Bracelet capitalism and cultural appropriation: How Arusha lost its innocence

An aerial view lof Arusha city. [Courtesy, Wikipedia]

I was in Arusha this week, after some 16 years.

My memory of the township remains hazy - we had been on assignment, by road, with colleagues - and our border crossing was prologued by a brawl because our designated driver couldn't leave the pub and the immigration office was minutes away from closing.

This backstory, hopefully, will end up in a memoir one day to explain how news is gathered and the anxieties of the reporter being part of the news. That very year, I'd be deployed to Darfur where I ran out of money, a colleague was taken ill and the military ordered the airport shut.

Anyway, my Arusha trip did not have any such drama; all I observed were the absurdities of a bureaucracy that keeps people in queues shuttling from one queue after another, when one comprehensive look at documents would clear everyone within a few minutes.

But that's not my problem. Efficiency means having less people to do the job and you can't blame folks holding on to their jobs in these hard times. In any case, since every passenger has to go through the process, those cleared earlier have to sit in the van, on tarmac, when the heat radiates on the surface and creates a mirage of steam in the air.

In these steaming hot circumstances, I learnt not to open the windows, lest one is assaulted by a thick finger from bracelet-wielding vendors - many of them middle and elderly women in traditional regalia.

So aggressive are these folks that it inspired an instant coinage: bracelet capitalism and cultural appropriation. The moment we declined a purchase, a friend was offered one for free, then was nagged for the next 15 minutes to give the seller a little something for the seller to bless her.

It was better to stew in the heat of the van than suffer from the incessant wail an elderly woman, seeking to bless you for a fee!