Bongo Series: The Shirati Experience

Though Shirati is my home, I have only lived there for less than 25% of my entire life. Regardless, I find comfort in knowing that the very reason I got out is searching for life. Amazingly, I still have this deep sense of belongingness. How else could I consider the place where my late father rests?

That is where I have the fondest childhood memories. This is where the kids in the neighborhood (almost all related somehow) would gather to play games on a bright moonlit night. That is where I got whacking by any adult for breaking societal “rules”. This is where I still have the best memories of my old Sunday school choir singing. This is the place I whooped the entire Sunday school class in memorizing Psalms 23, winning a box of crayons.

Since I partly attended primary school in Shirati, this is where my mom used to wait for me on a school closing day (typically late May and November) to find out what position I held in class (not bragging, but I used to kick some major butts, which means thee number one position was almost guaranteed). This is where as I poor kid I used to go to the local market (Sayote) to help my mom sell whatever – onions, dried sardines, fruits, etc – to make ends meet.

This is where my heart still beats when I approach the town. In a nutshell, I have strong social and emotional ties to Shirati. That is where I still draw some of my life aspirations.

So what does a man do when he lays his eyes on his mom after a long time? Of course he can’t just help but to embrace her, hug her and let the tears of joy run down his cheek. How couldn’t I? This is the lady who has sacrificed everything for me. This is the lady who, when there was nothing else she could do, just turned to prayers. This is the lady who put structure, discipline, love, wisdom and character into my heart and mind.

Well, let me get you off my emotional side.

The best part of my experience in Shirati was meeting on of my brothers. I had not met the guy for roughly 14 years. We just happened to have different schedules and life situations for that entire time. In celebration, something had to go down. One my cousins sold me a goat for some serious barbeque. If felt like there was nothing better than sitting under a well shaded guava tree enjoying organic barbeque roast.

Or by the way, I was told that I had just missed the mangoes’ season. See, we have about four mangoes trees at our compound. Boy, when you hit the right season, you could actually sit under the tree and enjoy your day, if you know what I mean. Papayas don’t go out of season, but I guess they are the fruits folks like me take for granted. So I really didn’t get excited about papayas.

I am trying to ignore the countless chickens that were gone just to entertain me. This is one of the things about my culture: when guest arrives, especially if the guest is somehow regarded as special, they have to get a special treatment. That treatment includes chasing a “jogoo” around just for the guest. It is almost uncouth to reject the meal, regardless of the similar stops you had previously made. What can I say; it was definitely nice to be treated as a king.

Adding to my fun’s list, I went to the open market. The town holds an open market every Monday at Obwere. In the old days, great soccer games would be scheduled on that day. Unfortunately, Obwere lost its allure and great soccer games are played at Sota, a lakeshore town. I was told Sota has improved economically and teams get more gate collection playing there. In the old days, you would see folks biking home with full-length sugarcanes. I think the story goes that to impress a girl in those days all you had to do was to buy her very long uncut sugarcane. Maybe folks got sophisticated that the hook is now prepaid cell phone vouchers.

I was just glad the open market tradition has not died away.

Along with the good times, it was also easy to be heartbroken. That is because there were numerous monetary issues presented for my resolution. The saddest part is that I couldn’t solve everything. I am not rich by any means, but I can lead a decent life. When I saw folks you I attended school with struggling to put decent clothes on their children’s backs, I had to be very humbled. I know I had to study and work hard for what I have, but seriously, who wakes up in the morning resolving to be poor?

Before I left I had an opportunity to visit a piece of land that my father acquired over 50 years ago. As my dad passed on when I was only three years old, I never knew him. Standing on the very property that he acquired long before I was born helped me see what kind of a man he was. And that is more of a visionary. Hopefully, someday my boys would look back and think of me in those terms.

Regardless, Shirati is where my heart is.

Bongo Series: Cell Phone Effect...(2)

As I had mentioned in one of my previous posts, cell phones have transformed the way people communicated and conduct a myriad of affairs in Tanzania. In addition to ability of folks to arrange with cab drivers on pickup and drop-off times, there are plenty of many other ways.

I landed in Tarime from Nairobi around 6/7am in the morning. Surprisingly, some traders in the local market near the bus stand had already opened up their stalls. As I wanted to take with me some items that I presumed my mom wanted, I simply called Shirati and my sister gave me the shopping list!

As insignificant as that could sound to some, that is a major shift from the old ways. Seriously, I could have gone all the way to Shirati unaware of what my family needed. I found myself appreciating the availability of cell phones in Tanzania. And I am sure the experience is the same for most developing countries.

I later learned that even traders in the outlying areas like Shirati who typically buy wholesale items from Mwanza do not make a trip unless they have called and verified the availability of goods. In some cases, traders don’t even travel. They simply call in, place their order, and arrange for bus services to deliver. Talking about efficiency? I believe that is it.

Despite all the good cell phones have brought along, my mother thinks cell phones are evil. She claims cell phones have increased marital affairs. I kind of smiled at that and negated my mother’s premise.

I can understand where my mom is coming from. But her argument is similar to the argument that folks tend to make about money. For instance, some would argue that money turns folks into liquor heads. Well, my argument is that money elevates your true nature. If one has a charitable spirit, the more money they get, the more they give. Likewise, if a drunkard has no money, they won’t drink. The more money they get, the more money there is for drinking.

I could be flawed somewhere in there, but that’s what I see.

With regards to cell phones, I believe they don’t turn anyone into a player. I heard of underground stories about cheating husbands and wives in Shirati before cell phones hit the airwaves. In a nutshell, a sneak is a sneak, cell phone or no cell phone.

If there is any negative I see in cell phones, is that they have caused in a shift in priorities. I mean, you I saw see folks with a $300 handset, while struggling to buy vouchers. I guess some people find status symbols in strange places.

Did I mention the fact that Celtel, Tigo, Vodacom and Zantel are killing Tanzanians? Try “talking” on a $10 voucher and see….
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Credit credit: Food For Thought

Bongo Series: The Nairobi Connection

After my short stay in Arusha, I had to fulfill my schedule. Shirati was calling. When in Arusha or Moshi, the easiest way to reach Tarime/Musoma/Mwanza, believe it or not, is through Nairobi. Though passing through Kenya is a long distance, the paved road allows for a quicker trip. I had to follow the crowd.

