The things I miss, the things I experienced, the things I am still processing

I fell in love with Tanzania - and her people.
-Chapati
-Daladalas
-Elowi
-Chipsimaiyi
-Everything matches
-DARUSO
-Reading The Hobbit on the shore of the Indian Ocean
-Handmade clothing
-Cold showers - really cold showers!
-Mwanza, Solomon, and Mama Naomi
-Safaris - both kinds ;)
-Swedish meatballs on my birthday
-Freshest fruits I've ever eaten
-Steven Ndosi
I had my first drink, and liked it.
I uncovered the ability to be angry for myself.
I, we, maintained a relationship from the other side of the world
I enjoyed worshipping in solitude.
I got to know some of the most amazing women I've ever encountered.
I watched (from a great distance) my sisters grow into even more amazing young women.
I learned what it meant to be totally vulnerable.
I pondered my actions and their repercussions more than I ever have.
I prayed, intentionally, seeking guidance and calm and clear sight.
I doubted everything I've ever believed.
I feared for my life.
I got my head x-rayed.
I started to run again - a joyful experience.
I dreamed about my future, our future.
I experienced true hospitality.
I understood what 'pay-it-forward' means.
I walked without a limp.

Rainer Maria Rilke

God speaks to each of us as he makes us
Then walks with us silently out of the night
These words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
Go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like flame
And make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let youself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.

--Rainer Maria Rilke
Love Poems to God

Ignorance exposed : An American’s mindset flipped upside down

When we landed in Arusha, it literally felt like I had been transported in a photo shoot from National Geographic. There is something incredibly surreal about walking around the TCDC compound and having monkeys scamper across the path directly in front of me. As amazing as the experience was, I am very thankful that it was arranged in the manner that it was. I recognize the time and effort that was put into the schedule and the order of events, and as I look at my entire experience, all the different elements of the orientation really prepared me for the rest of my time in Tanzania.

Steven Ndosi
There is so much to say about this amazing individual. Steven was our guide during the first few weeks that we were in the Arusha area, in July. Among the many capacities that he serves, one of them is as a spokesperson of sorts - commenting on political issues and decisions that are made in Tanzania. For someone who has had the sort of face time on television as he has, he is an incredible humble person. Even in the states, my experience has been that even the local newscasters tend to sort of have an elevated status. That is not something that I noticed in Steven, and it really warmed my heart.

He spoke so passionate to us about his country, and despite the obvious frustrations that he has with the corruption, he was so positive and emotional. I think to the United States, and how outspoken and hateful some many people come across while criticizing the government. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with freedom of speech, and I believe that it is necessary for people to be vocal in their frustrations with the governments of the their country, but Steven was eloquent in his frustrations in a way that I rarely see today in the States. Granted, it is an election season, and that makes everyone’s tensions run high, but that is no excuse not to be creative and civil and concise.

Steven not only gave us a political history of his beloved nation, he also gave us a lesson in intense patriotism. Even without specifically talking about patriotism, or his sense of being a Tanzanian, he introduced us to the mindset that I encountered so many more times over my three-month experience. As Tanzanians tell us about their country, it is their country. They know that theirs is not the wealthiest of nations, but they take an immense amount of pride in their accomplishments. When learning about their nation’s history in primary school, I hear the pride in the instructors’ voices, even when I can barely understand the language - Kiswahili. Steven gave me an insight to his commitment not only to his immediate community, but also to the country as a whole, and spoke so passionately it made me feel ashamed not to possess the same devotion.

Peace House

I think the experience that unsettled me the most during our two week orientation was the tour of the Peace House. It is a school that was built several years ago, to house and educate orphans, selected by a committee. It is entirely funded by foreign donations. The school, without a doubt, was fantastic. The generous donations really mean a lot to each of the lives of those young men and women who had been given the gift of an incredible educational opportunity. But that basic and underlying fact aside, there were several things that bothered me, and I made myself think long and hard about why exactly they unsettled me.

The biggest problem I had with the whole idea of the school is that it targets orphans. In my experience, Americans have this romanticized, dramatic idea of who orphans are. So a group of sponsors from the USA come together and donate and fundraise to build a western school in the middle of Tanzania, and then select only orphans to be brought to this school to learn.

