Almost 2010

Photos: Ryan Wienand Photography

I hope that everybody had a GREAT Christmas and that the time with family and friends were very special!

After a lovely visit in Kenton and St. Francis with my in-laws and their immediate family – at one stage I counted 29 people! – we arrived at a small coastal town called Kleinmond.

Since I can remember, my family has been coming to Kleinmond for the December holidays.  Driving into Kleinmond, familiarity strikes as I recognized the little coffee shop on the corner, the pharmacy – where I always bought all the Christmas gifts on my parents account – the one and only Spar and all the places from my childhood.

So special, so fortunate to be able to come back to this and show our little Moo where I grew up.

And as per always – with summer holidays you’ll find us (and about 24 other friends) on our stoep enjoying seafood and wine in abundance! I’m hoping to get Impi’s famous Crayfish Termidor recipe and send it on to you!

Watch this space for further developments……

I wish you and your families a WICKED 2010!

 

Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas!

Today is my mom's birthday. I am so glad that I am at home for this event!
My mom is one of the strongest, most amazing women that I know! The older and wiser (!) I become, I realize the many many sacrifices she has made over the years for her children! We never had loads of money growing up, but me, my sis and my brother had a wonderful childhood never needing anything!
And when times became really though, my mom rolled up her sleeves and started baking rusks on the kitchen table for some extra mola. Today, she employs 7 woman, together with my sister in her own bakery! You will find her rusks (under the Melissa's label) in most Pick and Pay's or Spar shops around South-Africa. How amazing is that for a little plaas vroutjie (farm lady)!

I talk a lot, and I always have something to say, but when I get really emotional, my words tend to fail me...I can never express the admiration, respect and love that I have for my mother...
Happy happy birthday mom!

It is so wonderful to be at home! All of us girls are in sunny South-Africa at the moment, so we are signing off for a while. We wish you and your families a wonderful and blessed festive season! We are going to enjoy our time with our loved ones and will be back soon enough to keep you informed of love and life in general...

Andizi

December Madness

So the long awaited December break (or should I say life re-evaluation period) has arrived for most people and its with mixed feelings that I embrace this one.

There is essentially something wrong with the fact that we yearn for these blissful two(or if you are lucky three) weeks of peace, where work and its issues are but a distant memory, for the whole year just to start the process all over again as the clock strikes 00:01 on the 1st of January. Is this the life we are meant to live?

It was literally an exodus of expats the morning we flew back to SA, even Desert Rose and her beautiful family was there. The mood was jubilant as we returned to the 'Hom' land. I mean we have spent a whole year complaining, and reminiscing over the 'braai vleis vuur' about the pros of SA and the cons of TZ and this was the happy return.

But as they scan your temperature for swine flu and you wait for immigration to stamp your passport the striking differences between SA and TZ is already apparent at the threshold of entry.

You are not greeted by a friendly 'jambo, habari ya leo?' (hello how is your morning) but instead your friendly 'morning' is ignored. Granted we are lucky in TZ that there is only one official language (kiswahili) where SA is blessed with (is it?) 11. So where do you start to build kinship with your fellow countrymen? Learn 9 languages? Can work.

Driving back from dinner with friends I can't help but compare the feeling of literal fear(hijacking, armed robbery, horrific accidents) with the feeling of peace I had a week ago walking down a deserted african street alone, at 12 at night after dinner with a friend to find my electric windows stolen(we are trying to buy them back, its not the windows itself but the motor that powers them) The car was still there, the door neatly closed and only my windows and expensive organic muesli (which will probably end up as chicken feed) gone.

I am probably oversensitive, almost like a tourist but I still like feeling safe at night without electric fencing, three dogs, alarm system, armed response AND a paintball gun loaded with Kevlar and pepper spray bullets.

So although I have not left the shops (catching up on year without shopping) and love spending time with my family I already miss the peace of my second home and the friendliness of her people.

~maisha

Its all in The List

It's incredible! It works! It's the only way forward.

Its the spoon of flour when your mixture is curdling, it adds the clarity to your consumme. It all becomes clear again and the way you want it to be, for fucks sakes you can uncurdle your life with a list! So everyone, anyone, with any little problem whatsoever, I urge you to write a list.



