Its day three of the student strikes and I’m not feeling so comfortable being around campus. Sara and I took off for the morning. This has left me with lots of time to think about what is going on and why. As I keep reading the newspapers, each day there is a little more about why the students are striking. It’s far less hush hush than it was a week ago.
Loan money is at the center of the controversy. The students want the policy of cost sharing implemented a few years go by the government discontinued. As of today they are calling for the resignation of the Minster of Education over some of his policies.
So far things have been peaceful. I don’t trust that they will remain so. It’s easy for people who are frustrated to do things they otherwise wouldn’t when they are in a large group. I hope nothing happens but I don’t want to accidentally end up in the middle of something.
Watching all of this makes me thankful that we have student government systems in place at home to work closely with our universities so things rarely if ever get to this point.
While most people are focusing on the students themselves, I am thinking about the other people around campus this will impact. If the campus is closed the two large cafeterias will close leaving 60 or so people without a job. There are the duka owners who will close up shop because the foreign students cannot generate enough business for them to keep an income. The university will cut back on cleaning staff sending more people home without a job. Catering services cease in on campus cafes and dala dala drivers see decreased business because these former employees as well as students aren’t coming to campus daily.
The students striking have a huge economic impact on the community surrounding the university. The shutting of the university affects families across Dar as the breadwinners have to look elsewhere for work or business opportunities. In such a tight job market, those may be few and far between.
This whole thing is something I’ve been dreading since the topic first came up because someone would ask me how I feel about it. The truth is that I feel bad for the students, but it seems really unreasonable to ask an already heavily indebted government to foot the bill for even more of their education. I can see pouring money into fields where professionals are needed – teachers, nurses, engineers – those kinds of things, but is there a critical need for such a large group of sociologists or cultural heritage managers. I’m glad that people have the right to choose what they want to study, but is it the government’s responsibility to pay for your degree in art?
This brings up a whole other issue. Who is collection on the loans that have been paid out? From the people I’ve talked to there is little to no government follow through in this area. The firs round of students who got loan should be out of university now. It’s time they start paying back into the system so that money can be used for current students instead of the government “borrowing” from other budget sectors putting them further in debt.
I’m not enough of an economist or a business minded individual to completely understand the system but there seems to be so many hiccups. I have very little commentary left because the whole thing is frustrating because I watch my friends loose their chance at an education because the university is disrupted as well as see the government go further in debt giving loans with money they don’t have.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Kids will be Kids
On my way to Kigamboni, I spotted the cutest little girl in the ferry terminal. She was three or four and decked out in a tattered pink party dress with yellow and red beads around her neck and ruffled socks on her feet. She was contentedly dancing around when she spotted her brother. She skipped over and hit him on the head and poked him in the ribs.
This scene could have taken place anywhere in where in the world. I just happened to see it in Tanzania. Kids are kids everywhere. They dance and sing for their own entertainment, play in their dirt, and pick on their siblings.
Culture dictates some actions with children though some behaviors are universal. Playing with the kids at Tumamoyo led to some of the same games I play with my preschool class at home. Language isn’t’ necessary to play the “I got your nose” game or peek-a-boo around a tree. It’s comforting to be halfway around the world at still be able to interact with some of the people I find most dear – children. They have a special place in my heart.
Watching these kids and others it is easy to see that kids have similar behavior everywhere. Despite cultural conditioning and parental preferences, there is still the urge to pick on a sibling or pick their nose in public. Seeing this makes my heart believe in the human condition. We all start out innocent and good. It is the environment we are raised in as well as personal choice that shape who we become.
The kids in Tanzania are as special as kids anywhere. Though the longer I am here, the more I see the need for improvements regarding their security, education, and healthcare. The government is making big improvements in education though the rural areas need more schools. Even more than schools built, the schools that exist need teachers. The country has a teacher shortage of an imaginable magnitude. In terms of security, it is a matter of child rights. There are families that are too poor to send their children to school so they work usually doing things that are dangerous for their small size or expose them to toxins such as house cleaning. There is not a system in place to remove children from excessively abusive parents or relatives either. The government is hesitant to step in because it is still seen as somewhat of a family issue. Healthcare is guaranteed to be free up to age five but what happens after that? Not a lot unless the families can afford it.
