Mahali Pazuri: All the Beautiful Places

Tanzania, Tanzania, Nakupenda kwa moyo wote...-Tanzanian National Anthem

Arusha, TZ

Moshi, TZ

Karatu, TZ

Ngorongoro Crater

Ngorongoro Crater

Mlima Meru

Stone Town, Zanzibar

Stone Town, Zanzibar

Stone Town, Zanzibar

Stone Town, Zanzibar

Indian Ocean, Zanzibar Coast

Indian Ocean

Jambiani, Zanzibar

Animals of Tanzania (Wanyama wa Tanzania)

My program has included three safaris to Ngorongoro Crater, Lake Manyara and Arusha National Park. This is my African animal photo shoot, featuring just a few of God’s incredible creations in East Africa. 

Pundamilia

Nguriwe

Tembo

Twiga

Kiboko

We also had the chance to see lions (simba), rhinos (kifaru), and some incredible birds. But yes, everything is much more beautiful when it's not behind bars. 

Good News, Bad News

Good news:

I went to Zanzibar and it was indeed as beautiful as you’d expect.

Bad news:

I returned home with bed bugs.

Good news:

Bed bugs are treatable.

Bad news:

…with a trustee American dryer.

Good news:

My family is so understanding in trying to help me eradicate the bed bugs.

Bad news:

Due to language barriers, everyone thinks I have fleas. 

Soko Kuu (Head Market)

My little sister asked me what the markets are like so…this one’s for you Noelle.

You can usually hear the market from a mile away. It’s not that Arusha has ever been quiet enough for noise to carry, but rather these prime markets draw so much attention it’s impossible to ignore. The main one I’ve found myself at is Soko Kuu (The Head Market). This markets hosts everything from fresh produce to dagaa (small fish) to clothes to cooking ware. Just outside the main market place are smaller carts filled with phone vouchers, head bands, and pictures of Obama. Tanzanians have four foreigners they truly love: Bob Marley, The Pope, Chris Brown, and Obama – in no particular order.

Spattered among the carts are men on motorcycles (piki pikis) offering their taxi services and heckling women. Aside from a few private drivers and public buses (dala dalas), most people have come to the market on feet. They carry with them a few plastic bags or kangas to hold the items.

As I pass into the main market, I see piles upon piles of fresh fruit…mango, pineapple, coconuts, passion fruit, guava, papaya – essentially an endless supply of not so exotic fruit for incredibly cheap prices. Some vendors offer sugar cane or freshly prepared spices. Fresh milk and eggs have been brought down from the mountain tribes. Old women stand proudly by their stalls filled with brightly colored textiles for dresses, curtains, blankets and kangas. Aside from this, you can find knockoff sunglasses, stolen iPhones, cooking ware, and makeup. Hairdressers, dressmakers and tour guides wander through the crowds offering their services.

Nothing has a price tag on it, but rather the tumult is filled with bartering as the seller and buyer try to assess their opponent and receive the best deals. You can hear a variety of animals caught in the crowded market. This is also the best place to buy fresh meat and even live animals as Soko Kuu is the central market to bring sheep, goats, cows, donkeys and chickens.

It’s nearly impossible to navigate through the crowd. Some stalls have walls and others are nearly a few buckets filled with items. Each seller calls out their items and encourages you to come appreciate their items. The heat and dust mix with the smell of goats and sweat, choking you and inspiring a purchase of fresh bananas.

Once purchases have been finalized, you can walk away with large baskets of fruit for only a few thousand shillings (not even five dollars). Most women leave the market with a baby in a kanga on their back and a basket of fruit on their head. 

150 Cows

Good news, I got like my 20^th marriage proposal. However, this one may forever take the cake. My dowry is 150 cows.

So in a village in Karatu I found myself only speaking Swahili and surprisingly faring pretty well. In case you’re wondering, there’s nothing as charming to a Maasai man as a conservatively dressed white girl attempting to converse in Swahili.

He told me if I married him, the dowry would be 150 cows. Fifty cows for my long hair. Forty cows for a neck like a giraffe. Another twenty cows for my voice.

1.     These are some quality compliments.

2.     I should probably explain that cows are currency in Maasai villages. I should also say that 150 cows is like….a lot of cows.

3.     Dowries aren’t exactly what you would think.

Of course, in the most articulate way, I tried to explain that I wasn’t for sale. He nodded knowingly and proceeded to explain that I wasn’t for sale, but I was worth more than just a man who said he wanted to marry me. It wasn’t a transaction. He promised to thank my parents.

