Living Life, Internationally

Written on Saturday, March 17th. We have since returned safely to Kayanga from Bukoba, and are ready for the second half of the semester.

There are those moments in life when your body is tired, but there is a great opportunity to go out and live a little. Most of the time, I let my body win out and retire early to read a book. Last night, this option was tempting. I could have lain down after a long day of traveling to Bukoba, swimming in a waterfall, crawling in a cave full of bats, and running around a white sand beach. But, I decided to live a little more.

Yesterday, we were told by our tour guide that there would be a bonfire on the beach starting at 9pm. The students were intrigued, especially after hearing that homemade banana beer might make an appearance. Exhaustion and the luring appeal of a comfortable bed stole many of them to sleep early, but Paul, four students, and I decided to go. Joyce, one of the students, was already planning her escape on the way there wondering if it was safe to walk back on her own.

When we arrived we found a small bonfire of bamboo in the middle of the Lake Victoria beach and its chilly sand. There were maybe eight Tanzanians sitting around it speaking in Swahili/Kihaya/Kinyambo. Kihaya is the local language of the Haya tribe, and is very similar to Kinyambo, the mother-tongue spoken back home in Kayanga. We headed to the bar and decided to split a banana spirit (much more official-looking than what we had in mind) and mix it with Fanta Orange. They had only one glass, so we passed the elixir back and forth between us and the conversation started flowing. Another mzungu joined us, a middle-aged man with long raggedy hair. He started speaking Spanish with our student, Juan (from Puerto Rico). We were happy to see Juan in his element; his old roommate John told us this was Juan’s I’m-as-happy-as-a-kid-in-a-candy store moment.

Meanwhile, Joyce had started a conversation with a Tanzanian man in Swahili. As I sat in the middle of Spanish-speaking Juan and Swahili-speaking Joyce, I stared at the fire and dug my feet in the sand thinking of this cosmopolitan bonfire. Juan’s friend had an Italian passport, but hailed from nowhere. Fluent in Italian, Spanish, French, English, and Portuguese, he knew few Swahili words and said there was no more room left in his brain for another language. He was writing a book about traveling without any money (I remain skeptical and doubt I’ll see this book on the shelves). Joyce was talking with a man who had a third grade education, but of course knew Swahili, Kihaya, Luganda (the predominant language of Uganda), and Kinyambo. I drifted in and out of listening to their conversation. Joyce spent thirty minutes trying to convince him of his intelligence and argued that God was not the reason for the economic disparities between Tanzanians and wazungu. He and the mzungu without origin passed a joint between them. The Swahili word for marijuana (bangi) was one of the few words the mzungu had managed to fit in his brain.

Four languages around one bonfire. I wondered… If I had understood the enormity of the world earlier, would I have taken my required language classes more seriously? I feel woefully inadequate when I’m surrounded by people who know at least three languages. But, you argue, English is the best language! It’s global, spoken by many people, and by most Americans. Sure, we are given very few incentives to learn other languages in the States, given our large country with one language and two big oceans to separate us from much of the rest of the world. This must be one of the reasons few Americans choose to leave our borders. It’s difficult to learn a new language, especially as one becomes older, and can be very uncomfortable to be in a place where people can speak without you understanding…. Where was I going with this?

I just know that last night was cool. Surrounded by many languages, I was reminded of the huge expanse of the world. Recently, I posed a question to my Dad. Paul and I have been discussing (arguing?) about where we should do our extended layover on the way home. Egypt or London? Paul wants to be in London during the Summer Olympics, but I want to see the pyramids. I welcomed my father to this discussion and he said, “Caitlin, go to London. Do something normal for once.” Indeed, while many of my friends have been to Europe, I have not yet spent time there, other than in short layovers on my way to east Africa or the States. But, we’re talking about the pyramids! Ah, sijui, I don’t know. I know that even after Paul and I get jobs in the States, I hope to continue traveling and choosing to go to bonfires rather than retire early to read. I always want to be reminded of the vastness of the world and the diversity of people and languages it affords.

Reality Checks

Our lives in Karagwe are generally peaceful and carefree. Yes, we have to manage relationships with our NGO partners in Swahili and handle the regular sicknesses which pop up among our students, but our stress levels are minimal compared to life in the States. We have actually just said goodbye to Amizade’s site director for Brazil named Nathan, who has been helping us for the past month. The beautiful view from Misha Guest House where we live and the warm and friendly greetings we receive from every Tanzanian around us help us feel at home here. But recently we have experienced some reality checks which put this experience in perspective and remind us that we are a minority living in a country different than our own. In order to cushion the impact of these stories, I want to couch them between some of the overwhelmingly positive experiences we have also been having.

               

To begin, the group of students we have this semester is awesome. We have two Boren scholars who have been studying Swahili intensively for 6 months, including a semester in Stone Town, Zanzibar. To say the least, they are keeping me on my toes with my language skills. These students have fostered a sense of self-determination in the group, and our students have really taken their learning in their own hands. They take initiative to venture outside of our guest house, they are rapidly learning Swahili, and a few have even set up their own language partners outside of their Swahili class. We have had spontaneous dance parties, creative cards made for people with birthdays, and exciting games of catch phrase and charades (the fish bowl game). The positive group dynamic is making my life and job easier and full of laughs.  My experience here has become more fulfilling also because of more time spent with local community members.

