Baby Showers

People who know me well, know that I'm not that into babies or kids. That's why I'm at my age and don't have a dirty diaper in sight (no, I'm not about to reveal what age that is!). At the moment, diapers and such aren't even on the horizon of my future and I'm perfectly content with that.

Considering my indifference when it comes to kids, I do enjoy baby showers. There's such a lovely, joyful atmosphere at these things. All the other ladies present seem to be so happy just to be around a pregnant belly. I can't imagine myself with one but I've always thought pregnant bellies look so lovely and cute and comfortable (although I'm sure they're really uncomfortable!)

The other ladies, who already have babies of their own, are full of advice and support for the mother-to-be. I'm often the odd one out (if you're reading this, Girlfriend, you know exactly what I mean and I'm all alone on this now that you're not here *sob*). I'm usually just standing around but I'm never bored because it feels like I'm watching some kind of addictive reality series.

I had another opportunity for some observation today when I attended a wonderful little baby shower at the Bead Queen's apartment. I might have mentioned before that the Bead Queen really knows how to throw a soirée. Everything is well thought out and even the tiny details are executed with style.

I arrived a little past ten this morning and the Bead Queen was in top form as usual. She'd even decorated her front door with little baby-themed print outs.

The food was fabulous.....


....the ladies looked lovely....


.....the presents were beautiful, all wrapped up...



.....and the babies were absolutely, cheek-pinchingly, adorable



When the mum-to-be arrived, she was asked to wear a sign on her tummy that proclaimed "Baby On Board/Mother To Be". I thought she looked so cute:


Despite me not being able to join in much,due to severe lack of knowledge about anything that has anything to do with babies, I managed to win a prize and I love it! Its incense, candles and bath salts...


Bead Queen had organised a game where we were all supposed to guess the girth of K's belly by cutting a length of string and my piece of string fit round her tummy perfectly! I guess I'm not good with babies but I'm clearly good with judging the size of waistlines (I suppose this expertise has developed from years of obsessing about my own!)

Its all so much fun and games with baby showers, if only babies are the same way..... I might actually consider having one!

Boat....er I mean Goat Races!

Goats are clumsy creatures. If you needed proof of this (unlikely but just in case you're involved in some sort of experiment regarding the agility of four-legged creatures or something), you'd just have to attend the annual Goat Races here in Dar to see that it's true.

There were only 2 reasons why The Engineer and I attended this event:
1. The races are for charity and you can't go wrong when you give money for charity
2. We thought it would be a hoot to watch goats go round and round a racetrack (this is evidence that weekend activities in Dar are severely limited)

We arrived at the Leader's Club where the organizers had created a makeshift oblong track in the middle of the field for the goats to go crazy in.

From what I gather about this event, groups of friends or families own the racing goats and on the big day, they get to dress up like clowns (literally) or in other really loud costumes and cheer their respective goats on.

The goats, unaware of all the hulaballoo, run around the track mainly because they have a group of young local handlers, chasing them with what looks like a thick, cylindrical contraption with handles.



They (the goats not the handlers) tend to stick together all through the first run around the track (they need to go around twice to complete the race). By the start of the second circuit it usually dawns upon one or two of the goats that this is in fact a race and that they're supposed to get ahead of their fellow goats.

At the last second one of them generally breaks away from the rest and is declared the winner.




It's quite entertaining to watch and there's something unexpectedly endearing about a bunch of goats running chaotically and comically toward the finish line.

Aside from the main event, there were tents selling the usual bric-a-brac (carvings, etc). The organizers were also going to award prizes to the most unusually dressed and the best hats. Hats off to those ladies with the hats on:


It was too hot to even think and some of these people were really courageous to turn up all turned out under that unforgiving sun!



I would have enjoyed myself more except that I'm a puteri lilin and the heat of the afternoon very quickly diminished my already dangerously low levels of patience. The Bead Queen was lucky enough to get tickets for the VIP tent but I later heard from her that the atmosphere was no cooler in the tent (which must have trapped the heat and created an oven-like feel - yikes!)

I won't lie - I was really glad to get away from the races and get home to the air-conditioners. Still, I'm glad we went. After all, boat races are a dime a dozen but goat races are priceless!

Limbo

I am currently neither here nor there. I'm not feeling ill enough to stay in bed all day but I'm not well enough to be prancing about outside either. This makes me feel restless and tired at the same time.