This was a wonderfully eye-opening perspective of cultural differences in relationships, perceptions on value and attempts at cross-cultural communication. Sorry to let you all down, but at the end of the day I said no.

But I think I've raised my standards.

The Human Rights Discourse and Social Justice

Hey Friends, I’m thinking that you’re thinking that I don’t have real classes. Contrary to popular belief I am oh so busy attempting to expand my global perspective and understand this drastically different society. I’ve been taking classes in Kiswahili, Human Rights, History of Tanzania and Service Learning/NGO Development. Here’s an in-class response I wrote – hopefully it gives you a little insight into our academic discourse.

To what extent is the human rights discourse helpful in promoting social justice in Tanzania? Please explore this question, drawing on your reading, class discussions and your own experience.

    We've explored in our conversations how the introduction of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) is not as black and white as initially assumed. To a “young, intellectually - driven woman” with an educational background and Western perspective, it is easy to believe that all humans possess inalienable rights, that all humans deserve the same kind of treatment. However, a new introduction to human rights dialogue has inspired me to reevaluate this inherent truth. In this rediscovery of truth, I have come to understand the complicated struggle faced in achieving social justice in Tanzania. However, I believe that the human rights discourse serves to ease this struggle in the promotion of social justice in Tanzania. 

    Before delving into this question, I find it important to introduce the impact of universalism and culturalism in this dialogue. As the name suggests, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights insinuated that the success of social development was encapsulated in a standard success of all people having the same needs. However, this fails to recognize the unique struggles of a community and even the differentiated understandings of what the fulfillment of these rights includes. For example, my Western mind causes me to believe that all humans deserve opportunity for an education that develops their language and comprehension skills, enables complex thought and ability to understand math and science, a relevant understanding of their community and history, and an assignment of skills necessary for creative thinking, problem solving and learning. However, in a rural village in Southern Tanzania, this education may seem irrelevant and inapplicable to the members of its community. Rather, this community would be dependent upon an education that develops agriculture, teaches basic living skills, and perhaps promotes understanding of medicine and health. Neither form of education is "more right", because neither the needs of my American life nor the needs of another's Tanzanian life are "more right". We are simply living our truth. 

    

    And to live your truth in a culture that contradicts your own demands a human rights discourse. My initial introduction of Tanzania came with a conflict of "this is wrong" and "I am wrong to say this is wrong". In our Human Rights class, I've slowly begun to realize that there are times to respect a culture and times to set cultural relativism aside for the sake of responsibility to yourself and your truth. Furthermore, there are times when truth can align with empirical data, confirming that some behavior is more representative of the human experience. Though there is not always a right answer to how children are disciplined, the medical and physical results of child abuse are proven in empirical terms, distinct from personal opinion. Of course, empirical data does not always provide grounds for action or "answering the call". At times, there is no answer. However, the human rights discourse is essential to attaining social justice in Tanzania as it helps to understand your own identity, organize thoughts, seek out and recognize human connection, and ultimately use collaboration to capitalize on your strengths and the strengths of the community as a whole (Mcalpine, 2014; Habedank, 2012). 

     We began our Human Rights class by sharing stories. We delved deep into our minds and experiences, deep into the moments that served as moral dilemmas and moments of inner conflict. The recognition of these stories helped to organize our thoughts and understandings of human rights. We pored over these stories, coding, exploring and evaluating them, looking for connection and meaning. This process of organization often left us exhausted, but implored us to seek out a depth that included our histories and ideas but transcended in a more complicated, extensive hierarchy. Ultimately, discourse helps to organize thoughts. By recognizing your self in the scheme of greater, you subsequently recognize your tool belt and your capacity for action and responsibility. 

     Additionally, the human rights discourse creates an opportunity for human connection. It is through the sharing of stories that humans are reminded of their shared humanity. These opportunities to connect and engage in empathy are a channel for solidarity. At times, these shared stories hurt to hear, and evoke our own set of emotion, emotion that strengthens the reality of the story and its impact on our truth. It's the details that stick out and help us to grasp the understanding of a setting and its relevance to the situation; these details develop our understanding of the intricate human life. In a single minute, a shared story can remove itself from a cultural context and expand towards a universal experience of humanity. Because, though we may all experience lives unique to our own culturally relative experience, there are some moments that make us all feel the same. 

    But our stories don't stop there. They give us inspiration and grounds to collaborate and explore together. Once we've organized our own thoughts, we've said "I see me". When we've heard the stories of others and reached across our worlds for human connection and empathy, we've said "I see you." Finally, when we've opened our space for collaboration, we say "I see us". We've developed a uniting front, one that helps us to recognize the context specific needs of a community and recognize the universal humanity in a present situation. This human rights discourse is not only a necessary foundation for social justice action in Tanzania, but also a necessary dialogue to maintain in the progression of social justice action and activism. 