I wrote the list about 3 months ago, and have now come to the conclusion. It's a beautiful feeling, the cake is no longer a curdled mess it's a smooth voluptuous consistency. All ready to be baked and I cannot wait to see the outcome.



The great thing about writing the list is we bloody well know it anyway, for some reason the words on paper or blocks in excel just confirm it for us....



Happy listing, and wishing you all a Merry Christmas - may the presents be many and the wine flow generously.




~ hibiscus

The Sexy Watermelon Gazpacho Recipe

                               (Image:  Google Images)

I first tasted this incredibly delicious gazpacho in Lukula Camp, Selous Game Reserve. (www.selousproject.com).  I was pleasantly surprised, in the middle of the bush, to have such a delicate, but at the same time rather bold gazpacho.  I later found out after several questions that this is actually from a friend of ours that helped out in the kitchen. She found it in a food magazine! 

On hot and humid summer nights, this is the most perfect refreshment and starter to an evening under the starts…..

I’ve added one or two things, I dare you to try this!

 

Watermelon Gazpacho

 

1 watermelon cut into chunks

1/2 cucumber, peeled, seeded and cut into chunks

½ red onion cut into chunks

2 garlic cloves roughly chopped

50 g ground almonds

50g cashew nuts

15ml red wine vinegar

1 chilli seeded and chopped

2 tbsp of lime juice

250 ml ice cubes

salt and pepper

Garnish:

Roughly chop half of the cucumber and half of the onion together and toss in a little bit of olive oil. Roughly chop mint leaves and add to salsa. Taste for seasoning.

 

Instructions:

1. Make sure there is power in your area for the next half an hour – phone Tanesco if you are in Dar to double check:            0784 768584

2.  Grab a wine glass, fill it half way with a smooth, cold KWV Chenin Blanc and add ice cubes to taste.

3. You can’t waste time, so search for your dusty blender that has been residing in some or other corner cupboard since your wedding and dust carefully.

 4. Take a big sip of wine

5. Plug the blender in . Now you are ready for action

6. Gently toss the watermelon, onion and cucumber in your brand spanking new shiny blender

7. Do not cut your fingers off trying to hold the lid on and trying to press the correct “blend” button.

8. Blend ingredients and do NOT open the lid while heavy machinery is operating.

9.  Take a big sip of wine

10.  Add garlic, almonds, cashew nuts, red wine vinegar, lime juice and chili

11. Press “blend” button and watch how your masterpiece is coming together

12. Take a big sip of wine

13.  Add ice cubes bit by bit

14. Take a big sip of wine

15. Make the important decision on what your consistency will be and stop heavy machinery accordingly.

16. Take a big sip of wine

17. Pour this masterpiece in your sexy espresso glass cups and garnish with cucumber salsa

18. Serve to your guests with a big I’ve-done-this-myself smile and melba toast

19. Refill your wine glass and enjoy!!!

 

 

 ~desert rose~

 

My Kind of People

{Image from africanhistory.about.com}

Maisha wrote a post about “home is where the history is”. My history and my home is in a small town in the Western Cape called Ceres. Until last year it was actually on a farm in the Koue Bokkeveld but then my parents moved into their dream home in town.
I arrived in the land of milk and honey late Saturday night after a day of traveling from Dar to Zanzibar to Johannesburg to Cape Town. Since then, I have been relishing all the things that I have missed living in Dar especially speaking my mother tongue 24/7.

I have an interesting love/hate relationships with my past. Being back in my parents' home and reading Max Du Preez's book “Pale Native” has made me think about that again. I am “trots Afrikaans” (proudly Afrikaans) but the history of the Afrikaans people, what they stood for and what they believed in has never endeared me much to my forefathers. I do not wish to go into that now.
What I would like to talk about is what I love about my people and what will always make me miss home in the country side. Last night, sitting around a big table loaded with good food and wine, surrounded by friends and family embodies that for me completely.
Around here people don't call weeks in advance to arrange a social gathering. These happen often and unplanned and usually the intension is only a cup of tea after church which inevitable ends in a lazy Sunday lunch.
People greet you on your name in Pick and Pay and inquire about the health of a relative or how business is doing. If someone new moves into the neighbourhood they will receive before the end of the day a bunch of freshly picked flowers or a jar of apricot jam. Children still play in the street and grown ups sokkie (dance) to celebrate the end of the harvest season.
Very dear friends of mine from here have been going through a tough time recently. The husband is sick and has been in and our of hospital for the past year. The way that the community has rallied around them has left me once again appreciate where I come from. The sense of community, the sense of friendship, the sense of family run deep in the veins of these people.

