The next two days, I was scheduled to work in Triage. Although triage could get boring really fast, I love doing triage because of Bibi. I love Bibi. She is an amazing woman, full of love and happiness. I spent the past two days learning more about Bibi, her family, and life in Tanzania. Bibi is from the Sukuma tribe, the predominant tribe in Mwanza. For my love for language, she was open to teaching me a few phrases in Sukuma. Although everybody in the clinic wasn’t Sukuma, everyone could recognize the language. I began to walk around greeting people in Sukuma. People would smile or laugh and respond back. The best response was from Dr. Bon, who isn’t Sukuma, but his wife is Sukuma. He laughed his usually hysterical laugh with a huge smile on his face, stating that is strange to see a foreigner speak sukuma. I greeted the construction workers and at first they were confused. Then they began to smile and respond back laughing. They also taught me a few phrases in Sukuma. From this point on, I would always greet and be greeted with Sukuma by the IHP workers. I felt that my relationship with them reached another level. Oh, the power of language and another reminder that communication is important. Yes, and part of my Africanisation.
On Wednesday night, we decided that we should venture out to town more. We decided to “risk our lives” (as Paula would put it) and take the daladala out to downtown Mwanza. The main mode of transportation in the area is to ride a daladala. A daladala is basically a refurbished van with about 15 seats. There would be the driver and another person who hangs out near the sliding door of the van to entice people who need a ride somewhere and also to collect money. If not riding a motorbike or a truck, mostly everyone rides the daladala. They remind me of the chicken buses in Guatemala, except smaller and with less crazy roads. Anyways, I got off of my first daladala thinking, “Not so bad.”
We had dinner at the Mwanza Hotel, where I had one of the best India food I’ve ever had. I ordered this Aloo dish with samosas and (of course) a tangawizi. And let the rest of the night be history. Let’s just say we experienced some Mwanza nightlife. Interesting.
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