I sit in the truck at Himo market, watching people’s daily lives unfold before me. A man is riding his bicycle with a small child perched precariously on the back holding a large bucket of something I presume is some sort of fuel. Two women walk towards me, carrying a 50 kg sack of maize between them. They finally drop the sack and head into a small shop for a soda. Coca Cola and Coca Cola products are ubiquitous here; almost all shops or establishments have a Coca Cola sign with the name of said shop proudly displayed beside a large Coca Cola bottle. Soda is apparently a required nutrient here in Tanzania and Coca Cola has done an excellent job of introducing and enforcing this concept. So far, in almost 8 weeks in the country, I have only seen one sign for Pepsi and I have yet to see a bottle of Pepsi or any Pepsi products. On some of the most remote village roads that I have travelled, the only other vehicle I have seen is the Coca Cola bottle truck, either dropping off cases of soda or picking empty glass bottles. When buying a case of soda you pay more for the deposit than the soda itself, which creates a degree of incentive to return all bottles that borders on manic. Understanding this point is a very important thing to know in Tanzania: do not walk away from the shop or bar with a bottle of any kind (beer or soda) or you will promptly be chased down and asked to bring the bottle back.
I admire how well dressed the women are, in their brightly patterned kangas wrapped as skirts and headdresses. Kanga are large rectangular pieces of fabric that can be made into pretty much any type of garment you desire or simply wrapped around your outfit to keep it clean while travelling. The array of design and colour is seemingly infinite and it never ceases to amaze how many different kinds of kanga I see each and every day.
To my left there is a small shop for grinding maize, several people stand around the grinder and chat. We had 300 kg of maize ground here today for 2000 TSh which is roughly $2 CAD. This maize flour will go in packages for the orphans and will be delivered when we do home visits next week.
I hear a child’s voice “Shikamoo” and look up to see an older girl, about 12 and a younger boy about 8 in dirty torn clothes, greeting me politely through the open truck window with shy, beautiful smiles that light up their entire face. Goats wander by and I wonder how people keep track of their animals, as they appear to wander aimlessly, unhindered by ownership. I am sure there is a system of sorts that I am completely oblivious to. The occasional car or truck drive by but the majority of traffic is on foot. A great majority of vehicles here are Asian, mostly Japanese, especially Toyotas. The fact that these vehicles last for any stretch of time on the terrain here is a testament to Asian engineering.
The goats have reached the maize-grinding stall beside me, they stop to gorge on maize that has fell to the ground. They are shooed away several times by those waiting for maize and promptly return, this process is repeated countless times.
The children who had politely greeted me earlier return with a massive sack and a bucket, both filled with wood chips from the carpenter who sets up shop next to the maize grinder. The young boy places the bucket on his head and the young girl hoists the large sack onto her head. The sack is easily as big as she is, they both smile, way and say goodbye as they begin their journey home. I have to wonder where home is and how far they have to go.
Severini, the driver, has returned and we are on our way back to Kilema. Mission accomplished, soda, maize and charcoal acquired for the World AIDS Day lunch, and it only took 4 hours!
