Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Like a kid again
I have learnt another lesson. And yes this is another airport story, but with some added heart!
I am not sure how it all happened. Perhaps it was terribly stressful week that I spent in Zanzibar soaking up the sun with my family. Although that week must rate as one of our best family holidays ever!
Anyhow, there I was buying chips for my oldest son who was starving. This is a problem that runs in the family; perpetual hunger leading to a grocery bill larger than most house bonds! I know that chips are not nourishing but in the Zanzibar Airport, they can be considered cordon bleu! While waiting for the cashier to complete a very important conversation with a non customer about nothing in particular, my flight was called. A terrible dilemma, board my flight or solve the hunger crisis. I opted for hunger resolution, probably because old habits die hard. Just to clarify, my family were going to board another flight back home, while I was headed back to Dar to carry on with my project.
I was the last passenger to board another monster plane (10 seater) and immediately looked for my hand luggage. A funny thing to do considering that it should by definition have been in my hand. During my hunger busting chip purchase, my colleague had taken it with him and given it to one of the chaps dealing with the luggage. Not seeing my bag, I asked one of the ground staff to let me check.
Instead of the help I expected, I got a full force verbal attack from the chap that I had asked. My intelligence was attacked, I was called stupid and then told the plane would leave with or without me. I was lost for words! I turned meekly, and climbed back on the plane with my tail firmly between my legs.
Then I seethed. How could I have been so stupid as to not have better answers for anyone shouting at me? Why could I not have gotten the upper hand? How could I be so embarrassed as a grown man? There were no good answers and so I started to day dream how I would get the upper hand and cause some serious trouble when I landed on the other side. I would win this battle! How could a customer be treated in this manner, I had been wronged!
I suddenly had this thought that I felt like a little kid getting moaned at by my dad. That led to another thought that perhaps this is what my kids feel like when I shout and yell at them. And if that is true, then there can be little benefit to dealing with them in that manner. Surely I need to find a better way to deal with issues that don’t include the angry parent yelling at the rebellious child?
Now I can’t wait to get home and see if I can do things differently and get a far better behaviour result. I have no doubt my kids might not be as excited if they knew why I was so excited!!!
I am not sure how it all happened. Perhaps it was terribly stressful week that I spent in Zanzibar soaking up the sun with my family. Although that week must rate as one of our best family holidays ever!
Anyhow, there I was buying chips for my oldest son who was starving. This is a problem that runs in the family; perpetual hunger leading to a grocery bill larger than most house bonds! I know that chips are not nourishing but in the Zanzibar Airport, they can be considered cordon bleu! While waiting for the cashier to complete a very important conversation with a non customer about nothing in particular, my flight was called. A terrible dilemma, board my flight or solve the hunger crisis. I opted for hunger resolution, probably because old habits die hard. Just to clarify, my family were going to board another flight back home, while I was headed back to Dar to carry on with my project.
I was the last passenger to board another monster plane (10 seater) and immediately looked for my hand luggage. A funny thing to do considering that it should by definition have been in my hand. During my hunger busting chip purchase, my colleague had taken it with him and given it to one of the chaps dealing with the luggage. Not seeing my bag, I asked one of the ground staff to let me check.
Instead of the help I expected, I got a full force verbal attack from the chap that I had asked. My intelligence was attacked, I was called stupid and then told the plane would leave with or without me. I was lost for words! I turned meekly, and climbed back on the plane with my tail firmly between my legs.
Then I seethed. How could I have been so stupid as to not have better answers for anyone shouting at me? Why could I not have gotten the upper hand? How could I be so embarrassed as a grown man? There were no good answers and so I started to day dream how I would get the upper hand and cause some serious trouble when I landed on the other side. I would win this battle! How could a customer be treated in this manner, I had been wronged!
I suddenly had this thought that I felt like a little kid getting moaned at by my dad. That led to another thought that perhaps this is what my kids feel like when I shout and yell at them. And if that is true, then there can be little benefit to dealing with them in that manner. Surely I need to find a better way to deal with issues that don’t include the angry parent yelling at the rebellious child?
Now I can’t wait to get home and see if I can do things differently and get a far better behaviour result. I have no doubt my kids might not be as excited if they knew why I was so excited!!!