I blame this weird African flu virus thing that makes my bones ache and my nerve-endings feel like they're on fire. I also blame The Engineer. I think he passed it to me!!!

I got online this morning hoping to write something thought provoking and intelligent. Instead I can't provoke my thoughts into one intelligent sentence so I shall give up for now.

Going to crawl under the blanket and do something mindless like watch TV....

What you don't know won't hurt you

Quick question - what does a rubbish bin have to do with a dish sponge? Nothing, right? Well, much to my horror, my cleaning lady doesn't seem to think so.

I walked into the kitchen this morning and I saw her using the dish sponge to wipe out the waste basket- yes the BIN - where rubbish and various other refuse reside!!!! She'd removed the rubbish (thankfully) but hellow! It's the basket that holds waste product for crying out loud!

I thought of the bacteria, I thought of the filth and I admit I thought of throwing Sophia into the very bin she was cleaning.

With supreme effort, I managed to quell my initial reaction and told her (in what I hoped was a calm voice) that the dish sponge was to go nowhere near the rubbish bin. It was strictly for the dishes only.

Call me a freak but I've spent the most of my morning trying to stop myself from thinking about all the other mistakes that Sophia might be making when I'm not around.

She might be using the tootbrushes to clean the toilets, the floor rag to clean the refrigerator and the shoe brush to clean the sink. Who knows what other horrors are going to come to light but frankly, I'd rather remain in the dark!

What you don't know won't hurt you - at least I hope so!

pics courtesy of nittygrittymop.com and plantstuff.com

The Gods of Umeme

As I've mentioned before in this blog, power cuts are to Dar Es Salaam as traffic jams are to Kuala Lumpur - frequent, unavoidable and Highly Annoying.

I thought we'd all seen the last of the power outages but the Gods of Umeme must have thought otherwise . The umeme (electricity in Swahili) decided to take a hike this morning and stayed away for nearly 5 hours. The Jenny (generator) came on at 8am but was turned off by my apartment supervisor at 10am (it needs frequent rests otherwise it'll go into R.I.P mode according to my building supervisor)

I sat doing some research on the net hoping the battery wouldn't run out on my laptop. I had to switch to "long life" mode which I hate because the screen goes all dark n gloomy and I feel like a geriatric peering at the screen.

My laptop finally did die on me but I took it as a sign that it was time to take a break. What the heck, right? Maybe the Gods of Umeme wanted me to relax a little so who am I to say no?!

Manolo Blahniks and Parking Lots

In my book thisand this have a lot more similarities than meets the eye.....





I went to have breakfast with friends at Seacliff this morning and found myself looking for a place to park. This might be an unremarkable (and decidedly annoying) experience for city kids but here in Dar, where the sun shines all year and the breeze blows extra lazily, parking places are a shilling a dozen.

Especially in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week but for some reason, there were no parking lots available this morning.

I didn't know this at that time but I was in for a rude shock. In Dar, life might be slow but I found out today that laid-back Tanzanians can sometimes give, rude, aggressive big city drivers a run for their money.

I had just driven past the front entrance of Seacliff Village when I decided to double back, quite sure that I'd spot a parking lot right near the entrance (I wasn't about to park farther away and walk - I AM a diva after all *grins*).

Just as I had predicted, I spotted someone reversing out of a spot right in front of the entrance. I quickly used my indicator to signal that I'd be turning in. Just then, someone else ( a young, local man) appeared out of nowhere in his car and tried his best to cut into the lot from the opposite direction.

Not about to be outdone, I pressed my 2-inch heel down on the accelarator and also headed into the lot. I think the guy must have noticed the look of crazed determination on my face because he stopped at the very last second and allowed me to park.

I swear there was less than an inch between the front bumpers of both cars.

What suprised me was my contender's attitude which I felt was suprisingly aggresive and competitive for a Tanzanian. I was definitely at the parking lot first and I couldn't understand why he'd want to push for the space. Maybe he thought I'd back down coz I was a woman?

He had no idea that he'd taken on the wrong person. How could he have known? Years of literally fighting for space in hot, overcrowded, carbon monoxide filled parking lots in Malaysian malls have trained me. I treat a good place to park like I would a new pair of Manolos - they're both incredibly valuable, highly treasured, remarkably rare and sometimes, even life-changing.

I'm not proud of my mad behaviour behind the wheel but maybe the bully will think twice the next time he tries to terrorize someone to give up their precious parking space : )

pics courtesy of coyoteblog.com and net-a-porter.com