Before I left, I mentioned to some folks that I was planning on leaving my MP3 player and packing three CDs to see me through my trip (Come to think of it, some of you were more interested in this than the specifics of my trip – hell, that’s cool, I would be the same).
So what made the cut? Firstly, the criteria; one had to be Scottish, one had to be a new release (2008 or 9) and the other could be anything – “the Classic position”, as Dad, an expert in this field, called it.
The results are surprising; two of the three CDs aren’t actually mine, and the third was delivered to me by mistake by an Amazon second-hand seller last year. I doubt Chris Moyles will give me a name-check on Radio One on the validity of my choices, but ho hum, you know me. To the results…
The Scottish post was probably the most difficult to suss out. Idlewild and Belle and Sebastian were thrust forth as suggestions that fell on deaf ears. Franz Ferdinand and The Proclaimers were early candidates, but were sent home with the other potential choice’s sympathies.
Hatful of Rain by Del Amitri made it down to the envelope opening stage. But out of nowhere came Paisley’s own Gerry Rafferty, with On A Wing And A Prayer, a quite stonking, forgotten gem.
M&D’s record collection also came up trumps when it came to picking a new CD to stick in the bag. Almost everything I have bought over the last year or so has been ancient, making this part rather tricky, but there were possibilities.
In the end, it came down to three (after I realised I didn’t have Washington Square Serenade by Steve Earle on CD, and also that Dan Wilson’s Free Life came out a year too early for consideration).
The Red Album by Weezer and Little White Lies by Fastball traded blows with each other, but only succeeding in clearing the way for Raising Sand by Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, an endlessly listenable album I have my folks to thank for the pleasure of hearing.
So far, so Dadrock. Yet all that remains is “the Classic position”, a position destined for a choice so comfortable and reassuring that a million middle-aged forefingers are waiting to be drummed on car steering wheels upon its very mention.
Women hairdressers and football dads, start your engines… it’s Like You Do, the 16-track best of the Lightning Seeds that I love more than oxygen. I already owned all the LS albums before mistakenly receiving this in the mail last year, but it encapsulates everything wonderfully and there is nothing I would rather encourage Tanzanian adults and children to dance around the room to more than this.
It was almost banished early on, as a result of Lightning Seeds cancelling a gig in Edinburgh in August that I was very much looking forward to, causing R.E.M.’s Out Of Time to start preparing its holiday wardrobe. The Cars’ debut album also began searching for its Rough Guide To Tanzania. But like a weak heart welcoming home an errant lover, I couldn’t leave Like You Do behind.
So that’s that; let the abuse begin. But before you let rip (and as Neil Buchanan used to say), try it yourself. It was bloody hard!
Ross
PS I only actually brought the Lightning Seeds CD with me. Gerry Rafferty is copied onto my laptop (complete with many wobbly laser skips) and Robert Plant and Alison Krauss’s victory is merely a moral one; I forgot to copy the CD before I left. Also, the house I am currently staying in has no CD player or electricity…
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
First impressions
A chicken walks into a bar… and that’s as far as that story goes. It really happened yesterday afternoon when I was sitting having lunch (an omelette-chips hybrid thing) with my host/boss here in Maji Ya Chai.
It’s exactly the kind of sight I have become accustomed to seeing in the 11 days or so since I first arrived in Tanzania to embark on a six month volunteering placement.
Whether it is passing women in the street with giant loads perched on their heads or seeing more than 20 people stuffed into minivans roaring down the highway belching black smoke (they’re called daladalas), the very least I can say is that it is a long way from Edinburgh. Which is good, as that is one of the reasons why I was interested in coming here; it makes a change from the militant traffic wardens and other vermin I used to see all too often back home.
I’m also learning that it’s not just money, water and food that are in short supply for the good, decent folks of east Africa. Electricity and the internet can also be hard to come by, hence this blog not getting the kind of attention I would like to give it. But I’m learning to live without the web; Facebook's loss is east African business development's gain.
Today, however, I am in an internet café in Usa River, where I am able to upload this blog. I should declare it was written this morning and whacked onto a USB stick so as to save internet time; if you can think of internet speed at home in Scotland as being Michael Schumacher, Tanzanian speed compares like a Robin Reliant driver with a puncture.
Belatedly, I can introduce the kind of work I am doing here in Tanzania. As many of you know, I am undertaking a business development volunteering project with MondoChallenge, an organisation that specialises in sending volunteers to developing countries around the world.
