Reflection on a Year- Part One: Culture and Language in Tanzania

It’s hard to believe that this experience, which has required so much mental, physical and emotional time, dedication and effort over the past year and half, is finally coming to an end.  I don’t think it’s completely set in that I’ll be ending this journey so soon and will be leaving this extraordinary culture, my temporarily adopted home and an unbelievably rewarding year as a teacher in Tanzania to return home to the U.S.  For some of my last posts to end this incredible Tanzanian adventure, I wanted to provide a reflection of what life here has meant to me and what this experience has taught me over the last year.  Since there’s a lot to reflect upon, I’m going to present it in three posts, detailing my final reflections on my cultural experience, my living experience and my teaching experience.  Of course, a lot of what this year has meant to me is hard to fully put into words, but the experiences I’ve had, the lessons I’ve both learned and taught, and all of the people and culture I’ve encountered have no less than changed me as a person and given me memories that I will never forget for the rest of my life.

Culturally speaking, when I arrived in Tanzania, I came with an open mind and was pleasantly surprised at what I encountered over the following year.  I certainly didn’t expect to find a culture as diverse, beautiful, welcoming and wonderful as the one that exists here.  Tanzanians in general are incredibly warm and friendly people that genuinely want to proudly share and express their culture with visitors and locals alike. While there were many times when it was difficult to try and adapt and fit in to the culture as someone of a different race and nationality, with an open mind, patience and a positive attitude, I came to be accepted as equal member of my local community shortly after my arrival to Tanzania.  With each passing week, from shared meals, home visits, relaxing with a cold beer or soda, or just chatting in the staff room with Tanzanian friends and colleagues, I learned more and more about the culture and also shared a lot about American culture, too.  This not only gave me a distinct appreciation of the local culture, but also made me greatly appreciate and reflect on my own culture back home.  In the process, I also made lifelong friends and learned some great life lessons.

Over the past year, I was fortunate enough to attend many cultural events that really illuminated how welcoming, communal, and unique Tanzanian culture really is.  I attended weddings, graduations, a first communion, a funeral, and many more parties, celebrations and gatherings that gave me plenty of unforgettable memories and experiences.  At each event I was welcomed just as any family member would be, and attending these events added an extraordinary dimension to this experience that few people get to encounter.  From attending many of these events, I realized that a big part of Tanzanian culture is treating each person and member of the community with equality, dignity and respect, no matter what their background might be.

Regarding the laid-back lifestyle and culture that exists in Tanzania, I’m not sure if I really came to appreciate it as much as I thought I would at the outset of the year.  There were times when it was great and I totally adopted the “Pole-Pole” attitude, but there were also many times when it led to confusion or frustration and this was one cultural aspect that never fully took hold.  As an American (and also from the Runner personality in me), I’m used to a bit more structure and organization than I experienced with the Tanzanian culture.  There were times when it was nice that I didn’t have to stress out about arriving everywhere on time and could always have an excuse to relax, but there were just as many frustrations- like when nothing would start on time, a meeting would run two hours long, classes might be interrupted for impromptu events or meetings, neighbors and students appeared at your home unannounced without warning, and the fact that no one ever observes the concept of “waiting your turn in line.”  Looking back, however, I’ve realized how much I’ve accepted this aspect of culture as part of life here.  While I was probably a lot more frustrated about it when I arrived, it’s taught me to be a lot more patient and also to appreciate the times when I can have an excuse to just take it easy, enjoy the simple things and not take life too seriously.

As for language, well, I have to admit that I am leaving Tanzania as a less than efficient speaker of Kiswahili than I hoped.  I probably know more of it than I realize (my listening skills are pretty good), but I am certainly far from fluent.  Partially that is to blame on the fact that all of my colleagues were extremely efficient English speakers, so I was pretty spoiled because they were always willing to converse with me in English.  It was the moments when I would encounter a local neighbor or nearby villager that didn’t know a word of English that really tested my Kiswahili skills.  While I can’t have a full conversation in the local language, I am proud to say that I can greet you in Kiswahili in every way there is (and there are more than you can count, trust me).  I was told early in the year that knowing greetings is 75% of appearing proficient in Kiswahili, and that is no exaggeration.  If you greet someone in Kiswahili, they’ll assume you’re fluent in the language.  Luckily, once I mastered that and a few other basics, it was incredibly easy to get by with the locals.

Although there is so much to admire about the welcoming culture in Tanzania, there is also something to be said about the challenging aspect of living in a foreign culture where you are so distinctly a member of another race.  The fact that you are so different and so noticeable to a point where you are called by a specific racial term (Mzungu) really makes you reflect about the role that race plays in all societies, and your own specific reactions and emotions towards it.  I would be lying if I said there weren’t times when it was difficult to even just step out my door.  Yet despite the racial terms, the stares, the shouts and the attention (both positive and negative) that accompanied me everywhere I went, I have learned a lot about human nature and understood how to appreciate people more deeply beyond initial appearances.  I think if any aspect of this experience taught me invaluable lessons about my own nature and value of humanity, it was this one.