I grew up in a very liberal household, but the above was imprinted on me from a young age. When you are a teenager it is not very cool to hang out with the parents. Now, my favourite thing to do is sit on the stoep with my mom and dad and talk about life in general. I tell them about Dar and talk longingly about the bush and the palm trees, but they also know that I miss my people every day that I am away.

Andizi

'I thought you could use this...'

One thing I have never really understood is yard sales, you try to sell the stuff you don't want anymore to people who don't actually need it! 

We recently had something similar happen to us. 

Good friends left (for countries unexplored) and with sad good byes they handed over THE BLACK BAG, a bag of medium size, slightly roughed up and splattered with mud. Interesting...

 

THE BLACK BAG INVENTORY:

 

1. One blank note book  - USEFUL

2. Three Novels, in Swedish - NOT USEFUL

3. Five Novels, in English - USEFUL

4. One bread knife - USEFUL

5. One cutting knife - USEFUL

6. A used candle in wood - USEFUL

7. Two thermo coffee mugs - IN NEED OF A WASH

8. SeaSpa facial scrub, facial mud mask and aftershave balm(half used) - STILL DECIDING

9. Some 'beauty milk' in a different language - DANGEROUS

10. Half a pot of Rose Velvet Body Cream - STILL DECIDING

11. One small pot of ETERISK OLJA - DONT UNDERSTAND THE LANGUAGE

12. One HEALTHY Magazine, six months old - USEFUL

13. Finally - a bag within a bag...maybe to give all of this back to other unsuspecting friends when we decide to explore the unknown!

 

This transferal of useless STUFF is something I still struggle to understand in expat culture. You are leaving Dar for adventures afar...but still have a few odds and ends you dont want to sell or, for some reason leave behind without a happy home(or as someone recently said, feel to bad to throw out yourself). So, ceremoniously you hand it over to the friends that have been closer than family with a parting shot something along the lines of 'I thought you could use this, but otherwise throw it away'. 

 

So warning to all friends out there...I am now the owner of a BLACK BAG full of useless stuff...waiting to be given to someone 'I thought could use it!'

~maisha

The thrill of the chase...?

There was a time not too long ago that I was completely oblivious and naïve to “big game hunting”. The first time that I picked up a hunting journal I was horrified at the sight of gorgeous felines hanging limply in the arms of a smiling hunters and huntresses…people who consider spilling blood a recreational activity.

In the few months that I’ve been in Dar I have learnt more about hunting and its place in conservation. I have seen that the plethora of hunters who inhabit Mill House throughout the season are game-loving bush boys that care for the environment and for the well-being of the animals with whom they spend their lives in the bush. It requires skill, patience, and an acute awareness of nature, as I have learnt.  I still do not understand the psychology behind the clients’ desire to undertake such an expedition, but realize that it does have economic benefits too.

And so, the pilot has asked me to join him on a hunt this weekend. After careful consideration and desperately wanting to spend some time with him I have decided to go. My current frame of reference is late night springhare hunting or leisurely outings into the Eastern Cape farmland in search of antelope. Does my going now condone it? Probably… The moral dilemma still stands but by going into the bush I will now see what the ‘hunt’ is all about. Will I now not be able to take a more informed position regarding the sport?

Frangipani

Christmas Tomato Jam

Well finally back from sunny London! A trip to the Uk in November is always good for a dose of the Christmas spirit, hence my mind is moving on now to all things red n gold...

Inspired by Frangipanis post below about Tanzania’s incredible tomatoes – here’s a recipe for any excess you find in your possession. Although this method of preserving is generally used when tomatoes are going out of season, there seems to be no such time in Tanzania. Also a goodie as we run up to Christmas. Apart from the deep ruby glisten which almost sings Christmas carols, I am always in favour of a home made gift that’s a doddle to make.