    In my perspective, I believe that social justice is the action piece of human rights. Social justice is the "answering the call", a call best answered after engagement in human rights discourse. It is a response to the knowledge you've acquired about human rights and a response to your understanding of self within the dialogue. As much as it is an individual experience, it is dependent upon social capital and community for sustainability. The discourse enables you to recognize social justice as yourself, others, and your collaborative relationship towards representing humanity and living a truth representative of yourself and others.  I believe the above process is necessary in human rights and seeking social justice because one cannot separate their self from either the discourse or the actions taken in social justice. Social justice is not cold and inhuman. It is neither calculated nor empirical. It is context-specific and is animated by its human proponents. The human rights discourse is an attempt to make meaning of our shared humanity and social justice is a desire to act on this humanity, a story relevant to both a Tanzanian and universal perspective. 

Habedank , M. ( 2012 ) How Chronic Stress from Childhood Maltreatment Affects Brain Development, Emotional Regulation and Cognitive Functioning , Arusha : Caucus for Children’s Rights .

McAlpine, K (2014) Doing the right thing to protect children. PhD Dissertation: Fielding Graduate University.

Today I'm Sick with Mafua

Dear Mom,

Don't be alarmed. It's not malaria. And it's not ebola. It's mafua. I think it might be like a cold or a flu but let's be real, this stuff doesn't translate particularly well. During the day I'm high as a kite on DayQuil provided from the kind American students. But at night, I've subjected myself to traditional medicines of the Chagga tribe (my Mama's good ideas).

So that means I'm eating spoonfuls of garlic, honey and ginger.

And I'm only aloud to eat lukewarm fruit.

And when I talk the kids can't stop laughing at my funny voice.

Everyone says you're most homesick when you're sick. Don't worry I'm trucking along just fine. But never in my life have I wanted Ramen as much as I do right now.

Nafasi: Empty Cups and Developing Countries

Yesterday evening, I was provided with some incredible words of wisdom. Their source was neither a scholarly work nor a facebook status nor a presidential speech. Rather, they came in the form of a boot-legged, karate movie with Swahili subtitles. Though this seemed like yet another attempt at bad entertainment, one scene included a brilliant discourse of empty space.

There’s something valuable about the empty spaces that somehow occupy our lives. As this movie addressed, a cup is not useful because it’s a cup, but because there’s empty space inside the cup. A house is not useful because it has walls, but because it has a livable space inside it. Somehow, my mind switched on at a million miles an hour and I realized that I myself am caught in this empty space.

I currently live in a country of open fields, empty buildings and endless potential. If I stare long enough, it’s discouraging. How could this country accomplish all its desired feats when it lacks the infrastructure and establishments to make it happen? But then I remember that an empty field has so much potential. The children use it to play. Mamas use it to gather and socialize. Pastoralists use it to graze their cows (ng’ombe). The cooperative use of collaborating and preservation of this simple empty field has provided it with so much potential, requiring no significant maintenance from the community around.

When I see the empty ins and outs of these communities, I see potential for growth and life and a future that values the farms, the skies and the simple beauties of life. Often times, we are so caught up in an industrial future that welcomes in development and technology and the filling of these empty spaces. But there’s a beauty in the pregnant pauses of a conversation, the hiccups of the mind just before a brilliant idea, the silence as you appreciate the existence of the present moment.

It’s in these moments of no phones, no structures no to-do list that you find the potential of the day and the potential of your life. If you can empty the day and go for a wandering, you’ve filled your day with endless possibilities. If you can pause and listen without speaking, listen without thinking or doing, your moment of silence guarantees endless heartbeats of emotions and realizations and discoveries of life.

Sometimes you need a room with nothing but walls or a field with nothing but grass or a community with nothing but potential. And it’s in these moments that a city or a country or a human, in its full essence, can have room to breathe and develop. And that my friends, is how a developing country maintains its heart: potential in the empty spaces. 

Please Excuse My Soapbox

Okay I’m ready to bite the bullet and admit that Tanzania does not have its act together. As much as I want to say that this beautiful country and this beautiful culture is always right, there’s some things that just seem intrinsically wrong. And recognizing that I have my own Western lens to view my world, sometimes these opinions transcend my own education and perception and reach towards a universal striving to articulate humanity.

For example:

Tanzanian is more than 50% children. Despite this, children’s rights are not something people are willing to address. Education, abuse and child poverty are things shoved under the rug as children lack the voice and representation to make their needs heard. And if you ask a Tanzanian who’s responsibility it is to make things change, no one knows.