Being unaware of which buses actually provide a better service, I had to allow my hosts to do the searching. I don’t recall the name of the bus, but I was promised this is one of the best buses on my intended safari. Man, I learned very quickly that quality of service is all subjective.

For one, I had no guaranteed seat. According to the ticket office clerk, the Arusha office could only figure out seat availability once the bus landed in Arusha from Dar. When the bus finally arrived in Arusha, I was given the very last seat at back end of the bus!

Why do I talk about my sitting allocation? The ride from Arusha to Namanga was the bumpiest ever! The bus was “sophisticated” with seatbelts and all (I guess the bus owners knew what passengers typically go through and providing seatbelts would ease the pain a bit), but I had to hang on to bars on the seat in front of me, otherwise I would have even crashed my unmentionables.

So I had just to figure out what my hosts meant by this bus being “great”. It meant it got to Mwanza faster, but not necessarily safely. Since a portion of the Arusha-Namanga road was dusty, I wish I had a mirror to see how much dust my eyelashes had collected by the time we got to Namanga.

Crossing the boarder was uneventful. I just felt that the immigration folks at Namanga were bored going through the same routine, probably night after night. They spend very little time looking at passports, even temporary travel documents. I couldn’t figure out why the Namanga area had so many Somalis.

I have to admit, the culture in Kenya is way different from that of Tanzania. I think Tanzanians exude this aura of gentleness, while Kenyans a bit rough on the edges. On our way to Nairobi after crossing the boarder, we got stopped by the Kenyans police at one checkpoint. One of the passengers had to go, so they went behind the bus to ease the pressure. Well, a female Kenyan police saw him and grabbed him for “polluting the environment”. I thought that was crazy, given that there are no rest areas, both on the Tanzanian and Kenyan side!

We had to spend additional ten minutes or so for the passenger to be rescued. Given the culture in Tanzania and Kenya, I am sure some currencies exchanged hands for the release of this poor passenger.

We got to Nairobi close to midnight. I was hungry and I wasn’t sure if the bus would stop anywhere for a late dinner, given a sense of urgency the driver and other bus operators were exhibiting all the time. Luckily, they stopped at a restaurant where the owner spoke very good Swahili and accepted both the Tanzania and Kenyan shillings.

Trust me, everything could be an experience. The restaurant was a “self-serve” type of joint. You pick what you want and you head to the counter to pay. No one was waiting tables. I picked what I wanted and headed to the cashier and I was surprised at the way the guy behind was shoving and pushing me, competing with to get the cashier’s attention. I had to ask why he wasn’t giving me my personal space, and he just gave me a puzzled look asking me in return, “we vipi, nimekubana wapi”?

It just hit me that I was looking at life through different lenses. Personal space? I felt embarrassed for demanding a personal space in a situation where it was OK to breathe on someone else’s neck.

We got back to the bus and headed towards Sirari. Upon reaching Nairobi, I was fortunate enough to secure a better seat. I don’t recall much on the way to Sirari as I was dosing off. I only woke up when the bus conductor made the “passport” announcement. I obliged, getting off the bus to face a chilly weather in Sirari.

At around five o’clock in the morning there were actually ladies selling porridge and tea at the boarder. I guess they have been there long enough to know that there are customers who would buy porridge that early in the morning. Honestly, I didn’t care for no porridge, I was just anxious to get to Tarime so that I could find my way to Shirati. Furthermore, I was just glad to cross over to the Tanzanian side, it just felt comforting to know I was in a place where I belonged.

Bongo Series: The Arusha Experience

After my short stay in Moshi, I headed to Arusha. I had never spent a night in Arusha so the idea was so exciting for me. We had private ride to Arusha, so we didn’t have the whole “kuchimba dawa” experience.

Before we left for Arusha, my cousin, who provided the ride for me, had to do some banking in Moshi. Trust me; banking in Tanzania could be a whole day affair. I know folks in Tanzania can’t do anything about it; I could not help but wonder how banking is insufficient and a bottleneck in doing business. Long lines weren’t only at the counter, but even at the ATM!

I know this is just shooting some breeze, but why in the world isn’t any bank; especially locally owned banks, try to differentiate themselves from the competition by opening more branches based on the population served? Unless the banks make more money through what seems to me as inefficiencies.

On the way, we stopped to do some “grocery shopping”. I know I sound like a mzungu, but man, you have no idea the last time I saw ladies selling green peppers, avocado, onions, etc on the roadside in buckets. So cut me some slack, would you? I just wished I was living on those grocery prices here in Columbus. Man, the savings alone would have been enough to make a mini millionaire. Imagine a bucketful of fresh, cheap organic avocados!

My apologies if I made you hungry.

I had to give it up to Arusha municipality. The city is not as clean as Moshi, but at the same token way cleaner than Dar-es-Salaam. I couldn’t help but notice that the city had plenty of street lights. Well, wenyeji informed me that the lights were not installed simply because the city was so much in love with the taxpayers; the street lights were installed to impress the Sullivan Summit attendees.

Pheew!

To me this street light story made me think of what I have been saying all along on this blog. It is very hard to make progress unless Tanzanians make a paradigm shift. While it is a good thing that the street lights remain behind for the benefit of Arusha residents, I believe it is wrong mentality to erect street lights simply because wageni are coming!

Seriously, when was the last time you heard the city of New York or Washington DC is erecting street lights to impress Jakaya Kikwete? These cities do what they do for the benefit of their residents, nothing more.

Will we ever come to the point of doing wonderful things with ourselves in mind? Don’t we deserve the best of things?

Despite all that, I just enjoyed watching my Maasai brothers stroll down the streets in their traditional attire. Sullivan Summit or not, the Maasais rock!

Bongo Series: Gold In Dust

The bus ride to Moshi was uneventful. I must admit this, and this is not to pull for my “mashemeji”, Moshi is probably the cleanest city in the entire Tanzania. I am sure the municipality has found a way to defy what is typical of Tanzania – ineptitude and lack of accountability. I was impressed.

I was accommodated at my brother-in-law’s lodge. The co-owner of the lodge is my brother-in-law’s girlfriend, who is originally from Finland. Why do I bring the lodge story up? I will tell you in a minute.

The next very morning I headed to visit my father-in-law. A cousin of mine, who is working in Arusha, was kind enough to drive that morning and accompany me.

And back to the lodge thing.