It seemed so backward. Why take children away from the people who have been raising them, making them even more of outsiders, and bring them to a school where they are treated differently specifically because they are orphans? As soon as they graduate from secondary school, they will go – where? They don’t have the connections that a child growing up in a village or town would have. They don’t have the relationships or the contacts. They were removed from that opportunity by the very people who were trying to help them. Now, I’m not saying that this reinforces the old adage, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions,’ I’m simply trying to point out that this is a very American idea being thrust into a very non-American place.

Gemma and Lesikar

So often, people talk of ‘globalization’ but what they really mean is ‘westernization’. This is something that a lot of my pre-departure readings discussed – the idea that simply because something is not similar to the way the ‘west’ does things, it is therefore inferior, backwards, inadequate, antiquated.

This is something that Gemma spoke at great lengths about during our different opportunities to meet with her. emma and her husband were exceedingly welcoming to us, to their home in Monduli and in Lesikar's father's boma.

New products appear on our shelves every few weeks. There are new ‘must-haves’ and ‘can’t-live-without-this’ offers coming out of the radio, television, newspapers, magazines, and Internet. If things are not changing and becoming flashier and fancier, than they simply aren’t good enough.

But that philosophy does not hold so firm in other parts of the world. I spoke with several Tanzanians who, when given the choice, prefer to buy things used. Why? “Because they are still good.” Things don’t lose their value as they are used – they gain value. Items remain valuable even after there is visible wear-and-tea. This is a mindset that is essential non-existent in too many social circles in the United States. People actually pay more to buy their clothes ripped, stained, scratched, and frayed. I don’t understand it – I know many of the Tanzanians I talked to don’t really get it either. The concept of buying clothes and wearing them out until they get to that states? It would make more sense, at least to me, personally.

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As the saying goes, ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is also easy. Tolerance is simple and takes little effort. Understanding, comprehension, learning, expanding one’s boundaries and comforts zones – those things are uncomfortable. Breaking stereotypes and deliberately removing one’s self from their support structures? That can be down right painful. But the benefits and knowledge that I’ve gained through this experience is worth it.

Untitled

I have been thinking a lot lately, about a number of things. One: Frustrations, and how we let them go until all of a sudden we see that they have simply raged out of control. And then there is nothing we can do about them but let them rage. Two: Ice melting. I have always enjoyed that image, water dripping, ice melting...And then it hit me this afternoon - those two things have more in common than simply crossing my brain in the same hour.

Think about this: Water, ice, drips from a roof or a branch or an overpass. As it drips, all of those little bits of water are frustrations and anger that we let dwell in out minds or in our hearts and do not acknowledge. But eventually, the weather turns cold, and all that water that has dripped down freezes solid. Then, some unsuspecting poor fool comes along and steps just right and finds themselves flat on their back with a severe lack of oxygen in their chest. And what can they do but wait until they can breath again. No way to force air back into their chest, no way to speed it up, just wait. That is sorta the way that I see frustrations like this affecting myself and those closest and dearest to me. Someone will come along at just the wrong moment, and slip onto my frustrations like a patch of black ice. And before they can grab hold of something to steady them, the full brunt of all those pent up angers and frustrations land them on their back, barely able to understand how they got there.

I am not excusing my lack of enthusiasm lately or my apparent disinterest in the goings on around me. I am not justifying my personality flaws. I just am marveling at the similarity between such a seemingly beautiful image and a potential broken hip.

A lot has happened over the past few weeks. One month ago, I had a really severe scare in my dorm room at UDSM. As a result, my program pulled me out, and brought me back to the states. Today, I am back at Luther College, struggling to find my place among the people I know and love, but who can't understand the context from which I have so recently returned. On the other side of the world, the girls that I love so much are still in Tanzania, struggling to know their place on a University campus that used to be so bustling with life, overflowing with loud, cheerful students. Now, due to the riots of last week, those students have all be evicted, and all that is left are foriegn students. I can't imagine the alien feeling that the now silent campus must have for the amazing men and women that I got to know this fall. And now I hear that Mandi, a student at the U in MN, she has been pulled from her program as well - someone so brave as to commit herself for a whole academic year in Tanzania is now back in the states, readjusting and reaclimating herself to life in the states.

