Obama on the brain

With a replenished supply of New York, New Yorker, and a boosted awareness of what the American news media is talking about, and with fears about my absentee ballot now dampened somewhat, suffice to say that I have had politics on the brain of late. The attention paid in East Africa to Barack Obama has been interesting to me, but I haven't really talked about it with anyone. There have only been passing pop references, my favorite of which was a dalla dalla with "Barack Obama" in big puffy gold letters on the back window. There is also apparently a Barack Obama tree in Stone Town, Zanzibar, that is like a mini-shrine, complete with a logo and sign reading "Change you can believe in" in Swahili. Imelda and I are all over that, when she comes to visit...

But today, as I was walking home from the grocery store at around quitting time, four policemen/askari were sitting along a particularly busy stretch of Samora Avenue. I had to walk through them to get around the corner and I heard one say in Swahili "Barack Obama is READY to be president of the United States" and then something about me being American, like, look, I bet she thinks so. And I said over my shoulder "Yep". This pleased all of them. I was a little worried that I misunderstood and he said "isn't ready", but I'm pretty sure I got it. There isn't a whole lot I can talk about with Tanzanian askaris*, nor do I dally on the street at quitting time, but politics is a huge part of popular culture in Tanzania, and apparently Obama is the great universal, and all the buzz.

I've said since arriving in Germany a year ago that while I have had misgivings about Obama, the international victory tour he would have would be so wonderful, would bring America back into the world somehow. People overseas care about this election, and not just to make fun of how stupid the electoral college is, or how dumb we sound. And while I can imagine that American presidential elections and happenings have been a point of debate in Tanzania before, it sort of put a spring in my step to think that it's a point of debate on the streets in Dar that people are excited and positive about. Not that pro-Obama necessarily means pro-America, but Dar was where one of the embassies was blown up, years ago. And it struck me that these guys were talking about Obama being ready.** These next two months of campaigning will be interesting for sure.

In other Wabes-Tanzanian relations: kids. There is a building of identical height adjacent to mine, also with a terrace. A swarm of kids will occasionally come out onto the terrace like it's recess, usually attended by a few older teenagers of the same gender (apparently they do go to school in the building, too). The first time, the girls all lined up against the railing facing me and we talked, best we could, for nearly a half-hour. Lots of little girl jokes and pulling faces. The next time, all boys, who either stared or ignored me. With the girls, I was told I dressed/looked funny, (I was wearing bermudas and a tank top; they had head-scarves on), and that I should come over and bring chocolate, or better yet, just come over to visit right now. Being a white person in a largely black neighborhood has been an interesting experience, but has rarely meant interacting with women and children; being the only white person at the big jubilee party out near Bukoba two weeks ago meant that little kids touched my ankles as I walked past and I was an alien. Today was somewhere between those two, right on the border of absurd.

The very bouncy little girl today on the terrace, with two boys a bit older, was calling over to me and saying hello, and other things I couldn't quite hear. We shouted back and forth, not really understanding, and then I sort of paused and was looking at the sunset. To get my attention, little curly-girl called out "Mchina!"

This means "Chinese person".*** I said back in Swahili, "I'm not Chinese," and she said, like, well, okay, "Hey, Mzungu!" ("white person"). Fair enough. I think one of the girls said "Mchina" the first time we "talked" a few weeks ago, but I also think there's more to it. A friend of mine currently working in Mali has had trouble explaining to kids in his neighborhoods that, despite being white, he is not French. Not a lot of non-French white people come through the interior of Mali, apparently. But, to his surprise, the kids then peppered him with questions about whether he was a) black, b) Arab, c) Chinese, or d) Russian.

These kids were Arab-Tanzanian, which knocks out A and B on the Malian multiple-choice quiz, you'd figure. I don't even know the word for "Russian" in Swahili. And Chinese people, I would argue, are no more exotic in Tanzania than Americans. China gave aid to Tanzania during the 60s when Nyerere refused to align with either the West or Comintern, and both cut Tanzania off. There are more Chinese restaurants than there are American restaurants; not as many Chinese tourists, but lots of businessmen. But to this kid (and others on the same terrace), me and the Chinese are commingled as foreign. Maybe Mchina also = wealthy, because I live alone with one other white woman in a space the same size as their family; the Chinese, like the South Africans, are pouring money into Tanzanian investments. Maybe she knew for sure it would get my attention. Maybe it has come to mean something totally different? Or maybe we all just dress funny.

I got back into the swing of things today, though the mountain of work is still there. We should think of a name for it, friends.




* carry heavy guns, not always in formal uniform, corrupt?

** Maybe if it's a point of debate here, the Republican campaign is more effective than I feared.

* quick Swahili grammar lesson: a Tanzanian = Mtanzania, many Tanzanians = Watanzania; American = Mmarekani, Americans = Wamerikani; person = mtu, people = watu. Bantu language root, singular = m-, plural = wa- or ba-.