Makumira

We had stayed at the Makumira house when the fish farming vols were living there. Their tenure was less than auspicious and they did not get on with the locals so well. I think I will write about them, because some of the story is funny, but I temper that because they complained so loudly to DME about the noise from the nearby secondary school, that the Headmaster has to be replaced! That is not what we are about!

The house is a grand old double story built from stone - thick stone and in it's day very well made. When we visited the fish farming vols had tried to sound-proof the building and slept downstairs. They complained about the school bell ringing at 7:00am to wake the boarders even on the weekends. I didn't think it was out of the ordinary.
The school had serious problems with water and so the students (boys & actually young men) would pass by the boundary fence to go down to the nearby creek to bathe (and wash clothes). The fish farmer vol thought the boys were smoking cannabis and would report them to the Headmaster, who would line them us so the fish farmer vol could identify them - he did this by recognizing their clothes. Well they responded by going down to the river nude! This really upset out fish farming friend!
Once as I sat with him on the veranda, smaller kids passed, looking in to greet us. The fish farmer vol thought they were invading his privacy and even suggested to me that he would throw a stone at them. Tanzanian kids are just friendly - and inquisitive. I regard those traits as being a blessing. Mostly they would look, waiting for a wave, they would respond (later invariable calling out, 'Shikamoo!'), which is nothing but a respectful greeting, and then they would carry on their way.

One weekend we were all invited to the house by the fish farmer vols and on the Saturday morning after the school bell had raised his ire, some fundis (craftsmen/welders - you don't add a 's' for plural in Kiswahili but we did for our own use) arrived to steel doors to the garage.
Now fundis know their stuff, and make the best use of what they have - a westerner may even laugh at them, for example using a stone instead of a hammer - sometimes standards are not high and safety was not so high on the agenda; but I have admiration for them.
Anyway, this welder they had did not have a plug, so they wired directly into the socket. Well there was a 'boom' and not only was a fuse blown in the house, but also on the pole down the road! So there was no electricity.
This set our friend the fish farmer off! He had needed electricity to be a good host to us all. But mostly he blamed the fundis for shoddy work!
He took off to Usa River and made contact with Tanesco, the power authority and they promised to come later.
The fundis did not want to go away, preferring to wait for the electricity to return - the fish farmer made them wait outside the gate! Then it rained so I suggested the guys be allowed to wait in the garage. The idea was vetoed!
However by this time my language was better and I went to them and gave them money for a soda each at the school canteen (where there was shelter).
Power was restored and the doors were fitted and the weekend ended happily.

There was a 2 metre high post and netting fence to mark the compound; built for the fish farmer vol. But by the time we moved in termites had eaten the posts and the fence was less than secure. The fish farmer vol had planted calla lilies to block out the view of passers by, but now these held up the fence. The gates were good but we usually only locked them during the night - I always wondered if we were locking people out, or ourselves in.

By the time we were to move in, the fish farming vols had moved to one of the houses across the main road - there were other adventures but enough said. He did give me some advice though.
He did not trust 'Kojak' the name he gave to the General Secretary, nor did he trust the ex farm manage, Loti.
Well I took on Loti as my co-worker - one of the best choices I have ever made! And I rank the General Secretary (retired) as one of my best friends for whom I have great respect. (I did not like writing that word beginning with 'K').

We never realised at the time just how much this move would impact on our lives, but we were to find that working with DME was to be very different to Hifadhi.

DME is a Lutheran Diocese covering a very large area, principally ministering to the Meru tribe but not excluding the other tribes.
DME suffered from a lack of financial resources caused mainly by 'The Meru Crisis'; but not withstanding that, there was a huge organization and the door was opened to us to work in villages, schools and churches. The Bishop - he must be honored - The Hon Bishop allowed us to work in any area, with any religious group, say that we were there to help the people of Tanzania.

Taratibu means 'formalities' and i like using the word. DME had those.
It was policy to have a night guard - actually a guard all day long, but that was unaffordable. The fish farming vols had Mbise, but he had returned to become a farm worker.
Oh another explanation: The house was the 'farm manager's house' but was renovated for the fish farmers. The farm still operated and they milked some cows, grew some coffee, grew some maize and leased plots for growing maize and rice. In it's heyday, the farm produced Papaya milk - sap/resin from the Pawpaw not tree. The plant is classified as a herb rather than a tree but looks like a tree sure enough. The house was build by the German farm manager - just by the way: his wife is buried in the compound. Grave robbers apparently looked for the gold cross that 'she was sure to buried with' but I have no idea if there was a cross or not. Then there came to visit us a very old German woman who was the farm manager's second wife. He had proposed to her in the small bedroom of 'our' house - she sat on the bed as she told us. Unable to speak English, we conversed satisfactorily in Kiswahili - old as she was, she had not forgotten the language.
Mbise did not really want to become a night guard again, but the pressure was put on him (I guess by Loti) and he acquiesced. Mbise figured largely in our life. But on his first night on duty he managed to acquire my Red Band gumboots and my only torch!

Then it occurred that we employed a house girl. For those unfamiliar with the term it is simply a maid. or perhaps a servant. We didn't require the services of anyone to help us in the house and while many of the vols employed house girls, we never really thought about it.
Well Mama John was the house girl of the fish farming vols. When they left, they were replaced by the nurse and her husband, but they only wanted Mama John for one day per week. We happened to be there and conveyed the news to her because of her lack of English. Well she was downcast and sad about losing her livelihood. So we took her on for 3 days per week. That extended to four as the nurse lasted just a few months and wanted to be repatriated. Mama John did our washing, but mainly cooked morning smoko (NZ term for tea break) and lunch for our nursery workers.
Something else - you don't get your house girl to wash your 'smalls' - underpants/nickers. They are private and are not hung out on the line for all and sundry to look at - just a little local culture.

Remember Paulina (and her wild but delightful kids)? She was a farm employee (as was her husband, Sylvester, who milked the cows - even when he was drunk; again though he was known to fall from his stool) and it was she who cleaned our house before we moved in. The fish farming vols had been out of it for some time and there bats (and their droppings) to get rid of and the dust. Paulina did a good job with just a bucket and a cloth - no soap.

The General Secretary told me that the fish farming vol had caused another problem: he had overpaid all the people he had employed including his co-worker Enoch. In fact Enoch was paid more than the Secretary General himself! I was instructed to be very careful how much I paid people.
Just by the way: I had applied for funding to NZHC and it was granted. The amount was appropriate but we were in a good comfort zone. The money was put into a joint bank account - me and the DME treasurer on a monthly basis by Mo & Jo.
As he drove us through the old main road through (busy) Usa River, the General Secretary gave me another piece of advice: The people [on foot] will never move out of the way if you drive slowly, go fast and they will clear the way! He demonstrated, but I didn't take that piece of advice.