Tanzania's Finest?

I was stopped by a policeman at the corner of Haile Sellasie Road last week.

I was hot and bothered because the air-conditioning in my car is behaving badly and refuses to drop below a certain temperature. Heat always puts me in an bad mood and I was dying to get home and cool off when I spied a policeman standing right in the centre of the road, waving at me to pull over.

I don't really want to admit it but I seriously considered slamming my foot down on the accelerator so he'd get scared and jump out of my way. In Dar, there's no real fear of being hunted down on a high speed chase because policemen rarely have vehicles at their disposal. They all get dropped off at their various corners during the day and presumably picked up at the end of the day.

(Some of them have a horrifying habit of just opening the passenger door and jumping into your car when you slow down at a corner. Then they'll make you drop them off at the police station - this is especially true when it rains as the poor Engineer can testify!)

Anyway, at the last moment, I decided to do the sensible thing and stop. The guy greeted me and then proceeded to rattle off in Swahili but of course I didn't understand a word he was saying. When he discovered this, he began a long lecture on why I should know the national language of Tanzania since I've been here for quite a while (he made it a point to ask how long I've been here the moment he established that I'm Malaysian) .

At this point, I was really beginning to regret not having run him over earlier but it was too late.

He eventually got to the point and asked for my license. When he couldn't find anything wrong with that, he asked if I had a reflector and fire extinguisher in my car (these are a must for every vehicle according to local law). I felt a mild wave of panic because I couldn't remember if I had them in the boot. So I did the only thing women do when they're caught in a situation like this - I pretended to have a 'blonde' moment.

Instead of opening the boot, I opened the door of the fuel tank and then the bonnet and then I told him I didn't know how to get the boot open. The policeman, who had been patiently waiting, decided that I really was a bimbo and went round to the back of the car to try and pry open the boot himself. Fortunately, he failed ( the Engineer later informed me that all the necessary items were in the boot so I pulled the blonde act for nothing!).

The policeman finally managed to catch me out when he asked for the vehicle registration card. Of course I didn't have it because I drive a rented car and told him so (only the owner has the registration card). Nevertheless, claimed my annoying policeman in a authoritative tone, I should have it in the car at all times. He went on to inform me that it would cost TSH20,000 for this 'offence' but he would benevolently forgo this if I offered him another amount.

I had reached the end of my patience long ago and was in no mood to play ball with the guy so I pulled out TSH5,000 and gave it to him just to shut him up.

The guy took it, said thank you and - this is the best part - asked me to take down his private phone number. Apparently he wanted to teach me Swahili! Thinking that it would be easiest if I just did what he said, I keyed his number into my phone (under Corrupt Policeman).

I thought he'd finally let me go but no...he had one last trick up his sleeve. He wanted me to give him my phone number as well! I was ready to slap him so I gave him my best "don't mess with me" look . It didn't work because then he asked, "do you have a husband?".

This was the final straw so I replied "yes and I can give you his number if you like. Maybe you can call him instead". He mumbled an apology but I was already rolling up my screen and shifting gear. This time, I really would have driven over his foot if he hadn't jumped out of the way.

Can you imagine the cheek of this Corrupt Policeman? First he asks me for money when I had done nothing wrong and then he asks me for my number. I suppose he was planning to take me out to lunch with the TSH5,000 I had given him. What an idiot!!!!

The Dar Three

I grew up in Malaysia and back then ( I sound like a grandma!) people were far more reticent about showing affection in public.

Translation: you shook hands when you met your friends or you just waved and said hi....nobody and I mean nobody ever did the kiss on the cheek thing.

That was something we watched in the movies or witnessed with glee as Malaysian students returning on holiday from the US, UK or Australia tried in vain to incorporate into local society. They usually ended up making a fool of themselves because the recipient would do either or all of these:

1. Totally freeze and look horrifically uncomfortable as they barely tolerated the kiss
2. Pull away as the kiss-er tried to approach with pursed lips
3. Inadvertently poke the kisser in the stomach as they would have extended their hand for a shake at the same moment the kiss-er leaned forward
4. Rudely and angrily ask "what are you doing?" much to the embarrassment of the unfortunate kiss-er

Things have changed now and almost everyone does the kiss-on-the-cheek when they meet. In fact, it is now bordering on the ridiculous since people who barely know each other are cheek- kissing on the street!

I was initially not very happy about this type of greeting (response no.1 was my usual reaction) especially if some drunken male acquaintance I hardly knew decided to slobber all over my cheek. Yuck!

Initial reluctance aside, these days it's become 2nd nature for me to plant kisses upon various cheeks (in case you're wondering, I do practice some level of quality control... ... for instance, I don't kiss the plumber when he turns up to fix a leaky tap although I know him quite well, thanks to the stupid tap!)

While I may be relaxed about this sort of greeting these days, I still take issue with one thing...the number of kisses you're supposed to plant on someone's cheek.

Back home in KL, one kiss on just one cheek or one on each cheek seems to be the norm. I've casually observed that younger people tend to kiss on both cheeks while the more mature portion of the population go in for only one (incidentally, many Muslim people do not do the cheek kiss greeting - lucky things!)

I'm one of those who thinks one kiss on each cheek (i.e two total) is already too many. I was NOT prepared for what I have to deal with here in Dar.

Over here, it's not one, not two but THREE kisses. One on each cheek and then you go back to the first cheek for the third kiss. I mean, I know the pace of life here is rather pole-pole but who the heck has time to go kissing everyone 3 times!

The Dar 3 seems especially popular among the local Mohindi (Indian) crowd. I wonder if some smarty pants is going to try and add another kiss and make it the Dar 4. Maybe if I stay here till 2010, it'll be the Dar 23.

I sincerely hope not!