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!

Religion Across Cultures-Reflection

Christianity in Tanzania accounts for the beliefs of approximately 1/3 of the population and is on the upswing. In PH's time here he has seen an increase from 1,900 people attending the various churches he has had his hand in planting (and by that, I really mean that he has devoted his life to seeing established) to the current 18,000+ attendees in any of the 124 churches, and they are growing all the time. PH often talks about the changes in relationships that he has seen result from such an increase, mostly the peace that has come among Maasai relationships with the farmers. It certainly is far from gone, but the Maasai are much less likely to retaliate in anger, which means a lot less people being killed over stolen cattle. They are much more likely to use peaceful means to solve the problems like a public protest or taking there issues before a government official and demanding to be protected/compensated for losses.

I have really enjoyed getting to know and understand PH's beliefs and take on Christianity, especially evangalism. I can fully appreciate his openness to differences among different Christian beliefs. He seems to really get what I feel it means to preach the Gospel of Christ, rather than 'though shall not ___'. I think it's something that I and many other Christians could use a lesson on: knowing what is worth 'preaching' and what is better left to God to deal with in the heart of each individual (I use the term preaching losely because I think that it too often is used in reference to the words we speak, rather than the actions we display). As a young person raised in a Baptist church, I came to believe that we were the only church who had any idea about what was going on (not about the Jesus thing, but about all that secondary doctrine that has been changed and modified by every church throughout history). Okay, there may have been a few other churches that had it almost right, but in my ignorance, I still thought that God liked us more because we had it alllll figured out. Ha! Fortunately I have seen through my ignorance and had my views and my opinions challenged, criticized, battered, and pretty much shattered, not about Jesus, but about everything else that we associate with Jesus: baptism by immersion or sprinkling, infant baptism or believer baptism, abortion, homosexuality, what role does Mary play anyway?, what role should women play in the church?, did God really turn water into wine or was that just grape juice??. I don't think this belief that 'we've got it all figured out' is uncommon among most churches, hence why so many different denominations continue to exist and why more and more have continued to arise. I think that's the hardest/saddest part of observing Christianity here in Tanzania. The separation among denominations still exists and it’s only going to increase as more and more churches around the world continue to work on their own to establish their own sect of Christianity. Go into any village that has a Lutheran church here, and you'll almost certainly find a Catholic and/or Assembly of God church as well; meanwhile, there are other villages who don't have a church at all. It's like a competition among churches to see who can get the most people and who can get there beliefs most widely accepted. PH said that in one village we went to, an Assembly of God church was established after the Lutheran church had already been around for a while, but the Assembly of God church decided to implement a keyboard and some other instruments to liven up the place and to attract the young people. It worked until the Assembly of God Church told them that they all would have to be re-baptized because they had been baptized in the Lutheran church by sprinkling so it didn't really count (still sounds like home). My intention is not to point out anyone denomination as being right or wrong, but that is one example of the type of situation that has occurred. Another village that already has an Assembly of God and Lutheran Church now has an enormous Catholic church being established that is so large (and unecessary in my mind, bells and all) that I’m convinced that 3 or 4 adequate churches could have been built for the same amount of money. What is it with building anyway? I thought people were the Church of Christ.

The Bible it says, "There is one body and one Spirit - just as you were called to one hope when you were called - one Lord, one faith, one BAPTISM; one God and Father of ALL, who is over all and through all and in all." Ephesians 4:4-6. I think that if water wasn't such a precious commodity around here, PH would dig a big pool and have a small tub of water in every church, under the same roof, and let people pick which method they wanted just to show that it is not the method by which you are baptized that God was trying to stress, rather it waste the meaning behind the act. It has always been my desire to see the Church united as God intended it to be (did God even intend for churches to be a word?), to be one Body of people all working for the same purpose. Shane Claiborne referenced this quote in his book the "Irresistible Revolution". It says, "We've got to unite ourselves as one body. Because Jesus is coming back, and he's coming back for a bride, not a harem."

