Clearly this blogging thing is not something I'm very good at staying on top of. The May termers have arrived and so far I feel like everything is going well. I'm glad to have Lindsey around and it's fun to be able to share the experience with her, as well as with some of the other girls whom I know well including Mara, Christina, and Emily. Though it is weird to go from the one having everything translated for me to being the one doing all of the translating and talking. The group seems like it has pretty good dynamics and like it will roll pretty well, but with thirteen girls in close courters, there is still plenty of time for things to get interesting (though I don't anticipate it will...we'll see). Girls have a tendency to be more, well, loud when there aren't any guys around to try and impress. But I think Lindsey will sort of me my release from that. There's a nice little water tower just outside the school that we like to climb up to watch sunsets and go star gazing and really just chat about life.



I can already tell that I'm going to be a lot more tired and worn out these next two weeks. They have a full schedule planned and Lindsey and I are trying to fit more things in on top of it, but it's good. On the groups first village visit and I had a very different experience than all the others and it was pretty awesome. After the service, PH and one of the Maasai teachers convinced the Maasai warriors to do their traditional jumping celebration for us while the Maasai girls did a dance in the middle. It's kind of like a traditional mating call in a way, and I was thoroughly impressed. Christina was joking around with me and pretending to dance like the girls and we didn't realize that anyone was watching us until one of the older Maasai women came up and put one of the young girls' big decorated chest plates on me and told me to go join the girls and dance. I went willingly and did my best, but lets be honest, compared to the Maasai I neither have rhythm nor any movement in my shoulders, but the guys still did their dance in return. I tried hard to shake like they do but I am quite certain that I failed miserably. They all thought it was great and appreciated my efforts so I was glad to appease them. I just hope no one posts any videos on the Internet of this happening cause I might be a little embarrassed then. Besides embarrassing myself, I decided to stop avoiding the situation and just eat the intestine they served me. Normally Luca just assumes I don't want it and takes it and eats it because he really enjoys it. But I thought it wouldn't really be the real deal if I hadn't tried it at least once. I think the best description might be school's macaroni and cheese, minus the cheese, because it's a bit chewy.

Tuesday, Lindsey, I, and Bwana Strickert had the unique opportunity to go to a Barabike village. I'm so glad we went because it was far different than any of the others I've experienced. The women dress much differently. The have leather dresses that have beaded skirts so that when they jump the beads flip up and it's a bit provocative. The top of the dress puts the left arm in a sling and we couldn't decide if it was there so they can hold their breasts in place while they jump or so that they can't hold down their skirts. The Barabike are also very interesting because they have a lot of different body decoration than the Maasai tribe. The Barabike like to do a lot of scaring around the eyes and I personally think that it is really, really pretty. Usually they don't let people take pictures but because we had a fellow villager with us from the school, they let us take some. The women also wear the gold wrist bands and neck bands which are neat because the neck rings bounce really neatly when they are jumping. It was interesting because they were actually choosing their wives while we were there. After the whole ritual, the men asked Lindsey and I to jump with them and the jumped and chanted in response, once again I made a complete fool of myself, but it was fun anyway. I'm not sure what it means when we jump in sync with them like we did, but I don't think we got married.

I guess you could say that Africa has taught me to break out of my shell more and more if nothing else. Even Lindsey said that the biggest change she had seen in me was how much more social I am than she remembers me being. I'm aware of it, but I guess when your options are to spend 4 months alone in your room or step out of your comfort zone and make friends with new people, I would rather make the friends. Even coming back here from Dodoma after 12 days I couldn't believe how much I enjoyed seeing my Tanzanian friends again. I think that was probably one of the more giddy days of my life, which is not something I would usually admit. I'm getting a little more nervous about leaving because I fear that there are many of them I won't see again or at least not for a long time and I'm realizing how much they have meant to me as they have been such a large part of this experience. I guess it's best not to think about that right now. I'd rather enjoy the little time I have left.

We went to Mikumi again yesterday. After my last trip, the only thing I really had left that I wanted to see and hadn't yet was a male lion with a big mane. It turns out that was the first thing we encountered and it was right next to the road. The second day Bwana Strickert, Lindsey, Mara, Laura, and I had tired from the bus business so we spent the second half enjoying the bar and pool accomadations. We sort of 'accidently' fell in the pool with our clothes on and I greatly enjoyed the opportunity to relax for the afternoon.

Tonight Lindsey, Emily, and I are camping out on top of the water tower to do some star gazing and tomorrow we are going back to the cattle market.

Usiku mwema.

An Easter without the Easter bunny

Apparently this blog has stayed in hiding for a while. It's been finished, but I guess it never actually posted.

I don't think I've ever had an Easter before this one without a chocolate bunny or dying Easter eggs, but I think I wouldn't mind keeping it this way. Even though I know that the eggs we use in America are symbollic, I'm convinced that most people are rather unaware of their symbolism and they do a better job of masking the meaning of Easter than reminding us of the new life that it's supposed to represent. Tanzania doesn't decorate for Easter, in fact, if you aren't a practicing Christian, it would be easy to not even realize that it's a day different from any other, except that a lot of stores are closed and there's no school, but even then Tanzania seems to make up a lot of holidays that get workers out of work and students out of schoo. I've even heard some people refer to their holidays as, 'just another day wasted'. But even in the stores that are intended for the Wazungu travelers, they don't sell special Easter candy or decorations, or any more eggs than usual. Instead the Christians here spend their days off going to church for hours at a time and several times a day. In fact, I'm not sure that some of them even leave church during the weekend. Friday through monday I fell asleep around midnight to music being sung in the nearby chapel. I'm not sure what time it ended or if it ended at all because it had already begun before I had gotten myself out of bed.

