First Impressions: by my nose.

As children, we learn new words daily. Most of them we don’t even remember learning; they just merge into our vocabulary, settle in, and jump into sentences whenever they can. I don’t know about you, but I have a handful of words that I actually remember learning. They are attached to a specific memory or a certain person. For me, the word olfactory is one of those words.

ol·fac·to·ry: [ol-fak-tuh-ree] of or pertaining to the sense of smell.

My Grandfather Greek introduced this word to me when I was young. I remember sitting around the table together eagerly waiting for dinner. We couldn’t see the food yet, but our noses told us it was going to be good! He is a master of words and took the opportunity to introduce me to this seemingly insignificant word. Little did he or I know, this word would become a word I think about almost every day here in Tanzania.

Now, as my parents and my husband can affirm, I have always had a very keen olfactory sense. And for those of you out there who have the same keen sense, you know that with this gift comes a very sensitive gag reflex. This, let me tell you, is not a gift! My family could all tell you plenty of stories… but that is not what I want to talk about right now.

I have been trying to figure out how to put into words all of my “First Impressions” of Tanzania as I settle back into life here after our short jaunt to the U.S. for my sister’s wedding. As I thought about it I realized that many of these impressions come to me in the form of a smell. I wish I could capture them all for you, bottle them up, and send them wafting your way. (Well, you might be grateful that technology has not developed that far yet: some are definitely more pleasant than others!)

The first thing I thought when I stepped off the airplane onto the tarmac was that the rains must have started. I know that many of you know the smell I am talking about. It is of dust settling as the rains clear the air. This is one of my favorite smells in the world. To me, it smells like Africa. It smells like my childhood home in Kenya. It smells like Tanzania, the home I am learning to love now.

After walking across the black tarmac from the plane and entering the small Dar Es Salaam airport, the smell of rain vanished into a thick cloud of un-airconditioned, stale air. Tanzania does not smell like french fries (see previous Where’s Waldo post). It smells like clean sweat mixed with hard-working soap. What do I mean by that? Well, after living here on the coast of Tanzania for a year, sweating has become a larger part of my life than ever before. Boy, is it hot!! Combine the heat with a lot of hard work, add how difficult it is to get good deodorant around here (if any at all), and we all are sitting in the same boat… a somewhat stinky one. The bars of soap try to keep up, but it is a big job! Usually it just adds a hint of something fresh to all our sweatiness. So, though this smell doesn’t sit as lovely on our noses as others, we have come to respect it, understand it, and, we must admit, actively participate in it.

I asked Travis what Tanzania smelled like to him as we drove through Dar toward our guesthouse for the night. (I am not usually this obsessed with smells, but this blog post was already formulating in my mind.) He said: burning trash mingling with tropical, fresh air. Now, there is a mixed bag of smells and emotions!

The next few days we ran many errands around town. (In our new car! Which smells like… a new car!) We drove up to Kitumbi, which is about 4 hours north of Dar to see some good friends, the Talleys, and then drove the long road south, about 10 hours south from Dar, to Mtwara. Exhaust and dust fill the air along these road-ways.

If you look at a map, you will see that our little town is right on the coast. And if you look even closer, you will see that our house sits about 4 minutes (walking) away from the water. So the smell of the ocean is never far away. Now, I do not claim to be an experienced coastal dweller. I am more of a mountain girl. But I have figured out that high tide and low tide have distinctly different smells. The warm breeze coming off the water at high tide is fresh and clean. I can see why there are candles and sprays named Ocean Breeze. But, the air coming off of low tide smells like mboga za baharini. (literally translated: vegetables of the ocean.) The smell is comforting and not unpleasant; however, I hope no one ever makes a perfume out of it.

Though the rains are slowly starting to begin, it is still pretty dry down here in the south. So as we bump along in our car, or ride our bikes down dirt roads, dust is the main thing we inhale. But, sometimes, I am almost certain that I can smell these blooming trees. Though November and December are our driest and hottest months, these breathtaking trees that line many of the roads in our small town, help me appreciate the season.

The market where I do most of my grocery shopping is a melting pot of smells. There are three areas that stand out above the rest: the vegetable stands, the spice kiosks, and the fish market. You all know what these things smell like — now, just magnify it by about 100% and you’ve got it! Here are some pictures to go along with your imagination.

Science has proven that smells and memories are closely linked. I know that, as my nose soaks in more and more smells during these early years of living in Tanzania, my memories are being made and solidified. Thanks for reading and sharing in my experience. And, thanks, Grandfather, for teaching me the word: olfactory. 

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