Startling Sights

We’ve been here in Zanzibar long enough to know what to expect most of the time.  But, still, we are occasionally startled.  Here are some sights from the past few months.

Cows on the beach (There are few farms, per se, but there are cows in many places with edible vegetation, including in Stone Town.  This is the first time we’ve seen them on a beach, though—as well as the first time we’ve seen this many cows in one place.  These ones were completely unattended by a cowherder, but a minute after I took this photo, the cows turned and went up into a person’s lot, as if on cue.)

Flopping, floundering, flying fish (Oscar and I were smacked by two of these that landed in our boat while we were on a boat safari in Selous National Park last month.)  

The fish don’t always jump like this, only when they’re scared of nearby crocodiles.  They weren’t the only ones who were scared.

Child transformed into Medusa (This one is from today’s visit to a reptile park.)

We weren’t the only ones startled (or perhaps appalled is the right word?).

The ACME Key Losing Service, Zanzibar Office

For years, Brady and I have had a running joke business plan that would capitalize on the pleasure of finding lost keys.

Let me explain our business plan:

It’s such a relief to find something that you thought you’d lost forever.  When you find, say, lost keys, you have renewed pleasure in being able to open your door or start your car, as well as the pleasure of not being angry (at yourself for doing something stupid like letting the keys fall out of your pocket, or at your spouse or friend or whomever you blame for the keys being lost).  We believe there’s an unmet demand that the ACME Key Losing Service could supply.

 

So, if our plan were adopted, when  people wanted to do something really nice for a friend or loved one, they could purchase the ACME Key Losing Service.  ACME would then lose the keys (or whatever—there might be a deluxe version for important papers, favorite jackets, or the like) and then at a pre-established time, ACME would create a circumstance in which the key-losing-service recipient would miraculously find the keys.  The perfect gift for the person who has everything!

We’ve never pitched the plan because, rationally, we know there are a million problems with it, but still, there’s something to it. . . . 

The feeling of happiness every time the electricity turns on now is pretty fantastic, and I’ll bet that the electricians and sundry others who felt their ears burning during the past three months are feeling pretty happy as well.   

As a lite version of the ACME service, here are a few choice pleasures that you may not have been noticing: 

• the sound of birds, bats, and crickets at night, unmasked by generator noise
• being able to hear people talking, even in rooms with electricity
•   being able to turn on a light or charge up a laptop wherever it’s convenient, instead of wherever there’s a generator
• paying regular prices instead of hiked-up generator prices
• being able to use electricity guilt-free, knowing that friends and acquaintances all have affordable access (it’d be nice if the electricity were completely renewable, but the immediate guilt of knowing a friend doesn’t have electricity is—right or wrong—stronger than the more removed guilt of knowing that about the environmental impacts of electricity production)
• sleeping through the night in air that’s a comfortable temperature, even under a mosquito net
• being able to cook on a  four-burner stove indoors at a comfortable room temperature, instead of outside on the porch over a hot single burner in the hot, humid air
•  cold beverages
• restaurants that offer everything on the menu—including ice cream, baked goods, and the aforementioned cold beverages

The list could go on, but suffice it to say that we’re appreciating the wonders of electricity—hope you are, too!

Note: the pictures are from what we're calling the "Umeme Day" celebration of the electricity being restored, as well as of the electrical wires to our apartment--an indication of why there are electricity problems here. The baby is our neighbor's baby, holding a sign Calvin made that says "Electricity is good."

On and Off. . .and On!

Today was an on and off, and then on again day. 

The first item of the day was a meeting at a government office, in connection with my Fulbright research.  I’m trying to theorize why adult literacy rates here are declining from the highs in the 1980s.  To study that, I want to find out more about ordinary Tanzanians’ literacy practices (How do they find information?  How often, what, and for what purpose do they read and write in their everyday lives?) as well as what ordinary Tanzanians think about the value of literacy.

My research assistant and I had met at the government office last week to discuss my research, and I had thought that everything was ready for me to begin surveying people this week.  As we talked at the meeting today, though, it became clear that unless I only wanted to talk with a specific segment of the population, it would be very difficult to access any respondents.  After being told (thanks largely to my research assistant/translator) that I’d need months more of letters and permissions to do what I wanted to do, I was sent off to another office, where the person I needed to talk to was out of the office indefinitely. 

It’s not that I expected the research to go quickly or easily.  In any circumstances, doing research takes time and patience and an open mind. You have to know what’s already been written on the topic, you need to develop a reasonable way of answering your research questions, and you need access to information.  In my experience, archivists and ethics boards generally want researchers to have access to information, but they want to ensure that the information is gathered and reported in ways that represent the best practices in the field.  And I think it’s generally a good process—certainly, the feedback I’ve received in the process of gaining access to information has always made my work better (and  thank you to you invaluable readers who have given me feedback over the years!).  

Doing research in Tanzania requires all of the processes to which I’m accustomed, but it also requires permits—for all researchers (native and foreign alike).  To get a permit, one must submit a research proposal, numerous supporting document, and substantial application and permit fees to an official government board.  It is difficult to know what supporting documents are necessary, as well as what permits are required.  Because I’m doing research in Zanzibar (a semi-autonomous state in Tanzania) as well as in mainland Tanzania, I need two separate permits.  I submitted my application for the first of these two permits in July 2009, and I received it two weeks ago.

So I’ve been preparing to collect data for a while.  And, after the meeting, it seemed that despite all of my work, the possibility of collecting any useful data was slim to none.  The switch was off.

As I went on through the rest of the day’s agenda and tried to rethink my research plan, rumors about the return of electricity were rampant (Zanzibar lost all public electrical power on Dec. 10).  We’ve heard rumors for months now and had been disappointed each time, so I was determined not to get my hopes up—not that there was any great danger of that after the meeting I’d just had.

But, in the way that things often do in Zanzibar, the current shifted. 

This afternoon, in the middle of a parent-teacher conference at the boys’ school, I got a call to go to a government office.  We raced to the office and, lo and behold, the switch for research was on!  I not only had permission, but I had a firm appointment to administer questionnaires to 15 people this week!!

Elated, I went to my office to charge up my laptop on the generator and work for a few hours.  And then, on my walk home, I heard yelling in the streets—happy yelling.  And I saw lights on!  Hooray! 

By the time I got home, though, the lights were off.  There was an audible groan from all over town as they went off.  Were technicians just testing the lines, or was there another serious problem that would be followed by more months of darkness, heat, and hauling water?

But, then, after dinner, the lights went back on.  And they’ve stayed on!!!  Sheer bliss!  I’m hoping again—for a successful launch of my survey; for electric fans to cool me, the survey respondents, and everyone on the island; and for easy access to laptop power.  Onward!