I learned three very important things this weekend:
1) Some of the most creative and fun-loving people I know live in Dar;
2) Good light is arguably all a photographer needs for a good photo. This Saturday’s extended sunset was perhaps the most beautiful in all the time I’ve been here; and
3) Being an adult is boring. Throwing water balloons and playing dodgeball is way more fun.
Each year the full moon that appears on the eighth month of the Chinese calendar calls for great celebrations, heralding the past year’s harvest or praying for the next year’s bounty, and celebrating the full moon in the sky. In the old days, royalty and peasants alike would take a break from their regular routines to celebrate with friends, family, and feasting. Called Mid-Autumn Festival (Zhong Qiu Jie) in China, Chuseok in Korea, Tsukimi in Japan, and Tet Trung Thu in Vietnam, this year the lunar holiday falls on this date, September 8.
Me, fully erudite in Chinese, circa 1983.
Those who knew me growing up are familiar with my 12-year struggle in the once-a-week Friday night torture session that was more formally known as Silicon Valley Chinese School. (How better to traumatize a high school student than to rob her of her Friday night dances?) But of course, like all things your parents say you will eventually thank them for in the future, of course I now thank them for sending me to Chinese School; for instilling a good sense of Chinese language, both spoken and written, and for the various aspects of culture it cemented within me. It was at Chinese School, in addition to at home, where I learned the romantic folklore surrounding the Mid Autumn Festival, telling of a famous archer who shot down nine out of ten suns in the sky to save the earth from the scorching heat, who was subsequently rewarded with a magical elixir of immortality. The story continues to tell how the love of his life then drank this elixir and was transported to the moon for the rest of eternity–along with a rabbit, although how this rabbit came to be in the moon, my memory fails to recall.
Myself aside, many of the Chinese diaspora who have since emigrated to countries such as Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, the Philippines, and elsewhere, brought this holiday and its lore to their overseas communities. Unbeknownst to me until this year, the Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese cultures also celebrate this harvest moon, though with different folklores and slightly different rituals.
Streets of Hong Kong during the holidays
Chinese culture is something I rarely recall in my life here in Dar, other than the fact that Tanzanians always scream out “China! China! Japan! Japan!” When I pass by them on the streets of City Centre. I actually tried speaking Chinese the other day, only to find myself stumbling over the most basic of words, and leading the Chinese man who asked me where the milk was in the grocery to ask/accuse, “You’re not Chinese….? What are you?” A bit offensive, but unsurprisingly Chinese of him.
I find myself yearning to celebrate holidays so heavily traditional and culturally rich as they have in China. Here in Tanzania, Muslim holidays aside, the year is chock full of non-celebratory bank holidays: Workers’ Day, Independence Day, Nyerere’s Birthday, Boxing Day…you get the point.
A typical Asian potluck–too much food.
This year, myself, a Korean friend, and a Singaporean friend decided that we needed to round up the Asian population in Dar for a feast in celebration of this great festival to the moon. We called it Asian Thanksgiving– because how much more appropriate could you call this Pan-Asian merging of family and friends and supreme feasting?
We had what was likely to be Dar’s all-time best Asian cuisine: An Asiatic mix that included Japanese pork belly, Korean bulgogi and fried chicken, Vietnamese chicken salad, two different kinds of Philippino Adobo and fresh homemade buns, Thai Green Curry and coconut fish stew, and tons of homemade noodles, and rice. Best of all, we had sweet sticky rice and moon cake for dessert. Moon cake, here in Africa…what a treat!
I was too busy running around the party to remember to take detail shots of the party, but here are a few overview shots of the group. Happy Mid Autumn Festival….or, more appropriately: 中秋節快樂!
My Asian family here in Dar.
Anyone else call this ‘Superbowl ex-el-vee-ei-ei-ei‘?
There are a few holidays that make me feel very American abroad, and where the two official holidays are Fourth of July and Thanksgiving, the one unofficial holiday is Superbowl Sunday. Though, I could strongly argue for a case to make it a day off, a bank holiday, because I’ve seen the lengths at which men and women abroad will go to watch the game. In fact, my Superbowls abroad might be celebrated with more ceremony than my Superbowls at home.
In China, we had two Superbowls; that’s two years where we watched football at 7am in the morning. The first year was my favorite, it was when the DiploMan and I hosted, playing a mediocre quality TV feed projected onto our pull-down screen, complemented by breakfast and Irish coffees. Our curtains were drawn for the occasion, and since our group of friends all took the day off from work we ended up spending the day indoors, curtains drawn the whole day, playing card games and watching ridiculous adult comedies.