Christmas Tomato Jam

Makes: 1 large jar

2 tbsp olive oil

2 onions, finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, crushed

2 tsp grated ginger

2 tbsp coriander seeds, toasted and lightly crushed in a pestle and mortar

1 cinnamon stick (from Zanzibar if possible)

12 large, red, ripe tomatoes

2 chillies, whole

180g dark brown sugar

150ml white wine vinegar

juice of 1 lemon

· Heat the oil in a large saucepan.

· Fry the onion, until soft but not brown.

· Add the garlic, ginger, coriander seeds and cinnamon stick. Stir for a minute or two.

· Mix in the chopped tomatoes, whole chillies, dark brown sugar and white wine vinegar.

· Turn down the heat and cook on a low heat for approx 20-25mins, until the jam has thickened and turned a deep red colour.

· Have a little taste – if needs be add the lemon juice, salt and pepper.

· Allow to cool, remove the whole chillies and then place in sterilized jars.

Hibiscus

Red Light with Green Arrow

Photo: www.xafricachallenge.com

Aaahhhh, do you drive, do you stop, the dala dala is coming at  you with  the speed of white light….. aaaahh, but the light is red, what do you do!!!???

Covered in kebab sauce from a catering event which I had to wake up for at 3 am this morning to make sure everything is in order,  I find myself sitting half asleep at the intersection close to Dar’s Game Department. There are currently 4 lanes of cars (in real life only just 2). I look in my rear view mirror at this special shocking pink and mint green dala dala racing down with two wheels on the pavement and two wheels off the pavement,  wondering to myself, this guy is SERIOUSLY not going to drive this dangerously to gain a whole of 3 cars to get to the front…..….. inevitably, he comes screaming past and turns the corner…. We had 5 lines for a moment there!

Every Dar es Salamite (if there is such a word) will know that you secretly cringe when your beloved family or your dear friends from somewhere in the world, state with a hop, skip and a jump in their voice, that they’ll be arriving in Dar at 14:00 on a Monday for a two week visit……. Don’t get me wrong – you don’t cringe because they are coming, your heart miss a beat, because you’ll have to drive to the airport to go and fetch them. Upanga Road – probably my least favourite road in this colourful city.

You have to bob and weave through the lanes (2, 3 or 4 , depending on the dala dala situation) and make sure you don’t find yourself in the lane where there’s a feed off to the right or left, because then your in for a long wait! I created my own lane today, a dala dala was dropping people off at a road side station and there was a car coming from behind, luckily it was a Maruti Suzuki – known in my family as a loaf of bread – and I could ssqqquuueeeezzze past.

Driving in Dar is special as is. One of my first lessons by Impi, was to drive LIKE THEY DO, otherwise you are going to have many many accidents. So I proceeded to drive LIKE THEY DO for the last 6 years. And I must admit, touch wood, I haven’t had an accident!

General rule of thumb, if the light is red and there a green arrow to the left and your on the straight lane – DRIVE. If the light is orange, DRIVE. If it’s late at night and the light is red – DRIVE!

…….. but in saying this, my dear friends, please please be very careful.

 ~desert rose~

Is home where the ♥ is?

{image from Stock Xchng}

So the silly season in Dar is quite a different experience. Seeing that Tanzania is roughly divided 50/50 between Christians and Muslim obviously Christmas has as much significance as Eid. This means that the feeling of Christmas gets a little diluted. The big grocery stores (there are only about 5) have tried with garishly kitch Christmas decorations and of course the usual Christmas Carols, but thats about it.

Another phenomenon in this time is that every single person you run into asks the same question; "When are you going home?" this is usually followed with an sigh of joy (or relief) and a long winded explanation of when, where, for how long and usually ends with something along the lines of  "I have to get out, this place gets too much!"

So people decide on the expat life (especially in Dar) for different reasons;

1. Money

2. Career Opportunities 

3. Running away from something(?)

4. Different lifestyle

But still, without fail, come this time of year there is a massive exodus of expats returning joyously to their 'homes' where they will relate tales of struggles in Dar. This brings me to the point of this post. Where is 'home'?