I have been more intentional this semester about staying in contact with the language and local people. I finally got over the nervousness I had about joining the church choir. Last semester, Paul and I began attending the Lutheran Church in Kayanga regularly. They have four choirs, and I always loved when the Vijana Kwaya (Choir of Young People) sang and danced. Their songs are always accompanied by a series of choreographed dance moves, with each member giving a little of their own interpretation. I asked to join after the first week back this semester, and they have warmly welcomed me. Now, I attend practice at church three times a week for about an hour and a half each time, and we perform at either the 7am or 10am service every Sunday. I enjoy being part of this group because it forces me to practice listening, speaking, and singing in Swahili and I have made many more friends in the community.  Every practice is opened and closed with a sung/spoken prayer and I am taken back to my LSM (Lutheran Student Movement) days when I was surrounded by people sharing the same faith in college. My participation sometimes leads to frustration as I am not yet fluent and there are many things which are said which I don’t understand. But, this is the nature of learning a new language.

These positive experiences have been punctuated with two situations where I have felt disconcerted about this place. About a week ago, the group was finishing dinner at Misha (a few of us had already walked up to the main building) when we heard a loud and frightened scream. We looked outside and I went outside remembering that earlier some drunken customers had been treating Diana, the bar girl, poorly. I walked a few steps to the kitchen to find Diana sobbing behind the locked door which she had just closed. All of the Misha workers were standing and looking, trying to understand what happened. There was a visibly drunk man outside of the kitchen yelling and holding a receipt, obviously angry. Over the next hour it was discovered that after a disagreement occurred regarding the receipt, this drunken man beat Diana pretty badly, and she ran and locked herself in the kitchen with the angry customer following after her. Our amiable old security guard was getting the story from the customer and asking Diana for the correct change through the door, while I was asking whether someone was going to call the police. The police were called and were on their way when the drunken customer left with his friends. The manager of Misha, Jessica, and Diana walked the short way (ten minutes) to the police station to file a report. Jessica ‘s husband, Bernard, helped mitigate the situation and told us not to worry. A friend of ours who regularly stays at Misha named Steven, sat down with Paul and me to apologize for his friend’s behavior and assure us that he would never return. Come to find out the angry customer is a vehicle inspector, and works with the police. I have heard that he had to pay Diana a penalty of 90,000 shillings (about $57 and almost two month’s salary for Diana). I have also heard that she was writing down false prices for his beers on the receipt but charging him the real price in order to pocket the rest. To understand the whole real story is difficult anywhere, but especially in a place with a different culture and language.

The more recent disturbing situation happened this past Thursday. While I was walking back to Misha from choir practice, a six-year-old girl ran up to me and told me to come. She said something about Gaddafi and said clearly in Swahili, “Ninyi Wamarikani mtakufa hapa,” which means ‘You Americans will die here.’ I was taken aback and left her. After I returned to Misha, Paul returned from a run, and after I told him about the weird comment he said the same thing happened to him. While he was running, a man on the back of a piki-piki (motorcycle), said in English “They will kill you. They will kill you,” while pointing at Paul. These comments struck us as odd as we have never heard anything like this before here. We told our executive director in Pittsburgh, and since then have been telling all of our Tanzanian friends about the comments and asking if they are aware of anti-American sentiments. Our friends and partners have reassured us of our safety and have told us some Tanzanians here might have anti-American feelings, but would not act on them. I put in a report at the police office, and our friends have begun to ask around for further information.

We have turned this situation into a good learning opportunity for ourselves and our students. Our home in Karagwe is very close to Uganda, where Gaddafi built the biggest mosque in East Africa. There were many positive feelings towards Gaddafi as a symbol of Pan-Africanism and of unity among Muslims. Many people point to America as the main culprit in the killing of Gaddafi and this has led to some bitter feelings. This incident has occurred at an opportune time; we will be taking this week in my class to read and discuss, The Eagle’s Shadow: Why America Fascinates and Infuriates the Rest of the World,  written by Mark Hertsgaard. Getting this outside perspective of America makes us better global citizens, and helps us to understand why many people in the world view our country as imperialistic. With that being said, we are staying vigilant and do not feel unsafe in anyway. The spirits among the students are still high and we are still making jokes about Paul’s ever-farting butthole and Egbert’s entertaining way of talking to inanimate objects in Swahili (he apologizes to fruit before cutting and serving it to us).

     

Yesterday, we traveled to Chonyonyo, a village where one of our partner organizations is slowly building a girls’ boarding school. Amizade provides funding for water tanks each year, and we are able to help construct one as a group this semester. Water tanks are a sustainable solution for the limited accessibility of clean water here in Karagwe because there are two separate rainy seasons. Buildings are fitted with iron sheeting and a gutter system and the water is guided into a water tank where it can be drawn from in drier times. We had a really good time working alongside some MAVUNO laborers carrying large stones, breaking up the stones, mixing cement, and helping to build the inside wall of the water tank. The students are anxious to return next week.

           

Karagwe, and particularly Misha Guest House, have provided a peaceful home for us in Tanzania. Paul and I are happy to be here and continue building relationships with our friends. We have begun thinking about where we will go and what we will do after this (our contract ends at the end of July) and will probably start a job search soon. Until then, nitaendelea kujifunza zaidi Swahili, na nitafurahi kuwa na marafiki yetu. I will continue to learn more Swahili and will be happy to be with our friends.