I truly believe that having an international exposure is adequate to open one’s eyes. I found it interesting that this Finnish girl, who is a co-owner of the lodge, found a viable business idea only after visiting Tanzania as a student. For ethical reasons I can’t go into details about this couple’s business model, but in a nutshell, the lodge provides accommodation for tourists, volunteers, and students in a bed and breakfast type of a venture.

How do you they stand their ground? By providing a little better service in a smaller scale compared to what typical hotels or hostels in the Moshi provide. Obviously, they provide other services in extension to what they have.

I learned all this while having casual conversations with this mzungu girl. And given her “success” in Tanzania despite her citizenship, I had to ask about potential moneymaking opportunities in Tanzania.

This is what I gathered from the mzungu: The fact of the matter is that the majority of local folks in Moshi, where she drew her reference, are poor economically. As such, what really drives the Moshi’s (and Arusha for that matter) economy and brings easy liquidity is tourism.

Despite the fact that most Tanzanians in Moshi depend to mzungu’s money, tourists and even “expatriates” find the quality of service offered by most Tanzanian businesses to be poor. For instance, she frequents certain shops, despite higher prices compared to competitors, simply because she would get what she wants on a timely basis.

She advised that the best way to succeed in the Moshi/Arusha area is to take advantage of poor services offered by other business ventures. Not only that, position your antenna towards the mzungus, who happened to have a stronger purchasing power.

Was this mzungu extreme with her expectations? I don’t think so. I had an opportunity to converse with an indigenous Tanzania tour operator who also complained about the poor quality of service in Tanzania.

I hope someone will pay attention to this information. If not, I might jump on it myself. I never thought poor service in Tanzania could actually provide golden opportunities, but I guess “tembea uone” saying has a true practical meaning.

Bongo Series: Going To Moshi

Given all I had to accomplish in Bongoland, I kept a very tight schedule. Believe it on or not, once I landed in Dar from Iringa, I had to head out to Moshi the next day. Ouch! Nonetheless, someone had to do it.

Given my tight schedule, I had to make sure I had my ticket the day before my travel. Unfortunately, in reaching Ubungo main bus terminal, all the ticket windows were closed. I learned that the terminal leadership instituted strict rules regarding the operation hours of ticket vendors and other activity in the terminal.

Despite the terminal being closed, there were plenty of hustlers trying to dupe me into committing to this and that bus service. I really never studied how the entire bus operation goes in Tanzania, but I got a sense that there are plenty of players in the game looking for a piece of the action. So it is not a surprise to find unofficial salespersons that live on commission.

The worst part is how they would push by providing aggressive suggestions on the quality of the bus service, including departure time and arrival times. None of which were true. I just decided to settle for coming early the next day, when true ticket salespersons were available.

I don’t even recall the name of the bus, but it must have been Kilimanjaro something. For the fare, speed and the “free” sodas and cookies, I couldn’t have enjoyed the ride to Moshi even more.

Just on a personal note, I was going to Moshi to visit my father-in-law. I could have gone to visit him anyways, but this visit was a bit emotional for me, as my mother-in-law had passed on early in March.

Was there anything interesting on the way? Let me see…there was this cashew nuts vendor who boarded the bus in Chalinze. Well, I thought the guy was going all the way to Moshi, only to disembark at one small village along the road. I couldn’t help but wonder, how was the guy going to get back to Chalinze (if that is his base), board another bus?

Again, I have never been into roasted cashew nut vending business. Man, there are so many things in life to learn.

The kicker for me on this trip? Kuchimba dawa. There are some traveling “traditions” that you would think are long gone. Boy, was I wrong! Just as we were somewhere in Tanga region, someone got “squeezed” (what is the proper English translation for “kubanwa”?). As usual, the driver pulled over by the road side and made the usual “kuchimba dawa” announcement.

Well, folks obliged.

Quite naturally, I took advantage, along other passengers, to relieve myself. Of course I wondered why this tradition has not died, but as I watered my plants, I also pondered over the idea of whether this was pollution, fertilization or straight up indecent exposure….

I guess I will never know, as I can’t go back and identified my “dawa” which I “chimbered”. And on the indecent exposure part, I think I can rule that out. Man, the whole bus was doing it. Can’t the fact that “everybody” was doing it be an excuse in the court of law?

Bongo Series: The Cell Phone Effect

Life in Tanzania is full of inconveniences. Inconveniences, in this context, are purely from a western perspective. Let me give you an example. For the many years I have been in the United States, I have not warmed water on a stove; pour it on a bucket to take a shower. Well, while that could be a hustle if you are not used to it, it is all fine. Nobody has died in Tanzania for taking a bath from a bucket.

Despite getting used to the reality as it is, I am convinced that Tanzanians like little conveniences that technology could bring. One of them is cell phones.

Remember the story of a tractor driver who pulled up his tractor in the middle of the road? Well, the dude could have violated many traffic rules, but one thing is for sure. He was able to get whatever information he wanted instantly. I don’t know where the guy was going, but try to imagine this: what is the guy was going to pick up a load, only to find out that the owner had left two hours ago? Can you see the amount of gasoline the tractor’s owner could have burned for nothing?

So while in Iringa, this is what I encountered. We had hired a taxi to drop my host and I home. As I was leaving for Dar the next day, my host informed the taxi driver that we would like to enjoy his services the next day. What ensued were the negotiation of the taxi fare and an exchange of phone numbers. The cab was to come pick me up the next day. Deal closed.

As I watched my host interact with the taxi driver, I knew cell phones have transformed the way people live in Tanzania forever. What if the taxi driver didn’t have a cell phone? Were we supposed to walk all the way to the city center and bring back a cab to carry my luggage early in the morning?

In some ways, I am glad TTCL was horrible in offering landline services. Otherwise, Vodacom, Celtel and the entire gang wouldn’t have much to sell. Viva...err…whoever invented cell phones and brought them to Tanzania!

Photo credit: Food For Thought

Paul Kagame: Relevant Than Mandela?

My promise to bring you my experience in Bongo still stands, but I thought of sharing my reflections on Paul Kagame. I will tell you why in a minute.

My job requires traveling. As such, I get a privilege of reading news for “free”. I still don’t know why most hotels in the US have chosen US Today as their favorite newspaper, but I do enjoy a “free” reading anyways. So I just happened to pick my copy of the paper today and guess what was the main headline? “American finding purpose in hopes for Africa’s future”.

You can also find the electronic version right here.

