Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Rainy Season
The Wall appeared from the deep
Wide and Blurred as if asleep
Swimming near though seeming far
Dark and Thick and flowing like Tar
light Flashed and roars Spoke
Pillows drove and quickly broke
the water fell as pushed from seas
and all fled as felled from trees
Monday, March 26, 2007
Always Trust an Apple Dealer
We had been trying to find a cell phone that we could use in Haydom. The only provider our there, that we know of, is CelTel, so we found a CelTel store at the Slipway (a shopping center that I will talk more about in another post). There was a very small shop there that sold cell phones and starter kits and scratch cards for minutes for CelTel. The prices seemed high to me and were more than we wished to spend for a used phone.
They were asking $85US for a used Nokia phone that was not so worn but was old. He also wanted $5US for the starter kit. It was a good thing that we didn't have the cash at the time and negotiated $5 off and went back to the Hotel. We figured we would get some money and return the next day, today to purchase his phone. However, I remembered that the Computer store next door to the hotel, where I had assisted in selling an iPod Shuffle on Saturday, had cell phones and we thought it would be a good idea to get a comparison price from them. So we headed over there this morning.
The Apple dealer has an air conditioned store with a small Internet cafe and sells everything from the typical Windows garbage to cell phones and routers. His prices seem really fair to me and we quickly located the brand new Nokia phones for $70, including charger and a starter kit for the Tigo network (This network may or may not work in Haydom, but if it does the minutes are apparently cheaper). We were directed to the nearby Supermarket to purchase our CelTel starter kit (SIM card) and minutes where we paid only $2.50 for the starter kit; half the Slipway price. So instead of paying the "rich tourist" price of $85 plus $5 for the starter kit and I am sure an inflated price for minutes, we were all set for $72.50 plus 10,000 Tsh (Tanzanian Shillings). I was so pleased I told the sales person I would try to find a couple of new Apple stickers for his front door.
The moral of the story is the title, Always Trust an Apple Dealer!
I would rather not post our phone number here but if you would like to call please email and we will send it to you. Chad
They were asking $85US for a used Nokia phone that was not so worn but was old. He also wanted $5US for the starter kit. It was a good thing that we didn't have the cash at the time and negotiated $5 off and went back to the Hotel. We figured we would get some money and return the next day, today to purchase his phone. However, I remembered that the Computer store next door to the hotel, where I had assisted in selling an iPod Shuffle on Saturday, had cell phones and we thought it would be a good idea to get a comparison price from them. So we headed over there this morning.
The Apple dealer has an air conditioned store with a small Internet cafe and sells everything from the typical Windows garbage to cell phones and routers. His prices seem really fair to me and we quickly located the brand new Nokia phones for $70, including charger and a starter kit for the Tigo network (This network may or may not work in Haydom, but if it does the minutes are apparently cheaper). We were directed to the nearby Supermarket to purchase our CelTel starter kit (SIM card) and minutes where we paid only $2.50 for the starter kit; half the Slipway price. So instead of paying the "rich tourist" price of $85 plus $5 for the starter kit and I am sure an inflated price for minutes, we were all set for $72.50 plus 10,000 Tsh (Tanzanian Shillings). I was so pleased I told the sales person I would try to find a couple of new Apple stickers for his front door.
The moral of the story is the title, Always Trust an Apple Dealer!
I would rather not post our phone number here but if you would like to call please email and we will send it to you. Chad
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Driving in the dark
We left the airport doors in search of our driver that the hotel was to send for us. It was not a long search as there he was at the end of the line of sign holding drivers with an N GRIMM paper in his hands. He seemed happy to see us, as our flight had been a bit late. The six of us headed out, after rushed hellos, into the darkness to find our ride. I hoped it was large enough to hold us and our humongous suitcases.
We crossed a road with cars seemingly driving with no regard for the faded lines and our helpers pushed their carts across a fairly flat, well-worn pavement parking lot. I breathed an audible sigh of relief when I saw the Toyota van, a model I had not seen before but a van non the less. We rolled around to the rear of the vehicle and the three young men debated in Swahili for some time before beginning to load the bags. My only input - in English of course - was that the "hard shell" bag with the duct tape patch must go on top, because I don't have too much tape left. They finished loading and we were ready to embark into the night.