Even though I’m not the biggest fan of the way the government in the States handles welfare and child programs, there is at least more access here. It is our responsibility as adults to safeguard children to the best of our ability everywhere. They are the ones who will be next to lead the country and care for us when we are old.
I look forward to watching how the Tanzanian government and social system change during the course of my lifetime to be better protectors and advocates of children.
This scene could have taken place anywhere in where in the world. I just happened to see it in Tanzania. Kids are kids everywhere. They dance and sing for their own entertainment, play in their dirt, and pick on their siblings.
Culture dictates some actions with children though some behaviors are universal. Playing with the kids at Tumamoyo led to some of the same games I play with my preschool class at home. Language isn’t’ necessary to play the “I got your nose” game or peek-a-boo around a tree. It’s comforting to be halfway around the world at still be able to interact with some of the people I find most dear – children. They have a special place in my heart.
Watching these kids and others it is easy to see that kids have similar behavior everywhere. Despite cultural conditioning and parental preferences, there is still the urge to pick on a sibling or pick their nose in public. Seeing this makes my heart believe in the human condition. We all start out innocent and good. It is the environment we are raised in as well as personal choice that shape who we become.
The kids in Tanzania are as special as kids anywhere. Though the longer I am here, the more I see the need for improvements regarding their security, education, and healthcare. The government is making big improvements in education though the rural areas need more schools. Even more than schools built, the schools that exist need teachers. The country has a teacher shortage of an imaginable magnitude. In terms of security, it is a matter of child rights. There are families that are too poor to send their children to school so they work usually doing things that are dangerous for their small size or expose them to toxins such as house cleaning. There is not a system in place to remove children from excessively abusive parents or relatives either. The government is hesitant to step in because it is still seen as somewhat of a family issue. Healthcare is guaranteed to be free up to age five but what happens after that? Not a lot unless the families can afford it.
Even though I’m not the biggest fan of the way the government in the States handles welfare and child programs, there is at least more access here. It is our responsibility as adults to safeguard children to the best of our ability everywhere. They are the ones who will be next to lead the country and care for us when we are old.
I look forward to watching how the Tanzanian government and social system change during the course of my lifetime to be better protectors and advocates of children.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Branding – A Different Perspective
When it comes to the influence of Western marketing and brands in Tanzania, some are more recognized than others. Phat Farm, Heineken, Coca Cola & Nieviea are well known. Dairy Queen is not.
My seminar professor came into the room last seminar wearing a polo shirt. The logo caught my eye. It was a Dairy Queen uniform shirt. I had a hard time taking him seriously after that. Growing up in a town where the dairy Queen is the local hangout and the ridicule of teenage employees I have a different perspective on this brand.
Some companies pour major dollars into advertising in Tanzania, namely beverage, tobacco and telecom companies. These are the respected and known. Had my professor known what logo he was wearing, my guess is that he wouldn’t have chosen that shirt from the market…or would he.
There are some things that I’ve seen on clothing that amaze me. People buy whatever they can afford and what they like in the market. There are some things that get printed on clothing that shouldn’t be allowed outside of the US. So many of the things that our pop culture puts out ends up on bodies here that have not idea what the shirt they are wearing really says. Most of these things end up here in the second hand clothing market.
Advertising avenues can be really bold in Tanzania. Businesses are panted in telecom company logos and colors. Temporary fences are plastered with ads. Bus tickets even have mini ads for beverage companies on them. Ads are everywhere but not in the same way as home. There are fewer billboards and variety of ads on television. There are only a few companies that advertise on television. Most of those are telecom are beverage companies and they have a broad client base and can appeal to those with more money to spend on luxuries like upgraded phone service and imported beer. The average round of ads is those plastered up at dala dala stop shelters and painted on buildings. I find the ones in the middle of the clock towers most interesting. It’s basically proclaiming, “The current time is XX:XX and go buy a Coke.” It was shocking to see at first because I expected the clock tower to be some sort of monument. In reality it’s a clock with an ad on it.