•  I told my host father that children at school are not beaten as punishment. He laughed at me.
• Four “street children”, all under the age of eight, asked me for money. My host mother told me not to give it to them. I asked who’s responsibility it was to take care of these children. She said it wasn’t hers. She said it wasn’t the government’s. She shrugged and walked away.
• Five years ago Tanzania signed a document recognizing that the children of Tanzania have rights and dignity that demands to be protected. However, the domestic laws necessary to enact this document have yet to be solidified. Despite the political act of claiming to “protect children” the preservation of childhood has been disregarded as a responsibility of neither the home nor the community nor the government.

My family is educated and brilliant, but my one year-old baby knows only a handful of words including beat, bite, kick, cry and stick. I had one of those mind-blowing realizations that the treatment of a child has nothing to do with poverty or education, but everything to do with culture.

There are at least ten children that frequent my home. But only two, our three year-old and one year-old, receive hugs. In Tanzania, children take on a new role by the age of four, expected to walk to school alone, take care of younger children, and maintain some edge of self-sufficiency. Their developmental needs and struggles are often disregarded as well. So the children whom I live with sit on my lap, willingly receive my hugs and are always excited to see me. I’m not some sort of angelic American swooping in to save them, I just know that young children need love and an opportunity to develop. And I know they need someone to take responsibility and articulate their rights.

Tanzania I beg of you, love your children for the sake of your future. 

My First African Wedding (Harusi Kwanza ya Afrika)

By far, this must have been my best night yet in Tanzania. For my program, we have the most amazing Tanzanian woman, Mercy, who ensures we survive our time abroad. Not only have we been able to come to Mercy with our questions about cultural norms, classes and language translations, but I’ve had the opportunity to find a wonderful Tanzanian friend who I can learn from on a daily basis.

Mercy’s sister got married this weekend and we (myself and another American student) had the great honor of attending this event. My day began at 9 am when I arrived at Mercy’s home. Despite its small size, the home somehow serves to keep Mercy, her husband (John), their son (Jesse), their housegirl (Rukia), and Mercy’s brother (Johannes). Somehow in the middle of all this chaos, there’s a reasonable amount of room to get things done.

Mercy and I left for town with the hopes of getting our hair done. Yes, I officially made it into the intimidating salons filled with Swahili town gossip and a million women dying to play with my hair. The final result looked like I was wearing  a beanie. Mercy got her stunning weave put into place and the two of us prepared to find our ride and get home.

Back at home, our clothes were all laid out, Mercy’s hot pink dress, the bride’s daughter’s flower girl ensemble, suits for John and Johannes, my leopard print number ( a gift from my mama), and a tuxedo for little Jesse. The other American, Kate, arrived just in time for our rush of changing and preparation as we tried to make it out the door and to the church on time.

When we arrived late to the church, I was immediately struck by the fact that there were no cars in the parking lot and no people in the pews. Okay, yeah I know African time is a thing, but I didn’t think the whole congregation was planning on showing up an hour late. However, by the time it had started, we somehow received front row seats next to the family. The perks of being an American are endless here.

As the service began and the bride and groom drove up in their ribbon covered cars, everyone left the pews to dance around the church and up the aisle, the appropriate introduction for the wedding procession. As people dance back towards their seat to a variety of gospel music, the bridesmaids and groomsmen groove on in with an organized line dance. Finally the bride walks in as beautifully and gracefully as you can imagine. She is the only one not dancing and for reasons unknown, does not smile.

 The groom comes from the altar and meets her halfway down the aisle. As they meet, the pastor joins them for the beginning of the ceremony that eventually commences in the lifting of her veil. The two return to the altar where chairs await them. The four king-sized thrones are for the bride, groom and their two witnesses. Following a performance by a dancing gospel choir, the pastor interrupted the service to announce the presence of two Americans sitting in the audience, commanding those around us to translate the service. Thank you Africa for your unbelievable hospitality.

As the service proceeded, Mercy, John and Jesse disappeared. We soon received a call (yes in midservice) telling us to leave outside and come across the street. As Kate and I left the church and crossed the street, John waved us over and into a lean-to shack. Inside was a meal of soda and chips mayai. Yes, sister of the bride, definitely left the middle of the wedding to ensure we all got something to eat. So here we are, just sitting in a little shack, dressed in formal wear, as the wedding proceeds on without us. By far, one of the best meals I've had here, and even better considering the ridiculousness of the situation. Following our meal, we hurried back into the front row to finish the wedding. The wedding ceremony soon ended and we all danced down the aisle and to our cars continuing to a hotel for professional photos.