Another interesting point that I have encountered here is all of the encounters with spirit possession. In one service, we saw 5 or 6 women possessed by spirits. Apparently it’s because they often go to the witch doctor in desperation of healing and instead are given these evil spirits. I have begun to wonder in my many encounters with this, why evil spirits are so present among Christians here and not among Christians in America (or at least no the ones I’ve met). We worship the same God and are attacked by the same Devil, so why do we not see this sort of thing in churches back home (not that I'm disappointed by it, I'm just truly curious)? Have we some how escaped this? Are we to ‘advanced’ for that sort of thing? I find it strange that all of the evil spirits I’ve ever seen have been in the last two months and confined to one continent. Are we missing some aspect of the spiritual world? And are we just as incapable of experiencing the power of the Holy Spirit as we are of these evil spirits, as both are biblical? If you have an opinion/idea, I'd love to hear it!

Always a reason to smile

In the midst of any frustration that I have expressed, I should assure you that this place never leaves me without a reason to smile. Everyday I find more and more reasons to laugh, sometimes just on the inside as I don't want to offend the people here because I find there way of life somewhat amusing.
Tonight we went out to town after class and then decided to stay and get something to eat at a nice resaurant in town. Because we are all getting an idea of how Tanzanian culture works, we decided that we would start by asking if there was anything on the menu that they were out of. After being assured that they had everything on the menu, we got excited about the possibilities that awaited us...anything that didnt' include rice, ugali, porage, or beans sounded great to all of us. As we began to order, the waiter decided to inform us that they are currently out of prawn and calamari. Well okay, we can work around that. So we confirmed that there was in fact other seafood, just not prawn or calamari. Yes, yes, yes, they have everything else. Okay, so here we go. We start ordering and everyone orders a Bacon Cheeseburger except the German woman who orders king fish. Ten minutes later, the waiter comes back out to inform her that they are out of king fish. So she is a little disappointed, but she decided a pizza would be just fine. Our food comes out and we all thoroughly enjoy it (minus the fact that the German doctor kept telling me about all of the tapeworms that could be living in my undercooked hamburger, but I figure I've eaten worse and continue my meal in peace). When we finish, they ask if we'd like dessert. We said we'd like to see a menu, so he brings all of us a menu to look over and walks away. After looking over the 6 or 7 options and all deciding on the vanilla ice-cream and brownie, the waitor comes back after a few minutes to take our order. As we begin to order the ice-cream With Brownie, he decides that now would be a good time to tell us that the only dessert they have today is vanilla ice-cream. Well, I guess that puts a damper on the chocolate brownie. We were all quite convinced that they could have been out of everything including the vanilla ice-cream and they still would have offered us dessert.
Afterwards, was almost as funny when we crammed six people plus the drivier into a car no larger than my toyota camry, and I was by far the smallest one in the car by almost half the size. One german, the Texan, and the boy with a Scottish accent (Scott) sat in the back while the German woman laid across their lap, while Josh crawled in the front seat, which left me in Josh's lap curled up so my feet were the dash board and my knees pressed against my chest. It was probably only a 7 or 8 minute ride back, but it felt like an eternity. When we arrived back at the school safely, the door wouldn't open so the driver had to try and reach through us and finangle it open. when it opened, I literally just rolled out on the ground, landing on my hands because my feet were still caught in the dash. It's definitley true that there is no such thing as a personal bubble in Africa.
Sometimes I don't know if it is a simplicity of African life or sheer genius that makes Africans so creative. Last night we went to supper and were just getting our daily rice, potatoes, spinach, and beans, when we came across a pot that had meet on what appeared to be metal skewers... until we looked closer only to realize that they weren't actually skewers at all but the spokes from bicycle tires. I don't know, I guess I thought it was pretty funny considering the number of times I've wanted a skewer at home and not had one. I never would have thought to take apart an old bike tire and start stabbing meat with it to throw over a fire.
This is another funny one from Paul. Paul told Josh and I a story about a time he was out in a Maasai village visiting with the people, and you might guess that there is nothing taboo in this culture about a mother just whipping out her boob to nurse her baby (Breasts are functional here so if you need to use it, use it). Anyway, Paul thought it a bit strange when one day he saw a mother holding a young child in one arm while her other son, who was old enough and tall enough to stand up and stare his mom right in the chest, stood next to her munching on popcorn while stopping every once in a while to grab a drink of milk from his mother's breast. I guess when cow milk gets hard to come by, there are ways around it.
One last short story for the evening before I head to bed. This is one from the Texan woman here who told us about her experience with the 'plumber'. As part of the organization she works for, she has her own house to live in with a few workers to take care of daily chores. One day, she discovered that a pipe barried pretty deep below the ground had a leek that she didn't think she could fix herself. So instead of trying, she decided to call a plumber. he said he'd be there around nine in the morning. As three in the afternoon rolled around, the plumber finally showed up at her gate. Being from America and familiar with the plumbers who drive big white trucks with lots of tools, she is at the very least expecting someone to come to the door equipped and ready to fix the leak. But when she walks outside, she finds a man hopping of his bicycle with nothing more than a role of tape in his hand and just standing there smiling at her. All she could think was, what is this man going to do with a roll of tape, no shovel, and a leaking pipe six feet below the ground?
I can't help but to smile at the way of life here. I don't mean that in an insensitive way, but in the midst of a country where poverty and suffering are so prominent, sometimes you just have to take the laugh where you can get it.