The story has so many angles, but what caught my attention a quote from Rick Warren, the author of The Purpose Drive Life book and a pastor of the Saddleback Church, based in California. This is what he said about Paul Kagame: “He is going to be more important to Africa than (Nelson) Mandela…He's the George Washington of Africa. I don't state that lightly."

That is a statement that the entire African continent shouldn’t take lightly either.

In his own words, quoted from the US Today newspaper, Paul Kagame has described himself as a purpose driven man. But is he?

I have relatives who do business in Tanzania. In my recent visit to Tanzania, I had a chance to chat with them. Their extensive travel experience has afforded them an opportunity to visit Rwanda. In a nutshell, they were amazed at how Rwanda has progressed in a short-time, despite all the negative experiences that the country encountered in early 1990s.

I was unaware of this, but the current trend for the haves in Tanzania is to shop in South Africa. Well, my relatives told me at the speed at which Rwanda is transforming their country, Tanzania international shoppers will change direction heading west of the boarder. They were certain of that. And that could be what Rick Warren has seen.

I didn’t interview Rick Warren to understand why he views Paul Kagame as potentially more relevant to the African continent in comparison to Nelson Mandela. Nevertheless, I’m convinced I have enough understanding of the role Mandela played to get Pastor Warren’s viewpoint.

In so many ways, Nelson Mandela’s fight wasn’t a fight about internal forces (though he had to overcome internal struggles). His victory was over external, visible forces. His victory was over the apartheid system that was imposed on the black South Africans. He provided a model for resiliency. He provided a model for the power of having a vision and a dream. Mandela provided inspiration and the possibilities of victory even in the most difficult situations. He inspired folks beyond South Africa.

Nevertheless, Mandela’s victory over apartheid did not stop the emergence of dictatorial tendencies from Robert Mugabe, just in the neighborhood of Mandela. Mandela’s victory over apartheid did not provide answers to electoral problems in Kenya or atrocities in Sudan. In a nutshell, Mandela’s victory over apartheid did not do much to challenge or change Africa’s self-destruction.

Briefly stated, Mandela’s victory over apartheid just didn’t bring with it a new model for economic and social progress in Africa.

It is due to the failure of Nelson Mandela’s story to propel the creation of a new Africa that Paul Kagame could become a champion of a new Africa. I have always been of an opinion that in order for Africa to change, there must be a sense of personal responsibility and a paradigm change. I have always brought forth arguments on this space that white folks are not intellectually superior to any folks of the Negroid origin. It is just the western world has embraced certain development principles, both on a personal and national level.

Given lack of evidence that Rwanda has received more donors’ funds than other African countries, Paul Kagame must be doing something different.

I’m certain he has realized that certain principles, particularly development principles, are beyond culture, religion, history, time and space. I am sure he has realized that talking about potential is one thing, but realizing that potential is another. I am sure Paul Kagame has realized that the color of one’s skin, while has historically been relevant to certain experiences, does not stop one from building a brand new future.

Surely, Mandela has his place in the African history, but it would be nice to have a new direction for Africa. I just can’t wait for the day Paul Kagame will prove Rick Warren’s prophecy to be true. I can’t wait for the day that Paul Kagame will write a new chapter in the history of the African continent.

And why not? The guy has already built a country from ashes, while Mugabe has destroyed Zimbabwe.

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Photo credit: Paul Kagame's Official Website

Bongo Series: The Iringa Experience

One of the things that I found out about going home for vacation is that time is never enough. You always get a feeling that scheduling is difficult, especially when you have so much to do. Just for the records, I am not from Iringa, but my vacation involved visiting Iringa for some personal business.

The best part about this trip was that it was my first to Iringa. Given my relatively extensive travel, I didn’t have any jitters we typically get when travelling to a whole new place, instead I was excited. I wanted to see the town that Mjengwa calls his work station. I wanted to see all those high mountains folks talk about. I wanted to experience the chilly temperatures that some complain about…

The trip to Iringa was uneventful. I boarded Scandinavian bus. When I asked around for the best bus service, I was given a host of possibilities. For some reasons, some were knocking Scandinavian as outdated. If you ask me, I would still recommend Scandinavian. Despite their fleet being “old”, their drivers are actually very careful and cautious on the road. The driver of our bus to Iringa did not overtake any vehicle in front unless he had a clear view.

That gave me comfort and a reason to relax.

The care exercised by Scandinavian bus drivers, as I found out, is what irks some passengers. I mean, can you believe that some passengers actually incite drivers to speed up? Well, maybe I am old fashioned, but I’d rather get wherever I am going safely than never at all. The rate of road fatalities in Tanzania probably proves my philosophical stand a wise one.

True to the “complaints”, Iringa happened to be chilly. Just to my personal delight, the mountain scenes are just beautiful. Folks, let the truth be told, Tanzania is just beautiful. Can I brag a little?

I have no idea where Iringa stands in terms of local economic performance. Regardless, I just felt the region has plenty of potential, if the region can fully capitalize on the natural resources endowed to her. I know that sounds like a political cliché, but I am just giving my take.

For all y’all who have never been to Iringa, Iringa is a mini-Mwanza sans the lake. I liked that about the town. The town has also the Dodoma feel, especially the occasional winds that sweep the dust off the ground to pedestrians’ faces. Other than that, it is just another third-world town, with the majority of the roads still lacking the durable tarmac coating.

I had an opportunity to visit Tumaini University. Given the size of most universities in America, the campus is relatively small. Nonetheless, I was impressed with the general environment of the campus. I have one question though. Why is it that Tanzanians like to create “panya roads” on grass grounds? I mean, here you have a beautiful campus, but with plenty of “panya roads”!

I can’t comprehend it. Personally, it just irks me.

One phenomenon that I observed is that many Tumaini students do not live on campus. Some rent houses close to campus. That to me was an investment opportunity. Given my experience in an American university, I understand how apartment developers make a killing. That is due to a steady demand of customers, with only limited supply. While Tumaini University offers dormitories, these dormitories are expensive and offer little in value compared to what students can get elsewhere. So how does a developer make a killing? Offer amenities that both TU dormitories and local houses cannot.
Well, there you go. I have given you useful information.

Just one thing before I let you go. Early in the day, my host and I were walking to the town center from the dwelling quarters. It just happened that there was a tractor coming our way, pulling a cart. The driver’s cell rang. The guy calmly stopped the tractor, switched the tractor’s engine off and started conversing with the other party.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with the guy stopping, switching off the tractor’s engine, and conversing with his caller, except for one minor detail. He stopped right in the middle of the road!
I am too westernized? I wondered and still wondering.

