more musings in Pemba

This follows from my previous post:

It helped, too, that I came to Pemba after three trips in Unguja. In Unguja, I made most of the mistakes, the cultural faux pas that broke the norms that are so normal that people don’t even realize I broke them, just that they are uncomfortable somehow. Through daily interaction and screwing up and offending and people mercifully pointing things out to my blind American self, I picked up little by little the behavior that helped people feel like I was a little less out of place, a little more than a tourist, a little more at home. The endless greetings; the modest and clean, pressed clothes; the slow walk down the street; the passing people so our right sides are closest. And the timing of the day: the early hour that begins the day, the work and chores--sweeping, laundry, shopping--in the morning, the late, big lunch in the early afternoon; then the afternoon shower and change of clothes, and the late afternoon visiting. When people’s work and chores are done, and the women sit around the barazas near their houses and gossip and maybe embroider or plait mats or each others’ hair, and the men head out to favorite hang-outs, the younger ones to play soccer, the older ones to sit on public baraza and discuss social issues. Or to just sit and be there, with each other. Calling out greetings to others who pass by, always ending in karibu, welcome, always ending with karibu.

If you walk anywhere at those early evening hours, from four or five to well past dark, you best be prepared to take your time. This is the social hour, where neighbors meet and talk and keep up their friendships. Greeting everyone you pass is essential; missing anyone is rude, even if it was only because it was so dark you couldn’t notice them sitting there, 15 feet away at the neighboring baraza. Call out shikamoo to the old ones, and hujambo to the middle-aged ones, and mambo to the young ones, chei chei to the toddlers.

to be continued...