Using trusty google I came across these two explanations of the well known proverb 'Home is where the heart is'.

Home is where the heart is.

1. Prov. People long to be at home.; Your home is whatever place you long to be.

I don't disagree with this one. "Home" is definitely the place you long to be. But if you are an expat does that mean you always long to be somewhere else? Why can you not long to be in Dar and why do you then choose this life?

2. Prov. Something that you say which means that your true home is with the person or in the place that you love most.

I don't completely agree with this one. Especially with the first part about the person. I know of couples in Dar, with children who have stayed here for 10 years who still go "home" every december? I mean when does Dar then become "home"? They have 'the person they love the most' with them? 

After having thought about this a lot I think "home" is where you have made the most memories, where you have the deepest roots. The Photographer had a good comment, he said that if you plant a seed it takes time to grow deep, strong roots. 

So my conclusion to this interesting question is that your "home" will always be the place where you have the deepest roots, although you might wish to plant seeds in other places. Maybe when you have been there longer than anywhere else that will become your "home". And the beautiful thing of this is that even though "home" might have a complex set of issues you will still love it unconditionally almost like a parent loves a problem child. 

I am also one of those people, constantly comparing "home" and dar, I have to remind myself of the good reasons to enjoy life here but am still idolizing life "at home". It is a complicated situation seeing that every time I go "home" there are things that drive me up the wall. But I am counting the days until I go "home"(12!)

So after much deliberation I am changing the proverb to say;

Home is where your history is

Anybody have anything to add?

~maisha

Queen for a Day

The whining, high pitched nag of a kid... "Moooooooom, pleeeeeeease its not a really tattoo it fades"  goes hand in hand with the smell of sunblock and the sounds of crashing waves on any busy Natal beach in December. I mean who haven't walked past two long haired  hippies smoking something (?) under a tattered gazebo advertising "Have your name on a grain of rice" or "Henna tattoos, any design". The answer to my nagging was usually..."Your body is a temple, I will not allow you to desecrate it!".

So I would spend the rest of the vacation enviously glaring at girls (with COOL parents) who had tattoos on their backs and arms. THEY could go back to school in January with something cooler to show their friends than a bikini tan. But as I grew older the tattoos on the beach started to loose their appeal, but I still got my name engraved on a grain of rice (who didnt?).

A weekend on Zanzibar brought back all these memories when a friend from South Africa insisted on having some Henna(the tattoo) done. We found a tiny swahili lady wrapped in colourful khangas in a duka(small shop) on the beach. After enquiring if she does henna she produced three different albums filled with designs, and not your usually chinese writing or dolphin jumping through a heart. Beautifully crafted patterns to be applied to hands and feet. I immediately fell in love with a particular hand design and just had to have it. With the back of a matchstick she carefully drew out the design, using the thickness of the henna to aid the design. Her hand was so steady as the henna stains wherever it touches. It takes about 20minutes to dry and then the henna starts to flake off, beneath it the skin is stained and stays that way for about 2weeks.

After this experience, which was so glaringly different from the Natal beach version I was interested in the history and tradition surrounding Henna Body painting. According to Wikipedia Henna has been used to adorn young women's bodies as part of social and holiday celebrations since the late Bronze Age in the eastern Mediterranean. In Tanzania Henna is used to adorn the Bride's hand and feet to make her more attractive for her husband. The bride is more elaborately bedecked, more deliberately attractive than the groom, and stands out above even the bridesmaids and female relatives; in essence, she is queen for the day. This tradition is taken very seriously and my henna painted hand suddenly took on great significance.

{Images from Rahim Yar Khan Online}

So, after years of whining I eventually got my tattoo, although I would rather call it a henna adornment and so experienced a tradition that is older than time.

~maisha

From the backseat of my bajaj

Hibiscus is living it up in London, so got an sms to ask if I can stand in for her on blog duty. While sitting in the back of the bajaj (see below) going to work this morning, I was thinking of what to say. I think I have a serious case of end of year blues. That combined with the unbearable heat, crap at work and the fact that my hunter’s gone has me feeling a little low the past couple of weeks.