Bongo Series: The Reality

It is very easy for folks to regard you as a pretender when you first land in Dar. There are funny little things that you could do. Excluding this latest trip back home, I had gone to Tanzania in December of 2004 and my brother had come to pick me up from the airport. Knowing that I could not drive in Dar, I had slowly headed towards the “passengers” side. I didn’t realize what was happening, until I saw my brother’s wicked smile!

Please raise your mouse if you can relate. Sometimes, your brain just goes on auto drive. So this time around, I headed towards the true passengers’ side. I had learned my lesson in 2004!

On our way home, my brother-in-law, who came to pick me up from the airport slid a question to me: What tells that one has finally landed in Dar?

I had decided to enjoy my trip this time around. I learned that opening a critical eye all the time could spoil even moments that should be savored. But here I was, being asked to compare and contrast between my daily experiences in Columbus to that in Dar-es-Salaam. To keep the conversation going, I had to give my response.

Apart from the heat wave, Dar provided me with a sense of chaos. I don’t remember the last time I heard random honking in Columbus. Probably, I never will. Not only that, but there are subtle cultural differences that speaks a loud welcoming language. One of them is the recognition of personal space. While it is a “crime” to crowd another individual in Columbus, it isn’t so in Dar-es-Salaam. It is OK to breathe on the other person’s neck while standing in line for the immigration check-out. Did I also mention those askaris walking aimlessly at the airport with sticks or clubs?

Another cultural difference is a sense of casualness from “professionals”. I was amazed at how the immigration officers acted as if the passengers, and even they, had all day. I can never imagine any office in the States (even government offices in the States which are notorious for laxity) that could to the extent you see in Bongoland.

I don’t know what my brother-in-law thought of my comments, but I had to be honest. But again, this is a guy who got his first degree in Australia and his graduate degree in Sweden. I guess he had forgotten the difference between those countries and Bongoland after assimilation!

For me, there were mixed feelings once I stepped into the Dar open air. There was a sense of freedom and belongingness. On the other hand, there was a feeling of strangeness. I felt belonging because I was among people who truly know me. There was sense of pride, as I just landed in the very country that gave birth to me. On the other hand, anxiety crept in. I knew I was getting out of my daily routine I was used to in Columbus. I mean, as strange as it could sound, it is an adjustment going to the bathroom squatting as opposed to sitting and reading a magazine. It is an adjustment showering using a bucket as opposed to a shower!

On the way, we stopped at a “super market”. I know some people hate free-market economy in Tanzania (I couldn’t blame them, as bad implementation of a good idea typically results in a resented outcome). Nevertheless, the existence of a “super market” in Mtoni Kijichi, as opposed to “affluent” places like Oyster Bay speaks volume of the positives that free-market economy has come with. Obviously, I am ignoring the fact that the majority of the goods in this wonderful store are not made in Tanzania (we could talk about this some other time).
Of the things that I didn’t like about Dar-es-Salaam, traffic jams tops the list. For those in the Diaspora, try to imagine going less than 10 miles in 2 hours. I am not kidding, less than 10 miles in 2 hours. Yep.

This is not to make a comparison between my experience in the West to that in Dar (though I have no point of reference other than the West, really), but it is more for my fellow Tanzanians. I was sitting in this super slow traffic, I couldn’t help but wonder: What about a business person in Mbagala who relies on commuting to and from downtown? How many trips can they make in a day? The saddest part is that even employed folks get up at 5:00am just to make it work at 7:30am or 8:00am!

The worst part is that having your car or boarding a daladala does not make any difference. It is not a surprise, then, that many people opt for walking. I was amazed at a long line of pedestrians climbing the Mtoni Mtongani “hill”. I later learned that pedestrians actually beat cars in short distances.

As I sit in the ride home and mesmerizing at my first few hours in Dar, I just couldn’t help but let my mind do the wondering: Was I ready to enjoy the City where pedestrians go faster than cars?

Despite of all things I still had to discover, I knew one thing for sure: I was so craving for organic chicken or beef barbecue. Nyama choma anyone? Ain’t anything better than a really good nyama choma and a cold Coke (Sorry Jeff Msangi, I don’t drink that hard stuff).

Bongo Series: On My Way Home

Going back home is always nerve wrecking. It could be because it breaks ones daily routine. For me, I was probably anxious because of all the things I had to do and places to go. But above all, I think the main reason for my anxiety was that I was equally excited.

The flight to Tanzania, from New York to Dubai was uneventful. Obviously, just boarding the plane - particularly the Emirates flight that I took, brings the reality of stepping into a different place. That is due to the fact that the majority of the passengers weren’t Caucasian, but mainly of Asian descent.

It was refreshing to see a few (I mean a few) of my fellow Bongolanders and Kenyans on the same flight. Nonetheless, I was turned off by the fact that some of them were acting as if they are 110% African-Americans. That really gets to me. It amazes me how a fellow Tanzania can meet you in the USA and look at you as if you aren’t here.

I mean, aren’t we have access to the same JC Penney, Macy’s, Marshalls and Wal-Mart? So why would one think that wearing buggy jeans and Nike sneakers make them any better or special? Could it be that the reason I don’t dress hip-hop is because of a personal choice and not otherwise?

In a nutshell, I saw a couple of those Tanzanian “kids” in the plane.

So let’s get to Dubai…

Nothing special happened there, except for plenty of airport workers who actually speak fluent Swahili.

Landing in Dar….

Nothing brings the reality of being home like landing at JNIA. For one, the whole idea of an international airport disappears. Though JNIA is all we have, it certainly feels like landing at an air field, especially if you have been through some true international airports.

It is not like this was my first trip home, but as I was checking out through immigration; I couldn’t help but notice a heavy stench coming from the toilets nearby. I know the answer already, but let me just ask this rhetoric question, why would one place stinking toilets close the immigration checkpoint?

After grabbing my bags, I headed to the customs area. I was actually impressed that no one asked me for a bribe! Honestly, one the things I expected were for someone to actually give me stupid runarounds for my few things. I was prepared to be patient though.

As I was about to hit the heat wave outside to meet my relatives after smoothly going through customs, a TRA guy stopped me. Amazingly, the guy asked for my passport. I had already gone through immigration and customs, so I was eagerly waiting to hear the reason for a tax guy to ask for my passport. Guess what the guy asked me? He wanted to know where my old passport was (as I used the new Tanzanian passports) and where I renewed my passport. I almost laughed.

