The beauty about having breakfast with fellow travelers at the hostel you’re staying with, is not only in having someone else to talk to (as much as I love Andrew, other faces are a delight!) but having another person tell you what there is to do around the town you just arrived to! The Arusha Cultural Heritage Center was suggested, and wanting a little art in my life, off we went.
We went by foot, which might not have been the best idea, as it took nearly 45 minutes to get there under the blazing Tanzanian sun. Whew. When we arrived, I didn’t even care how much the cafe was going to cost, all I wanted was something cold and shaded. The milkshake was definitely not worth the five dollars. The avocado tomato salad was worth the three. So, I guess despite the menu being in dollars (usually a bad sign in a foreign country) we pretty much broke even.
The Arusha “Cultural Heritage” Center is a glorified shop/art gallery. In my opinion, I’m assuming, it’s where rich people go before or after their safari to browse for “cultural artifacts” that are factory made. Ok, not everything is factory made… But not everything is made by Tanzanians either- and considering it’s supposed to be Tanzanian Cultural Heritage, I found this a little disappointing.
BUT. There were some good pieces that were made by local, er, African artists, that both Andrew and I did appreciate. We just would have appreciated it a bit more if it was only African artists featured in the gallery and perhaps if Tanzanians were employed in the gallery as well. (It seemed to be operated by Indians only) Our favorite part of the visit was the bottom floor featuring masks, furniture, and African carvings. (Photos weren’t allowed, otherwise I would have a plethora of images for you to see.)
I was also completely enamored by the “trees of life” that were outside and inside the gallery. As in, I want on and would totally track one down and send it home to sit next to my dragon IF Africa wasn’t as crazy expensive as it is and we weren’t over budget. Bah. I snuck a photo of the information plaque because I thought the story behind the trees is just beautiful.
If your eyes are as bad as my hearing: “The more traditional pieces represent clambering masses of people, reaching eternally upwards, as if struggling to grow and move forwards… they depict extended families of past and present generations, gently supporting each other in the journey of life…”
Isn’t that beautiful?
We grabbed a dala dala back into town. Genius modes of cheap transportation- and much more fun than a taxi. Vans slow down on the side of the road when they see you standing there and you pay less than twenty cents (USD) to jump in and get out where you want to go. We’re never sure where they are going, so we ask first before jumping in. They’re not made for anyone taller than myself- Andrew wasn’t comfortable in the least, but I enjoyed watching the Masai woman watch him during the ride. When she caught me smiling at her amusement towards Andrew, she eyed me skeptically as well, until she eventually deemed I was ok to talk to. Fortunately, I was sitting next to a super nice Tanzanian who spoke both Swahili and English and helped us converse.
At first, she clasped her ears, full of intricately beaded earings and a few gaping holes (one in her lobe, and one in her upper ear). She eyed my own ears (one lone piercing in each) and asked where my earings were. I raised my finger up to say that I had one piercing, and told her my jewelry was at home, save for my one, lone, Arabic necklace. I may as well have been naked sitting across from her. She pointed out the holes in her ears, and again, asked where mine were. I made a face like “Ouch! Pain!” and she shook her head and told me it didn’t hurt. Then she counted on her fingers, at first I thought she was trying to tell me how old she was, but then my new friend told me she had twelve children. Again, she asked about me. I made a zero with my hand and told our translator that I was too young! He laughed. (I don’t blame him. I’m in Africa. No one is too young to have a baby here!) She told me she wanted me to take one of her children. I smiled and told him to tell her that I was still a child. He laughed again. I’m not sure if he told her that. I think he translated what he liked throughout out conversation. I’m pretty sure the woman got frustrated with me as well for not speaking Swahili. Although my new friend wouldn’t tell me in so many words that was so… She definitely asked me why I didn’t speak Swahili though. I told her it was the first time I needed it. She ranted a few Swahili words I couldn’t understand, and my new friend didn’t translate. I assumed it wasn’t mean spirited and smiled.
Ignorance is bliss, and I continued to believe the older Masai woman liked me and had enjoyed our conversation as much as I had.
