Finishing The Dhow
Dry Feet Wet Neck
"GT" Ben unleashed. Buying A Canoe, Big NEMA's, Other Defecational Incidents And The Advent Of Carpenter Jonathan
 

Wednesday 06/04/12
Now the Tanzania crew is out, Ben mounts the dhow to become its (sole) inhabitant. I am still in my Triangle Annex Hotel room, to conceal my lack of cash. Not that Ben is very active on board: he had acquired a persistent diarrhea some three days ago. He is sitting and staring on the steering deck. No urge to any kind of activity. Not at all disconcerted by a diarrhea of this magnitude - after all, I am  in the middle of Rabelais - I get in the mood to join him, not doing much and enjoying the absence, for the first time, of  building and sailing staff on board. The dhow for ourselves. It is time to stop calling it a dhow and start using the Kiswahili name: jahazi. It is a jahazi.
My 10 000 ING internet banking euros are still lost in cyber space, but my parents' 2000 euro emergency money has arrived! I announce to the hotel reception that I will leave my room the next morning and set out to buy a canoe.
Philemon had found himself a broker near the harbour village to buy a canoe with. But no deal was made yet. I went down with the guy. Wanted to settle with the seller for the shamefully high price of euro 72  and ended up offering 78 provided I got a peddle. Now we had to write a session (a declaration from seller that he really owns the canoe and cedes to the buyer for USh...). Someone knew how and was hired as our writer. Two witnesses were called in to co-sign. While one of the witnesses was signing, the paper got seized in an unfriendly bossy way by a fat guy. With frowned eyebrows he started reading.
In a quick move, I took the paper from his hands and asked: WHO ARE YOU!!!!
Everybody declared on his behalf that he was a village leader.
The "leader" kept up his serious face and started talking of his duties in theft prevention.
OK then you sign, I order him on loud voice.
The "leader" refused. Clearly he was little interested in theft and much more in having his share of the transaction cost.
Then go. I said. And behave or you will be in trouble.
He did not go, but just kept standing by.
You have to comply with the Uganda condition! A young crony of the rogue "leader" shouted.
If I would beat you up your boss would just watch and do nothing, I told him.
With seller, writer and Emma, the broker I went off to the canoe for a group picture (that picture was MY theft prevention). Actually I wanted the witnesses too, but they had stayed behind.

Photo: buying a canoe, Jinja harbour: a semi military operation. Left to right: buyer, seller, my paddles, carved out of one piece of wood, writer, broker.
Others involved: three witnesses and a greedy village "leader".

I promised the seller to make a copy of the session in town.
Then, I went off in the canoe. I even got two paddles instead of the one I had requested.
At arrival at the dhow I found the broker. He wanted money. The writer also wanted money, he said. And the witnesses. I told him I would, on delivery of the copy, decide with seller what we were going to pay.
In town, I made three copies: one for the seller, one for ISO, and one for police, to be ahead of the "leader" in case he would start to try something. Then I decided to leave police since I did not know them yet and such games tend to be all against the richest. Hence, waking up police might work against me. To Kasim of ISO I did not mention any trouble, just reported my purchase and left the copy with him.
Back to the harbour village, now on motor cycle. Broker, writer and witnesses crowded around the seller and me. I drove them away. I asked the seller to find a friend for the English (the seller spoke Lusoga only), slipped a copy of the session in his shirt pocket and said: do not show to the fat guy, he will make trouble. The seller clearly looked like it had not been necessary to tell him. Then, I offered him to share transaction cost. He thought I should pay 15000 (9%).
Will you also pay 15000?
The seller went to the broker, now at a safe distance, who took 15000 out of his pocket and gave it (back?) to the seller. The seller came back to me with that money. I added my 15000, said: you pay them, and drove off.. Transaction cost euro 13.50 or 18%, not more thanks to my martial intervention during village "leader" harassment (I had probably been saving myself and the seller five or ten euro, at some risk. Not worth it, but this is cultural accommodation my style).
Buying a canoe and refusing to comply with the African condition, a semi military operation.

