It sometimes seems that nearly everything is possible in Tanzania.
A friend of mine recently needed to fly last-minute to Dar and had no money. We took her to the airport and I shook the guy’s hand and promised him money for the ticket by the afternoon if he put her on the morning flight.
He consented, and in the second after, I wondered where else a handshake can substitute a plane ticket.
But my housemates and I recently learned something else which, quite Frankly, we didn't see coming.
I took our cat Stella (nee Frank Sinatra) to Dar on a trip synchronized with her theoretical fertility, so that she could be spayed and we could avoid the radical genesis of inbred progeny, which seemed a given. But as it turns out, the cat we originally thought a he and later deemed a she is a he after all. At least for now.
Poor Frank Sinatra. So misunderstood.
I am sure showbiz is full of mistaken identities and (at least historically) genders, but for those of us in small town Kigoma, it has been entertaining.
As for Stella, well, he's now a little more tenor than base.
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2 comments:
Did you mean bass rather than base? Or am I missing a joke?
found your blog through treat a week. nice iwas laughing at things you went through and it is so true; even we had a family of iguana living with us in the back yard who thoufht the heads of the chicken belonged to them when we had thicken in cages for pending eid celebrations.
thanks ahsante sana
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