The longer I’m here, the more I become aware of the many layers and contrasts of life in Tanzania. The greatest joy of being here is the emerging relationships and friendships and the fun and sharing arising from these.
A couple of weeks ago Mira was really ill and the care, concern and practical help offered to her and us as she struggled to get a diagnosis and treatment was remarkable. At the same time, the reality of inadequate health provision was brought home. Mira was eventually admitted to a private clinic. ‘Private’ in this instance was misleading – although she had a private room it was extremely basic and the actual medical treatment available was limited. For a ‘real’ hospital you need to make the 7 hour journey to Dar Es Salaam. They diagnosed her with Typhoid and Malaria (as they apparently do with almost everyone, the theory being that these are likely culprits for most symptoms, so treat for them and hope for the best).
Almost as soon as she was admitted people started to visit from the Cheshire home where she works. They came bearing freshly baked bread, juice and fruit. We soon realised that you don’t get and food or drink in hospital here – friends and relatives provide. Even Consolatha, a delightful 13 year old from school appeared at our house, helped me make soup and raided my craft pack to head up the production of get well cards.
The rallying round didn’t seem enough though when we arrived in the evening to find Mira had accidently pulled out her drip, was covered in blood and rehydration fluids and was unable to get the attention of a nurse. Plus of course, you’re very aware that even this standard of care is beyond most people who have to take their chances at the over-crowded government clinics, or simply go without.
Another eye opener was while playing a ‘Snakes & Ladders’ type game with the kids at the orphanage. The game encourages the practice of English by giving a topic to talk about on each square. One of the topics was ‘family’ which I was nervous about but thought we’d stick to siblings. It turned out that a number of the kids also talked about their parents though. When I asked the sisters about this later, they explained that lots of the children do have one or both parents but they can’t afford the HIV drugs, so they send them to the orphanage where they know they’ll be given the anti-retrovirals and diet they need.
The contrasts were even more evident last weekend when a now fully recovered Mira, Erin & I enjoyed a fabulous couple of days at Kipepeo beach just south of Dar Es Salaam. Being surrounded by white tourists and travelling types felt a bit strange at first, but the beautiful beach, warm Indian ocean, good food and mojitos saw off any scruples pretty fast! 
The trip came about as two of the Jesuits were going to Dar to collect a new school bus and we went along for the ride – a ride that was on a bus run by a Muslim company and as it was Friday, we were subjected to 2 hours of loud Arabic chanting & prayers over the radio! It turned out the ‘new’ school bus is a 1989 Japanese model which they still had to pay £15000 import duty on. (The widespread corruption is incredibly frustrating. I first encountered it when collecting a parcel for Erin from the post office. Despite the duty slip saying the equivalent of about 60p was owing, it was not released until I’d handed over £12). Even after the port officials had been satisfied, we were stopped on the journey home by police who accused us of being a commercial vehicle travelling illegally at night. The paperwork showing purchase that day did little to persuade them otherwise and they spent an hour trying to extract a bribe. Eventually they came on the bus and quizzed Erin, Mira & me for a bit in Kiswahili. We answered what we could and attempted to look as if we understood the rest. The police then decided we had nice smiles, told the Jesuits they should get us home and let us go without payment. Can’t imagine quite what they were looking at as I was hard pressed to manage anything like a smile to them! 