As Nik and Abby were tucked into the backseat with the carry-on bags, I was directed to the front seat. I began to make my way to, what I figured was the passenger seat on, the right side of the van. There was a great deal of laughter from the group, and when I realized that if I sat on the right side I would have to drive, I had to chuckle as well. Now normally, I would take the wheel in a flash, but as it was 1 AM and I was coming off 22 hours of plane rides I deferred to the "professional".
I was quite happy I had taken to the left side once we got out onto the road for our 30 minute ride through Dar es Salaam. I had a hard time keeping my eyes on the road when we passed stores that I found to be way out of place: Huge bright furniture stores, Flashy dealerships like New Holland, Karcker Tractors, BMW, Subaru and SAAB. These had never entered my mental picture of Tanzania and they made my brain hunt for balance between their polished sheen and the nearly dead corrugated metal roofed and crumbling brick homes on the other side of the road.
Part of my mental picture was made up of fears of the unknown. At one point in our drive, fear came home to me as we pulled off the road and came to an abrupt stop behind a clean and shining land cruiser parked with a few other trucks. A guy came from the driver side and approached our van with load and friendly, "HI! HI!" coming from his smiling mouth. I replied with a tentative, "hi" of my own, while thinking, 'what the hell is going on here? Are we about to be robbed, or what.' With my brain swimming for the answer as to why we stopped I saw our driver pull out a small wad of what appeared in the dark to be American money and hand it to our new friend. With a loud, "Thank you, brother!" he was off to his truck and we were once again on our way into the night. I will not soon forget the rear of that land cruiser with its faded maroon colour and its spare tire arm that was void of a tire.
As we drove on, my mind continued to focus on why we had stopped. I could not come to a conclusion that made much sense to me. An informal toll for safe passage? Some underhanded dealings that had nothing to do with us? I did not know. It wasn't until later that I thought about any "above board" explanation. To be honest it was Nik who pointed out that the man given the money may have actually been a friend of our driver who had simply run out of gas. Seems possible now, but at the time I was only seeing a dark possibility. The dark possibilities were also echoed in the dark traffic lights.
We were off again, as if fired from a slingshot, in our little Toyota van into the black streets. We were obviously on a main road, with two lanes in each direction separated by a crumbling concrete median. There was the odd tree with low branches and large leaves that blocked our high beams from the oncoming traffic. As we would approach intersections our driver may or may not slow is rapid speed. I am not sure what the determining factor was, as only one of the numerous intersections had functioning traffic lights. That is not to say that most had the red, green and yellow bulbs, they were simply not lit. If he did decelerate it was only down to about 50 Km/h, a glance each way and off again. The bright red light at one of the crossings did have us stop.
As we came to a stop I was not sure if the light had been yellow or red, but we did stop and I was relieved. I am sure we could have made it straight through, especially at our rate of speed, but I was glad we had stopped. The cars at our right waiting to get onto the main road were happy as well and made this known with a toot or three on their loud horns. The second car in the line may not have been honking his thanks, in hindsight I think he was honking to make the guy in front of him run the red light. Shortly after this I was excited to see a familiar road sign (from google maps) that signaled that we were nearing our destination.
A turn to the right took us onto a winding two lane affair, with an apparent speed limit of 50. I know this not because our driver slowed down but because I had studied the road signs in our international drivers permit, pamphlet. Our driver, continued along at 80-90 with little regard for the tight curves, driveways or oncoming traffic. With high beams on the entire way, we were constantly being flashed by the passing cars and with each passing car my heart would enter my stomach; I would see the lights in the distance and think, 'goodness man move over, if we stay on the left side we'll hit head on.' It wasn't until they were right on us that I realized we were on the correct side of the road.
On the left side of the road were some very impressively sized mansions
with Hatari painted on signs on their gates. These signs signified that there was some sort of danger that would befall those who tried to enter. The danger as it turns out would come from a probable loud sound that would summon the gaurds who were sleeping beside their Toyota trucks that were parked at the right side of the road overlooking the Indian Ocean. We passed a few of these trucks and at first I thought that they were the local police, but if that were the case our driver would have received numerous speeding tickets. But after the third truck - sitting there with its four doors opened wide and its two occupants lying prone on benches - I noticed that the insignia on the doors matched that of the gates to the mansions.