Things are overwhelming here. I feel torn everytime I start enjoying myself here in the states because I feel like I should be back with Sara and Siri and Liz and the Eriks and the beautiful Canadian girls.....I feel frustrated everytime I pass someone on the sidewalk and call out, 'Hello' when what wants to naturally come out of my mouth is 'Mambo!' "Habari za asubuhi?' and 'Hamjambo!' Not only is the weather rather fridged in comparison to the gorgeous heat of Dar, but the people are colder too. Smiles and greetings were as natural as breathing at UDSM - and I know Luther is considered a friendly campus, but something still feels lacking.

I don't know what else to express. I pray for the LCCT group, that they have these last four weeks be filled with joy and deep experiences.

Thoughts from an eloquent man

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22425001/vp/27652443#27652443

Essentially, he says all that my heart has been struggling to express. Thank you, Adam, for posting this.

If you feel driven, please respond.

October Update

Classes started! Wahoo!! 

I had my first actual lecture today.  Classes have finally (sort of) started, and I just left my Race, Class and Ethnicity course [Sociology 377] and I was surprised by a number of things.  One: The lecturer is really quite young.  She never really gave us an introduction, so I don’t really know how old she is, but she seems like she is late 20s, early 30s.  She never even told us her name, so all I can refer to her as is ‘the lecturer.’ She dressed more casually than even some of the foreign students were.  I must admit, when she first entered the room and walked up to the stage and set some books and papers there, I assumed that she was assisting the professor by bringing his things to the room in advance.  When she opened the text and began speaking, I was not alone in being a little startled and slightly embarrassed by thinking that she was a student or assistant.  Two: She was quite firm about the fact that if a student in the lecture hall could not take an active part in the class, then that student should find a new class to be in.  Class participation, expressing one’s self orally, whether through volunteering an answer or asking a question or giving a summary of the previous class, would be a necessary part of the class.  Three: She spoke about the general goal of the class as being to discuss how race, class, and ethnicity affect societies around the word, and then proceeded to ask questions that were very specific to Tanzania.  We (Sara, Siri, and I) struggled to know how to respond because although we wanted to be able to participate in the class, to answer questions about Tanzanian culture was very uncomfortable for us.  We have been here for a little over two months now, and know a fair amount about the culture and the people, but by no means did I fee comfortable answer the questions.  Here is the dilemma and I see it – if I answer the question incorrectly, I am a foolish foreigner that isn’t willing to take the time to learn about the country I am living in.  If I answer correctly, I am afraid I’ll appear snobbish or snotty, answer question about the very people sitting around me in the class when this is their culture, their home, their people.  In the end, I decided it was better for me to just take avid notes, pay close attention to the lecturer, and hope that eventually I am comfortable enough with my understanding of Tanzania’s culture to speak up during class.

Update about September!

Hello hello! I apologize to my family, as this is a big repeat of the massive email you've all recently received, but I figured this was the most efficient way to update everyone. As I haven't written for a while, there's a lot to catch up on, and I also apologize about the length.

We finished our Kiswahili course on the 30^th of August. After that, I sort of dropped off the face of the earth, as far as blog entries and emails go – sorry about that. We had all sort of mutually decided that we would take the first part of September and travel around the country before classes started on the 15^th. Well, it is the 29^th today, and I haven’t seen any classes yet! But the traveling was amazing.

Chris Waters from St. Olaf and Bryanna Plog from Pacific Lutheran traveled with me up into the northwestern corner of Tanzania (see attached map). Chris has lived here in Tanzania 4 times now, with his family. He still has a lot of family friends living, here, and they invited him up north, and we decided to come along.

