The barefooted vendor

I should be walking but I am drifting, been jostled and tossed from side to side carried roughly yet swiftly by the wave of traders that make Dar es Salaam’s Karioko Ward, the busiest business center in the country and arguably the entire EAC.

Typical of tropical East Africa, the sun was scorching and at zero altitude by the sea the air was chocking with humidity. Body odor, mingled with dust and cheap perfume periodically hit my nose temporarily subduing my senses with a pang of What used to be Lumumba St was that afternoon a river of buyers and sellers and the row they were causing was from a distance, like the distinct hum of buzzing bees busy in a hive and indeed these traders are as busy as bees.

They are loud, calling out this, shouting out that, merchandise is sprawled on the ground while some is ‘flying’ overhead, it all seems very chaotic. But, as the auditors books reveal, Kariako is one of the city’s biggest cash cows.

I am here to investigate the truth in the words of a teenage boy who but a day before told me he gets his cargo of new release Hollywood blockbuster DVDs from this den of thieves as he called it.

I met Juma, right after sunset when the moon was rising on the Dar es Salaam orange sky like the work of a genius artist that it indeed is. That single name was all he was willing to offer.

The glow on his face could have been joy or sweat and oil after a long day’s toil. His eyes danced deep in their sockets and he flashed a full set of white teeth every so often.

However, his worn out sandals that left his heels to fend for themselves on the merciless tarmac gave away the true state of his being. His tattered and patched up clothing, uncombed dotted hair and the dark mass under his finger nails spoke volumes of his tough life, yet he was but a teenager.

While the consciousness wishes to argue that the boy’s external material status does not describe his internal wellbeing and that the smile was honest and the dance of the eyes was joyful, I beg to differ.

No sooner had I stated my reason for stopping him, ‘I am curious where you get the DVDs’ the smile went upside down, the dancing eyes glared angrily.
‘Anko, kama hununui...’ he started to say “uncle, if you are not going to buy...” I dint let him finish, shame on me, where are my investigative reporting techniques when I need them?

If I was going to get any information out of the exhausted youngster, I would first have to address his immediate need, so I reached deep into my pocket and managed to come out with a ward of old crumpled up notes.

It worked, the smile returned and the eyes resumed their watchful dance. He set his heavy load of DVDs onto the pavement and begun to catalogue them, impressively I might add.
“Seres ama akshon?” “Series or action?” he queried as he pushed a few of the DVDs into my unsure hands.

I pocked my smartphone to better handle the merchandise and as I flipped through I was not disappointed. At least three new releases were in the pile, heavens! I don’t think any of them had even hit the cinemas in Tanzania.

“Zote mpya...” “All are new...” he declared and I found my niche and took it.
“Very nice...so where do you get these new DVDs,” I eased into the interview.

Handing me another pile, Juma was at first hesitant which also brought the red flags up; why is scared of telling me where he gets the DVDs, does he suspect I am from Social Services here to inquire why he is not in school or more plausible maybe I am a tax collector here to bully him for whatever little he had mustered.

I flashed him a smile, set two DVDs aside and asked him for another pile, his defense gave way.
“Bwana, tuchukulia kwenye genge la wezi Kariako,” “Mr, we get them from the den of thieves in Kariako,” we both laughed.

I went on to inquire as to how much he gets them for, from which shops and if he knew where those shops got their merchandise from.

He sells just released Hollywood blockbusters for a mere 2000/- after having acquired them for as low as 1500/- and 1200/- at wholesale price. We will revisit the matter of pricing later, but key reminder, be very wary of cheap, it may prove to be very expensive.

That was about all we had time for. As soon as I inquired how he was recruited into the job, the walking DVD shop cum teenager demanded I select my pick and pay up. Soon he strode off, his worn out sandals raising dust in his wake, my new DVDs in hand, I watched him disappear in the dark.

Back at home, I readied myself to test my purchase, with a foil full of deep fried oily chips and chicken, the modern day standard healthy food for Tanzania’s city dwellers. Because I had been down this road once too often, it was no surprise that the spelling of the movie printed on the DVD was wrong.

I swallowed hard and went ahead to slip the DVD into the player, my Chinese made subwoofer did not fail me, the familiar drums of the 20 Century productions icon throbbed and I immediately knew I was onto something.

The quality was terrible, the colour faded the audio out of place. When the actual movie egun to play, day scenes were like twilight and night scenes absolutely dark. To ice the cake, there were murmurs, voices and they were not of the actors. Then a shadow rose up and crossed the screen! The DVD had being recorded in a cinema!

Next week, don’t miss Hollywood to Bongohood; the journey of a DVD Part 2 ‘Untaxed Revenues, profiteers of the black market. We meet DVD suppliers in dusty crowded Kariako and then visit well lit colourful shopping malls where they openly duplicate DVDs of your choice right in front of you.

In Part3. The Sweat of my brow, we speak with the authorities to learn of laws, regulations and policies that govern the movie subsector, and how they are fighting copyright infringement and protecting the final consumer.
Feedback: giza.mdoe@guardian.co.tz or succ3s@guardian.com