We slowed at one point as the road narrowed and another vehicle approached, undoubtably a Toyota. Then as we crested an enormous speed bump and the lights of the hotel lit the rest of our way. We slowly - at last - passed some people playing Soccer, or Football (at 1 AM) and drove under a security barrier and into the smooth interlocking brick driveway of the Sea Cliff Hotel. We emerged from the Toyota and almost kissed the ground, but resisted as it is, after all, a 5 star hotel.
We crossed a road with cars seemingly driving with no regard for the faded lines and our helpers pushed their carts across a fairly flat, well-worn pavement parking lot. I breathed an audible sigh of relief when I saw the Toyota van, a model I had not seen before but a van non the less. We rolled around to the rear of the vehicle and the three young men debated in Swahili for some time before beginning to load the bags. My only input - in English of course - was that the "hard shell" bag with the duct tape patch must go on top, because I don't have too much tape left. They finished loading and we were ready to embark into the night.
As Nik and Abby were tucked into the backseat with the carry-on bags, I was directed to the front seat. I began to make my way to, what I figured was the passenger seat on, the right side of the van. There was a great deal of laughter from the group, and when I realized that if I sat on the right side I would have to drive, I had to chuckle as well. Now normally, I would take the wheel in a flash, but as it was 1 AM and I was coming off 22 hours of plane rides I deferred to the "professional".
I was quite happy I had taken to the left side once we got out onto the road for our 30 minute ride through Dar es Salaam. I had a hard time keeping my eyes on the road when we passed stores that I found to be way out of place: Huge bright furniture stores, Flashy dealerships like New Holland, Karcker Tractors, BMW, Subaru and SAAB. These had never entered my mental picture of Tanzania and they made my brain hunt for balance between their polished sheen and the nearly dead corrugated metal roofed and crumbling brick homes on the other side of the road.
Part of my mental picture was made up of fears of the unknown. At one point in our drive, fear came home to me as we pulled off the road and came to an abrupt stop behind a clean and shining land cruiser parked with a few other trucks. A guy came from the driver side and approached our van with load and friendly, "HI! HI!" coming from his smiling mouth. I replied with a tentative, "hi" of my own, while thinking, 'what the hell is going on here? Are we about to be robbed, or what.' With my brain swimming for the answer as to why we stopped I saw our driver pull out a small wad of what appeared in the dark to be American money and hand it to our new friend. With a loud, "Thank you, brother!" he was off to his truck and we were once again on our way into the night. I will not soon forget the rear of that land cruiser with its faded maroon colour and its spare tire arm that was void of a tire.
As we drove on, my mind continued to focus on why we had stopped. I could not come to a conclusion that made much sense to me. An informal toll for safe passage? Some underhanded dealings that had nothing to do with us? I did not know. It wasn't until later that I thought about any "above board" explanation. To be honest it was Nik who pointed out that the man given the money may have actually been a friend of our driver who had simply run out of gas. Seems possible now, but at the time I was only seeing a dark possibility. The dark possibilities were also echoed in the dark traffic lights.
We were off again, as if fired from a slingshot, in our little Toyota van into the black streets. We were obviously on a main road, with two lanes in each direction separated by a crumbling concrete median. There was the odd tree with low branches and large leaves that blocked our high beams from the oncoming traffic. As we would approach intersections our driver may or may not slow is rapid speed. I am not sure what the determining factor was, as only one of the numerous intersections had functioning traffic lights. That is not to say that most had the red, green and yellow bulbs, they were simply not lit. If he did decelerate it was only down to about 50 Km/h, a glance each way and off again. The bright red light at one of the crossings did have us stop.
As we came to a stop I was not sure if the light had been yellow or red, but we did stop and I was relieved. I am sure we could have made it straight through, especially at our rate of speed, but I was glad we had stopped. The cars at our right waiting to get onto the main road were happy as well and made this known with a toot or three on their loud horns. The second car in the line may not have been honking his thanks, in hindsight I think he was honking to make the guy in front of him run the red light. Shortly after this I was excited to see a familiar road sign (from google maps) that signaled that we were nearing our destination.
A turn to the right took us onto a winding two lane affair, with an apparent speed limit of 50. I know this not because our driver slowed down but because I had studied the road signs in our international drivers permit, pamphlet. Our driver, continued along at 80-90 with little regard for the tight curves, driveways or oncoming traffic. With high beams on the entire way, we were constantly being flashed by the passing cars and with each passing car my heart would enter my stomach; I would see the lights in the distance and think, 'goodness man move over, if we stay on the left side we'll hit head on.' It wasn't until they were right on us that I realized we were on the correct side of the road.