Now that I have a few days’ work experience under my belt, I am able to put a bit more meat on the bones about what that actually means. For this week, and until this time in October, I am a volunteer project worker with TAN-EDAPS, a small but highly ambitious organisation led by a salt-of-the-earth bloke called Mr Mafie.
Mr Mafie is a community activist; the sort of bloke you would want to sort out problems in your community. No puffed chest, no fanfare, and also – crucially – no income; he runs the organisation, single-handedly, full time on a voluntary basis, with the greater good a bigger concern to him than personal wealth.
Litter collection, women’s empowerment, orphans’ welfare, the correct use of donkeys; Mr Mafie has interests in all. Ten years ago, he set up TAN-EDAPS to tackle these and other issues by encouraging people in the community to take ownership of dealing with them. For the next month, I am assisting him by writing reports and pulling together submissions that will be used to chase funding. I’m also his personal cameraman (not many people have digital cameras in Tanzania, and have been prowling around taking pictures of buildings and projects for use in his presentations.
I’m also living with him and his family, on his farm, which yields lovely scran like avocados, bananas, peas, sugarcane and vanilla, not far from his office in Maji Ya Chai (is that on Google Earth? I’d be interested to find out from anyone who can tell me). The 20 minute or so journey to work every day – on the back of his motorbike, under the shadow of Mount Meru – never gets any less enjoyable.
Over the next six months, I will write more on this appallingly-named blog as I learn about Tanzania, its people and places. And now that I’ve told you about what I’m doing, all future dispatches will be a bit lighter and footloose.
Am I missing anything exiting at home? I don’t know.
Ross
PS The chicken just kinda wandered off afterwards. I’ll probably see it again tomorrow.
It’s exactly the kind of sight I have become accustomed to seeing in the 11 days or so since I first arrived in Tanzania to embark on a six month volunteering placement.
Whether it is passing women in the street with giant loads perched on their heads or seeing more than 20 people stuffed into minivans roaring down the highway belching black smoke (they’re called daladalas), the very least I can say is that it is a long way from Edinburgh. Which is good, as that is one of the reasons why I was interested in coming here; it makes a change from the militant traffic wardens and other vermin I used to see all too often back home.
I’m also learning that it’s not just money, water and food that are in short supply for the good, decent folks of east Africa. Electricity and the internet can also be hard to come by, hence this blog not getting the kind of attention I would like to give it. But I’m learning to live without the web; Facebook's loss is east African business development's gain.
Today, however, I am in an internet café in Usa River, where I am able to upload this blog. I should declare it was written this morning and whacked onto a USB stick so as to save internet time; if you can think of internet speed at home in Scotland as being Michael Schumacher, Tanzanian speed compares like a Robin Reliant driver with a puncture.
Belatedly, I can introduce the kind of work I am doing here in Tanzania. As many of you know, I am undertaking a business development volunteering project with MondoChallenge, an organisation that specialises in sending volunteers to developing countries around the world.
Now that I have a few days’ work experience under my belt, I am able to put a bit more meat on the bones about what that actually means. For this week, and until this time in October, I am a volunteer project worker with TAN-EDAPS, a small but highly ambitious organisation led by a salt-of-the-earth bloke called Mr Mafie.
Mr Mafie is a community activist; the sort of bloke you would want to sort out problems in your community. No puffed chest, no fanfare, and also – crucially – no income; he runs the organisation, single-handedly, full time on a voluntary basis, with the greater good a bigger concern to him than personal wealth.
Litter collection, women’s empowerment, orphans’ welfare, the correct use of donkeys; Mr Mafie has interests in all. Ten years ago, he set up TAN-EDAPS to tackle these and other issues by encouraging people in the community to take ownership of dealing with them. For the next month, I am assisting him by writing reports and pulling together submissions that will be used to chase funding. I’m also his personal cameraman (not many people have digital cameras in Tanzania, and have been prowling around taking pictures of buildings and projects for use in his presentations.
I’m also living with him and his family, on his farm, which yields lovely scran like avocados, bananas, peas, sugarcane and vanilla, not far from his office in Maji Ya Chai (is that on Google Earth? I’d be interested to find out from anyone who can tell me). The 20 minute or so journey to work every day – on the back of his motorbike, under the shadow of Mount Meru – never gets any less enjoyable.
Over the next six months, I will write more on this appallingly-named blog as I learn about Tanzania, its people and places. And now that I’ve told you about what I’m doing, all future dispatches will be a bit lighter and footloose.
Am I missing anything exiting at home? I don’t know.
Ross
PS The chicken just kinda wandered off afterwards. I’ll probably see it again tomorrow.
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