As I have been here the past week, I thought I would re-cape on my experiences in the first week, in Africa! It hasn’t been what I expected it to be. After the first week, I am already starting to fill pretty comfortable here, language is a problem, but I am working on that, and I manage as well as the local people. I think I was expecting it to be completely comfortable right from the get-go, and the whole time while I am here. But even though I had a strong desire to come here I, pathetically, realize now that it’s not always the case. I can say that the people help you to feel at home and welcome you, whether I know them or not. In many ways it is hard for me to explain the adjustment process. Maybe part of it is because I am by myself, doing my own thing in a new place, and I am the only person in the neighborhood, and around the area that is wazungu (white). But I am so glad I am doing this on my own, I really feel this was something I needed to do by myself. This was something that I dreamt about, and now that I have traveled here by myself, and am on my own to do whatever I want, I knew in order to get the experience God wanted me to have I needed to come with just Him. Honestly, traveling by yourself really isn’t that bad, it was better than I thought. I feel like when God puts something on our hearts, we need to do it whether or not others are going to come with you or not. It is some what liberating. I notice when you are alone, puts one in a state of vulnerability that cause you to trust strangers, and friends you have met before. It feels good, to not always hold on to our “strangers are bad” mentality. It can be so much fun meeting new people, even in another language! I am able to do and go places whenever I like, meet up with people, go to their houses, and I have no guideline I have to follow, or person or group to consider, it really is nice. I think it will give me the chance to bond more with the local people, because I have no one else! Of course Dessie is here, but he is busy, and introduces me to other people so that I can get to know them while I am here. I am so glad that I am here for a longer period of time, I think most people who visit from the west only come for a couple of weeks and than leave, unless they are missionaries here.
It doesn’t matter if people know you or not, I can’t leave the house without being welcomed by someone, or stopped to say hi, how are you? It makes you feel like people want you to be here, and enjoy the fact that I have come to visit. Especially within my family, they are giving me the high class treatment from what Dessie has told me. I get great food, kinds that they don’t normally eat but because I am there, they are serving tilapia (fish), many different kinds of fruits, meats, milk, giving me napkins, buying spaghetti, and none of this is normally used in their household I am sure. I don’t do anything around the house either, clean, cook, wash dishes, take care of the kids, nothing. They have a house girl, which apparently most families have them if they can afford one. Data our house girl, or should I say women, does pretty much all of the cooking, cleaning, washing, etc. Let me give you a picture of what she does, because for us, cooking, cleaning, and washing are completely different things than it is here. Data cooks all of the food, which I am sure she or the kids have to get from the market daily, or at least during the week. The kitchen is a small room with two charcoal pots that are about a foot tall, a sink, a small table to put different items on, and a small stool to sit on, very close to the ground. (I know all of this because I cooked the other night, on the charcoal pot! Spaghetti!). She uses charcoal of course, which requires her to buy often, and keep the fire going in the kitchen (it is hot in there!). It takes forever for things to boil, twice as long as a regular stove, and she is feeding a family of 6, plus me now, and other visitors that might come in. All foods, meat, rice, beans, you name it, is not prepared. One has to sift the rice for rocks, clean it with water, than boil it. One has to gut the fish, clean the fish, than cook it on oil, with the heads still on it. Spices (you mash), beans (you clean), drinking water you have to boil on top of your cooking pots, all in this hot tiny kitchen. And when this is all over, she cleans all the dishes. I can’t believe I don’t do anything, but I guess that is just the way it is, I am served as a guest, and don’t really partake in any of the chores. Data also does all the cleaning, but there is no such thing as a washer or dryer, they clean everything by hand in tubs outside, and hang dry clothes. We are lucky here because sometimes people have to go fetch water, we have running water in our home. And any cleaning in the house that needs to be done, she does, she gets the kids ready for school. It is a full time job let me just tell you that. Mama Glorie (my host mother’s name), she helps, but has a little one to take care of that takes up most of her time. But Data the house girl, is not there just because mama just had a baby, but has been with the family for the past 5 years. The reason they took her in was because at 17 she was kicked out of her house by her family because she became a Christian, and has lived with Pastor Deo ever since. For the first years she was paid a small amount for doing the house work, but now she doesn’t want to be paid but to just live and be apart of their family, while still doing all of the house work. Meanwhile, men here are not supposed to do anything of this. But Deo told me that he actually used to help with household chores when he was younger. I like that.