On the left side of the road were some very impressively sized mansions
with Hatari painted on signs on their gates. These signs signified that there was some sort of danger that would befall those who tried to enter. The danger as it turns out would come from a probable loud sound that would summon the gaurds who were sleeping beside their Toyota trucks that were parked at the right side of the road overlooking the Indian Ocean. We passed a few of these trucks and at first I thought that they were the local police, but if that were the case our driver would have received numerous speeding tickets. But after the third truck - sitting there with its four doors opened wide and its two occupants lying prone on benches - I noticed that the insignia on the doors matched that of the gates to the mansions.
We slowed at one point as the road narrowed and another vehicle approached, undoubtably a Toyota. Then as we crested an enormous speed bump and the lights of the hotel lit the rest of our way. We slowly - at last - passed some people playing Soccer, or Football (at 1 AM) and drove under a security barrier and into the smooth interlocking brick driveway of the Sea Cliff Hotel. We emerged from the Toyota and almost kissed the ground, but resisted as it is, after all, a 5 star hotel.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Amsterdam Pics
Abby's car??
One home one oops.
Our Hotel
The local Beverage.
Graffiti bike
Art on the streets.
Please hold this pos
Arrival in Tanzania late, late at night
The plane touched down at close to 1 AM local time; goodness knows what time that is at home, but my body wasn't protesting so it must have been daytime. The heat was like a molten mud bath; damp, sticky but most of all simply HOT. Even inside the jet-way I could feel the lava-like warmth envelop my entire body. As I was dressed for the freezing temperature of the airplane this heat was impossible to handle. We exited the jet-way and were into the dilapidated interior of the Dar es Salaam airport.
We were corralled into the tired looking passport control area with a few of the passengers already at the wickets. A seemingly well-connected fellow passenger was guiding certain passengers to the front of the line and putting them in front of the various passport officers. This angered me a bit but that is how things go so what the heck. We waited our turn until the real "line manager" put us in front of different officers.
Nicole went to one wicket and didn't realize that mine and Abby's passports were given to different people. I did not want to leave Abby on her own and stood by her protesting to the line guy that I would not leave her alone and would wait with her 'til she was done. The Officer with my passport did not seem to like this and kept shouting about where is the guy who belongs to this passport? I was thinking, 'to hell with it, if they want to kick me out of the country for not leaving my daughter alone that's fine with me. I would rather have to go home than let Abby deal with them on her own.' So once she was done I went over to my passport and after some grumbling from the officer it was all good.
We finished up with passport control and Nikki and Abby did their Girly thing in the bathroom while I headed off to see where our 6 huge suitcases would be returned to us. I didn't have to go far as the airport is pretty small. I declined assistance a couple of times from the somewhat pushy but well dressed young men who were falling all over themselves to provide some help with the luggage. Once I noticed their official looking name tags hanging from their identical shirts I accepted their help and after we had loaded a couple of the 70lbs bags I was happy that I had. Besides they seemingly had the only pushcarts in the place so I would have been forever moving the bags to a vehicle. Nik was not too pleased to see that I had enlisted help but again after she realized we would have broken our backs moving these bags she warmed to the idea too. So with the luggage on two carts and our two helpers in tow we headed out to find our driver.
We were corralled into the tired looking passport control area with a few of the passengers already at the wickets. A seemingly well-connected fellow passenger was guiding certain passengers to the front of the line and putting them in front of the various passport officers. This angered me a bit but that is how things go so what the heck. We waited our turn until the real "line manager" put us in front of different officers.
Nicole went to one wicket and didn't realize that mine and Abby's passports were given to different people. I did not want to leave Abby on her own and stood by her protesting to the line guy that I would not leave her alone and would wait with her 'til she was done. The Officer with my passport did not seem to like this and kept shouting about where is the guy who belongs to this passport? I was thinking, 'to hell with it, if they want to kick me out of the country for not leaving my daughter alone that's fine with me. I would rather have to go home than let Abby deal with them on her own.' So once she was done I went over to my passport and after some grumbling from the officer it was all good.
