Darkness

Darkness, descending upon Mbeya, envelops the earth like a black velvet wrap. Stores close at dusk unless they have electricity or oil lamplights. Even those with electricity often do not stay open for long after the dark approaches. The workday revolves around the sun: 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. The sun rises and sets predictably in accordance to Tanzania’s proximity to the equator.

Time is measured differently there than here. The 24-hour cycle begins at 7 a.m.: one o’clock in Swahili time. To meet someone at one o’clock in the evening means to meet at 7 p.m. I learned this after I arrived in the country.

People move about very early in the morning. It is to make use of a full day when the sun rises at 6:30. At dusk, people rush home.

One night I arrived in my room after dark. The electricity was completely off. I had to feel my way to my room. I didn’t know if anyone else was with me. The darkness enclosed around my body. It bore down on my head. I could only hear my own thoughts and the maddening darkness. I did not know if anyone else was with me. The feeling was unnerving. Once inside my room, I found my flashlight. No one had followed me.

The darkness provides complete cover. I promised that I would not venture out after dark without a trusted escort. I could never hide my identity. As much as I covered myself, the whiteness of my skin gave me away in the darkness. One night, with my escort, a man appeared out of the black liquid of the dark. The whites of his eyes revealed his desperation. I was afraid of him and felt relief when I saw that he knew my escort. He was dying. He had Aids and was resigned to the fact that his time was limited. He begged for some small change from us. I hated him for his assumption that I would help him.  My escort provided money to him. I knew that if I was alone, he would have robbed me. This reinforced my fear of darkness.

However, people do operate in the darkness. In the night, they walk and ride along the shoulders of the roads while cars push forward, the beams of their headlights dimmed by the fine particles of dust choking the air. Streetlights are nonexistent. Sidewalks and barriers are nonexistent. It is a sight to see the main roads alive in the darkness with foot, bicycle, and vehicle traffic. But pedestrians get hit. I knew about two people who were killed. Others I knew were hit and injured. I was almost hit at least one time. One day, a driver came so close that I could feel the wind between his car and me. He skidded off of the road at the bottom of the hill I was descending. A crowd surrounded him. I don’t know why he did that.

Full moons bring out more people in the darkness. It is easier to see each other and avoid the jutting rocks stuck in the hard dirt of the footpaths and roads. People pass by, trying to recognize each other. Small oil lamps make roadside stands of vendors and their wares glow: fruit and vegetables, plastic trinkets, shoes, food, whatever. Under electric lights, bars and guest houses are in full-swing after dark, catering to the truckers who pass through Mbeya on their way to places as far as Sudan or South Africa. The drivers play pool or watch football and drink soda, beer, or Konyagi while cozying up to their favorite waitress or any woman providing a warm body. For many, the darkness is rewarding.