Photo: Philemon with our brand new canoe

Time to unpack the big heap of wet rotting mouldy cardboard boxes in the hold. Unordered, the Philemon-crew had already made a far to high table for my electric piano with border. This was highly useful as "transfer table": everything useful was put there and transferred to the six new beds: the hardware bed, the clothes-bed, the kitchen equipment bed, the tools bed, etc. The boxes and all items spoiled by water started to form the NEMA heap (called after NEMA, the super expensive donor sponsored national "environment" bureau).
Actually, most valuables turn out to be missing (list), in the opinion of Philemon and his crew: stolen, mainly  by Daniel.
After dark we do a big NEMA.

Thursday 06/04/13
Historical day! I move in the dhow! Ben is still bad. He eats little. I suggest his sugar level - he is diabetic - might have gone astray, but he claims he could feel that and it did not. I am stupid enough to leave a plate on the stairs. Ben falls down, with his full weight (120? 130? kilo, a do not risk my scale on it) on my piano chair, that got thoroughly dislocated. Ben even more. That adds to Ben's diarrhea discomfort a practical inability to move more than what is necessary to go between chair, bed and toilet. I have a different Ben on board. No moves, no thoughts. Climbing 20 m up to the hotel toilets for his still frequent needs is out of the question. Lake shore is now his toilet.
I start with my Highest Priority: wireless internet on board. My UTL equipment is not stolen. I put the antenna on deck and have a signal. Buy a month of internet at UTL for USh 100 000/=, install modem and configure connection. UTL did not know how to do all this, but had the number of a 'friend not from UTL' - probably moved to the better paying and delivering competitor MTN. This man helped me out. I received some email on board. Then the UTL server went down. In town, MTN informs me they charge 20% less, but my entry cost sum to USh 300 000/= (you have to buy a new phone of exactly the same brand, because it has no SIM card but an irreplaceable customer specific chip). I decide to monitor UTL's performance, if bad I will offer to continue for TSh 50 000/=, if very bad, I will shift to MTN.
I caulk the deck: all places forgotten by the Philemon crew, with the Mwanza Indian method: a porridge of two component paint and saw dust (SIKAFLEX is finished)
In the night we have a light rain, only Ben is noticing. Not enough to test the deck but we get some hope.

Friday 06/04/14
In the morning, I ask our wood supplier Richard to find me a good carpenter. Now, without Ben, hence single handed, we go too slow. Jonathan, the candidate, is a cheerful and good carpenter, sharing the discussions on how to do things with good ideas. He shall make hatches first, starting with the easiest, for practice, the front hatch. Gets almost finished, I am delighted with a smoothly fitting light hatch.
I continue the unpacking of the wet cardboard boxes. And do some more two-component-paint-with-saw-dust caulking.
In the night a sustained rain starts. It makes no sense to mark the leaks. It is just leaking everywhere. I cover the boat with tent canvas.
What has fallen before drips on our bodies while we try to sleep. At the end of the night there is a clear thunder storm threat. I enforce the canvas construction, move the boat from the shore. I loose the canoe in the process, jump in the pitch dark water, retrieve it, tie it to the boat and try to get some last sleep before daylight in my dripping bed.