Instead of being dramatic (as my relatives where eagerly looking and waiting for me), I calmly told the guy that I renewed my passport at the Tanzanian embassy in Washington, DC. As to where my old passport was, I kindly told him that it was somewhere in my luggage. But then I smoothly asked the guy to read my current passport carefully, I specifically drew his attention to the part where it reads that my passport was still valid for the next eight years!

If I were the old, unwise me, I could have slapped the guy. For one, I had already gone through immigration and customs, which means as a tax guy he had nothing to ask. Secondly, I had no time for senseless questions.

I didn’t ask the guy what he wanted, but I presumed he was looking for a loophole to pierce a hole in my wallet. I stepped out on the warm Dar-es-Salaam air to kiss and hug my loved ones; I couldn’t help but wonder how many of these senseless incidences my fellow Tanzanians go through on a daily basis.

And can you believe that the driver actually drove on the “wrong” side of the road going home?

Bongo Series: The Vacation Overview

In my last post I hinted that I was feeling burned out about this whole blogging thing. Unlike someone like Michuzi who could pull contents from his line of work, mine requires going an extra mile. Well, that extra kilometer sometimes tolls your mind.

I had to take a break.

However, I did also take a literal break. Where else could Bongolanders like me take a nice little vacation? ….You guessed it right.

So in the next few days…or weeks…I will open my diary for you. I will try to reflect on issues I saw firsthand.

Despite pressing family issues that I had to attend to, the vacation in Tanzania was wonderful. It opened my eyes to positive changes happening in Bongoland and negative things alike. Three weeks in Tanzania wasn’t adequate in my mind, but that time was enough to open my eyes.

So come along in the next few days....

Condemning Mugabe: It Is About Principles

For a while I didn’t want to write. I didn’t want to think. Thinking drains, if you didn’t know. I just wanted to let the world go by. Besides, what I am accomplishing by blogging? That’s what I thought.

When something is your calling, it is hard to run away from it. You could find all the “logical” reasons to stop, but then when you see issues around you, something in you just burns…

I am back to this spot? I am not sure. I just thought I should something about this Mugabe thing.

Given the historical relationship between Africa and the West, I can understand why the African leaders failed to condemn Robert Mugabe. I can understand the sentiments that ordinary Africans are taught to hold against the West. I can understand the African leaders’ view, which equates condemning Mugabe to sacrificing a brother to fulfill the desires of the Western imperialists.

Nevertheless, if you take a grand view, ain’t there life and general principles that are beyond George W. Bush and Gordon Brown? I mean, ain’t some of those principles so precious that some countries like Tanzania have built their Constitution (e.g. All human are created equal) on? Aren’t those same and valuable principles that Mugabe has repeatedly violated?

So what exactly are the “unique” African principles that make Mugabe worth hugging and laughing with?

I knew African leaders were wimpy, but I never knew they could be wimpy to this horrible extent. I never knew they would actually have the audacity to sacrifice millions of helpless Zimbabweans for the sake of a useless crap like Mugabe.

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Photo credit: Mroki

Poor Inattentive Bongolanders…

I don’t want to be thought of as a senseless critic. And talking of that, can you have a senseless critic? I think so. To me, a senseless critic is the one who likes to criticize for no good reason other than getting a thrill from shooting everything down. I think a senseless critic is the type that cannot provide an alternative or a good rationale for their criticism.

As much as I have spent much of this blog aiming my guns at those at the top, I also believe the guns should be aimed at an ordinary Tanzania. The reason for it is very simple – leaders are elected among Tanzanians. As such, whatever crazy things leaders do, without serious consequences, should be a reflection of the Tanzanian society in totality.

Just to bring balance into this, I am not suggesting that there are no Tanzanians who know and desire better, but are just stuck in a situation where they feel powerless. I can guarantee you, there are plenty of those. My belief, however, is that the general population has not really been able to define what they want out of Tanzania, and then impose those desires on the leaders.

That is very ideal. However, how can a general population come to that point, if they don’t pay attention to what is happening around them? Come with me.

I picked this story up from Issa Michuzi’s blog. You can read for your own self.

In a nutshell, the story is about an invitation extended by the Tanzanians’ society leader in Detroit, Michigan, Mr. Mfinanga, for people to have an audience with a young Tanzania MP, Mr. Zitto Kabwe. I mean, there was nothing to the story. So I thought.

I really like to read comments dropped by blog readers, just for kicks. That’s where I found the juice. What caught my attention is a series of comments that were dropped by various readers. One of the themes that emerged the criticism and defense of Mr. Mfinanga’s choice of English (whether “broken” or “straight”), as opposed to the “national” language.

Phew!

At the core of those comments is a sense of patriotism. And to be honest, I applaud my fellow Tanzanians who are pushing for a distinct national identity, the Swahili language being one of unique Tanzanian identifiers. Nonetheless, patriotism does not mean rigidity in thinking. To me, patriotism is about protection of national interests, while finding a rational balance in handling global and natural pressures. Sometimes, hard items handle pressure well, and at times flexible items handle pressure well. We have to pick our battle and to know which approach works well. Not only that, but being flexible and ready to change over and over again as the world changes.

So why I am gunning down those who are up and arms against Mr. Mfinanga’s use of English? For one, it is his prerogative to use whatever language he chooses. Being a Tanzanian does not compel you use English. Isn’t Daily News, an English daily newspaper, owned (through their government) by the very people who are shooting down Mr. Mfinanga? The biggest reason for my “anger” is this: while folks are shouting at Mr. Mfinanga, their own government is talking about making English the official teaching language in Tanzania!

Go ahead, read the story.

So at the end of the day, who is stupid?
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Photo Credit: Mjengwa

Thankful for Spiritual Freedom...

Did I ever tell you that I “love” Tanzania? Well, forget about the NBA’s slogan, “Where amazing happens”. I think the amazing really happens in Tanzania. Some the “amazing” things can actually freak any normal human being out. I mean, where else does the “man-eat-man” actually is practiced?

If you missed it, just revisit this crazy story .

I know I can discuss critical thinking and the ability to put things in the right perspective as the way forward. However, I know that when all fails, there is the Almighty God who is in charge. Can you mix faith and intellect? Absolutely! I do it all the time. If you a bit confused on how that works, please shoot me an email.