The next year we decided to go out and watch the game, at a popular Irish pub in Guangzhou who fed us a big English Breakfast. Beers and Beans at 7am, yum.
This year, when I caught wind that the Superbowl would play between the hours of 2-6am, I thought surely no one would be crazy enough to watch the Superbowl. I figured a delayed feed it would be, that I would wake up to a Facebook feed of activity as I do every other morning.
But no, I was wrong, and there was not just one, but two Superbowl parties here in Dar (and more that I’m sure I just wasn’t invited to). Never underestimate the determination of Americans! Only here in Dar, can I say that I’ve had a 2am rooftop viewing of the Superbowl. With one television playing a crispy clear version aired by AFN (Armed Forces Network), and another screen projecting the a low-quality Slingbox broadcast, important for us only for the occasional glance at commercials, I thought to myself, we sure as heck make for a compelling argument to declare Monday a day of rest.
Everyone’s favorite holiday, right? Though there was no snow here, no crisp Fall air, no football games on the TV, and no midday dinner hour (it’s way too hot here to eat a feast in the middle of the day, so everyones’ dinners started at 6pm at the earliest), there was plenty of Turkey, Fall-themed centerpieces, tons of food, good friends, and fun conversation. This is a panoramic shot of our outdoor dining setup, with the background of an Indian Ocean sunset behind it.
Photos from the Tanzanzia Breast Cancer Foundation’s Race for the Cure that took place this past Sunday:
Remember, on my first day in town, how I went to the goat races and when writing the post mentioned there were few major events in town? I wasn’t absolutely sure why at the time, but I’ve since realized how monumental a feat a big event like the Goat Races are around here. Limited resources, unreliable vendors, pricy negotiations, and inefficient ways of operating all attribute to the fact that any event involving more than ten people that starts and ends can be considered a success.
The 5k Breast Cancer Race for the Cure was held in town this past Sunday, hosted by the local Susan G. Komen Foundation affiliate, the Tanzania Breast Cancer Foundation. There were definitely more than ten people at the race, which started and ended too, so according to my metrics, a success it was! (To be serious, 2011 was the last year a race was held, so it’s further proof that these events don’t organize themselves.)
The most appealing part about this walk for me – aside for the cause, of course – was definitely not the fact that my alarm woke me up at 6am. Rather, and one of the main reasons I decided to participate, was because it was a great way to see parts of downtown- or as they call it here, ‘city center’. Parts of Dar that I might otherwise may not ever see.
I’ve touched on the levels of petty crime here before, so I’m not going into it today. But I mention it only because it’s for this very reason that I would not typically spend my mornings meandering through city center, certainly not with a camera in hand, and most certainly would not be able to let my curious eyes wander as freely as they did yesterday.
The race began and ended at the Ocean Road Cancer institute (view the race route here), the leading (and only) place to seek post-surgical treatment for cancer patients in the whole of Dar es Salaam. Some patients travel as far as 1300km by bus just to get a few rounds of radiotherapy- and some don’t even have enough money to return home afterwards. The esteemed Ocean Road Cancer Institute is one of the older buildings in city center, built in the late 19th century when Dar was still under colonial rule. Very much reminding me of a California-style mission, the building was originally built as the Ocean Road Hospital, a government-sponsored institution almost exclusively treating Europeans. And, such is exemplary of Dar es Salaam’s often biased and extremely layered colonial history.
My favorite part of the walk was soon after we started, when we passed by the Kigamboni fish market. Crowds of locals, many who were just beginning their day at the fish market/ferry terminal/major bus stop lined the streets to watch us pass, eyeing our groups with great bewilderment and amazement. Some took photos with their phones, and we took photos right back. We swung around the bay and along the southern peninsula of Dar es Salaam, where walking along Kivukoni front where we passed a series of old German colonial buildings along the waterfront- my first time viewing many of these old colonial buildings that I had long heard or read about.
The crowds of Tanzanians grew smaller after we left the crowded waterfront area, but throughout the race route curious locals still gathered to observe this curious event. I’m sure it’s not everyday they are able to see masses of Wazungu, or foreigner, walking through their streets- escorted by a police band, at that!
The band was my favorite addition to the walk, and certainly made the day feel more a Tanzanian affair than anything else. Public events here always seem to be celebrated with great passion, with loud music and constant dancing, and this very American ‘Race for the Cure’ was done in no lesser fashion.
Read more about how breast cancer affects East Africans, in this brilliant New York Times article. More compelling reason to fight an already worthy cause.