Saturday 06/04/15
Jonathan the carpenter's day 2:  he finished the bow hatch and started with the splashboard with main hatch. Ben is slightly improving. Creates himself a place to sit where he can fetch some wire tubes. Jonathan is helping him mounting electrical tubes and sockets.
We really do not know what to do with our $ 1400 SIKAFLEX leaking everywhere. Before simply removing it, I decide to apply a pure two component paint, hoping is will "leak" in the holes and glue there. We do not know what we are doing. An act of sheer desperation.
Triangle Director Mutassa calls me. We had been reported to use the lake side as toilet. Mutassa's fear for NEMA is considerable. They once came to inspect his hundreds-of-rooms hotel to inspect the sewers. Mutassa did not tell whether they led to the lake, whether he had to make expensive changes or (more likely in my view) had needed other financial means to solve the problem, but his fear indicates that, in whatever option, he surely lost a lot of money on it.
I explained the problem of Ben's sickness. First, he wanted me to pay damages. When I asked him his price, he resigned but wanted me to leave immediately. Because we still were friends and this was the best way to keep it so.
I answered I surely did not want to be a burden to him, so I was ready to leave, but as a friend wanted to tell him he was a bit quick in deciding and his time span for leave was a bit short. That at least the port side of my deck was leaking such as to caused damage at the next thunderstorm, and we fearing starboard due to technical uncertainties.
We agreed I would work in the deck until sunset and tonight make my phone calls.
Mutassa clearly expected I would deny the defecationary incident. That is what I expect an African would have done in my place. He also thought I would blast him and refuse to go. That is what he thinks is the habit of wazungu to negroes. To his surprise I had done neither. Then, to excuse himself, he started about a Kampala security officer on his terrace asking him about my boat and saying: "those wazungu come in as sheep and then turn to wolves".
I told Mutassa that this was probably his main reason, since our incident was not worth his decision. That I did understand how a rich Ugandan hotel owner should cover himself for harassment by all kinds of "officers". In defecationary idiom I told him that I would certainly relieve him of myself on the shortest possible notice.
Moved, we shook hands.
My memories of my Tanzania targeting, only a few weeks ago, by similar thugs, were awakened. While walking down, I thought this whole dhow-on-Lake-Victoria may be undoable due to the mode of existence and operation of the typical African government officer: harassing everything juicy remote from the flock. I felt the energy to continue my caulking job vanishing. Took a room in the hotel and called Madhvani, the owner of the - now closed - Sailing Club next door. Madhvani would consider my mooring there, but he could do nothing, it was Eastern. I was asked to call back Tuesday.
I found ISO agent Kasim in the lobby, looking for me. He had studied the canoe contract and came to check on me. I told him the hotel owner's "security agent" story. Kasim stated full of confidence that he was in charge and the owner could best come to him one time. Ben had just mounted the fridge, so I invited Kasim for cold beer the next day, intending to ask him whether ISO could supply me with an official "To Whom It May Concern" after having finished the laborious operation of my security clearing, and how much time they would still need to finalize.
Mutassa thought Tuesday a bit far away but conceded. After all, now I was a hotel guest again, he could not seriously ask to put my means of transport on the parking lot. He did not like my story of Kasim, ISO. It might be a line he was not managing yet. That confirmed my idea that Kasim was not the local security VIP harassing the rich, good for Kasim, but not so good for me. I might need other friends later.
The hotel manager later confessed his belief that the whole thing was essentially a defecational incident. It had triggered the owner's NEMA trauma. That would imply that the owner had introduced the "agent" to embellish his image and excuse the rashness of his decision.
I check my hotel room, throw my clothes off, have a shower, put them back on to collect some fresh clothes from the car, still holding all textiles after laundry, because of the leaking roof hazard. While on the floor, my dirty shirt had been the immediate attraction of some carpet insects, biting my entire chest red on the small trip to the car.
The room worked: worries mitigated, some sleep, a cigar, a beer and some dhow logbook writing. 
Phone. Philemon, from Mwanza: he, some crew and Doi had visited Daniel and seen part of the stolen items. Daniel had "not yet" been ready to hand them over. Philemon had hesitated, since it was not his property. I tell Philemon he is in charge and should obtain paper signed by Daniel listing all items "stolen but returned". Should absolutely contain "stolen but returned". Else leave things there, he will say that you, Philemon have stolen it.

Sunday 06/04/16
Ben finishes the 230V tube circuit of sockets, Jonathan finishes the main hatch, I do port front deck caulking,
Eastern. Out of money. Friday was a Christian bank holiday, Monday will be the same. Think of how many days of the year these Christian fools manage to hold entire countries hostage with their Sundays and feast days. Muslims have some too, but even on those, many of them keep working.
Philemon tells on the phone he does not want to retrieve my property stolen by Daniel without  my prior personal announcement. I call Daniel, and shout: Philemon atakudja kwako kuangalia vitu vyoliviobaki kwako viote.  Viote, VIOTE!! (Philemon will come to you to see all things that remained with you, all, ALL!!).
After hanging, I add an SMS: Hatari sana (serious danger).
And another one: Viti VIOTE!!! (ALL things!!!).
But al these thoughts and actions turn out to be in vain: Daniel is flatly denying he stole anything. He advises Philemon to go to police. When Philemon reports to me by telephone, I simply tell him I do not know what is next. I have to think. I will call back later.