I loved Songea from the start, but my first week in Songea was rough. My house was a mess, I was sick, probably largely due to the thick layer of fine red dust that covered everything in my house, and I had new surroundings, people and customs to get used to. On top of that, even though I was sick, had a lot of work to do, and haven’t started teaching yet, the other teachers at Songea Girls expected to see me at school everyday.
This last week was much better, really starting with the day I was first visited by my Tanzania elves. It was Friday afternoon. I had now been living in Songea for one week and was looking forward to cooking my first Tanzanian meal of rice and beans in my new kitchen. I had finally managed to get my charcoal stove lit after failing in an attempt to light it myself, again failing to light it with the help of a neighbor, and then finally borrowing some hot coals from my neighbor’s stove. My beans had been simmering for a couple of hours and I had just returned from the market with my newly acquired basket overflowing with fruits and vegetables.
As I started sorting my rice I heard a shy “Hodi” (the Tanzanian greeting equivalent to ringing a doorbell). Two of my 13 year old neighbor girls were standing outside my gate.
“Tunaweza kukusaidia?” They asked. “Can we help?” I thought I had everything pretty well under control, but I told them I was in the process of making beans and rice and asked them if they wanted to help.
The girls stepped inside my kitchen and immediately made themselves at home. They started by sweeping and mopping the floor and then reorganizing the supplies I had just brought home from the market and even some of the things in my cupboards. The girls set to work with the enthusiasm of children playing ‘house.’ Then they basically told me to sit back while they prepared the rice, fried the beans, and chopped up a Tanzanian dish of onions, tomatoes and green peppers with lemon juice called kachumbali. I tried to help out by at least cutting up a mango, but I was making a mess, so one of the girls took over and showed me the ‘proper’ was of doing it. I must admit that her small neat pieces did look more appetizing than my big mushy ones.
We shared the mangos as the beans finished cooking. When I asked if they could stay and share with me the meal they had prepared, they said they needed to return home for dinner, but asked what I was planning to cook tomorrow, and what time they should return. We agreed on 1 pm, and with that they were gone.
As I sat in my living room alone eating a far more delicious meal than I could have made alone, I felt like I was a character in a fairy tale like “The Elves and the Shoemaker.” My Tanzanian elves certainly came to my rescue.
As promised my Tanzanian elves returned the next day to cook and clean. They came with hot coals, some dish sponges and even a plunger to unclog my kitchen drain! And them again as soon as the food was ready they were gone, leaving me to eat in solitaire.
On Sunday they came again and this time ventured beyond the kitchen to help me sweep out my living room, rearrange some furniture and organize my many books (I discovered that about a fifth of them are in German). Finally they stayed to eat with me.
Monday was a Muslim holiday, and so instead of going to school the girls and I went to the market to buy ingredients to make a special Tanzanian dish called Pilau. I let them haggle with the vendors while I tried to record how much everything cost, so that I pay the correct price next time when I go alone. Back at home, again I mostly watched as the girls fried the meat in garlic and ginger and then cooked it with rice, potatoes and special pilau seasonings under a lid of banana leaves from my back yard. Then we happily sat down to our feast followed by looking at photographs and playing a game of Uno.
My Tanzanian elves don’t visit as often anymore. I think they are now convinced that I am capable enough to make it on my own. But I still see them around at least once a day. They come by to borrow my games or colored pencils and offer cooking pointers here and there.
This last week was much better, really starting with the day I was first visited by my Tanzania elves. It was Friday afternoon. I had now been living in Songea for one week and was looking forward to cooking my first Tanzanian meal of rice and beans in my new kitchen. I had finally managed to get my charcoal stove lit after failing in an attempt to light it myself, again failing to light it with the help of a neighbor, and then finally borrowing some hot coals from my neighbor’s stove. My beans had been simmering for a couple of hours and I had just returned from the market with my newly acquired basket overflowing with fruits and vegetables.
As I started sorting my rice I heard a shy “Hodi” (the Tanzanian greeting equivalent to ringing a doorbell). Two of my 13 year old neighbor girls were standing outside my gate.
“Tunaweza kukusaidia?” They asked. “Can we help?” I thought I had everything pretty well under control, but I told them I was in the process of making beans and rice and asked them if they wanted to help.
The girls stepped inside my kitchen and immediately made themselves at home. They started by sweeping and mopping the floor and then reorganizing the supplies I had just brought home from the market and even some of the things in my cupboards. The girls set to work with the enthusiasm of children playing ‘house.’ Then they basically told me to sit back while they prepared the rice, fried the beans, and chopped up a Tanzanian dish of onions, tomatoes and green peppers with lemon juice called kachumbali. I tried to help out by at least cutting up a mango, but I was making a mess, so one of the girls took over and showed me the ‘proper’ was of doing it. I must admit that her small neat pieces did look more appetizing than my big mushy ones.
We shared the mangos as the beans finished cooking. When I asked if they could stay and share with me the meal they had prepared, they said they needed to return home for dinner, but asked what I was planning to cook tomorrow, and what time they should return. We agreed on 1 pm, and with that they were gone.
As I sat in my living room alone eating a far more delicious meal than I could have made alone, I felt like I was a character in a fairy tale like “The Elves and the Shoemaker.” My Tanzanian elves certainly came to my rescue.
As promised my Tanzanian elves returned the next day to cook and clean. They came with hot coals, some dish sponges and even a plunger to unclog my kitchen drain! And them again as soon as the food was ready they were gone, leaving me to eat in solitaire.
On Sunday they came again and this time ventured beyond the kitchen to help me sweep out my living room, rearrange some furniture and organize my many books (I discovered that about a fifth of them are in German). Finally they stayed to eat with me.
Monday was a Muslim holiday, and so instead of going to school the girls and I went to the market to buy ingredients to make a special Tanzanian dish called Pilau. I let them haggle with the vendors while I tried to record how much everything cost, so that I pay the correct price next time when I go alone. Back at home, again I mostly watched as the girls fried the meat in garlic and ginger and then cooked it with rice, potatoes and special pilau seasonings under a lid of banana leaves from my back yard. Then we happily sat down to our feast followed by looking at photographs and playing a game of Uno.
My Tanzanian elves don’t visit as often anymore. I think they are now convinced that I am capable enough to make it on my own. But I still see them around at least once a day. They come by to borrow my games or colored pencils and offer cooking pointers here and there.