I spent all four days of the Easter holiday (they also celebrated the day after Easter) going to prisons and villages. Saturday I went to a village with a teacher where I met his father, his four mama's and his 26 brothers and sisters. We had to take a DahlaDahla to get there, and it was at this point that I realized that I can never say that I've been on the worst DahlaDahla in Morogoro because everytime I get in another one there are either more people than I've ever seen in one car (last time I counted 30 and that was excluding the people who were hanging out the window that I couldn't see) or the car is in worse condition than the last. It makes you reevaluate your standards of 'crowded' and 'disfuctional' really fast. When I climbed into the front seat of this DahlaDahla I tried to plop myself down on the seat while holding a huge bag of bananas and another bag as the entire seat just sort of flopped backwards. Luckily there were people in the back to catch us and hold us up during the trip. The dashboard was completely missing: no vents, no radio or airconditioning controls, the spedometer was broken (but who needs one anyway) and the blinker was broken, but they don't use them here, so that was no big deal. And we only had to stop and reattach the bike that fell out once and stop to fill the tires once along the way, AND we never ran out of gas so I guess it wasn't to bad.

When we got there, we met his father who was sitting by the road waiting for a DahlaDahla to take him to town to buy food for his family. Then we met a whole lot of brothers. I don't remember any of their names, but they were very friendly. His mother was very welcoming. We sat and talked for a long time, and she served us boiled goat milk and then a lunch of rice and boiled potatoes in tomato and butter sauce. She also made me some huge earings (I didn't know how to say that I don't wear earrings, but they'll make a nice souvineer), a bracelette that I really did like, and they gave me one of their awesome little stools that they sit on because I love sitting on them so much. The trip back was much more taveler friendly as we had a mostly functioning seat and didn't have to stop to reattach anything or anyone who fell out on the way, except there was a lady carrying a chicken that was stuffed inside a plastic sack and had to have been dying of a heat-stroke it wouldn't stop freeking out.

The next day we went to the youth prison. I can't really say much about this day as I really didn't enjoy much of it. I would have had a great time, except I think either the DahlaDahla ride the day before or the weight of the huge earrings had given me the worst pain in my neck, or perhaps I just slept on it wrong, so I spent the entire day with the worst headache ever. And the church was built from cement and essentially had no windows and a metal roof which cooked in the sun. Even the teachers who came with us and who rarely sweat were dripping in sweat and feeling pretty terrible. Once the service was over and we went outside where there was at least a little breeze we all began to feel better. I don't remember much after that except eating some food and going home to sleep.

I woke up the next day, still with some pain in my neck, but the headache had ceased, so I decided that I could deal with the pain and I'd go for another adventure. Once again, this was an experience that made me realize the weight of words. I don't know how many times I've come back from a village visit and said, "this one was definitely my favorite!", only to go to another one a few days later and say the same thing. Each one is different (even after having been to 25 or so, I still think each one is unique). The roads started out looking pretty interesting and how we made it there and back without a flat tire I don't know, but we did. After we got there, we were served Chai and Chipatis (and they were the best chipatis I've had yet). Then the Maasai men cooked some goat over a fire. Not only is the meat better when it's over the fire than boiled, but it's Really good when the Maasai cook it. The women aren't allowed to eat meat like this, only the meat they boil, but I always get to be the 'honorary man' and enjoy the meat with them. I almost don't even mind the liver when it's been put over the fire...I don't know if I would go as far as to say I really enjoyed it, but it was alright. This church doesn't have a building designated for worship, so the church conducted it's service outside under a tree, an amarula tree at that, and much to my liking. The amarulas are used for making a special alcohol here that is almost like a Bailey's Irish cream and is very good. PH joked that if I ate enough of the falling amarulos that I'd get drunk. I didn't feel drunk but the pain in my neck went away for quite a while. Three of the teachers came with us for this trip and we had lots of fun. They went camera happy that day so I have lots of pictures posted on facebook if you want to take a look, though I know most of you have.

By the end of the Easter Holiday, Nimechoka Sana! (I had tired very much). I came back and on Tuesday I took the entire day just to rest. I tried to read a book, but I couldn't. I think I laid in bed almost the entire day, except I cleaned my room some for when Lindsey comes, and did some laundry for my trip to Dodoma today.

Yesterday, I spent the morning working on my Visa and Student Permit. I'm still sitting here waiting to see if they will come and take me away or if they've got things cleared up. There was sort of a small misunderstanding about how things work. Apparently in Tanzania there is a law, and then there is sort of this alternative around the law. PH knew what was going on and there shouldn't have been any trouble renewing my permit which would have been the 'alternative' route, but still sufficient to keep me here with no trouble and still legally. But when you're a citizen here, sometimes you don't know about all of the loop holes that you would as a traveler. So another person trying to take care of things and not realizing the validity of the alternative sort of made my waters a little more messy by bringing it to the attention of the immigration office that I have overstayed my Visa even though I have not overstayed my permit. PH isn't concerned about it and is quite certain that between his own connections and the Bishop and another gentleman with high power here that all of this will disappear soon. So, I'm sort of waiting here hoping that they come to bring me all my documents before I head to Dodoma. If not, I'll either push of my travels off until tomorrow, or use Dodoma as a hideout. PH just keeps smiling and saying, "In the worst case scenario you'll get to see John a lot sooner than you had anticipated, and I guess that wouldn't be such a bad alternative for either of you." You have to know PH to appreciate his humor in the way he says it. But if he's not worried, then I'm not either.

