Matatizo (A.K.A Furaha)

 

When was the last time you had to push your car so you could pop the clutch to start?  Some of you may remember a time when you had to do this; others of you likely have never driven a manual transmission car and didn’t know you could do this.  Likewise, when was the last time you had to fix a flat tire?  Or use aluminum foil to brighten the headlamps?  Or did you ever have a car with power windows and locks that never worked and you had a special routine for locking the car.  Or the key didn’t quite fit in the ignition properly and had to be jiggled just right to work.  Perhaps all this reminds you of the car you had when you were young, the beater, the one that had endless problems, but you loved dearly. 

This is my land rover.  I would like to introduce you to Matatizio (also know as Furaha).   This is the car I never had in my youth, one that has “issues”, but I have loved dearly. 

I bought Matatizo, a Discovery Land Rover, sight unseen, while preparing to come to Tanzania.  I wanted a car that could handle rough bush roads and go on safari.  Matatizo is a beautiful royal blue classic land rover.   It was love at first sight and I was hooked.   I have never loved a car like this one.   Matatizo is diesel and has a low sexy diesel growl.  (My friends claim they know when I am coming long before I arrive.)  The car handles rough roads with confidence and experience and makes me proud.  Among the many personality quirks are power windows that work when Matatizo feels like it, doors that must be slammed with gusto and headlights that blind oncoming cars even on low beam.

But like any romance there have been ups and downs.   Matatizo came to me nameless, but after a few months the problems began.  Matatizo, which in Kiswahili means problems, is a venerable older car and of course is likely to have the problems of any aging body.   Some of the problems were minor (power locks and windows function when they please) whereas other problems were more significant (engine rebuild).    (I have had more flat tires in two years in Tanzania than the rest of my life in the United States.)  Each time I cursed and thought about a young reliable rig.  But each time I return into Matatizo’s embrace and remember what it is I have loved about this car.  After all who among us does not have problems?   I could not forsake Matatizo.

Matatizo has made many friends.   Trips to town are fully loaded with students and staff seeking a ride to town.  Matatizo has escorted many of us to dance hot spots, restaurants and markets.    (Matatizo is quite fond of bongo flavor, Tanzania music.)  The petrol station attendants and college security guards greet Matatizo and I warmly. It was one of Matatizo’s friends who rechristened Matatizo to Furaha.  Furaha means happiness in Kiswahili.  This is indeed a better name, though I have to admit I go back and forth between Matatizo and Furaha depending on whether the car is in the garage or not.

Furaha has indeed brought a lot of happiness into my life.  I hate to sell this car and will miss it.  Going back to my all too reliable Hondo in Minnesota will be dull.   I know that I will longingly remember Furaha’s deep sexy growl and the adventures we had together.   Cars come and go, but only one can hold that special spot in one’s heart. This is the car I never had in my youth and I shall remember it forever.   So will lots of other people…

For Sale:  Classic royal blue Land Rover, Discovery.  Only buyers willing to love this car, treat it kindly, tolerate it’s problems and cherish the adventures should apply. 

Kilimanjaro Road Rally

A road rally.  Cindy.  These two things don’t normally go together and most of the readers of this blog, would not have matched them up.  But why not I retort!  I was admittedly uncertain about what I was getting into, but responding to the reassurance of my friend, I agreed.  Alpha, a car and rally fan, provided commentary throughout the day so not only was it fun, it was educational. 

Unlike race track racing, a road rally involves real roads and a route.  The Kilimanjaro Road Rally is 500 kilometers of rocky roads mostly south and west of the mountain.    Drivers negotiate rough roads, rivers, and cows wandering onto the road.   Each car has a driver and a navigator.  No fancy GPS units in these cars, simply a map and directions.

The cars.  I am not sure what I expected for the cars, but there was a crazy and impressive mix of supped up cars.  None of them were particularly fancy, but each one was unique; everything from a Porsche to Land Rovers to trucks.  Some had sponsors, other were fueled privately.  Each car had a pit crew that followed their car taking shortcuts to meet, cheer and fix their car throughout the race route.   Fix is the operative word here.  To my uninformed eyes, tires seemed to be the most common impairment and more than one car passed us limping along on nothing but the tire rim.  The Porsche, an unlikely race car for rocky Tanzania roads did surprisingly well, but eventually surrendered of a broken clutch, driving in only one gear. 

 

 

The crowd.  Predictably the race spectators were mostly men with only a sprinkling of women.  There were very few wazungu (white people) and a significant number of Indian Tanzanians.  There were many curious villagers, children herding cattle and middle aged business men.  Predominately the crowd was young Tanzanian men who authoritatively discussed the cars, laughing, cheering and speculating as the cars passed.   Always at a distance, clusters of young Maasai men, wrapped in their red shuka (cloth wrap) and leaning on their sticks, watched and joked with each other as young men do.  

 

What is it about cars that hold the rapture of men?  Watching these young men gather around a car as it stopped for maintenance, was as much fun as watching the cars themselves.    Indeed watching the race was only a small part of the experience.  The boisterous banter among young men, the timid gaze of Maasai women and the curious stare of young children wondering about this mzungu woman were just as fascinating as the cars for this road rally novice.

I am not sure I will ever be a road rally junkie, but I am very glad I went and I would go again.  And like any race, be it a foot or car race I think it is probably a lot more fun to be a participant.  So… next time I want to be a navigator or part of the pit crew.  I could do that!   Life is short, why not try new things?  Don’t worry; I won’t give up my job as a professor.  I’m just saying… that if anyone is looking for a navigator, I know how to read maps!