We finished up with passport control and Nikki and Abby did their Girly thing in the bathroom while I headed off to see where our 6 huge suitcases would be returned to us. I didn't have to go far as the airport is pretty small. I declined assistance a couple of times from the somewhat pushy but well dressed young men who were falling all over themselves to provide some help with the luggage. Once I noticed their official looking name tags hanging from their identical shirts I accepted their help and after we had loaded a couple of the 70lbs bags I was happy that I had. Besides they seemingly had the only pushcarts in the place so I would have been forever moving the bags to a vehicle. Nik was not too pleased to see that I had enlisted help but again after she realized we would have broken our backs moving these bags she warmed to the idea too. So with the luggage on two carts and our two helpers in tow we headed out to find our driver.
Amsterdam - part one
We landed in Amsterdam at about 1 PM or so the captain said, the temperature was a mild 9C with a light wind from the east. We did not feel this for a while as we had to make our way through Schipolt's many corridors and "halls". The airport was rather nice as far as airports go long clean walkways, many windows and those fun moving sidewalks that Abby took great pleasure in running, walking and simply standing on. An automated voice would say, "mind your step" pleasantly as we stepped on each one and we would watch and listen to our fellow travelers as they conversed with one another in any number of different languages.
We followed the flow through the maze of converging hallways to the passport control wickets, which I was for some reason surprised to see, and as we handed over our passports we told Abby that she was going to get a stamp. She promptly rolled up her sleeve and began to extend her arm before we deflated her enthusiasm when we said the stamp would be in her passport. The hallways did not end there and we had to make our way down speedy escalators through doors and down ramps until we finally glimpsed the natural light of the sun shinning down on Holland.
We emerged from the smoky smell by an airport restaurant into a pleasant day and looked all around at the flowers and the modern architecture of the airport's buildings. We quickly laid our eyes on a long line of impressively clean and expensive cars at the curb, which I was amazed to see were taxis. There was not a vehicle there that was not older than a couple of years and not less prestigious than a Mercedes. We went to the front of the line and were welcomed into an immaculately clean Mercedes van. We took the back row of seats after our
driver clad in a suit and tie had loaded our bags into the rear of the vehicle an we were off to find the hotel.
We followed the flow through the maze of converging hallways to the passport control wickets, which I was for some reason surprised to see, and as we handed over our passports we told Abby that she was going to get a stamp. She promptly rolled up her sleeve and began to extend her arm before we deflated her enthusiasm when we said the stamp would be in her passport. The hallways did not end there and we had to make our way down speedy escalators through doors and down ramps until we finally glimpsed the natural light of the sun shinning down on Holland.
We emerged from the smoky smell by an airport restaurant into a pleasant day and looked all around at the flowers and the modern architecture of the airport's buildings. We quickly laid our eyes on a long line of impressively clean and expensive cars at the curb, which I was amazed to see were taxis. There was not a vehicle there that was not older than a couple of years and not less prestigious than a Mercedes. We went to the front of the line and were welcomed into an immaculately clean Mercedes van. We took the back row of seats after our
driver clad in a suit and tie had loaded our bags into the rear of the vehicle an we were off to find the hotel.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Pre-flight Night
As we sat in our nice little hotel room in the small suburb of Leduc it amazed us that just 15 minutes out of Edmonton the service would be this much better. Everyone was very nice and the room was clean...smelled like a perfume store but Nik had her epi-pen so we were good. The stress of moving out of our place was tremendous and we were just coming down from that. The TV had a nice educational show on with an 8 year-old boy interviewing people like whale watching guides and eco-adventurers so Abby was relaxed and content. Bob had returned to the hotel after dropping us off and brought Abby's car seat which we still have with us though it has almost been left behind again. Once we hit lights out quite late the anxiety of packing had left and the next wave slowly came on as we tossed and turned until the party upstairs began at 12:30. Of course Abby slept straight through and Nik and I pretended not to notice, so with our early wake up call we were less than refreshed. However, the frigid westerly wind did a fine job of providing refreshment.
We hurriedly stepped into the complimentary airport shuttle for our quick ride to the airport and spoke to our driver who was quite friendly. Of course the conversation turned to, "what the hell do you need that much luggage for?" and when we said we were off to Tanzania he was happy and amazed as he had moved to Canada 7 years ago from Somalia, just to the north. He spoke a bit of Swahili to us before realizing we did not understand and then gave us the story of his immigration to Canada.