Anyway, besides trying to figure that out and plan a trip to Dodoma, I decided that I should use the day to get some practical use of my Swahili because I don't have class anymore. So after buying my bus ticket, I jumped on another DahlaDahla into town. No real intentions, so I walked toward the market, bought some of the little bananas from an elderly women sitting along side the road, then continued toward the center of the market. I don' t know what it is about the market, but I really like it. It's way better than any shopping mall in the U.S.. I wandered around, checked out fabric cuz that's what I do but I didn't buy any, then went to see if there was any interesting foods I needed to try. I didn't find anything I haven't yet tried, but I saw this neat looking board thingy that is carved and decorated pretty nicely. I could tell it was something for cooking, like a cutting board but for something special. It didn't much matter to me, I just wanted an excuse to have a conversation with someone. So I bargained with the Mama and it was cheap, like $5 and worth the conversation, so I took it. Then I started walking and everyone was looking at me like I was an mzungu carrying this strange thing that I certainly wouldn't know how to use. A few people said in Swahili, "Wajua kutumia hiyo?" (Do you know how to use that?). I didn't even know what in the heck it was, let alone how to use it. So I just shrugged smiled and said, "Hapana lakini hamna shida. Ninapenda tu." (No, but it's no problem. I just like it). And we both laughed. Then another guy started yelling at me to ask me if I needed coconuts. I said, "Asante. Sihitaji" (Thanks. I don't need them). But then he tried to tell me I had a board to cut coconuts, so I must need cocunuts too. I didn' t understand him the first time, but he finally explained to me that I this mysterious thing I had bought was just a special tool for cutting coconuts. Oh Good, I bought something tool to help me eat the one food in the world that I don't like at all, unless it's in the form of a pina colada being served on the beach by a really tan cabana boy. So right now my coconut board is making a good door stop so that my door doesn't slam shut in the wind and wake up the little girl living next door.

I think I should back my bags now that my laundry has dried and get ready for a great weekend in Dodoma. I can't wait for fresh grown coffee, pizza, and whatever else the mamas whip up in the kitchen. But I won't be gone to Dodoma too long. Perhaps I'll make it back in time to welcome the May Term group here.

Karibu Sana Tanzania Wasichana!

P.S. Lindsey, I hope you don't mind having pets in your room. It's only a gecco, a small millipede, and a few spiders, but they only come out every once in a while to great me. They're still pretty shy, but the millipede is warming up to me. Just be careful not to sit in the chair without checking first or you might smash him between the frame and the cushion. And please don't try to catch my gecco. I know you like to, but he has a very nice tail that I would hate to see fall off.

Well, I believe that the rainy season has officially begun!! It has managed to rain here at the school for the past eight days in a row I believe, maybe even more, which has seemed to help the mosquito population flourish. But luckily my Malarone hasn't failed me yet, and I've been faithful about taking it every morning and haven't missed a day yet. But as far as the rain, it seems to like us here more than anywhere else because you don't have to drive very far to find some very dry land. So, I've partially not written in a while because the Internet has been sketchy the last several days, but also because I've been busy just enjoying being here and enjoying things that I haven't had much time to enjoy in the last several years, mainly reading a good book that doesn't have anything to do with science.

A professor told me before I came that my experience here would sort of be like a 'u' as it is anytime you travel. When I come I'll be infatuated, then I'll start feeling like everything is the same and loose some enjoyment (even feel some depression perhaps), and then probably right before I leave I will come back to the high side and not want to leave. I guess that's normal for travelers and probably a bit of what I have experienced, but I'm glad to say that with six weeks still remaining that I can say that my last two weeks here have been the best and I think they will only continue to get better. There were about two or three weeks where I began to feel like my time here was getting long and I really wouldn't mind being able to go home for a weekend and then come back. But now every morning when I get up and go to take my malaria meds, I see how few are left and I wonder how my time has gone by so fast. I'm beginning to wonder if there isn't some way I can make this trip last longer, but the only option PH can think of is to marry me off. So, I guess I'm still planning to come home in May.

Yesterday I finished my Swahili lessons and was able to make it all the way through both books. Certainly doesn't mean I'm fluent, as I still need plenty of time to process and certainly can't understand the speakers who speak at a normal speed. I think that a lot of my increased enjoyment has been largely due to the fact that I have finally reached a point where I can actually have conversations with people and am getting better at understanding what's going on, especially in the villages. Sometimes they still talk way too fast and I have to ask them to slow down, especially the women because fewer of them are educated and they don' t understand how hard it is to learn a new language, but it's getting easier. Also, I have been spending a lot more time with a girl who is here from Germany to volunteer in the kindergarten. I appreciate that she is more interested in hanging out with the Tanzanians than with the other Wazungu so we have been able to do a lot of things with the teachers here and some of the friends she has met here, even if it's just walking to their home to visit them for an hour or watching a movie together, it's still better than always just being in a group of white people. So many of the white people here from both America and Germany spend all of their time just hanging out with each other and I get frustrated because I certainly didn't travel this far just to meet more Americans. Neither of us much enjoy going to town in big groups of Wazungu because no one is much interested in just talking to the people in the market or using the opportunity to practice their Swahili or even just experiencing life here for what it is. I often go and don't even care if I buy the thing I went there to get or not. I try to just enjoy the experience for what it is. It's interesting because I often observe that the people who complain the most about the way things are here are the ones who resist the people the most. They don't have much interest in getting to know the Tanzanians, but they are awfully good at complaining about the way they do things. sometimes I feel like people only come here to 'help' because they think it's the noble thing to do, to sacrifice a luxurious life to help in the 3rd world. But the one's who actually care about getting to know the people and who come because they truly care about human beings are the ones who are the most content, they aren't just here to change everything. You probably think I'm being little to hard on some of the Wazungu in the way I blog, but you hear things that just leave your heart unsettled. Like the otherday when I was sitting at lunch with a German couple, the husband who is a pastor and the wife who is a doctor. The mamas in the kitchen had been late getting lunch ready because an expected group of pastors came to meet with PH, but they all showed up much sooner than expected and then they were expecting food. The German man was getting a little cranked off about his wait and was asking why it was taking so long. I tried to explain to him the misunderstanding so that he wouldn't be mad at the mamas who had done nothing wrong. Then, within certain hearing distance of the visiting pastors, he started saying how unacceptable it was to show up like that...just kind of going off the handle. I calmly asked him to stop talking about it because they can most certainly hear him (he's German and LOUD!!) . Then he said, "I don't care, I hope they hear. It's not acceptable and they need to learn." I was terribly angry, so I just stood up and looked at him and said, "Well I care, and I don't want that kind of attitude reflected on me." And I left. There's not harsh feelings, and I try to remind myself that God uses people of all kinds. Even if I wouldn't choose them, God does, and I need to respect that.

