Nane Nane and the informal justice system

Last week was Nane Nane (literally "Eight Eight" for August 8th), the national holiday for Farmers. I spent it in Arusha because a) we had some more organizations to meet with and b) Arusha is one of the main places to go for Nane Nane. It is a week-long festival that culminates on actual Nane Nane and is held at a fairgrounds on the outskirts of town. Farmers from all over come to display their goods -- seeds and plants, farming techniques, canned and dried foods, appropriate technology displays for agriculture, cooking, and irrigation, etc. There were even animals on display: snakes, a baboon, lizards, a hiena, and even a camel...sadly, they were all kept in very small cages for people to crowd around and poke at. It was an interesting event. I have not experienced anything that insane for quite some time...

First, the crowds were unbelievable. It was difficult to walk in some places and at times you were practically carried along in spite of yourself. Crowd control was administered by some sort of officials with thick rubber whips, and when the crowd (those trying to buy tickets to get in, for example) got too close, they would literally beat people back. It was a little frightening. Kids looked like they were getting trampled, people were shoving in every direction, I was separated from the people I was with, and for a moment thinking I wouldn't make it out of there in one piece. But, I managed to fight my way through the crowd and despite some blatant attempts, even managed to avoid getting pickpocketed. It was unlike anything I have ever witnessed...and just to get in the door to a fair.

Once inside, it was more fighting through crowds (but minus the threat of whips), avoiding the trucks that came barrelling down the road despite of the huge crowds of people walking in front of them, circumventing various fights that broke out in the crowd, and trying to keep smiling at the incessant shouts coming from all directions: "Mzungu! Hallo! How are you?!" We met up with my host family and some of their relatives and took shelter amongst the deep fryers and BBQs for a good part of the afternoon, drinking local brews and listening to them click their tongues at the crowds and rant about the service. It was pretty amusing.

In other news, our favorite of our stray mutts, Bella (who was pregnant), died a few nights ago very unexpectedly. Our housekeeper Maggie overheard our next door neighbors -- the ones who apparently lost the chicken that we found dead in our front yard -- say something to the effect that because one of their chickens had been killed, one of our dogs was going to die. So, we think that our neighbors poisoned our dog. We decided to talk with them about the situation, because it upset us quite a bit, and they denied having anything to do with the dog's sudden death, but we still have our suspicions. I suppose it's an eye for an eye here in a lot of situations, taking justice into your own hands. I was told by some Tanzanians that if you shout "thief!" in a crowd people will go after the person running away and they will beat him to death before the police even arrive; they know that if they let the police take the person away, they will see them on the street again the next day. So, they take care of it themselves. It's a bit extreme, I would say, but we are outsiders here and there isn't much we can do but to accept our neighbor's plea of innocence and try to maintain friendly relations. And to be very, very careful about who we call a thief...

trespassing chickens

A few days ago, we awoke to find our yard covered in chicken feathers and our ever-present family of stray dogs lounging indifferently around their kill. The chicken, presumably a neighbor's, was left untouched by the dogs, probably killed out of boredom or just because it was there. The four of us didn't know what exactly we should do in this situation -- would there be an angry neighbor coming around demanding compensation, should we bury the chicken, should we eat it?? We called the Ngowi's, our program coordinators in Moshi, to ask their advice. Mama Ngowi wasn't concerned -- they're not your dogs, so it's not your responsibility. Baba Ngowi's take was priceless. He got a little worked up, actually, declaring, "well, those dogs are there for your protection, to guard the house. That chicken was trespassing! Those dogs were just doing what they had to do."

We didn't end up eating the chicken. It was kind of a waste, I guess, but we're not quite to the point of plucking our own chickens, especially ones found dead in our front yard...not yet.