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Driving, driving, driving
Took a trip on Sunday that turned out to be rather interesting. A road trip in Tanzania is not the same as one back home in the good old South of Africa. The drive to a place called Morogorro was a short 200km that took close to four hours. The main highway going East is a simple 2 lane road, jam packed with trucks and busses. To make matters more interesting, road speed is controlled through speed humps on the road at every village. There are many, many villages on this highway and so most time is spent on the lookout for unmarked humps and riding the rollercoaster when you don’t see them.
Many of the well maintained vehicles sharing the road, stop in order to effect basic repairs like changing a piston or replace a gearbox. There is no verge and so their stop is on the road. In order to prevent repairs to the rear of their vehicles, a high tech solution has been devised to warn other road users. Branches are broken off trees and placed in the road. It is then very simple, when you find yourself ploughing through a forest on the road, either swerve and take your chances with oncoming traffic or prepare to inspect the bugs on your windscreen a little more closely!
We made it through the mayhem of the highway and arrived in Morogorro. From there we headed further east for a further 60km towards the Mikhani National Park. In true African style, the highway goes right through the middle of this national park. There are no fancy gates or fences, you just drive on through and if lucky get to spot a whole heap of game. We were not lucky and instead discovered that a fire had ravaged a great portion of the place. We turned right to do a bit of our own exploring and were pleasantly surprised by a herd of elephant, hippo and a suckling baby giraffe. At a peaceful waterhole we fished out our special lunch of tuna and crackers. None of the wild beasts seemed remotely interested.
On leaving the park, our car developed amnesia and forgot how to work any of its gauges. We thought that pretty strange and pushed on home regardless. We made good progress until we were about 100km away from home. The car lost all of its power and so like good men we debated the merits of turbo engines. We then debated the merits of stopping at a garage and like good men decided to take our chances on making it home. The car decided otherwise, spluttered, wheezed and died at the garage exit. I got to push it back onto the garage forecourt and there it stood for the next couple of hours soaking up the Chillensi darkness.
Our eventful day trip, which some would consider a prolonged streak of madness, took an interesting turn as we cooled our heels in a Nyama Choma (translated as bits of meat – which is the local delicacy), drinking Bitter Lemon. We tried our hand at applying our advanced mechanical skills to resolve the cars health issues. Unfortunately our revival efforts failed dismally car and we resorted to reading by overhead light pollution. Surprisingly the mechanic showed up and ruined our chances of a free night’s accommodation curled up in the front seat! A simple battery switch and we were back on the road again, all the way back to out hotel. The next morning the car was as dead as my USA presidential campaign, again!
A sore butt, the memory of ten hours of driving, and a few cracker photographs were all we had to show for our day out. Just another day in Africa!
Many of the well maintained vehicles sharing the road, stop in order to effect basic repairs like changing a piston or replace a gearbox. There is no verge and so their stop is on the road. In order to prevent repairs to the rear of their vehicles, a high tech solution has been devised to warn other road users. Branches are broken off trees and placed in the road. It is then very simple, when you find yourself ploughing through a forest on the road, either swerve and take your chances with oncoming traffic or prepare to inspect the bugs on your windscreen a little more closely!
We made it through the mayhem of the highway and arrived in Morogorro. From there we headed further east for a further 60km towards the Mikhani National Park. In true African style, the highway goes right through the middle of this national park. There are no fancy gates or fences, you just drive on through and if lucky get to spot a whole heap of game. We were not lucky and instead discovered that a fire had ravaged a great portion of the place. We turned right to do a bit of our own exploring and were pleasantly surprised by a herd of elephant, hippo and a suckling baby giraffe. At a peaceful waterhole we fished out our special lunch of tuna and crackers. None of the wild beasts seemed remotely interested.
On leaving the park, our car developed amnesia and forgot how to work any of its gauges. We thought that pretty strange and pushed on home regardless. We made good progress until we were about 100km away from home. The car lost all of its power and so like good men we debated the merits of turbo engines. We then debated the merits of stopping at a garage and like good men decided to take our chances on making it home. The car decided otherwise, spluttered, wheezed and died at the garage exit. I got to push it back onto the garage forecourt and there it stood for the next couple of hours soaking up the Chillensi darkness.