On a brighter side of the Germans, Anna, who is volunteering here, is about the same age as me and I guess we must look pretty similar too because many of the Tanzanians ask us if we are twins. I think we're the exact same size and shape, same hair and eye color, same height even both have the same scar on our right wrists. K, I don't think we really look that much alike, but to the Tanzanians, as long as we are both white and have about the same age, they think you're twins. Anyway, she and I have been trying to do something almost everyday, whether it be go to town to buy cloth, or to buy fruit, or to watch movies with the Tanzanian teachers, or to go and visit some of the friends she has made here, or ask the mamas to teach us to cook or sew. The other day we went to visit a girl she met in by the mountains whose family is Islamic. They moved here from Dar after her father finished studying in London. They were very welcoming, as everyone here seems to be. We plan to go back and try to learn some more about Islam because we didn't have much time as we needed to walk back before dark, but hopefully we'll get a chance to ask her some questions. I can tell even in just the last two weeks of getting out and doing things with Anna that my Swahili has improved greatly, so I hope we can continue to do that. We've made plans with the mama's in the kitchen to learn how to cook chapatis too, so we're pretty excited about that!! Hopefully I'll be able to make them when I get home, but with that much hot oil, I'll probably start them on fire (just ask Katie and Lindsey what happens when I try to cook! They really shouldn't make glass pans with plastic lids...)

Today, we spent the Good Friday worshiping at a prison nearby. As always, I greatly enjoyed it. After the service, we had a flat tire on the truck (surprise, surprise! I think that's like number 9 out of 20 some trips we've made to villages), but I didn't mind because while they were fixing it and taking care of some other business I was able to make friends with about ten children there who belong to some of the workers at the prison. Beings that I'm not very good with kids I really don't know what to say after I've asked them there name and age and about school, but today I decided to use the opportunity to learn some more Swahili and teach them English as many of them know some, but are always eager to learn more. So we played a game of saying the name of something. I'd say a Swahili name or phrase and they would try to tell me the English and vise versa. By the time a finished I had at least 7 children hanging onto me as they escorted me to the house where we ate our first meal. Yep, there was more than one meal! Apparently there was a bit of confusion about who would be cooking for us today, so in attempts not to offend anyone, we ate at the first house, then found out there was food at the next. So, three plates of rice and beans later, I was quite full.

I'm excited for tomorrow because it was supposed to be a down day to rest and I was going to climb the mountain again, but then I was invited to go with one of the teachers here to his home village to meet his family. I guess it's a short trip so we'll leave in the morning and return in the early afternoon I think, but who knows, I guess I'll find out when it happens. He's Maasai so I never really know what to expect but it will be interesting no matter what. Then Sunday we will visit the youth prison, Monday another village, Tuesday I will renew my Visa, and then hopefully be jumping on a bus to Dodoma to go and stay with Audrey and Paul for a week or longer, or until they get tired of me. After that the Wartburg girls will come, including Lindsey McKinley :) I'm arranging for the two of us to be able to volunteer at Faraja which is an NGO here that is doing AIDS work here in Morogoro. We have a few other missions like making soccer nets for the goals here at the school, maybe sleeping over in a village for a few nights, and things like that, but I have a feeling that my last six weeks here are going to fly by faster than I want them to. Whenever I think about how quickly I'm going to go home, I start missing it...and I haven't even left yet! I guess that's a sign of a really great experience.

On a last note, we had a pretty fun experience with some ants the other day. Before I came here my sister-in-law saw a show on T.V. about the siafru ants here in East Africa and then told my mom and I think they were both a little freaked out by it. I'd heard of them before I came, but obviously never seen them. When the rains come, as they have recently, these ants have to move to higher ground and they do so in packs of more than 20 million I think (google it, I think that's right though), and boy oh boy did those ants come out the other day. These aren't' just normal ants that will sting you and cause a burning sensation, they actually lock their jaws into you and don't let go. When you pull them off, their heads stay in your skin and they break in two. (John, I think this is the same kind that you and Paul had the contest with to see who could withstand the pain the longest?). Anyhow, they are crazy and they were absolutely everywhere, even climbing up the back of someones dormatory. There have been reports of crippled people being eaten alive by these ants when they invade a home; their like little carnavours. But the best part was that we found a tarantula the same night and caught it in a bottle. We didn't know where to release it, so we decided to see what would happen if we put it in the middle of these ants. As soon as it landed in the ants, it's legs were covered and it tried to run away, but the ants had already engulfed it. Then there were thousands of ants covering this entire tarantula and within minutes it was dead. We came back about 45 minutes later and there was the biggest swarm of ants where this tarantula had been that I could never even have imagined it. I would guess something like 1/2 million to a million ants just crawling in the huge heap of ants all trying to consume a piece of this thing. It was amazing! I felt a little sorry for the tarantula but we were just speeding up the circle of life.

