You Chase a Waterfall, You Get a Scrub

Remember the girl group T.L.C? They wisely warned us not to go chasing waterfalls, and they also sang a song called "No Scrubs" a song that, in all seriousness, I did not fully understand or appreciate until I came to Tanzania. To be more specific: until last night.

Let's refresh our memories, shall we?

A scrub is a guy that thinks he's fine
And is also known as a buster
Always talkin' about what he wants
And just sits on his broke ass
So (no)

I don't want your number (no)
I don't want to give you mine and (no)
I don't want to meet you nowhere (no)
I don't want none of your time and (no)
I don't want no scrub

Word, TLC. I agree.

Let me preface this whole rant with the fact that in Tanzania, if you ask someone if they want to join you for a meal, they frequently expect you to pay. Let me add, that this is particularly observed when an mzungu invites a Tanzanian. So, "I'm starving and need to go eat, do you want to come along?" translates into "I'm buying you a meal." Oops. Been there. I later changed my tactics to, "I'm gonna grab a beer, you can come but I'm only paying for mine." Sounds harsh, right? Think again. Not everyone abuses this charming little price maneuver. For example, when I took my homestay brother Michael to the circus, he paid for our cab ride home. Even steven. Square. Legit. GSC staffers have bought me a soda or a beer before, and then the next night I buy one for them. It works. It's normal. It's how Mama should have raised you.

So last night the girls and I (5 of us in total) booked beds at the hostel and went out for dinner, drinks, dancing, and mini disasters. We wanted to have a good group of people we knew, so we called anyone we knew and liked, and set out on the town. So it began.

When we got to the first place to eat dinner, we immediately realized our mistake. We invited them, and they're broke. Think about a weekend night in the states. You're broke, you stay in. Here? You're broke, you accept an invite from bleeding heart wazungu girls. Jenna and I consulted: we had made the mistake, we would pay for that round, set boundaries, and move on. Did I include "naive" when I called us bleeding heart wazungu? It should go without saying.

In the course of the night I spent a week's budget, because frankly, what was I gonna do? I wanted to have fun, and the girls did too, and we couldn't shake the guys. I tried to make things clear at dinner when I said "The girls have got this round, then everyone's on their own" but the guys either didn't hear me, didn't understand me, or couldn't care less. The one exception to this was a crazy rasta named Dixon (the guy everyone calls Bob, remember him?) Yeah. Ras Dixon proved to be a pretty awesome dude. I really didn't know what to make of him the first time we met, but the kid paid his own way all night and chipped in to the group's bill- and that's way more than I can say for the other three guys who just hung around expectantly.

The worst part of the night was our taxi to the club. This skeazy guy who knew one of our leeches was trying to bum into on of our group's cabs and I got a horrible vibe from him. I managed to get his abrasive ass out of the group, and we drove on to Maasai Camp. When we got there the two others in my cab got out immediately and I got my cash out. The cabbie and I had agreed on 5,000 TSH (about $4) but he didn't have change for my 10,000 and was trying to just take it. I told him he could take 3,500 or find change for my 10,000 and when he wouldn't listen I yelled for the guyy who had been in my cab so he would help.

The cab driver hit me.

He slapped me on the back. Hard. For calling in reinforcements.

I was so in shock at first that time seemed to stop. I've never been hit before. Not really. I screamed at him not to touch me and I could see he was scared that I would attract attention. I cursed him blind, got out of the cab and said "You'll take 3,500 and you'll like it because you're lucky I pay you anything after you just hit me." My useless guy "friend" came skipping over and I stormed off while they talked. Want to know the worst part? I'm pretty sure I left my 10 bill in the cab. Oh the ugliness I could spew out of my keyboard right now.

If I had been thinking clearly I wouldn't have paid him at all. I would have gotten the guard from the club to beat him up. I would have spit on him. But I wasn't thinking. I was just pissed and upset and in shock.

I went up to the gate and tried to call my brother. Then I realized I didn't have enough money for it so I tried to get him to call me. He tried.

Then my guy "friend" who's broke behind I foolishly invited out and then resentfully carried around all night, called me over. He was in line to get into the club, waiting at the counter for me so we could go in. I went up there and handed the women money, and she asked if I was paying for one or two. Alex was trying to call me. I had just been smacked. There's a line full of people staring at me. Now she wants to know if I'm paying for one or two and hot damn I really didn't want to pay for him. But there he was. Waiting. "Whatever," I said weakly, "I don't care. Whatever." Eventually I paid for us both, we went inside, and I was essentially out of cash.

