It is quite a regular occurrence for salesman of one type or another to come visit my school. They come selling books, household wares, and even fish. And almost always, their visits are met with great excitement by the teachers.
Frequently, men with backpacks will drop by school in the afternoon, when presumably they are fairly certain that most teachers will not be in class. After a long round of greetings with the teachers, they set down their backpacks, and like Marry Poppins’ magical bag, more things than one would think possible are suddenly being pulled out. First, some shiny silver, lacy, table settings (which Tanzanians use to decorate the backs of their chairs) , and a tablecloth pop out. Then come some books, some fabric, a Masai blanket, and cups. All these products are passed around the teachers, who seriously consider each object as though it will be purchased. Books are opened and inspected, fabric is investigated, and prices are asked. Occasionally a teacher will find something of interest, but largely this is a fruitless visit for the salesman.
One salesman in specific brings a large variety of nice household wares seldom seen in Tanzania, and always shows up in a taxi (an old Toyota hatchback). A couple months ago, he showed up and made quite a killing off the teachers. They bought some knives (which were actually fantastic quality, given they were being sold in rural Tanzania), stainless steel pots (also of impressive quality), and glass pyrex-style glasses and plates. As a demonstration, the salesman banged the plates, quite hard, on the concrete floor. Needless to say, my Tanzanian colleagues were quite impressed, and this salesman had a good day.
He returned the other day with some new wares, including some large stainless steel pots that the teachers excitedly explained could be used for cooking and serving food. The set retailed for 160,000 Tanzanian shillings (about a $100 USD), so while these were inspected in great detail by everyone, in the end the salesman packed them back up (along with some other things) in the original packing. This actually might be the most impressive element of this particular salesman. Everything he sells arrives packed up in the original battered box, with all the assorted plastic and styrofoam packaging, which he expertly unpacks for inspection and repacks for transport.
Another exciting day for the teachers is when the fish man on the motorcycle comes. Sometimes this is every week, but sometimes the wait is much longer. Sometimes he brings river fish (catfish, mostly), and on other days he brings fish from Bukoba, which is a good 4 hours of driving, assuming no delays, so realistically the fish have been in transport for at least 5 hours. Since there is no refrigeration, mostly the fish are transported alive (though occasionally they die in transport). When the fish man arrives, the teachers head down to his motorcycle to peer into the wooden box the fish are transported in. Occasionally, one of the fish jerks around (presumably in a kind of fish agony), and the closest teacher jumps back in horror and amusement (if you can imagine the combination).
The fish man always sells at least one fish. The teachers always ask me if I will buy the fish, to which I always respond, “no.” First, because I don’t trust how long the fish has been out of the water for, and second because I have discovered that I don’t really know how to cook fish without an oven. On purchase, the fish man will either kill and gut the fish for you, or he will tie it to a tree alive so that you (if you are female), or your wife (if you are male) can kill and gut it for you later. These fish hang from the trees for a couple hours, and as they jerk around they are an almost endless source of amusement for the teachers, who enjoy seeing other teachers and students jump away from a jerking fish they thought was dead in momentary terror. Indeed, there is endless amusement and entertainment to be had from the many random visitors of Ngara Secondary.