He began by making us understand that we should only change money with Banks and official money changers for fear of receiving fake money as he had 7 years earlier. "I was headed through the border from Somalia to Tanzania," he began, "and had only $100USD. As I needed smaller bills to bribe the police as I traveled I asked for some smaller bills at the border. I had no trouble getting to Canada with that but the problems began when I entered the TD bank in Vancouver. I needed to change my $50 bill to Canadian money and handed it to the teller. As I spoke no English I did not understand why she asked me to wait and wait and wait. For 40 minutes I waited as she had called the police because my $50USD was fake. Eventually it all got straightened out and thankfully the police did not show up and here I am 7 years later in Edmonton with nothing but opportunity everywhere. Cold yes, but lots of opportunity here."
We heeded his words and accepted his help in loading the luggage onto a couple of carts and headed to check in. The process went quickly as did security, though they were a bit confused about a few items we had. I think the prescription drugs looked a little odd on the x-ray machine. But we were resting comfortably with a view of the runways having a coffee and breakfast waiting to board the plane with time to spare, so all was going according to plan.
We hurriedly stepped into the complimentary airport shuttle for our quick ride to the airport and spoke to our driver who was quite friendly. Of course the conversation turned to, "what the hell do you need that much luggage for?" and when we said we were off to Tanzania he was happy and amazed as he had moved to Canada 7 years ago from Somalia, just to the north. He spoke a bit of Swahili to us before realizing we did not understand and then gave us the story of his immigration to Canada.
He began by making us understand that we should only change money with Banks and official money changers for fear of receiving fake money as he had 7 years earlier. "I was headed through the border from Somalia to Tanzania," he began, "and had only $100USD. As I needed smaller bills to bribe the police as I traveled I asked for some smaller bills at the border. I had no trouble getting to Canada with that but the problems began when I entered the TD bank in Vancouver. I needed to change my $50 bill to Canadian money and handed it to the teller. As I spoke no English I did not understand why she asked me to wait and wait and wait. For 40 minutes I waited as she had called the police because my $50USD was fake. Eventually it all got straightened out and thankfully the police did not show up and here I am 7 years later in Edmonton with nothing but opportunity everywhere. Cold yes, but lots of opportunity here."
We heeded his words and accepted his help in loading the luggage onto a couple of carts and headed to check in. The process went quickly as did security, though they were a bit confused about a few items we had. I think the prescription drugs looked a little odd on the x-ray machine. But we were resting comfortably with a view of the runways having a coffee and breakfast waiting to board the plane with time to spare, so all was going according to plan.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
All I need is Food, doo doodoo di doo
I sometimes wish that I could control those things that are out of my control. The example that immediately jumps to mind is the food supply in rural Tanzania...or urban Tanzania for that matter. I know that our home is set up, I know that Abby will be home schooled for the most part, I know that Nik's research environment is waiting for her and I know that I am welcome by the IT folks in Haydom. What I don't really know is what we will be eating on a daily basis. Our friend Shannon has sent some links that contain pictures of the supermarkets and there seems to be some semi-familiar foods in the pictures, which is awesome. However, those supermarkets are in Arusha, a one-hour(ish) plane ride from Haydom.The plane ride is not too big a deal; we have planned quarterly visits to Arusha to stock up on food, etc. But even at that what does 3 months of food look like? How much frozen meat (oh, right there is no meat for 2-4 months due to an outbreak of Rift Valley Fever...more on that next time) can we fit on the little Cessna? What will we use to flavour our food? Well that one I think I have covered. I just went over to Safeway to pick up some food and decided to hit the spice aisle.
There are
so many different spices in my spice rack (really a cupboard that overflows with Herbs and spices) let alone the Safeway spice aisle. I looked over the selection for quite a while and came away with Garlic Powder, Ground Oregano and Whole Rosemary. I figure Garlic Powder and Ground Oregano will supplement that available salt and peeper for things like tomato sauces. Garlic Powder and Rosemary will do to add flavour to most red meat dishes as well as roasted chicken. So I picked up one little jar of each of those. Beyond that we will have to find some nice Savannah grasses to dry, chop and add to meals once we run out of these three essential spices.Perhaps there is a spice of the month club, or even herb of the month that would send us the latest greatest flavour adder...