Overall, I feel incredibly fortunate to have had such a dynamic and immersive cultural experience as a WorldTeach volunteer in Tanzania.  From the local gatherings and celebrations, to the customs of language, to the integration as a member of the Mzumbe community, I could not have asked for a more complete first hand encounter with Tanzanian culture as the one I had here.  As I prepare to return home, I leave with a great fondness and admiration for the truly beautiful traditions, customs and way of life here.  Not only will I never forget the lessons learned from my cultural experiences, but they will also serve to add to the great pride and love I have for my own culture back at home, as well.

Recipe: Pizza

I’ve already posted a couple of other recipes for some of my favorite foods from back home that I’ve Africanized, and the last recipe I wanted to post was the last kind of food that I cooked here that always brought me comfort when I needed a taste from back home- Pizza!  This is a pretty simple recipe that can be made with easily found ingredients and also allows for a lot of creativity- that is if you’re adventurous enough to experiment with any local vegetables and foods to use as toppings.

Ingredients:

1 tbsp. yeast

1 1/3 cups of warm water

1 tsp. salt

2 to 3 tbsp. sugar (optional)

2 tbsp. oil

4 cups of flour

Any desired sauce and toppings

1. Sprinkle yeast over warm water and let stand for 5-10 minutes.

2. Add salt, oil, flour (and optional sugar) and knead on a floured board for 10 minutes.

3. Shape dough into a ball, grease the ball lightly with oil and put in a bowl and cover with a damp cloth.  Let the dough sit and rise for at least 1 ½ hrs.

4. Preheat the oven to 400F

5. Press dough into a buttered pizza pan and perforate dough with a fork.

6. Bake 10-15 minutes, then cover the dough with any sauce, cheese and toppings.

7. Bake an additional 10 minutes or until cheese is melted and crust is ready.

I usually just cut up some vegetables and add some cheese and sauce bought at the market, but feel free to experiment a bit.  Enjoy!

Adventures in Transit

When I first arrived I wrote a little bit about public transportation, but since it has been such an essential part of my life and experience here, I wanted to elaborate more on how I get around from place to place in Morogoro.  In Tanzania, where very few people have cars, using public transportation is a major part of life here.  Whenever I’ve told people that where I’m from there are more cars then people, it’s funny to see their jaws drop in disbelief.  Using local transportation in Tanzania can be quite an experience itself; one that can be fun, frustrating, peaceful, funny, easy, difficult, physically demanding, scary, and culturally rewarding all at the same time.  Some of the best and worst moments of life here have come from dealing with transportation, but it’s all just another amazing and adventurous dimension of life in Tanzania.

A Daladala- The typical mode of local transport

The main modes of transport that I use to get from Mzumbe to Morogoro Town are the local mini-buses, called “Daladalas.” These are basically mini-vans that are refitted to be used as passenger transport.  It’s an inexpensive form of transportation (a trip to town costs 900 Shillings, which is about 60 cents), and it’s an easy way to travel a long way for a little money.  Inside the van there are usually enough benches and seats to hold about 14-15 people comfortably, and there’s also some room in the back for any baggage or goods that need to be transported.  Some daladalas are nicer than others, depending on how much the owners want to put into the van.  You can find yourself on one that’s clean and comfortable or on one that might just have a bunch of 2x4 wood slats as seats and has you eating gas fumes for the entire trip (not to mention the mechanical problems).  Each daladala has a driver, and a “conductor” (called a Konda, in Kiswahili) who collects bus fees and gathers passengers along the ride.  The Konda will ride with his head out the window and when he sees a passenger that wants to be picked up, or someone wants to get off (just yell out “shoosha!” when it’s your stop), he’ll signal the driver to stop by pounding on the side of the bus.  Not the most sophisticated system, but it works. 

Riding the daladala gets interesting when the bus starts to fill up.  Since the kondas want to have as many passengers and bus fares as possible, they will often fill the van up with as many as 30 people… in a van meant to fit 15, max.  You may wonder how this is possible, but with some physical ingenuity that would make a clown car jealous and what would be a severe violation of public safety codes in the U.S., it gets done.  When the benches and seats are crammed to capacity, passengers will stand.  Clearly, there is no understanding of the term “personal space” on a daladala.  This is one aspect that I have found to be the most baffling, infuriating, uncomfortable and also hilarious parts of riding a daladala.  If I have a comfortable seat, it can be pretty amazing to see how many people are willing to contort their bodies and put up with a sore back and stiff neck just to get into town (and in some circumstances, have put up with myself).  It’s kinda like watching (and in some cases, playing!) a game of Twister on a 15 person capacity mini-van filled with 30 people (and a live chicken or two, for good measure) going 45 mph.  Just don’t try that at home, kids!