Our first stop was Mwanza (on the shores of Lake Victoria), where we received an incredible amount of hospitality from a little 68 year old woman. We stayed in Mwanza for a few days, and then moved on to Ngara. (Sorry if these comments seem brief, I’ve got a lot to say but don’t want to bore you!! There will be blog posts elaborating)

Ngara is so small even today that it does not appear on most maps and certainly does not appear in any of our guide books. Yet it is an amazing and important place of East Africans. Chris’s father was hired to work here, in the Rwandan refugee camps from 1994 until 1996. Chris was about 7 years old, and lived in Ngara, a beautiful little village that help maintain the largest refugee camps in the nation. As we bumped along the road up and down hills, Chris could barely take his eyes away from the landscape. The hills that used to house millions of refugees are now green and flourishing. The camps he remembers from his childhood are all but gone, only 2 very small ones remaining out of the dozen that used to blanket the hills. Once we arrived in Ngara, we were taken to a guest house that is in the same neighborhood as where Chris used to live. Lo and behold, the home we were taken to IS his old house! It was fantastic. This 6 foot tall, 200 pound guy was scampering about, finding all the little things that he remembered. He was thrilled beyond belief. After calming down a bit, he brought me and Bryanna to the back of the property, where we could see huge hills in the distance. “That’s Rwanda,” he pointed to our right, “and that’s Burindi, to the left. And that...” squinting into the mist that covered the hills, we could just make out a layer of mountain behind the hills of Burindi, “that on a clear day would be the Congo.”

From Ngara we moved to Kibondo, where I was able to sample the nation’s fine regional hospital. That’s right, I can’t even go across the world without causing some medical mishap. Let me tell you, my mother was thrilled that I still needed her on the other side of the world. Long story short: I had my wisdom teeth out in June. A little piece o tooth was still in my socket on my lower right side, and for some odd reason, it caused no trouble until I was in the remotest corner of Tanzania. Brilliant. My whole right side of my face went numb and swelled up with infection, and of course, I freaked. Through calls home and a wonderful dental technician, I managed to get what I needed in Kibondo to keep everything under control. Amoxicillin, salt water, and a syringe with a little tube attached, to squirt water in the hole where in infection lay. When I went to pay for the syringe, I was told it was not necessary. “This is Africa,” he said. “We have plenty of syringes. Karibu tena, dada.” (Welcome again, sister).

We moved on to Kigoma(on the shores of Lake Tanganyka) ) the next day, and I visited another hospital, got a head xray to try to find the tooth fragment and determined that yes indeed, Papa, I have rocks in my head. (again, see attached photos). No tooth was found, but I got to keep the x-ray! The technician apologized eloquently for the high cost, and seemed embarrassed when I had to pay my bill. Cost of the x-ray? 5,000/= Tanzania shillings. That converts to about $4.42.

After I finished with my hospital fun, we bought our train tickets back to Dar and found that we had two days to wait before the train left. Se we investigated how much it would cost to go to Ngombe Stream, the National Park where Jane Goodall did her chimp research. For foreigners, the cost is $300. Expats pay $40 and citizens pay about $12. We, being students with residency permits, managed to land the expat fee, which was fantastic. The chimps were incredible, but it was a terrifying experience. We managed to pick the one day of the month that the entire chimp family (40 full grown, about 15 immature) were together, hunting. Let me say that again...they were hunting little red monkeys, flying through the trees, charging at us until the realized we were MUCH bigger than they are, and all around making an intensely loud racket. They got so close I could have kissed them, not that I would want to!

We survived the chimp experience, and made our way back to Dar by train, which was a really interesting ride. There was a young nun traveling in the compartment with Bryanna and I, and although she is a Tanzania, she speak fluent Spanish!! It was incredible – we chatted in Spanish for almost the whole 3 day ride, which severely annoyed one of the women in the compartment. She came in on the second day, rearranged everyone so that she had the most comfortable spot, gave her little baby to me to take care of, and liked asking us complicated question is Kiswahili that obviously we could not answer. As soon as we did manage to answer one, she’d ask another and another until we exhausted our limited language skills. So to be having fun speaking another language? Totally not allowed.

The rest of the trip went well until Chris’s backpack was stolen out of this compartment as he slept. He literally used one bag for a pillow, and slept curled around the other, but the thief was able to get the smaller one which contained glasses, cell phone, money, passport, visa, academic journal, and malaria medication. To top it all off, it was Chris’s 20^th birthday that day. He was in good spirits though, but the rest of the trip did seem very long.