Advertising here as loud and colorful as it can be seems less intrusive because I have few brands being shouted loudly. The brands that can afford to advertise have respect with people and obviously are well known. Watching TV at home or reading a magazine, I see ads for hundreds of different types of products and they are all vying to catch my attention. Reflection on this I think they do because there are so many choices. Here it is easy to ignore ads because they are usually for Zain, Vodacom, Tigo, Coca Cola or some sort of beer. With little variety in product there is rarely something new to look at.
My seminar professor came into the room last seminar wearing a polo shirt. The logo caught my eye. It was a Dairy Queen uniform shirt. I had a hard time taking him seriously after that. Growing up in a town where the dairy Queen is the local hangout and the ridicule of teenage employees I have a different perspective on this brand.
Some companies pour major dollars into advertising in Tanzania, namely beverage, tobacco and telecom companies. These are the respected and known. Had my professor known what logo he was wearing, my guess is that he wouldn’t have chosen that shirt from the market…or would he.
There are some things that I’ve seen on clothing that amaze me. People buy whatever they can afford and what they like in the market. There are some things that get printed on clothing that shouldn’t be allowed outside of the US. So many of the things that our pop culture puts out ends up on bodies here that have not idea what the shirt they are wearing really says. Most of these things end up here in the second hand clothing market.
Advertising avenues can be really bold in Tanzania. Businesses are panted in telecom company logos and colors. Temporary fences are plastered with ads. Bus tickets even have mini ads for beverage companies on them. Ads are everywhere but not in the same way as home. There are fewer billboards and variety of ads on television. There are only a few companies that advertise on television. Most of those are telecom are beverage companies and they have a broad client base and can appeal to those with more money to spend on luxuries like upgraded phone service and imported beer. The average round of ads is those plastered up at dala dala stop shelters and painted on buildings. I find the ones in the middle of the clock towers most interesting. It’s basically proclaiming, “The current time is XX:XX and go buy a Coke.” It was shocking to see at first because I expected the clock tower to be some sort of monument. In reality it’s a clock with an ad on it.
Advertising here as loud and colorful as it can be seems less intrusive because I have few brands being shouted loudly. The brands that can afford to advertise have respect with people and obviously are well known. Watching TV at home or reading a magazine, I see ads for hundreds of different types of products and they are all vying to catch my attention. Reflection on this I think they do because there are so many choices. Here it is easy to ignore ads because they are usually for Zain, Vodacom, Tigo, Coca Cola or some sort of beer. With little variety in product there is rarely something new to look at.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Where Clothes are Reborn
During orientation at the Tengeru market, Chris and I took a walk. The part of the market we chose to explore was the clothing sector. There was aisle after aisle with tables piled high with all kids of clothing. There were stalls with only jeans, others children’s clothes and other stall selling undergarments and outerwear. The stalls seemed unending. I wondered if this was something unique to Tengeru. When we came to Dar Es Salaam, we visited an area called Big Brother. It is another open air clothing market selling second hand clothes from stores in the States, mostly. I found jeans that still had Value Village tags and jackets with Good Will labels. Tanzania is one of the places where unwanted clothing gets a second life.
When in Kiboroloni, I saw how these vendors end up with such large amounts of clothing. The items are bundled by type – pants, shirts, jackets, or category – women’s, children’s, and men’s – and then baled. They get covered with large feed sack type bags and banded like hay. The business owners buy the clothes by the bale and then are left to sell what ever is in the set. Some trading goes on between vendors.
The most fascinating things in the types of t-shirts I’ve seen. Some of the stranger ones include a Royal Canadian Mounted Police training camp shirt; another from Pacific Northwest Kinetics Center. My favorite though was the Hong Kong Jewish Center shirt. I keep hoping to see a Street Rock t-shirt, but I have yet to be so lucky. (Street Rock is a company I previously worked for. We screen printed our own shirts, too.)
Walking through big Brother or the market in Tengeru, I can see styles from years ago that are just making it here. Nothing seems to go out of style. Clots are worn until they are falling apart, usually after they’ve been passed on a few times. The pieces are then used to make other things or are tuned into rags. Very little goes to waste. There is not a disposable clothing market here.