Freaky stories like the one above really makes me revere God even more. Such stories makes even more thankful of God’s amazing grace. Even more, I am thankful of the revelation and knowledge of how great it is to have a fear of God. It makes me appreciate the fact that my salvation is unmerited, as I could have very well been in very deep and weird spiritual bondage.

And for all of you have been blessed enough to have the knowledge of what God can do, why wouldn’t just lift up Salome Yohana’s family in prayers? Furthermore, why wouldn’t you pray for the spiritual deliverance of this man-eating young man who is definitely under deep spiritual bondage?

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Photo Credit: Michuzi

MPs Boredom Pill…?

I don’t want to sound like a prophet of doom, but as it is, Tanzania has a long way to go. Nonetheless, I find comfort in knowing that nothing stays the same. Life has never stopped providing plenty of surprises for all of us. Who knew, for instance, that Robert Mugabe would come to the point of hanging by the cliff’s edge?

So cheer up, Tanzania has better days ahead. I think that the Tanzanian society, especially those that want to keep the status quo, are failing to change and accept the fact that the Tanzanian society is being more informed. Folk are no longer glued to RTD or Uhuru newspaper for information. You could just get the juiciest stories from Jamboforums.

Again, let’s just see what will transpire five years from now.

In my previous post I reflected on the quality of the Tanzanian education. From my point of view, I really think that the Tanzanian education is missing one key ingredient, which is critical thinking. And I think most readers would agree with that.

So let’s just go this story, shall we?

In summary, the above story is about the MP for Kigoma North, Mr. Kabwe’s call for prohibition of MPs from becoming board members of parastatals or government wholly-owned corporations. Personally, I think the call is brilliant, since the central rationale behind that call is that MPs can’t have it both ways. That is, the MPs can’t be in both in the judicial and executive branches. Lawmakers must remain impartial and objective, ideally.

I have blogged on the notion of separation between the judicial and executive branch before. So Hon Kabwe is just picking up where I left.

So wouldn’t you expect that a “reputable” lawyer such as Hon. Nimrod Mkono to get it? Hardly. The guy is actually contending that prohibiting MPs from parastatals’ board membership is equivalent to injustice, since Parliament sessions are so short and that MPs will only end up being idle. Furthermore, Mr. Mkono contented that participation in board meetings would supplement MPs’ income.

Is that amazing or what?

Obviously, there is bucketful one can say about Mr. Mkono’s argument, the summary of which is simply stupidity. If our MPs are only productive during the Bunge sessions, then something is wrong. What about using the “off season” for communication with constituents, attraction of investments in their respective areas, review and research on upcoming and proposed bills, etc?

If we have to give MPs board membership as a boredom pill and a means of supplementing their income, then we are missing the core function of boards (wonder why profitable parastatals went under?). Furthermore, this argument from Mr. Mkono just solidifies our shortsightedness and stupidity as a nation.

Trust me; something is terribly wrong with the Tanzanian society. I am yet to be proven wrong on that. Seriously, if Mkono is a degreed individual and yet does not have a clear perspective, what about a poor uneducated farmer in rural Musoma?

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Photo Credit: Michuzi

Tanzanian Education: A Piece of Junk?

I knew it was just a matter of time before someone said something about the pathetic state of Tanzanian education. Apparently graduate students from various colleges and universities in Tanzania have the view that the Tanzania education system is unable to prepare competent graduates capable of doing practical work in a dynamic labor market.

Check out this article for yourself.

Well, that is sad, but true.

Though I didn’t get my degree in Tanzania, I experienced the elementary and secondary education there. As such, I would not categorize the Tanzania education as useless completely. As a matter of fact, I believe that the Tanzania education has some really solid contents. In the post primary education, I “specialized” in business education. I can tell you that we truly went deep into book-keeping, commerce and all other subjects. However, that was it.

The biggest problem with the Tanzanian education system, as already alluded to, is that it lacks the ability to empower and transform. And to me, the education system that produces citizens who can’t critically think is junk.

Given that most Tanzania students I know perform extremely well in Western schools, the problem is not with Tanzanian students. I strongly believe the problem is the inability of the government – which sets up the educational philosophy – to create transforming education system. That is, the government has failed to determine whether the Tanzanian education should focus on revolutionizing the Tanzania experience or merely a tool to communicate already established experiences, values and expectations.

Think I am kidding? Just read the Ministry of Education’s vision: “To have a Tanzanian who is well educated, knowledgeable, skilled, and culturally mature to handle national and international challenges in various political and social-economic fields by 2025.” Just think with me. Is the MOE’s vision going to change post 2025? Isn’t education supposed to be a life changing experience not focused on a limited timeframe?

Based on my own observation, the Tanzania education is set up to maintain certain expectations that are stale and do not align well with the current state of affairs. The worst part is that most of the current decision-makers in Tanzania do not know the alternative. That is because they went through the same educational system.

As it is, we shouldn’t expect anything to change, unless competition between higher learning institutions in Tanzania causes flexibility and innovation in the delivery of education.

So how bad is the situation? Just read this excerpt from the above referenced Guardian article:
“…it was established previously that people who even graduated with First Class were not able to perform well once employed and it was difficult for them to learn fast while training on the job”. If we have graduates who can’t perform in the labor market, what constitutes a “well educated” Tanzanian?

Don’t you think it is a little odd that a seemingly super intelligent student cannot comprehend job training instructions? Well, I am not surprised. The problem circles back to the root, which is the emphasis on rote learning as opposed to critical thinking, communication and other soft skills that empower and equip students to be well rounded. And that is why foreign companies in Tanzania like to hire and pay higher salaries to employees educated in the UK or the USA compared to locally educated counterparts.

And this quote from this very article, solidifies my argument: “It is discouraging to find degree holders in low-standard jobs. If you are a graduate, then you should secure a job that is commensurate to what have studied”.

Well, well, didn’t I say that the Tanzania education is set up to maintain certain expectations that are stale and do not align well with the current state of affairs? Let’s be practical. Who said that all graduates should be formally employed? What about graduates being able to create new things through an entrepreneural spirit?Furthermore, in a free market environment, shouldn’t the labor market determine how much a UDSM graduate in accounting, for instance, is worth? Who says that pay rate is based on education alone and not other unique skills that an employee brings to the employer?

As depressing as it could sound, the reality is that if a UDSM graduate is being paid peanuts, it could be that the Tanzanian labor market has determined that the UDSM graduate is worth peanuts.

