Crtd 06-02-09 Lastedit 15-10-27

Photo: Evening gym: down sloping grass ending in soft sand

Photo: Author with the Mama of his neighbourhood caf� (background), where he sometimes goes for drinking a cold beer, under pretext of buying airtime, soap or other utensils

Mama Simon, who lives next to the ship yard, at 1 km, keeps bringing us our tea with chapatti at 11:00 and food (usually ugali with dagaa) at 15:00. She comes to us with the food in a bucket on her head.

The Wind Theft Incident

Monday Feb 6 Wind Theft Incident: Arriving at the beach my money bills blew out of my pocket. When I turned around, four six year olds returned the small bills, and a 14 year old called Haman the bigger ones.
Is that all?
Yes, said Haman. I gave them some money as a reward.
Haman went off. I looked around my car to see him go. His speed made clear he had kept some money. I had no idea how much.
My four six year olds came to help: he had taken 4 bills of 5000. They took me to his house. Nobody home. On his arrival, Gabriel proposed to ambush him. He did. Haman was taken to me. Gabriel did the interrogation. Haman denied. Gabriel told me he was sure Haman had money. He proposed to put pressure on him by taking him to the police. All children, Gabriel and Doi, one of our workers, went into my pickup. Half way to the police Haman confessed 10000. He was told he had 20000. He denied. The journey to police was continued. I was informed the police is beating stealing children hard, so they have reason to fear. At the police Haman raised to 20000. We returned. Gabriel, Haman and Haman's uncle went to his house were six bills of 5000 appeared out of a torch.

Photo: Mzungu with his crime squad

Gabriel told me we'd better go back to the police to report. That of course takes hours, but we did it.
The next day, Haman's uncle came to tell us he felt threatened in his village. Haman's father was "missing 15 000" and asked this money from the uncle. Moreover the uncle and Gabriel had been in his house, he would go to police and report theft.
Gabriel agreed this story could simply have been made up by the uncle to demand his reward for his cooperation.
We told him to go to police again and report the problem.
Some nerves about the safety of the dhow arose.
I decided for the time being to stay with my security guards, Daudi and Mazoya near the boat during the night, my car lights on the dhow. Reader, keep in mind this issue is about euro 20, but people get killed here for less, and if you take money less seriously than the locals, you are culturally unadapted, not serious, and you will get into deeper trouble.
Tuesday  The news I get about the wind theft incident is that indeed the uncle made up the story of the village rage. He did not say a word about it anymore.
Wednesday 8 Feb  The incident comes back to life: the uncle is harassed and being demanded TSh 15 000/=. He stands near our job for hours. Waiting. Now there are attempts to squeeze money out of my pocket from four sides: Kamkala, Mr. Fat alias Noel, the Haman family in the local village, and the "marine vessel inspectors". Gabriel repeats what I have to say to police if I am summoned to go there. I tell him not to worry, I have brains and we have only one goal: finishing the dhow: Lengu langu ni kumaliza jahazi, "our goal is finishing the dhow", a paper in my pickup cabin reads. It is written by Gabriel. I tell him I admire they way he got my money back from the Wind Thief Haman, but next time I will enter the police office even if a thief has confessed, and retrieve the booty in the presence of an officer. In this case, given the present vulnerability of the dhow, I even doubt whether it would not have been better to leave the money with the thief. Benedict has reported that in the last years two dhows under construction have been burnt. Do you still need to know why Africa is poor? Anyway, every night I personally sleep at the dhow beach with my two watchmen. It surely boosts their feeling of doing an important job, but it does not prevent them from sleeping both at the same time, and having frequent excuses to be with one man a large part of the night. I resign. Gabriel says they are serious. Last week they started refusing their daily wage. I was asked to be their savings bank. After a six days they wanted the sum, thinking it was seven. After an insistent discussion I told them they really were wrong, and from now on I would again pay them every day.
Our main worry is of course the rift in the village caused by the Wind Theft Incident, but Haman's father seems to refrain from targeting us and to concentrate on teaching Haman's uncle, probably a brother in law, not to take side with wazungu.
I am told not to see the Wind Theft Incident as an isolated event, and to lock anything I do not have an direct eye upon or take a distance of more than 3 m from. If you drop something it is gone. As a result, every time you do not see some of your belongings immediately, a worry creeps up, which dies when you find it.
Across the mud road along the beach is a container, guarded by a watchman who somehow managed to assume a police like authority over the beach: his cows have free shitting but, as he wrote on a rock, people have not. Our secret information network (which I of course could not have set up myself), reveals that he is attentive to any mistake we may make, in order to earn a good fine from the mzungu. The car track to the beach, over which the dhow has arrived, is already closed with branches, because is is "shamba" (cultivated field). There is no trace of cultivation except if you consider a banana tree, the seed of which clearly accidentally blew aside of that track, as "cultivation". If the thug had seen us coming with the dhow, the car track would surely have been made "shamba" before we passed, and we would have been forced into fierce negotiations.

A Christian Fee

As part of lake shore life, I should certainly mention the fee the director of the African Inland Church wanted to charge me with for putting my sail cloth on his vast premises for sewing. His is quite a good example of African christianity (picture and details; picture of christian premises from the lake side).

A Suspicious Visit

Sleeping in my pickup near the dhow, an unknown negro has the brutality to wake me up by touching my feet. He owns a fishing dhow. First, he tells me, he had seen my Ugandan number plate at the ship yard, had thought a Ugandan was going to join him in fishing here, and had himself informed about me. Then he learned I was not going to fish. Now he wanted me to find Ugandan customers for his fish, because the Indians here were immorally greedy and offering too low prices. While he gave me his address data it occurred to me he might well be the man who paid to have me arrested by the immigration office thugs, for fear of competition in fishery. After I received his data with a friendly smile and emphatically said goodbye, he insisted to have my address data "in case he had to remind me". I gave him the postbox number of Kamkala Sinnautics Ltd. and the phone number of  "marine vessel inspector" Abel. Gratefully my fisherman's friend  said goodbye.

Photo: After moving the dhow to a place safer for wind and waves, 500 m back to the ship yard, we anchored next to the lake shore rice fields.

Photo: Doi's Heller: Doi found this coin next to the dhow in the lake