Our eventful day trip, which some would consider a prolonged streak of madness, took an interesting turn as we cooled our heels in a Nyama Choma (translated as bits of meat – which is the local delicacy), drinking Bitter Lemon. We tried our hand at applying our advanced mechanical skills to resolve the cars health issues. Unfortunately our revival efforts failed dismally car and we resorted to reading by overhead light pollution. Surprisingly the mechanic showed up and ruined our chances of a free night’s accommodation curled up in the front seat! A simple battery switch and we were back on the road again, all the way back to out hotel. The next morning the car was as dead as my USA presidential campaign, again!
A sore butt, the memory of ten hours of driving, and a few cracker photographs were all we had to show for our day out. Just another day in Africa!
Monday, October 6, 2008
Baobabs and Action
I travelled recently to a small town in the rural North of Tanzania, called Kahama. The drive was two things for me; Baobabs and Action!
I am not sure if you have seen a Baobab in person, but it is truly a majestic sight. Most of them while being absolutely massive and easily able to substitute as the space within the ring a roses circle of any pre school, are also seemingly deformed. I found my eyes drawn to them almost like the rubberneckers at any accident scene. Either way they seemed to exude an ethereal beauty, standing tall in a country side of very short stuff. Perhaps it was their sheer bulk, or their timelessness as they seem to have been standing there long before time but, I want one in my garden! Maybe two....
We passed a lot of baobabs and then we found ourselves there. The town was busy and packed with people. People were not just ambling along, instead they moved with a sense of purpose. The streets were a blur of colour as people darted and wove to get ahead.
A restless activity pervaded everything. Some were digging out sand to make bricks to build their own houses. Others were cutting thatch to roof those houses. Some pedalled their bicycles furiously with the load of a passenger. Sometimes two passengers and sometimes those passengers were goats. Still others strained in front of carts loaded high and heavy with stuff. Their well defined muscles, glistened with sweat, and spoke of a life of consistent toil.
Here one cannot sit on the corner and expect that food will miraculously appear, or a shelter just raise itself above your head. Here there are no rich benefactors or tourists with bulging wallets. Instead, life comes down to you alone. If you are not prepared to make your own difference, nobody else is going to do it for you.
In Africa there is no time for idleness. If there is no food on the table, you starve and then you die!
I always thought that I could carve out a life of ease for myself. My stint at home this year has certainly opened my eyes to the joys of surfing at my leisure. Surf bum may not sound like a great occupation, but it certainly felt like a good life!
Africa has taught me many lessons, but the one that really struck home has been the value of hard work. Me, bobbing on my surfboard in the beautiful Indian Ocean does not seem right when billions around the world slave to put morsels on the table to feed their families. Surely I can do better than that?
I am not sure if you have seen a Baobab in person, but it is truly a majestic sight. Most of them while being absolutely massive and easily able to substitute as the space within the ring a roses circle of any pre school, are also seemingly deformed. I found my eyes drawn to them almost like the rubberneckers at any accident scene. Either way they seemed to exude an ethereal beauty, standing tall in a country side of very short stuff. Perhaps it was their sheer bulk, or their timelessness as they seem to have been standing there long before time but, I want one in my garden! Maybe two....
We passed a lot of baobabs and then we found ourselves there. The town was busy and packed with people. People were not just ambling along, instead they moved with a sense of purpose. The streets were a blur of colour as people darted and wove to get ahead.
A restless activity pervaded everything. Some were digging out sand to make bricks to build their own houses. Others were cutting thatch to roof those houses. Some pedalled their bicycles furiously with the load of a passenger. Sometimes two passengers and sometimes those passengers were goats. Still others strained in front of carts loaded high and heavy with stuff. Their well defined muscles, glistened with sweat, and spoke of a life of consistent toil.
Here one cannot sit on the corner and expect that food will miraculously appear, or a shelter just raise itself above your head. Here there are no rich benefactors or tourists with bulging wallets. Instead, life comes down to you alone. If you are not prepared to make your own difference, nobody else is going to do it for you.
In Africa there is no time for idleness. If there is no food on the table, you starve and then you die!
I always thought that I could carve out a life of ease for myself. My stint at home this year has certainly opened my eyes to the joys of surfing at my leisure. Surf bum may not sound like a great occupation, but it certainly felt like a good life!
Africa has taught me many lessons, but the one that really struck home has been the value of hard work. Me, bobbing on my surfboard in the beautiful Indian Ocean does not seem right when billions around the world slave to put morsels on the table to feed their families. Surely I can do better than that?
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