K, well Happy Easter!!

Finding God in the Midst of Human Suffering

There's a lot to write about right now, but I'll do my best to catch you up on the highlights of this past week. Saturday was definitely one of my favorite village visits. It was one of the most wealthy villages we have been to yet, but everyone in the village is related and there were about 50 people or so living in the area. They were some of the most friendly people, especially men, we have met. There were about 5 men who just sat and talked with Josh and I for over an hour about everything and it was good practice of our Swahili. It was welcoming because we knew they were laughing with us and not at our broken Swahili. The rest of the young men sat to the side and listened to the conversation, while the older men gathered around close and really engaged in conversation. I think everyone was a lot better at shirades by the time we left. As always, the men are always want me to take them back to America when I go, so I tell them I'm taken, but there are twelve single girls coming from Wartburg in May who would be interested, and that distracts them.
The women prepared us chai and biscuits, then the men served us a large plate of goat 'meat' and soda. I learned a good lesson that day. If you aren't aggressive about getting the pieces you want, you'll get the 'tender stuff' (a.k.a the liver). They thought they were being thoughtful so they kept offering it to me as I would politely say 'inatosha, inatosha' (it's enough, it's enough). But they were persistent so I had to accept it and pretend to be grateful, meanwhile I was trying to swallow the last two pieces without chewing so I couldn't taste it.
Then came the next course of bananas cooked in a lot of animal fat with lots of other interesting parts of the goat or cow or something: spinal bones, stomach, tongue, You name it, they cooked it. And after the service, there was rice with beans and more meat and soda. Luckily Josh and I shared a plate since they are enormous and I prefer to eat with my hands anyway. We kept trying to quietly pass the other person all the pieces of unidentifiable meat until someone eventually gave in and ate it.
Sunday, I woke up not feeling so well. Here the polite way to say it is that I've been driving all night (you figure it out), perhaps I ate a little too much animal fat the day before. But as always, I just tell myself I will be fine, and hop in the car for the next adventure. I'm glad I did because this was probably one of the unforgettable experiences I had here. It's unusual for us to be allowed to sit in the back of the church, but since we had the teachers with us, they let us. Somewhere near the middle of the service, a young boy wrapped in a white cloth (which indicates that he wasn't even old enough to have been circumcised yet), walked in and sat down in front of us. The first thing I saw on the exposed part of his back were the markings of what I could tell were recent whippings, most likely with a long thin branch that was more like a whip. He had dozens of raised lines going in all directions and at least four or five of them had two or three inch open wounds in the skin from being hit so hard.
After the service I said something to PH, as I knew how I felt about this, but I didn't know how to react to it. You hear so many stories about these sorts of things that it I'm sure this kind of abuse runs the risk of just being common place here, but it certainly isn't for me. PH signaled the boy to come over so he could see his back, and then he questioned the boy and the villagers about who had done this to him. They said that there is a man in the village who wants to sleep with his mom who is a widow, but she refuses, so this man often comes to their house drunk and does these kind of things. Why there isn't someone in the village who steps up to stop it, or an uncle of the mother who will protect them, I don't understand. I don't understand the mentality of people who can see these kinds of things and just let them continue, especially to the children. No one seemed to alarmed about the situation except me and PH. I had so many different responses to the situation that I didn't even know what to think. My heart broke for him because I knew there was nothing I could do for him. All we could do was give him some candy and see him smile for a few minutes and know that we hadn't done anything to permanently change his life or the suffering that he is most likely going to endure again soon. If I had the option, I would have taken him home with me, but even that wouldn't have stopped this man from hurting someone else. I was pained because the reality of the situation is that his very existence is for the purpose of caring for his mother when she is old because she is a widow. So many children here are only conceived eithera a boy can take care of his mother, or a girl will bring her mother or father cattle when she is married off. And when this is the mentatily, the women get married off at very, very young ages. You can't deny the logic behind it, but I can't help but question the heart behind it. It's hard to see children who were born not to be cared for, but only to care for his parents or to get them more money.
My teacher even told me a story about a tribe in Arusha where the women believe that if their husband doesn't beat them and punish them that he doesn't love her. Where does that kind of mentality come from? I feel like you'd have to be brainwashed to believe that, but I was also raised in a culture of feminists, so how do I know what it's like. I just don't get it. If it makes the inevitable beatings they will face a little less painful, then okay, I understand that. But if they really believe that love looks like that, I'm at a complete loss.
The more and more stories I here, like the stories about the old testament ways they use here to punish thieves, the more I realize that in some ways, these people are left with little choice sometimes, and it seems that they almost have to become numb to suffering. When there is no government to protect your rights or your property, or the government that exists will take your very livelihood from you, you have no choice but to defend yourself and your property. The people are forced to take action and punish people as they see fit. Unfortunately, the reality is that if the people don't give a harsh enough punishment, then everyone would take advantage of everyone else. How do you bring peace into a country where there is no one or no system set in place to deal immoral acts. The people are left with few ways to enforce punishment without brutal force. If someone steals from you and they are caught, what authority do you have to fine, them or lock them up in your house, but if you let them go they'll do it again. At the same time, the methods they do use to deal with theft or other crimes are crazy and I'm not even going to talk about them here. All I know is that if I ever see a group of people chasing someone down the street, I don't want to see what's going to happen next.
There's so much I don't understand right now. Sometimes I ask God why He doesn't come back and save His people. I don't understand how He can allow people to just go on destroying other people. When I see even just the terrible things that can happen even in one country whether it be Tanzania, Mexico, Guyana, or America, I almost wonder why God doesn't just flood the earth again and start over. But the reality is, it would still be a world full of humans, and where there are human beings, there will always be pain and suffering. When I see these things I find myself angry with God. But when I ask God how He can let this happen, I am reminded that He may let it happen, but we humans have made it happen. He gave us free will, and we have chosen to do this to our own kind. He didn't make it happen and He won't make us fix it, but He let us make this mess and He will let us fix it if we choose. I don't think I've ever had so many questions about God and yet been so convinced of His existence all at the same time.
I will leave on a positive note, which is this. In the midst of my inability to comprehend all that I have seen in this country, I have also never felt more in communion with people as I do when we go to a village and are welcomed by the people so openly, or when I go to the church services here at LJS with all of the secondary students. There is something about worshipping God with them that gives me this sense of oneness that I have never felt before. When I listen to them sing hymns and praise songs, I often get this amazing feeling inside, almost like goosebumps on the inside. And I've never been much into the liturgy because I wasn't raised with it so it is hard for me to get into that mindset, but there's something about it here that carries so much meaning. There's something incredible about the only white person in a room of a couple hundred Tanzanians, and being able to share in worshiping the same God.