Allow me to try this again

I take the words that I write very seriously, I always have. When I take the time to write you a note or send you a letter to express my feelings, you can be sure it is how I truly feel, and I don't intend for it to be taken lightly. Therefore, it is difficult for me to put my toughts, feelings, and opinions on a public website where I know it is accessible to the entire world to scrutinize. I generally keep those kinds of thoughts and feelings tucked away for my own personal reflection, or I share them on a very personal basis with someone I trust. If you had a chance to read my original blog from Thursday in which I did, in a moment of anger, express myself less eloquently than I would have liked, please take it for what it was worth, but please continue reading as I will try to express those feelings again, hopefully a little differently this time. But I'm still not promising I won't offend you.
Here's what I wanted to say:
As young adults, we often dream about the day when we will be able to save the world. We see a world that is broken, hurting, thirsty, and hungry. A world that is yearning for something more. We see pain and suffering, and we often feel a desire or need to fix it. In the depths of our hearts, we dare to dream that we might be the one who will change the reality of such a harsh life and turn an unfair world into an ideal one. Though most of us throughout our lives eventually come to the realization that we cannot, even in our most valiant efforts, save the world from all the evil in it, it has been my experience here in Africa that there are still some individuals who find it their intention to do just that.
In one month here, I have met individuals from the U.S., Canada, Bolivia, Italy, Germany, Finland, Scotland, Korea, Mexico, Nigeria, Uganda, and of course Tanzania. Everyone of them has come because they think that they have something worthwhile to offer this country and will attempt to help better the lives of others (I applaud them for their willingness to try, and I myself hope to return one day to do the same). Though some of them have accepted the reality that in all of their greatest attempts, they cannot actually save the world from hunger, pain, or suffering, there remain some who have yet to discover the flaw in thinking that it is still possible to do just that. They have not yet come to realize the reality of a third world country: that it has, does, and will continue to exist for a reason. Too many come with a five year commitment to an organization which may be working to do any number of things, and they hope that by the end of their time here that Africa will be a different place. They come to receive immediate gratification from their valiant efforts, but are quickly disappointed when they don't find it. Many give up early, packing their bags to head home early. The harshness of this environment isn't for everyone and the reality of what it means to 'help' isn't what most people anticipate. Working in Africa takes patients. It requires you to trust, trust that your efforts to improve even just one persons life for a very short period of time was worth the effort.
What I don't understand the most is that many of the people that come here to help think that the solution to the problem is to bring our culture to them: to bring them our clothes, our money, our food, and really just our way of life (I have to chuckle when you're driving down the road and see someone in a purple and teal jacket that looks like it walked out of the 1980's). We fail to realize as Westerners, that our way of life isn't all that practical here, nor is it the Best way to do everything! It is too often the mindset of people that if we can just westernize the third world culture, then all of their problems will disappear. With that said, one of my greatest challenges during my time here as been watching others try to adapt (or in many cases, refusing to adapt) to this culture. I am saddened that so many of them are so quick to judge it and to dismiss it as something less than their own when they haven't even stopped to think about what could be gained by experiencing this culture with an open mind. For example, this weekend, we went to a village where nearly all of the cattle had just previously been stolen by its own 'government'. (Now that is truly sad). But in the midst of this, a group of 9 of us went on Sunday to a service and before the service they gave us Chai, fried bread, bottled water, and bottled soda (things that they would rarely consume themselves). During the offering, money, soap, cloth, 8 chickens, and 7 goats (well, one was really fuzzy and cute and I decided to buy it; then Josh informed me that it was fuzzy because it had wool. Eventually I put two and two together and got "Sheep!", but it certainly acted like a goat...) anyway, they were put into the offering. This is coming from a people who just had their very livelihoods stolen right out from under them by their own government. Then after the service, they fed us all enormous plates of rice, goat liver, goat meet, and bottled soda again. Now there is something that can be learned from a this culture: Hospitatily.
