“Mambo!” – Conversations in Tanzania – 24 April 2009

After 24 hours in Dodoma, there was one outstanding item sitting at the top of my to-do list: learn Swahili. For the first time in my life I actually had a desire to understand another language.

Naturally, the first few days were filled with awkward moments; passers-by would give me confused stares for not greeting them. In Tanzania, you salute anyone that you make eye contact with, regardless of who they are. I subsequently hid in my shell for a while; looking at the ground helped me avoid conversations that were destined for failure. As I gained more confidence I made an effort to address strangers, however it didn’t get any easier from there.

To provide a taste of how interesting these situations can be I’ve decided to dictate a few conversations from my first week that seem to illustrate my inability to successfully integrate into Tanzanian culture.

One sunny afternoon on my way to Dodoma city I decided to test out my limited Swahili on the locals. To children, teenagers and young adults I would say “Mambo” (the Swahili equivalent of ‘Wassup’) – to the elderly I would say “Shikamoo” (which literally translates to ‘I hold your feet’) and to anyone in between I would use “Jambo” (simply ‘Hello’).

The responses were pretty consistent until one lady replied with something completely unfamiliar and then stared at me with anticipation. Having no idea what to say I mumbled some incomprehensible gibberish before laughing and slowly articulating “My, Swahili, is, not, very, good”. She similarly let off a chuckle and before long we were both laughing at my embarrassing predicament. We awkwardly parted ways as I desperately tried to work out what on earth she was saying.

A few minutes later a group of children came running up to me to test out their English.

“What is my name?” they shouted.

“Umm… I don’t know your name,” was all I could offer until I realised that their English was probably about as fluent as my Swahili. “My name is Kevin. What is your name?”

(I would write their reply here, however remembering Swahili names is just as difficult as reciting Swahili words)

Conversations like this have been a frequent occurrence, but no doubt the most entertaining exchange I’ve had took place in the market place.

Looking for some authentic African souvenirs I made my way to a clothes shop and enquired about a particular item.

“How many shillings does this cost?”

With that, the shop assistant quickly darted away and spoke with the owner. I imagined the conversation they were having:
‘There is a young white man trying to buy something. Should I charge him double?’
‘White man is gullible, but not that gullible. Charge him 5,000Tsh’
‘Ok.’
‘That way we still make a good profit.’

Upon hearing the price of 5,000 I immediately offered 3,000. Confused, the lady reiterated the price of 5,000, seemingly unaware of my willingness to bargain. Realising that offering 3,000 was not going to work I gave her 4,000. This didn’t seem to help the situation. The lady started laughing as she desperately tried to spell out the price was 5,000. She gave me an expression which suggested ‘You are white. How can you not understand English?’

I struggled hard to advise her that I was not willing to pay the full amount, but she didn’t seem to follow my query. Swahili phrases were exchanged between the shop staff as they all seemed amused by the situation at hand. It got to the point where she got out a jotter pad and printed ‘5,000’ in big letters.

Unwilling to fail in my first negotiating experience I gave her 4,500 – all I had on me – which remarkably worked. As I left the shop the owners all joked with each other in their local tongue, possibly about my apparent ignorance. I have no idea whether I got ripped off or not, but the fact is I paid AUD$4.50 for something I would have been willing to dish out over $15 for.

Some of my other experiences thus far have been highly amusing. I have bartered my digital watch, been smothered by a swarm of village children, found myself lost in the middle of nowhere and have had a BBQ interrupted by a cow. But they will be the subject of another blog.

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