Why them God, why not me?

I have to laugh as I read back through some of my old blogs and see all of the spelling and grammar errors I've made and haven't taken the time to correct. Sorry about that. Blogspot.com doesn't seem to have spell check...oh, just kidding, there it is!! It seems that the more Swahili I learn, the worse I become at writing English because I start spelling words with there vowel sounds instead of the correct ones. But the good news is that after 2 months I'm more than 2/3 done with the books which means I'll have plenty of time to finish the course and hopefully get better at interpretting it. I don't have too much trouble speaking, I feel like people can at least understand what it is that I'm attempting to say even if I am sloughtering their language a little.

On a completely different note, Josh and I spent our last weekend in Dodoma visiting Audrey and Paul at the Water Project. It was a relief to get a weekend away and taking the bus is always an adventure. The bus was only an hour and a half late this time, and no fallen power-lines like the last time so we got there in the expected 3 1/2 hours which was a lot better than the 6 it took us last time. We both were excited to relax for a few days, enjoy a couple of movies, eat a few meals in which the food that would be on your plate couldn't be predicted in advance, and see some new things. I really couldn't believe how good a tuna salad sandwhich could taste after 2 months of rice, beans, cooked spinach, and various types of unrecognizable meat. It was Wonderful!!

On Sunday morning before we got back on the bus to head back, Paul and Audrey took us to see the Village of Hope which is an AIDs orphanage in Dodoma. They currently have about 170 children from the ages of 0 to 18 and they have been going for 7 years now. Within the walls of the village, they have housing, schools, nurses/doctors, cooks, a farm, and everything they need to be self-sufficient in their operation. The organization was started by a group of Italians, some of which we had the opportunity to meet. They employ a lot of Tanzanian workers to help care for the facilities and the children, but they have staff from Italy there at all times. The facilities were pretty incredible and it was amazingly well kept.

But I can't lie, when I first walked stepped out of the car to see the facility and our car was being swarmed by little children, most of whom look quite healthy, I couldn't keep my heart from breaking knowing the future that awaits them. The same feeling overwhelmed me again as I stepped into the nursery and saw these tiny babies whom had the smallest little wrists and legs I've ever seen and they were 6 and 8 months old. At first I just wanted to cry because it's overwhelming to be surrounded by so many children who all posses the same fate. Then I was happy because after seeing the facilities I knew that there is no better possible care they could have than being right where they are. No one can change the fact that these children have AIDs, but they can give them the best possible chance at survival, and that is certainly what these kids have. In fact, in the past 7 years, the Village of Hope has only lost 2 children. (The child below is 3 years old, but he is much more like a two year old as far as physical capabilities go. It usually takes them about 6 months to get a new child to a healthy weight and good health).

It's that feeling that comes next that I hurts the most. The one where you ask God why these children got dealt the crappy hand in life and I got dealt the good one. The one where you ask God why I deserve to have so many blessings in my life while these kids get the short end of the stick by no fault of their own, and now they have to deal with it for the rest of their lives. Inside of my head I was screaming, "Why do they deserve this??!! and Why do I deserve something Better?!!" I think I was yelling at God a little, maybe even a lot, on the inside as I looked at one of those children and wished with all of my heart that I could trade places with him and give him all of the blessings I have had in my own life.

It's one of those experiences, you know. The one that makes you appreciate everything you've ever had and wonder how you ever found things to complain about. It's kind of like when I go out to the village and one of the elders asks a child, (probably one that isn't even his own), to do something or fetch something for him. Without a moments hesitation or a question on his lips the child jumps up and does it. It's engrained in the children to respect their elders. Everytime I see this little senario play out, I can't help but remember all of the times that my own father asked me to go get him a can of pop from downstairs or grab something out of the car or whatever the case may have been, and I remember a quite different response that I gave to my father's request. I think it was something like, "Why do I have to go get YOU pop? Your two legs work just as well as mine." Yeah, not some of my prouder moments in life. I'm just glad my dad didn't have a cane to prod me with like some of the old men here.

I think I spent my entire bus ride home from Dodoma thinking about all the things in life that I've taken for granted. But you can't live dwelling on those things; you can only learn to appreciate the opportunities you have been given and to use them to change the lives of others, like these children.

I'm running out of titles...