The dala-dala stand in Morogoro Town

Catching the bus from Mzumbe to town is pretty easy, since Mzumbe is the end of the line for one of the major routes of the Morogoro daladalas.  I walk down to the main gate and just wait for one to come by (which is usually every 10-15 minutes).  Luckily, since it is the end of the line, they are usually pretty empty going into town, so it’s easy to get a seat.  The trip to and from town is incredibly scenic, and if I can be comfortable, it’s a really enjoyable and peaceful trip.  Riding the daladala can also be very culturally rewarding, not only because it’s a great time to observe Tanzanians in their daily routines, but also because it’s not uncommon to find yourself deep in conversation with the passenger next to you.  I’ve gotten some of the best Kiswahili and cultural lessons just from riding the bus!  It’s a really cool moment when you can exchange your culture and get to know Tanzanians on a more personal level just from a 30-minute bus ride into town.  When I come back from town I get on an empty daladala headed for Mzumbe at the daladala station in the middle of Morogoro town.  The stand is basically a parking lot full of daladalas headed to parts all over Morogoro.  Since the buses won’t take off until they’re full, you can often find yourself waiting anywhere from 5 minutes to an hour until the bus takes off.  Just remember to bring a newspaper for the wait!  From there I enjoy another scenic ride back to Mzumbe.

I probably have too many stories about riding on daladalas to count, but it certainly has provided me with some of my most vivid and interesting memories.  It often takes an incredible amount of patience to deal with the transportation here (always “Pole-Pole” in Tanzania), but if you have an open-mind you can really discover a lot about Tanzanian life and understand the culture on a true first-hand level.  It is one of those cultural aspects you have to experience yourself to get a full understanding of what it’s really like, but if you do it’s a Tanzanian experience you won’t forget.  Just remember to stretch first!

Rainy Season

Right now in Tanzania, we are in the midst of the rainy season of the year.  Since we’re on the Equator, there are really only two seasons that occur: Dry Season (June to February) and Rainy Season (March to May).  While there have been short periods throughout my year here when it has rained occasionally, dealing with the true rainy season has been an interesting albeit frustrating experience. Coming from Sunny California, particularly Los Angeles where when it infrequently rains people behave (especially on the roads) like it’s the next big natural disaster, I’m not so used to the constant rainfall in a place where when it rains it brings more serious difficulties than just a few slick roads.  I wouldn’t call it the most enjoyable aspect of life at the end of my time in Tanzania as it has posed a few extra challenges to my days, but at times it can be a fascinating display of nature’s power that I haven’t really experienced back in the U.S.  If anything, it has made me appreciate, and look forward to, all of those sunny days that are easy to take for granted in Southern California. 

 I can see why it’s called the “rainy season,” since it tends to rain just about every day.  However, it doesn’t rain hard every day.  Some days there is just a brief shower and other days it will rain so hard that it can even wake you up from the deepest sleep.  Unfortunately, the rainy season has brought with it a few more difficulties to life here than I’ve previously had to deal with.  Most notably, there hasn’t been much relief from the heat but there has been an increase in humidity.  Combined with the already present high temperatures, this has made it slightly more unpleasant in the classroom and in my house, and also more difficult to dry clothes after washing them.  And speaking of washing clothes, there has been an increase in laundry duty due to the amount of mud everywhere.  Probably the worst aspect of the rainy season so far is that it floods all of the roads, which are all mostly dirt, so it turns them into roads of slick, slimy mud with enormous puddles to navigate around. It’s not uncommon to find parts of the road completely flooded and un-walkable.  This tends to be a problem when I have to take my 25-minute walk to Mongola Secondary after a hard rain.  It’s pretty common to see a lot of people with their pant legs rolled up as they try to get from one place to another.  Somehow, even after doing this my pants still seem to get muddy!  As for running, the rainy season has had its adverse effect on that, too.  Unfortunately many of my routes have become flooded or overgrown with heavy brush and tall grass, so I’ve had to get pretty creative in finding new, drier places to run.

With all of the setbacks that the rainy season has brought, it’s not all bad.  The rain has certainly improved the scenery.  Now all of the fields and mountains are incredibly lush and green, and it makes for some really beautiful sights.  It’s also amazing to see how fast the crops can grow, since this is the season when most people are planting and growing their harvest for the rest of the year.  Also, on some days when I have nothing to do, the rain can be a good excuse to be lazy and just catch up on reading and some other things.  At times when the rain is at it’s hardest, I know it’s going to make a mess of things outside, but when it is raining it’s cool to just stare in awe at how much rain can really fall at one time.  I keep telling people here that if it were a lot colder, we’d probably have about 3 feet of snow in one day!

Even though the rainy season has its ups and downs, I’m glad that it’s come at the tail end of my time here.  It’s both a fascinating, and at the same time miserable display of nature’s power.  It just goes to show you that the weather is always one thing in the world that you’ll never be able to control but can sometimes have a big control over you.  As I sit and stare out at the torrential downpour coming down outside my house this afternoon, at least I will always have a reason to appreciate the sunny days of Southern California, and might even be able to tolerate the crazy drivers on the rain soaked streets of L.A. just a little (tiny bit) more when I return.