Once we were back in Dar on the 11^th, we found out that classes would not be starting until the 29^th – my birthday. Wahoo. I actually was really bummed, as I cannot wait to start classes here. So we contacted another family friend of Chris’s who had offered to let us come join her in the mountains for a week. Mama Macha is a 60 year old woman (from Seattle!) who married a Chaga man (the tribe the lives on and around Kilimanjaro) and has lived in Tanzania since she was 25. She lives just off campus, but has a home where her late husband grew up, outside of Moshi, in a small village called Morri, that has the most amazing view of both Mount Meru and Mount Kilimanjaro. By the 12^th, all 10 of us had returned to Dar, and we began planning to go up to Morri for the week.

From the 16th until the 22^nd, we stayed up in the mountains. It was incredible. I’ve seen friendliness and kindness all throughout Tanzania, but it was nothing like was I experienced in Morri. The women helped up cook and carry water and wash without laughing (usually kindly) at us like the women here in Dar so love to do. Everyday we hiked around to a different side of the hills hat Morri is nestled between, and on the 18^th we drove to the gates of the National Park , the entrance through which the climber pass through to go up Kili. We, needless to say, did not climb, though some in my group dearly wish to. I....well, knowing me and my bad luck, I think that climbing ....well, knowing me and my bad luck, I think that climbing any mountain would be inviting too much trouble to come and settle itself around me like a rain cloud. I was more that satisfied just by looking at the peak, which was breathtaking. (pictures included)

We left Morri and traveled back to Dar, and have sort of been hanging around lately. I chatted with a philosophy professor that I have gotten to know, and he let me know that lecturers and professors might be striking this semesters. Yes, that’s right. Classes might not start at all. If that is the case, I think I might cry, but at least I will have a lot of time to travel.

I’ll try to answer a few questions that I’ve received about the university and life living on campus. The university is about the size of the UMD campus and is situated on a hill (which means we get a fantastic breeze on stiflingly hot days). There are about 10,000 students here, only about 2,000 of which are women. This ratio is uncomfortable for us a lot of the time, because not only do we attract attention because we are white, but then the 9 women in my group get extra attention simply because there aren’t a lot of women here at all. I live in the only female dorm, Hall III, which has four sections. There are 6 other dorm buildings, all obviously occupied by men.

The food here is interesting, mostly rice with beans, chicken, peas, meat, or local variation of spinach...or in Kiswahili, that would be wali na maharage, kuku, njegere, nyama, ou mchicha. I can switch the rice with ugali (think really think cream of wheat that you eat with your fingers) or viazi (boiled potatoes). My favorite meal for lunch is viazi na kokoto, which is a beef stew with carrots, tomatoes, local spinach, and peppers, sometimes with onions, all poured over potatoes. There is a lot of fresh fruit, machungas, parachichi, matango, na ndizi (oranges, avocado, cucumbers, and bananas). Breakfast usually consists of a banana and chapati, thin fried bread that is really good with a sliced banana or a little peanut butter. Chai (Tea) is served al day, and Tanzanians drink it very very hot. This never makes sense to me, since it is so humid and hot out already.

I think that is about it for now! Today classes were supposed to start, but I really don't think anyone has any classes today. We have been hearing rumors that professors ma be striking (great) and that classes never really get going until the middle of October or even November. Yeah...it could be interesting. There might be a lot more traveling stories and not very many school stories in my blog entries.

I hope you are all doing well!!

One month later....

I am so sorry I haven't had much time to write these past few weeks. Between an immense and marvelous amount of traveling, student orientation, and this past week on living on the slopes on Mount Kilimanjaro, computer access has been practically nonexistent. But! I am back on campus now, for the majority on my remaining 3 months here in Tanzania.

I start classes on my birthday, (next Monday) and register for classes two weeks later. Yes, I know that doesn't make sense, but this is Tanzania, people. The laws of physics don't even apply here, believe me.

As soon as academic journals, newspaper articles, and my project proposal are finished and turned in, several lengthy posts will appear. In the mean time, I'll hold you all in suspense just a bit longer.