My house, is a small place, with three rooms, a living room, a very small kitchen, a hall way, and an entrance way. It is off of the main road, paved, going into downtown Mwanza. Downtown is like a 10 minute walk, which is really nice for me if I need anything, like money, internet, food, phone card, etc. Once off the main road, it is dirt, bad dirt roads. I walk up a block and turn down another street, walk halfway down it and enter a courtyard with other homes, and mine is in the middle. It is not what you are thinking though, when I say courtyard, because it is dirt. Deo’s house is the only one that isn’t made from dirt and bricks, and there are animals (chickens, dogs), and children running around, clothes hanging everywhere, and it is not that big. If someone didn’t show you where it is, it would be really hard to find. It is a pretty busy area, with many houses, it is not a village at all. Ilemela where I will be working is more in the village, which is a 15 minutes on the daladala from my house. The main road is right next to the lake, which is pretty, but nothing like the view from Ilemela,
The daladala is an experience, they aren’t as scary as I thought they would be, but they don’t look like buses. First off they are more like vans, one of those 15 seater ones, but old, and run down. There is the driver who sits in front, and a conductor that sits right next to the sliding door, to let people on and off. This is the man who does gets everyone on and off the bus, and the man you pay. The bus stops are non-existent, there is no indication that it is a bus stop, it really is just the side of the road. (And mom I am glad I brought my chacos, because they are the ones I wear all the time because the buses aren’t like the ones in America, my feet aren’t stepped on.) Oh, and my family has a TV, which I didn’t expect, but they really only get 2 channels. There are these really bad, bad soap operas on, and swahili news, once and a while I catch BBC World News, which is kinda nice.
One thing that I noticed, which is easy to pick up on, is the way Africans treat wzungu. They have this trust in you like when we are around nothing bad will happen, or we are these special people who get special privileges, which really makes me mad. For example, Dessie and I visited a man in the hospital the other day, and it was past visitation hours, but of course we got in, and you know why?! That is pretty easy to answer. Everyone thinks we are made out of money, and that we are these really nice people. Even though we have treated them like crap, and are ruining their country, and taking advantage of them. For example, 3% of all the gold and diamond mines in Tanzania are actually owned my Tanzania, the rest from the west. And they just imposed a tax on the gold and diamonds to make sure they are of quality, so Tanzania only sees 1% of their gold and diamonds. But that one percent is probably all in the hands of the government, or other corrupt officials. The people don’t see anything. The most heart breaking thing is when Pastor Deo ask the rhetorical question, why are we so poor? He wants to learn from me because my country is so rich, to understand how we did it! But you know why America is so rich, because we are abusing and exploiting people from countries like Tanzania, as well as several other countries. No, I can’t tell him that. I don’t know, it doesn’t mean that I am going to be dishonest with him. Pastor Deo has such a big heart, I am so lucky to be living with him. Local people do more for each other than missionaries do for the local people, Pastor Deo notices that because he does ministry. All of them drive around in these cars, and have these nice houses, Dessie is an exception to the case. To really make a change and a difference, it takes a lot more than a compassionate heart, and some money from the west, that is for sure. All of this to say that women here aren’t treated well, and I have come to the conclusion that it isn’t a American thing for me to want women’s right, or me trying to push my culture and traditions on another, it is a Biblical thing!!! This is one area that I think I have come to the conclusion I am no sorry I offended people, even though I haven’t done anything a women is not supposed to do....yet. But than again it wouldn’t really matter for me anyways because I am white and American, so I am treated better than an African woman, I am like one of the men. Disgusting. It makes me mad, and rightfully so.
As I finish, this really long entry, who has God called us to be? How are we supposed to use our time here, and what has God given us to offer to other people? Is God calling me back to Tanzania, or Africa? How is God going to order my steps while I am here? As I contemplate these things, life seems to get a little more gray, and complicated, but what better time than to ask these questions. It is always comforting that we have a God of hope.