Don't get me wrong, not all of Africa is this friendly nor should spending a lifetime here be some romanticized dream. Like I said in my last blog, it's not uncommon by any means to see a car or truck tipped over on the side of the road and the witnesses rushing to the seen to collect anything they can get their hands on that will be useful for eating or selling, while the victims are left to fend for themselves. And Africa is not a place where a person living in a home with four walls and running water would hesitate to steal the donated bag of corn meal from his neighbor who doesn't even have a roof over his head. It truly is survival of the fittest here. And like I said before, there isn't a concern, a dream, or hope about tomorrow because it is all about surviving today. When there is food to be had, it's not savored and saved for tomorrow because there might not be a tomorrow. Everything is used right now, today. The trees are cut down for firewood today because preserving their beauty for future generations would be unheard of when there are needs to be met and money to be had today. Worrying about dying of AIDS is far from the mind of anyone who has AIDS because they are more concerned about their family eating and finding water for today!
We must not forget, however, that the reality of Africa is in many ways not that far from the rest of the world: people are hungry, people are thirsty, people are suffering, dying, and crying out for help no matter which country in this world you step into. People are self-seeking and always looking out for their own well-being before that of others. It's human nature: survival. But too few people ever stop to hear the cry of the poor and broken-hearted. Or if they do, they give just enough of themselves to make it disappear for a while or shove some money at it and walk away. I don't want to downplay the role or value of money in aiding the poor or the homeless, nor the value of the role that a person can play through their generosity. I'm certainly not saying that every person needs to pick up their things and move to Africa and live in a hut in order to do their part. But without stepping out of your own world (I mean the conveniences of food, shelter, and entertainment we almost all experience on a daily basis) and experiencing the reality of poverty, without stepping into their world, and without experiencing tears that for the first time role down your cheek because of someone else's suffering and someone else's hunger, it is nearly impossible to understand their pain. And without understanding, there can not exist true compassion.
I'm going to go out on a limb here one more time. I'm going to write here some of what I have written in my journal over the past few weeks, so these are my thoughts and my beliefs coming out. I ask you not to look at them so much from a political view as from a sense of my own frustration. I don't say them to condemn you if you disagree; rather, to make you ask your own questions. Much of my journaling has resulted from several conversations between Audrey and I. Audrey is a self-proclaimed atheist, but she and I have developed a very good relationship and she has shown me a lot about love, compassion, and understanding. She has taught me to love people who are different from me: different in belief, different in values, different in lifestyles and choices. She has taught me to listen, not just to wait for my turn to speak, but to really listen and more importantly to understand. She has shared her tears of compassion with me, and I with her. She has absolutely no idea that she has taught me all this, and it wasn't her goal to teach me this, it just happened through normal interaction. Nor does she know that she has caused me to think so much about the way I express my faith through words and action. Please know that as I wrote this, tears were falling from my eyes because my heart is broken for this place, but equally as much, my heart is breaking for other reasons too. You