My mom asked me to follow up on my ideas about the advantages/disadvantages I see in the westernization of the culture in the midst of what I blogged about as far as being a woman in Africa. Thanks for the feedback. I really do like hearing what questions people have about what I feel or think. I want to be challenged in it because I know I'm not always right in it, but people are often too passive and too afraid of conflict to make people stop and think about it. I encourage bluntness if you so desire to give it.

As far as the advancement of the culture goes, here's how I'm feeling. (I'm not trying to solve the world's problems, just convey what I am observing). There is a lot about this culture that is beautiful (maybe good or functional is a better word, because the beauty I see here may be a biased by the fact that I am also a sojourner here and can leave and escape it whenever I want. So I appreciate seeing a country that doesn't look just like my own. Why else is traveling so appealing, right? Maybe that's a selfish viewpoint to take on it). There is also a lot about this culture that is rooted in ignorance and a lack of education and would make a better world if it did disappear.
As Americans who have so much, we expect a lot. To see the simplicity of the lives of people here is honestly challenging at times (I don't mean simple as in easy, but simple as in more easily contented). It's difficult to see someone lying outside their house on a mat like they've been lying there for hours and not find yourself asking how boring a life that must be. I always have to shove down the notion to feel that way because it’s wrong to see it like that. It's hard to see that kind of life and realize that their life is still good too; I wouldn't choose it for my own because I have different experiences, but it doesn't mean it's bad, just different. If they have a roof over there head, food in their belly and water to drink, they don’t find much to complain about. Before we jump in and try to change everything that we perceive with a 'poor them' attitude 'how do we fix this?', we must remember that just because their daily life doesn't consist of the same kind of activities, events, and responsibilities as ours do, that they're lives are less full or less satisfying, Bringing a Wal-mart, McDonalds, a shopping mall or just a whole bunch of money here, isn't going to make their lives more fulfilling. On some level, I think the opposite. Now, family is valued, friends are valued, strangers are shown hospitality (mostly, I'm sure not always). They find joy in relation with people. What other country in the world can you drink tea 6 times in one day because people want to talk to you. I think as humans we were meant to find joy in relation with other people. God created us for relation with him and I think it's an essential need that we all have (K, maybe Chai 6 times a day isn't necessary nor good for your health with that much sugar, but it’s still good).
As Americans or westerners, we spend are lives seeking happiness in possessions, reputations, accomplishments, etc. We've all heard it said that the more we have the more we want. It's true. None of us could step into the life of a Maasai villager and live contented for the rest of our lives because we would want/'need' too much. In a discussion with PH I asked him how money has affected the villagers, and he said that in his time he has seen that the more and more the money (the physical kind, not just in the form of cattle and goats) becomes a part of the lives of these people, the more likely they are to abandon their neighbor. Life becomes more and more about material possessions and less about relationship. Money leads to selfishness; everyone starts asking what they can get for themselves. There's more temptation to go spend your money at the bar or buy something new than to share your wealth with a hungry widow. I think we can all identify with that temptation. It’s easier to buy ourselves a nice supper than to give the money to a hungry person.
But it can't be denied that there are several customs that continue to be practiced so frequently here that are without a doubt harmful and would probably be better off done away with. And as I mentioned in my last blog, the way women are treated is not the way that I would ever want to live. And yes, that does have a lot to do with a lack of education. Maasai are very smart people; I have no doubt about that at all. But when practices have been around for years and years, it's hard to convince people that it really isn’t the best way to do things. Just look at what it took for us to do away with slavery in the US. Only after a war was the practice of slavery done away with. Now that we have seen things differently, we will never go back. So to look down on them for continuing these customs and practices isn't fair because we have our own mistreatments to judge first. America drops bombs on people in other countries like they aren’t people just like you and me. So to say that we treat people more fairly or humanely would be pointing out the speck in someone else's eye when we've got a log in our own. I don't sit here justifying any of these practices, but I can't help but feel a rage of anger and bitterness when I hear someone who steps out of a country where the money reads ‘God Bless America’ refer to Africa as a 'God forsaken country' because of the hardship and unfair treatment they have seen here. I’ve heard it said more than once, and I had to refrain myself from bursting out in outrage.
I just had a friend return from a service-trip in East Saint Louis. She said it made her absolutely sick that there is a place that is so stuck in crime and poverty in our own backyards and that most people aren't even aware of it. I was aware of this place as I have heard people talk about it before, but have never been there myself. Whether you’re in East St. Louis or Africa, sometimes you can’t help but wonder how God can allow such suffering to exist in the world. But as I said before, I think if we asked God he would ask us the same question in response.
Believe me, my heart hurts to hear stories of people's cattle stolen or women raped or people being killed and to know that their offenders may not face any punishment for their offenses. I don't desire to see those sorts of practices continued or ignored. But that isn't the whole culture here. Just as the ‘white-picket fence family’ is far from the whole picture in America. I guess I'm torn. I want their way of life to improve in many aspects: I wish they had better health care, I wish they had better education, I wish they didn't have to carry a five gallon pail of water on their heads for miles (but even fetching water is such a relational task for the people here that they don't really mind). But there life is still functional and satisfying, and it would also be sad to see relationship among people broken.
At least without shopping malls and Wal-mart one stop shops, the small shops and street vendors are able to exist in abundance and they are essential in keeping so many people going with just enough money each day to feed their family and keep a roof over their head. To change that would mean less jobs and more people with no money at all (we've seen that even in America). The bigger things get the greater the spread becomes between the poor and the wealthy. It seems better in some ways for everyone to have enough, than for a few people to have a lot, and a lot more people to have nothing.
So mom, does that sort of answer your question? Please add your own thoughts. Don't just take my word for it. I really care what anyone has to say.

How many Cattle is a girl worth?