I know already that I have to leave clothes behind to get my things to fit in my bags on the way home. I planned it that way. I know that whatever I leave will be used by someone for something.
While there is a fashion conscious segment of the population which is evident in more urban areas, the majority of people just need clothes in general. Ladies wear kangas over most everything. Men use the t-shirts, shorts and jeans for work. Second hand suits and dresses are donned by less well off people who need business attire for their jobs. Clothing is viewed as a necessity and not purchased as a luxury by most. There isn’t enough income to be fashion conscious. There are styles of dress that are more popular. By styles, I mean conservative over not so and lades will buy dresses almost any day over pants. Big sleeves and floral prints along with colors seem to be popular. Any dress that is lacy and frilly won’t last long in the shops as someone with snatch it up. Sunday mornings in church look like a boutique exploded. If you look carefully though you can see the alternations that have been made because sometimes the thread or zippers don’t match. Holes have been carefully stitched up. The dress is still worn because it is the best that they have.
When in Kiboroloni, I saw how these vendors end up with such large amounts of clothing. The items are bundled by type – pants, shirts, jackets, or category – women’s, children’s, and men’s – and then baled. They get covered with large feed sack type bags and banded like hay. The business owners buy the clothes by the bale and then are left to sell what ever is in the set. Some trading goes on between vendors.
The most fascinating things in the types of t-shirts I’ve seen. Some of the stranger ones include a Royal Canadian Mounted Police training camp shirt; another from Pacific Northwest Kinetics Center. My favorite though was the Hong Kong Jewish Center shirt. I keep hoping to see a Street Rock t-shirt, but I have yet to be so lucky. (Street Rock is a company I previously worked for. We screen printed our own shirts, too.)
Walking through big Brother or the market in Tengeru, I can see styles from years ago that are just making it here. Nothing seems to go out of style. Clots are worn until they are falling apart, usually after they’ve been passed on a few times. The pieces are then used to make other things or are tuned into rags. Very little goes to waste. There is not a disposable clothing market here.
I know already that I have to leave clothes behind to get my things to fit in my bags on the way home. I planned it that way. I know that whatever I leave will be used by someone for something.
While there is a fashion conscious segment of the population which is evident in more urban areas, the majority of people just need clothes in general. Ladies wear kangas over most everything. Men use the t-shirts, shorts and jeans for work. Second hand suits and dresses are donned by less well off people who need business attire for their jobs. Clothing is viewed as a necessity and not purchased as a luxury by most. There isn’t enough income to be fashion conscious. There are styles of dress that are more popular. By styles, I mean conservative over not so and lades will buy dresses almost any day over pants. Big sleeves and floral prints along with colors seem to be popular. Any dress that is lacy and frilly won’t last long in the shops as someone with snatch it up. Sunday mornings in church look like a boutique exploded. If you look carefully though you can see the alternations that have been made because sometimes the thread or zippers don’t match. Holes have been carefully stitched up. The dress is still worn because it is the best that they have.
It’s nice being in a place where cleanliness and tidy ness matter, not the label in your shirt.
It's really Thanksgiving?!?
Happy Thanksgiving all!
Here things are just like any other day. Tanzania does not celebrate our Thanksgiving holiday. So far my plans include and exam and a paper to write today. Later tonight, I think I'm heading out for Chinese food and maybe a movie. I'll decide that later.
It's hard to believe that it is already Thanksgiving. That means that Christmas is just around the corner. I'll be home for Christmas but just before. I'll busy myself with baking as I've missed my round of Thanksgiving baking.
Have a fantastic holiday! I'll see all of you soon. My thoughts and prayers are with you on this holiday. Off to class and an exam...
Love & Stuff!
Here things are just like any other day. Tanzania does not celebrate our Thanksgiving holiday. So far my plans include and exam and a paper to write today. Later tonight, I think I'm heading out for Chinese food and maybe a movie. I'll decide that later.
It's hard to believe that it is already Thanksgiving. That means that Christmas is just around the corner. I'll be home for Christmas but just before. I'll busy myself with baking as I've missed my round of Thanksgiving baking.