will understand what I mean soon. This is what came out of me as I attempted to see my own experiences as well as her experiences of Christianity from a different light. From my journal: "I'm so very saddened that when someone asks me if I'm a Christian, I reply, 'yes', and then impulsively feel the need to follow it up with some sort disclaimer about how I don't really think that Christianity as it is practiced today is what God inteded it to be. How can it be that some of the greatest lessons I have learned throughout my life about love and compassion, I have learned from self-pronounced atheists or agnostics (and not just Audrey)?. How can it be that it's equally as difficult or more difficult to find a believer who cares about humanity as it is to find a non-believer who embraces humanity? How can it be that we can have million dollar mega-churches, yet homeless people living just down the street with no place to lay their head at night and no food to put in their mouths? How can it be that it is the belief of many that we can deny the woman a choice of abortion and then judge her for her choices in life, yet be so slow to take her into our home and show her love and compassion? How can it be that when a non-Christian is asked what they think it means to be a Christian that they are more likely to respond 'hypocrite' than 'lover'? How can it be that I have spent the last eight years of my life trying to figure out what God really demands of his followers because I know that I have not yet reached it? How can it be that the only times I can recall doubting my faith or questioning the existance of God, that it was because of the actions of a fellow Christian?" Let me explain these questions a little more, as I know I have just hit some of you wrong. Just last week, we had a group of men here from Oklahoma, very sweet old men, but in my conversations with them, they were going on and on about their Mega-church that had 7,500 members. As they talked, all that kept going through my mind is how it can be that their exists so many churches with 7,500, or 10,000 or more people in attendance each Sunday in million-dollar buildings, yet their are still homeless people in everyone of those cities.
Maybe this will sum up my feelings. In a book I read while backe by Shane Claiborne called "The Irresistable Revolution," Shane recalls a comic strip in which one guy says to the other, " 'I want to ask God why he allows all of this poverty and war and suffering to exist in the world.' And his friend says, 'Well, why don't you ask?' The fellow shakes his head and says he is scared. When his friend asks why he mutters, 'I'm scared God will ask me the same question.' " (pg. 64-65). I know that I too am afraid to ask God that same question because I know what God's response would be to me.
I guess I can't help but to be a bit political right now. But this is a pretty huge reality check for someone who has been allowed to spend most of their existance separated from the pain and suffering that some people experience as a way of life, both here and back home. It's too easy to shut it out of your mind when you're surrounded by people driving nice cars and living in nice homes and when the conveniences of life are at your fingertips. And it's even more emotional when you know that there is so little hope of ever bringing about any sort of permanant change for any of them. Nor does it help when you realize that people whom feel no obligation to God or a higher being to love humanity or demand justice in this world are still better at it than I who claims belief in a God who's very existance demands justice, love, and humility.
I promise I will leave this one for you to read, even if I'm scared you won't like it. Their will be no taking back what I have said, at least not in the sense of removing it. I will certainly continue to re-evaluate and examine my feelings as I don't believe that there is any other way to live. So be angry if you will, but John reminded me that this is a public journal to share my experiences with as much feeling and emotion as I desire. He's right! This is my experience and this is a public journal which you can choose whether or not to read, so if you don't like what I have to say or what I am observing and feeling, feel free to tune me out. I won't be hurt. And feel free to leave a comment if you wish. I wouldn't really be evaluating anything if I only listen to the thoughts in my own head. I'm inviting you to take part in my experience, whether it be positive or negative feedback. I may regret saying that, but I'll take my chances.