But this is what I am loving about our little blog experiment – it has made us all soak up our surroundings like when we first arrived! And driving through the winding, bumpy roads of Dar, really taking in my neighbourhood, I realized again why it is that we live here and tolerate the dust and dirt. The frenzy of everyday life in Africa is just addictive! Every day is a crazy, sometimes unpleasant, mostly wonderful assault on your senses.

The beautiful flower “nurseries” next to the road provides burst of colour that mix and clash with the pretty kangas worn by the local ladies. In contrast the children wear mostly rags or nothing, but their laughter and happy shrieks add to the noise of goats bleating and taxi’s hooting. In every open space someone is selling peanuts, bananas, tomatoes or onions and outside dingy dukkas men fry cassava chips over big open fires. Long, regal looking Masai sporting beautiful beadwork jingle while they walk side by side with woman covered from head to toe in black burkas or bright sari’s. The sun beats down mercilessly on us all…

Some expats come here and hardly venture past the neatly manicured lawns of the Peninsula (an area known for big houses occupied by even bigger egos) and then go back home complaining bitterly about how harsh living in Dar is. And that is certainly is! But if you do not immerse yourself in Dar es Salaam and her people how can you say that you have really lived here an complain?

Yes I am counting down the days to my holiday in South-Africa and I cannot wait to run into the nearest Woolies food and buy everything in sight! But I will be back - hopefully minus the silly season blues! I will be back buying freshly roasted corn next to the side of the road and drinking cold local beers with my feet in the sand at Dar Live. It is the noise, the people, the vibe…and all this observed from the backseat of a bajaj, how much more is there not to discover in the hidden alleys of House of Peace?

Photo source: Google

ps...This is what the humble bajaj looks like, my preferred mode of transport. Actually, correction, this is what a brand new out of the box bajaj from Google Images looks like! The ones that we flag down are considerably more run down or in other cases pimped up! They have engines like mosquitoes and noisily wind their way through Dar traffic making them at once very dangerous and very convenient!

Andizi

A feast of flavour

I once paid $3.50 for A (as in one) tomato. It was a beautiful deep red A-grade fruit. As a tomato lover, I just added a dash of salt to what turned out to be a rather average taste bud experience.  With the current global trend to towards organic foods, it has become a costly luxury to enjoy pesticide and hormone-free produce.  And yet, my little splurge was 80 grams of water…5 steps out of my front door, I have found the most tasty fruit and veg from our local duka for 15 cents. Piled high and unassumingly between bursts of green, orange and yellow I now enjoy delicious tomatoes everyday cooking in the Mill house kitchen. Its just one of the things that I love about life in Dar…

Frangipani

REASONS TO ♥ TANZANIA

# 2 It Takes 15mins to get to Zanzibar

Khaki Fever Ends

{image from eeweems.com}

I was introduced to the term Khaki Fever at one of my first girls nights in Tanzania. I thought it was a brilliant description of girls falling madly in love with the hunters and all the romantic notions that goes with them. The love struck ladies are either first timers in Tanzania or the daughters, grand daughters or wives (!) of the clients that come along on hunting safaris.

I vowed that I would never be so clichéd and get The Fever! How does that saying go…never say never! 8 months down the line I finally have to admit that I am as boringly predictable as the rest of them. I fell for a hunter.

The seasoned female ex-pat warnings fell on deaf ears and starry eyed months were spent yearning for sms’s from the bush or glorious weeks in between when he was in the city. That is until last week when his hunting safaris ended and the long dreaded fair well had to happen. He has left now to hunt in many different exotic locations until next year July whilst I stay behind to miss his strong arms wrapped around me and gentle unexpected kisses.

So may this very melancholic first post serve as a warning to any other ladies looking for love (or lust) in the dusty bars of Dar. When the hunting season starts, stay away from the often handsome, sun tanned, strong looking guys. They are most probably hunters, the gypsies of Africa. Great manners, always ready for a laugh and a party, the most fun, but inevitably on their way out of the city and away from you…

You were right Bubbles...it's tricky, but we will be ok!

Andizi