The rest of our time in the club is kind of a blur. We danced like mad, had a few drinks, had various mini crises that always crop up in the course of an evening regardless of the continent, ate an amazing pizza, had a fun time overall, and then it was time to go home. We took a taxi back to the hostel, I suppressed the desire to be slightly hostile towards our leeches as we said goodnight, and then the night was done.

An ongoing theme of my time in Tanzania has been the "mzungu" phenomenon, but I have spent very little time on the "Mzungu Girl" obsession that has swept East Africa.

When guys get (or take) your number they spend thousands of shillings sending pathetic love poems all day long, and then send you hate mail if you don't respond. I've blocked a number and a friend of mine is getting a new sim card. These guys say they miss you, they love you, they want to be your boyfriend, they fight with other guys about who talks to who. It's ridiculous.

We occasionally get cursed out on the street if we don't drop everything to stop and chit chat with perfect strangers. Teenage and adolescent men yelling "F*ck You!" isn't exactly my idea of romance. The one time it happened to me was last week, and I was so surprised that I turned around and said it right back. He said it again, I walked away. The one upside of this experience was that afterward I was disappointed in myself instead of him. People can be losers anywhere and anytime. Guys who scream obscenities at women who tell them to let go of them and allow them to continue on their way? Those guys are losers. Plain and simple.

I haven't made it through a week without a marriage proposal.

So what's up guys? On what planet can you possibly miss someone you don't know or love someone you just met? This b.s. must work sometimes because why else would they use it, right? Some foreign women must show up to study abroad, or volunteer, or go on safari, and some of them must love this attention. Their prayers are answered when a beautiful young Tanzanian man with dreadlocks call them beautiful and say they miss them, and take them dancing. (Yes, they are frequently beautiful young Tanzanian men with dreadlocks. I said they were rude not unattractive.)

At the club on Saturday we saw some of these women and plenty of leeches. You gotta ask yourself: how often do these guys do this? I asked my friend Mary Ellen when we took a break from dancing, and we decided it must be every week. Every new caravan of tourists or wave of volunteers. Some of these guys buy new clothes all the time, and then don't have money to foot their own dinner or drinks bill. But the tourists? The wazungu? Sure! Let them pay, right? Not me. Not ever again.

It's a tricky thing, this money business. My friend Jenna and I talked about it a lot yesterday. How do you approach this? I cannot and will not pay another person's way. Part of it is limited means, and it's partly because I just don't think you can have a healthy relationship in which one person always foots the bill. What kind of expectations are those? Who is getting what out of that friendship? I've got trust issues to start with, I'm sure as heck not throwing money into the equation.

I'll get this round if you get next, man. You're tight on cash? Okay you buy the pizza next week. You just got a speeding ticket? Okay you pay the gas next time. That's how I operate. One person I know here keeps harping on these guys' economic hardship. It's not that I'm insensitive to the circumstances, I'm just opposed to the racism, the use and abuse of niceties. Yes, I did say racism. When I'm getting overcharged on everything and singled out to purchase certain items or pay for certain people, that's a form of racism. Racism is a system of advantages based on race. Look it up.

There are some exceptions to these ugly familiarities. I can say gladly and with confidence that I know some guys here who have been very driven, hard-working, and interesting. They have jobs. They have interests. They don't send creepy and flirtatious text messages. In other words: they are human. When I pointed out the existence of some of these anomalies to my friends, they agreed, and said they were proof that normal men do live in Tanzania, even if they were an endangered species. "Like polar bears" I added. Mary Ellen thought about this for a second and said "Fewer than polar bears." I didn't argue.

To know that these "polar bears" exist is comforting, I guess. They're good friends to have around, and it's a relief to know that there is some hope for Tanzanian women looking for love. Love. Hm. I'm not even looking to date. I'm not even remotely happy when guys come talk to me on the street. So never you mind this "love" thing that all these guys are talking and texting about. What do they know?

I will continue to withhold my cell phone number, and the girls and I decided that we are going out without the leeches from now on. I'm buying my own way and my own way only.

Cause I don't want no scrub.