Correct me if I am wrong, but the above quote from Ms Sylvia Ngemela reflects what the Tanzanian education has failed to provide – empowerment of students to critically think.

If you believe in the “junk in, junk out” thing, then I am convinced Tanzanian education system is an epitome of that.
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Photo Credit: Unknown

Painful Moments…

Life is just, well, life
It provided me with a wonderful mother-in-law,
A mother to my wife
But why would she go so soon, what was her flaw?
These are painful moments

Life is just, well, life
Through many questions, pains and even sorrow
That cut as knife,
Your memories will be alive today and tomorrow
To overcome painful moments

Life is just, well, life
But through it all, God is still the best
In joy and strife
He provides peace, wisdom and uncommon rest
Even in painful moments

Jaduong’ Metty
Columbus, Ohio

In memory of my wonderful mother-in-law who passed away unexpectedly of a heart attack on Monday, March 31, 2008 in Moshi, Tanzania.

When Politicians Lie…

The good thing about advancement in technology, particularly the information technology is this, I can prove our politicians wrong right here from a foreign land. Isn’t that amazing?

Honestly, I have so much respect for Dr. Slaa. He has been one of the fiery politicians who are not afraid to stretch the imagination of those in power. He could be just another politician, but what he has accomplished in bringing the BoT scandal to light deserves its due praise.

So, does that mean Dr. Slaa gets it right all the time? You would think that, him being a PhD holder and all. Just read the following story to get the context in which I am slamming this dude.

What caught my attention in that story is the following sentence from Dr. Slaa:

“I have not seen any country that has privatised power supply”

Mh….let me scratch my head a little bit. Well, the sentence could mean two things. Either no country has ever handed over a government-owned power supply company to private ownership or no country has ever allowed privately owned companies to play in the power supply market.

Given the context and discussion within which Dr. Slaa made his point, it is safe to argue that our esteemed Doctor meant that no country in the world has ever allowed privately owned companies to supply power. We will find out if that is true.

I just hate it when my fellow Bongolanders are fed junk. This was definitely one of those dumpster materials from a reputable politician. Let me just shred Dr. Slaa’s statement into tiny little pieces. I will accomplish that with practical experiences.

Dr. Slaa, please hear this. The supplier of electricity to my humble abode is none other than American Electric Power (AEP). AEP, dear friend, happened to be a non-government owned power supply company. The company also is publicly traded at New York Stock Exchange. You want some proof? Check out the company’s website for yourself.

Need I say more?

The saddest part is that I am sure someone clapped for that crap.
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Photo Credit: Food For Thought Blog.

If It Ain't Your Forte...

Sometimes I just laugh at how Bongolanders like to pull a fast one on themselves. I mean, someone would pretend to be an expert in an area where…well, they are essentially Maimunas. The end result, for someone who really knows the field, is just downright hilarious. I am not against trying, but there are areas where experimentation is a no-no. Especially when you call a press conference, with planned points.

Let’s get down to it, shall we?

Well, y’all know the whole BoT scandal and how there have been a whole lot of dilly-dallying displayed by the Tanzanian AG – Mr. Johnson Mwanyika. By the way, I just think this guy is a really good example of how “empty” the Tanzania government is. I mean, the guy can’t make a convincing point! That, to me, begs the question, how in the heck did become the country’s AG? Is that how Tanzanian legal experts are?

I wouldn’t conclude that though, because I have heard some very good Tanzanian lawyers making some very good and convincing points.

Going back to the EPA funds thievery, the Attorney General initially contended that commission appointed by the President was taking all its time and cautions to finalize the investigation on BoT funds’ looters. In his explanation, he pointed two things – one, exposing the name of looters would be jeopardize the possibility of collecting all the funds, and secondly, going after these thieves is a bit complicated given that the recipients of the EPA funds were companies, which are legally regarded as “persons”.

I have very little knowledge of the Tanzanian business laws, but I would imagine that those laws are not far off from “universal” business laws. Based on my understanding, it is true that a limited liability company, typically denoted by a LTD in Tanzania, shields owners from being pursued when the company owes money. In other words, when a company goes belly up, debtors cannot go after personal assets of the owners.

This is called a corporate veil, which Mwanyika explained above.

Corporate veil could be pierced in some cases, especially if a company was a sham and essentially set up to defraud. Given the facts regarding the EPA funds’ thievery, AG’s contention of complication in prosecuting EPA funds’ looters is…well, stupid. Unless, the Tanzania laws are set up in such a way that corporate veil could not be penetrated for any reason under the sun. I am presuming that is not the case and that Mwanyika was trying to pull a fast one on us.

Let forget about Mwanyika for a minute and fast-forward with me.

Apart from Mwanyika, another member of the EPA investigation commission is the Inspector General of Police – Said Mwema. Apparently Mr. Mwema has taken a somewhat tougher stance on the looters, likening the looters to terrorists. Tanzania Daima covered part of IGP's address to the press. But what really caught my eyes was this sentence:

“Sasa tumeshavuka corporate vein (wigo wa makampuni)…”

Given the context of the EPA scandal and what the AG has earlier talked about, I am sure Mr. Mwema meant “corporate veil”. Was he misquoted? Possibly, because the Tanzania Daima undisclosed writer opted to interpret corporate vein as a “corporate network”, which does not make sense also in the given context.

This story does not have any juice to it, from a contextual standpoint, but it still highlights one of the biggest problems in Tanzania, where folks are trying to impress in areas which are not their strength. This is my perspective: given that plenty of information and speeches given by politicians and whoever calls a press conference are posted online, it is necessary to avoid exposing yourself (negatively) to the entire world.

If indeed Mr. Mwema talked about “corporate vein”, then I can only assume he picked that from AG, but didn’t quite understand what it meant. Given the Tanzanian culture where asking questions for clarification is equated to stupidity, it is very possible that the poor guy went on and used a word he didn’t understand!

On the other hand, if the Tanzania Daima writer misquoted the IPG (which is more than likely), then just shoot the writer, would you? Someone once contended that Tanzania journalists should have at least a college degree. In cases like this, that person was absolutely justified. Correct me if I am wrong, but I think the person who made that suggestion is nobody other than Dr. Harrison Mwakyembe.

My point is this, if an area is not your forte, don’t play a hero. You could end up making a fool of yourself.

By the way, what in the world is corporate vein? I could be the one missing something here. Please let me if you know anything.

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Photo Credit: Mjengwa