On our last village visit, I'm pretty sure there was an offer made of 1,500 head of cattle for me! And I'm almost certain that PH would have snatched it up if he had any claims over me, but he was worried there might me someone back home, who is both younger and stronger, who might not be too happy if he let that happen. But it sure made me appreciate the freedom to not only choose IF I will marry, but who. The freedom to choose is not the reality of most women in Africa.I have begun to take a special interest in trying to find out what it is to live as a woman in Africa.
I still know so very little about what it really means, and at times, I'm not sure I want to know any more because it makes my stomach knot to even think of having to live such a life. I seem to have a slight advantage to obtaining knowledge about the customs and culture surrounding dating/marrying among both the maasai and swahili because many of the teachers here are near the age of marrying and enjoy telling me about their culture; likewise they enjoy hearing about mine.
It's interesting! Even the language itself makes the American way of marriage difficult to explain in the Swahili language. For example, in Swahili, it can only be said that a man marries a woman, but a woman is married by a man. It does not make sense in this language to say that a woman marries a man. Here, a woman can not marry, she can only be married. I spent a half-hour trying to explain to a teacher what it means for two people to marry eachother; the idea that both people have to give consent and agree to the marriage. Furthermore, they are shocked that we can talk about boyfriends and girlfriends openly in our culture and that it is acceptable and even encouraged to bring them home to meet our parents. Here, dating is not an acceptable practice. It is becoming more common among the younger generations, especially among the Swahili people, but it must still be done in secret from the partents.
Among the Maasai, marriages are still arranged for the most part. The most frequent question I get asked is how much a man would have to pay my dad if he wanted to marry me. By pay, he really means how many cattle would he have to give him. However, a few weeks ago PH tried to sell me off to a teacher for a 'cup of fish and a pocket of coconut' to one of the teachers here (I'm hoping that he meant to say a bucket of fish and a bag of coconut and it just got lost in translation). It's sort of a running joke around here. The language also has a special word that can be used to generalize a group of women which means 'those mamas', but the same term is NOT allowed to be used with a group of men ever. Only women are allowed to be generalized. Also, the term used for a pregnant woman is literally translated to 'a woman who is becoming heavy'. I don't know too many pregnant women who would appreciate being referred to that way, but being told you're heavy isn't an insult here.

Last week when we went to the village, there was a young woman that approached me after the service and right behind her was a whole bunch of young girls. I could tell they were all quite shy, but that they were all very curious about my white skin and long hair. As she approached me she got very, very close, like within an inch of my face (no such thing as a personal bubble in Africa, that's for sure), and then put her hand on my arm and started to pet my arm, then wanted to feel my hair because it is so long. Soon all of the children wanted to touch it, so I knelt down so they could all feel it. As I let all of the children pet and observe me for about a half-hour, I began to ask this woman how old she was. We soon figured out that we were both 22. She then told me that the girl standing to the left of me was her first born and the girl to my right was her second born. I'm sure I looked a little shocked as I asked how old they were. She said 7 years, and 3 years 5 months. I know women have children young here, but to be standing with a girl the same age as me with her two daughters and one up to my chest, I just couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be responsible for that at the age of 15.
In the same village, we watched the women make tea over a fire with the typical 3 stones making a firepit just big enough to hold some firewood and balance a pot just above the fire. The women stand bent over the fire cooking and stirring for quite a while. PH kept joking that John must have sent me here to learn what a it means to be a wife because I'm not domesticated enough, and Luca kept joking that it would be better if I was one of two wives so that when I get sick there is someone else to do my work. I knew they were kidding, but it's the reality that so many of these women face for their entire lives. Being one of 6 wives; getting 1/6 of a persons love and affection, while he gets the affection of 6 wives all for himself; to have been circumcised as a young child and to be used for his satisfaction but never be allowed to know that kind of pleasure yourself; to work so hard all your life just to survive and protect your family.

You just have to look at their feet. They tell a story and you can see the kind of life they have lived. Their feet are so calloused and cracked and worn. You know that they have walked more miles barefoot on those feet than any of us would dare to imagine, while carrying a 5 gallon pale of water on their head and a child on their back and a knife in their hand and the sun beating down on them. It's just the way life is here. I often look at their way of life and wonder how they can be happy. But I have to remember that this is the life they know and as long as they have their family and water to drink and food in their stomaches, they are happy. It's true that the more we have, the more we expect because I know that I would go crazy trying to live that kind of life because I've experienced a different kind of life.
But I have found that there is hope for these women, and men too. I had the opportunity to stay the night in a village with the family of a young girl of 21. Her mother is one of 5 wives, her mother is the third. Of all of her father's children, she is the first to have the opportunity to attend secondary school. After completing the first 4 Forms (grades) and having only 2 more to go, she got pregnant, not by choice but by force. With the help and guidance of PH and some other mentors, she was able to return back to school while her mother cared for the child. She has now completed all the forms and is awaiting her test results and is optimistic about her chances to attend a university her in Tanzania. After talking to her about her goals, I gained a lot of hope. As an educated woman, the reality of her life has changed dramatically. She has gained the respect of her father and as a result, she will be allowed to choose her own husband and will not get married until after she has finished school. She also is so well informed about the struggles that her village and surrounding villages face and she is eager to stay in Tanzania and work to educate people so that they are better able to change their own reality. It was exciting and encouraging to be able to talk with a girl who brings hope to her country. I believe that educating the people of Tanzania and Africa, people like Sarah, so that they have the means by which to begin to change their own reality is the only long term solution to the issues in this country. We can try, as outsiders, to force our ways on them. But the truth is that they have to want the change, and the change has to come from within them. There is much more to talk about here, but I think I'll save it for another day. Good night!