Day 45: Where It All Began...

          Today we went back to the place where my baba made his first Tanzanian money. We kept a very low profile...
          Sing'isi. A sleepy village up in the hills of Meru. The perfect place to make money. Which is exactly what my father did, back in the 1950's. But that's a story for another time. Today we finally went to Sing'isi to visit the place where my baba had lived and worked while making money, as well as to see the Kitomari's, old friends of Baba.
          We went to visit the family of Philip Kitomari (a relative of Nedwido who we met in Arusha). My babu brought Baba here to live with them, and he was sort of temporarily adopted into their family. Baba became Philip Kitomari's fourth son, after Jeremiah, Moses, and Anthony. We first stopped at Jeremiah Kitomari and his wife. His son Tito also lives in his own house on the same property (would that be a daughter-in-law house?). From there we walked up the road to the place where my baba lived while making money, at Murasa (though everyone called Mama Petro because of Baba). The house was gone, but Makoka (the widow of Anthony Kitomari) still lived near by. When we got there while she was working with the cows. "Is it really you?" she cried when she first saw Baba. We were immediately whisked inside and served tea and cooked corn (rather than steaming their corn, Tanzanians cook their cobs like popcorn. It makes for a chewy snack. I prefer the steamed variety, but I was very hungry, and ended up eating the whole thing). Baba told of how he made money (in English, so I could understand), since even here not everyone knew the whole, real, story.
          Once we finished at Makoka we went to Nedwido Kitomari. Baba talked with him (fortunately not for too long), and then it was time for one last stop at Alfred's house, the first place where Baba made money. Unfortunately, he wasn't there. We had a hard time finding Alfred, first going to one place, asking around, then being sent to another. Now, as a side note, there were a lot of children in the area, as school had just gotten out. And whenever one of them saw me, they would cry, "Mzungu! Mzungu!" Well I am not a Mzungu, I am a Meru (who happens to also be American). So I would alway shout back, "Meme si Mzungu! Meme Meru!". As it turns out, though, this was probably an even more convincing argument that I was a Mzungu, as I was saying it wrong. "Meme si Mzungu!" is correct, if one was writing in Kiswahili. When, however, one is speaking in Kiswahili, the more standard form is "Mesi Msungu!". Thanks, Baba...
          Just as we were about to give up looking for Alfred, we finally found him. It turned out he had been hiding from us, as he had thought we were the police! Finally though the confusion was straightened out, and he and Baba got to catch up on old times. At last it was time to get out of there and head home, before the police did come looking for a certain someone...


E’ya! - Tate


Jump to: Day 44 or Day 46