Pole Sana

I've decided to remove this blog because I fear that I was expressing myself out of some anger and frusturation I felt at the time, rather than expressing well thought out words or observations. The internet went out just after I posted it (imagine that) and I didn't have a chance to edit it or read back through it until now. The things I wrote in it were weighing on my mind and heart heavily, and I didn't have a sense of peace about how I expressed myself. I was a little cold in that moment and I feel I expressed myself as such. I also fear that I may have offended people reading this, and that wasn't my intention. It was an inner frustration with the way I see myself conducting my own life that I was trying to convey, but how I feel my life should be conducted or how I feel God prompting me to lead my life is not going to be the same as it is for anyone else. In fact, I often need to remind myself that we all play different roles in this world and that with the right heart and the right motivation, all of these roles can work together for a common purpose.
I appologize if you found my words condeming in any way in my previous entry. This is an experience that I know will change my life and the way I view myself, the world, and the role I play in the world, but it is not for me to try and tell anyone else how they should think or conduct themselves. It would be unreasonable for me to think that through this emotionally and observationally driven experience that I can transform other people's lives and world views. I certainly do believe that the opportunity to see the world is the greatest classroom, and I would encourage everyone to take hold of opportunities like this one. But I must remember that everyone is going to come away from an experience like this with something different and everyone will be affected/changed in his or her own way. More importantly, I can't expect other people who are not sharing in this experience to be able to empathize with me in the capacity I wish that they could. In the future I hope to share with you my experiences and observations in a more objective manner, and keep my opinions in a separate place where I can use them to reflect on my own life and my own world view.
Please accept my applogy if I offended you and know that my anger is more self-directed than anything else. To all of you who are official followers of my blog, I care about all of you very much and appreciate you sharing my my experience.

Dar, Zanzibar, Bagamoyo, and Paul almost eaten by a Croc.

What a Weekend!! I couldn't have hoped for a better trip than the opportunity to travel with Paul and Audrey to Dar es Salaam, Zanzibar, and Bagamoyo. There is so much to say and I'm going to try hard to recall all of the highlights, but there were far too many to count.

Our venture started on Thursday afternoon when Paul (Audrey's significant other) came to pick us up and head out to Dar. Dar is the old capital of Tanzania and still has most of the government buildings, even though Dodoma is new captial. It's a pretty well developed city because there are people all over the world putting up builidings there. Thursday night we spent at the home of Gille, a long time friend of Paul's. Paul met Gille when Gille was writing some stories for National Geographic magazine and needed Paul's assistance to earn the trust of the locals and the villagers. As a result of their collaboration, Gille has published a neat article in the July 2004 publication of National Geographic about elephant hunting in Africa. It's been so great to have the opportunity to hear the stories of other white people who have spent so much time and who have so much experience traveling into some of the most dangerous parts of Africa. It really opens up your eyes to the reality of this place. It's real life and real experiences. Things that most people who have visited Africa never learn about.

Friday morning, we hopped on a boat to Zanzibar. On the way, we were lucky enough to see a whole group of dolphins surfacing and a few jumping in the water. It was pretty incredible, and it's so much better when they are in the wild and you're not expecting it.