Mercy, John and Baby Jesse

Me and Kate before we got pulled in for family pictures

Don't ask

Because we happened to be with family of the bride, we ended up at the photo site, planning to stand in the background as the family continued with their photos. Then they asked us to join. So somewhere there are a thousand wedding photos of an Afrikan clan, with two white girls standing in the midst of the family. Did I mention we’d only met the bride once before this moment? My only regret is that I don't yet have that picture framed on my wall...but I will prevail!

Then our procession of cars filed out towards the swanky Lush Gardens for the outdoor ceremony. Here’s a few pictures that can’t even begin to capture how gorgeous the whole affair was.

About twenty different traditions happen at this part of the celebration, including the recognition of the Americans yet again. Once again there was the slicing of wedding cake and feeding to each of the wedding party and family members. This comes with a variety of speeches from both the bride and groom as they recognize all those that got them to this moment. Then comes another train of dancing towards the stage with gifts of dishware, fabrics and cards with money. Following this, chairs are placed in front of the stage for the parents of the bride. They receive their own dancing train and showering of gifts as well.

One beautiful aspect of Tanzanian weddings is that they’re mainly planned by the groom and his groomsmen. The bride and her family serve only as the honored guests. Considering the extravagance and beauty of this wedding, I’d be more than okay to just casually show up day of as the honored guest.

Yeah really, that's a goat

And the final tradition of the weddings  is the beloved African Cake. Here’s a picture. Yes it’s a goat. Yes it’s eyes are open, and yes this is apparently the only way to do a Tanzanian wedding.

By this time it’s about 10 pm and time for the feast. With four kinds of meat, countless fruits, cakes, rice, pasta, vegetables and fresh fruit juices and sodas, you’re more than ready to burst. As we dined, entertainment was provided in two forms. The first was the MC lip syncing and dancing to recorded music. For reasons unknown, Tanzanians were mesmerized by his bad karaoke and I couldn’t stop laughing.

Then three young boys dressed in red checked suits came out for their own dance performance. About halfway through this performance, a fourth young boy in a cheetah suit skips in to do back flips and contort his body, literally doubling himself in half with his feet on top of his head. People got up to toss them bills and cheer them on. And I sat there and wondered, what is my life?

In all the night was a beautiful feat of laughing, dancing and extravagance. The night concluded around 11:30 and we piled into the car, exhausted and happy and with half a wedding cake in our hands. There’s something to be said for memories like these and once again, Between the traditions, the unforgettable moments, and the new-found friends to experience this with, I couldn't be happier. 

One Month Update: I'm doing just fine

If we’re being real, study abroad is hard. I’m on the other side of the world, forced to speak a new language, not know where anything is, and battle the price of international calls home. I am constantly dirty and I’ve yet to hear a moment of silence. Of the contacts in my phone, I’ve known none for more than a month. Stores and hospitals and cultural expectations are different, and you can't tell people that they're wrong. And it makes me tired.

But somehow in the midst of everything this is refreshing. As much as I hate the dust that picks up off the buses and attaches itself to my contacts, my face, the surface of my lungs, I love that my walk to school is fifty percent dirt path – untouched by concrete and industrialism. I miss my cities, but I like the way it feels to stand in the center of chaos and remember just where I am on the globe. I like that the power consistently goes out but we continue on with our conversations in the dark. I like that I get to see what a country looks like as it develops.

Other people here think the churches are crazy. But I’ve never felt so at home. And so filled with joy!

And even though my thighs officially touch each other when I walk now, I am so thankful for the measures my family goes through to make sure I have every food I’ve ever wanted. And women here look awesome with their curves.

Even though I miss my mother’s lemon bars and Sunbear’s meatloaf, my family has done everything to make me feel at home. And they’ve most certainly succeeded.

And while I’ve yet to see an African sunset, the trees that block it are covered in flowers in vibrant pink and orange and purple. And I’ve stared at Mt. Meru long enough to feel like we are one.

And while my heart aches for a Daz Bog Chocolate Chip Chiller, I love to explore what else we could call extravagant.

At the end of the day, this is what I’ve learned about my American life:

• We pay too much for everything.
• We don’t sleep enough.
• We stop caring too early in the game.
• We really need Jesus more often.
• We should spend more time outside.

But just like Africans:

• We really love people. And we really love to admire beautiful things.
• We can dance and we deserve to.
• We have a good taste in music and movies and art.
• We can adapt and we can succeed.
• We are smart and we are driven and our futures are beautiful.
• And most importantly, we've all got a sunset worth watching.