Once in Zanzibar, it was like a whole different world. The population there is something like 90% Muslim which makes for interesting experiences when you're trying to sleep in a hotel next to a mosque and everymorning at about 4 and again at 5 the Muslims at the mosques are yelling (and I mean Yelling), "Amka!!! Amka!!! Amka!!" Which means "Get up, Get up, Get up!!!" This would go on for about 15 minutes before they would finally give it a rest, and it woke me up every morning. But other than that, the experience was amazing. Every morning, we walked the streets of Zanzibar checking out shops, trying out random coffee shops, went on hikes through the back forests (Gille was looking for some unique art pieces or trees that could become art pieces to put in his house), and went into the markets, and down to the bay where all of the fisherman were out bringing in fish. We also went to Paje one morning which is a really nice beach, unfortunately full of hotels these days, but still absolutely beautiful. Everyday at 4, we headed toward the music festival where we got to here lots of different bands from all over Africa, some good and some not so good. After the music, we went to the beach where there was a whole row of stands set up where you could purchase a skewer of seafood for anywhere from 1 to 3 dollars each. They had everything, once again some good and some not but for 1 to 3 dollars it's hard to complain. The octupus was by far my favorite...way better than the stuff in the states.

Zanzibar's a unique city because it's so old looking and the doors are all so beautifully carved, some in an Arabic style and others with an Indian style. The city is quite quaint and the buildings are crammed together and I'm quite certain that down any given ally, at least 300+ fire codes are broken because of the wires that look like a rats' nests. It's definitely different than anything I've seen before. My favorite part was our last night there (Sunday night) at about midnight when Paul decided to test my sense of direction by making me lead us back to our hotel only using the back allies. I did quite well, until Audrey decided that we had been walking too far and must have passed it (though I was pretty sure we hadn't), so we made a turn that took us to another turn, that took us to another turn, that took us to this big open circle outside a mosque where all of the muslims were dressed all in black and sitting around in a huge circle and we had no choice but to walk right through the middle of it. It was a pretty funny experience. We kept walking and then it got even more fun because by now even Paul was lost. But the people you meet out wandering late at night are interesting individuals so it was a pretty fantastic time. After feeling like a mouse in a maze in a terrible experiement, we eventually found our way back to the main road and stuck to the path we knew.

We boarded a boat back to Dar at 7 the next morning, spent the morning in Dar shopping for supplies for Paul's work and botiqued fabrique for Audrey and I (audrey's a textile artist, so she knows where to find the good stuff). We later headed to Bagamoyo, which has a lot of historical background with the slave trade and Livingston. We got a hotel there near the beach and spent the rest of the day and this morning combing the beach for anything old or dead that was worth taking home. I collected seashell's while Audrey and Paul collected things like old rusty nails that were used in the wooden boats and huge dead crabs and bats, yes bats, because they wanted to keep the carcasses (They are both artists, so they have very creative minds). The fishing boats that filled the ocean shore were Amazing becuase they're so old looking and so unique....they were fabulous!! I could have sat and watched the fisherman bringing in their catch all day.

This morning after an excellent stay at a very nice hotel, we stopped by a place that raises crocadiles. Before we went, we bought a kilo of meet to feed to them so we could really see them in action. The guys working there hadn't fed them yet either so we got to see lots. I have attached a video which is kind of long, but absolutetly worth it. I'm not quite sure how I got this on film, but Paul is so glad that I did. A piece of meat got thrown down right in front of us so we could get some close up footage of these big guys in action. Paul was busy looking the other way and I happened to turn my camera to catch another piece of meet being attacked. But while we were both looking the other way, a croc right in front of us got on the back of the other and decided that Paul's hand would make good dessert. You'll have to watch the video to see it all. He's pretty lucky he only had two scratches on his hand and not a bloody stump. But it's a story he'll have for the rest of his life and I'm glad I was their to witness it.

Overall, the weekend was more than I could have hoped for. I never could have planned it on my own or even with other people because Paul and Gille know the best places in town and they know where to take you for the best experiences and the ones that the tourists never know about.

There are more stories I could share, but I'll have to finish them later. Now I need to go study so I can catch up with Josh on the Swahili lessons. But this trip was a good opportunity to get out among the people and use what I know. I feel like I could get out and manage my way around all right, so it was a beneficial experience as well. I enjoy the opportunities to get out into the towns and among the people because it's always so interesting what stories you come home with. Can't wait for my next outing.