Have a fantastic holiday! I'll see all of you soon. My thoughts and prayers are with you on this holiday. Off to class and an exam...
Love & Stuff!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
I am the swatter of death….
“I am the thing of nightmares. I am the swatter of death. The thing you should fear in the night. I make death come silently and quick. I will stalk and smash your children. Buzz near and you shall meet your end.”
The previous was the monologue running through my head at 3am as I sat up in my hotel room in Morogoro swatting mosquitoes. I had checked into what seemed like a nice hotel. Unfortunately my mosquito net didn’t really fit the bed. It was an awkward size. It was either dragging on my face or my feet were sticking out. That left me huddled in the corner of my bet with my head lamp on the spiffy red light setting, newspaper in my right and cell phone in the left. I was texting home like mad as I sat up killing the bugs. Their buzzing so loud and bites so frequent that sleep was something I was dreaming about. On my way home as I worked to contain my scratching of the previous night’s attack, I had a run in with flies. They seem to have come out of everywhere. Just a few weeks ago, the occasional fanning motion over your plate was necessary to shoo away the unwanted diners. Now they are everywhere all of the time. It seems like they just popped up and they aren’t phased by swishing hands or ponytails. They sit and spit on my food and walk on my skin with their grubby little legs.
When I made it back to Dar, I saw the same problem. Watching the mzungu in the cafeteria is amusing. We are all swatting and fanning like crazy. I can only imagine what the Tanzanians are thinking. I rarely see them raise a hand to the pests They seem completely un-phased by the whole thing. In talking with Kate, we’ve decided that we need fly swatters and we are going on a rampage. Then we concluded that they would come reincarnate; they don’t really seem to die even when you squish them.
Having not grown up with many insects, I’m not so comfortable sharing my personal space with small vermin. When we did have a bug problem, there were sprays, candles, creams, nets, and swatters. The average person here just ignores the buzzing and continues on with their activities. I don’t know if I could ever be acclimated to that. I’m far more accepting than I was. I draw the line though at the fly trying to crawl down my drinking straw to seal some of my soda.
Insects are a part of life in Tanzania. Like a previously stated, there are some things I can tolerate. The baby termites that live in my desk have an agreement with me: they can walk along the wall and under the desk ledge but my bed is off limits. They seem fairly respectful of this. Occasionally there is a rogue who meets an early end. The homes I’ve visited are not necessarily proactive about insects either. When the ants are parading not the sink they get washed away. No pesticide is use. I think the mentality of they just will come back is prevalent. I’ve seen this to be true. I’ve sprayed my closet more than twice and I still have spiders that like the top shelf. I’ve just decided not to put things up there. Leave them alone and they leave me alone. Part of me misses the awful smell of insecticide once a month (the manager would come and spray our apartment when I was living at home). I felt a little safer opening cupboards and drawers. For now I keep dong the double check: first the handle, then look again. Then open the drawer gingerly.
The previous was the monologue running through my head at 3am as I sat up in my hotel room in Morogoro swatting mosquitoes. I had checked into what seemed like a nice hotel. Unfortunately my mosquito net didn’t really fit the bed. It was an awkward size. It was either dragging on my face or my feet were sticking out. That left me huddled in the corner of my bet with my head lamp on the spiffy red light setting, newspaper in my right and cell phone in the left. I was texting home like mad as I sat up killing the bugs. Their buzzing so loud and bites so frequent that sleep was something I was dreaming about. On my way home as I worked to contain my scratching of the previous night’s attack, I had a run in with flies. They seem to have come out of everywhere. Just a few weeks ago, the occasional fanning motion over your plate was necessary to shoo away the unwanted diners. Now they are everywhere all of the time. It seems like they just popped up and they aren’t phased by swishing hands or ponytails. They sit and spit on my food and walk on my skin with their grubby little legs.
When I made it back to Dar, I saw the same problem. Watching the mzungu in the cafeteria is amusing. We are all swatting and fanning like crazy. I can only imagine what the Tanzanians are thinking. I rarely see them raise a hand to the pests They seem completely un-phased by the whole thing. In talking with Kate, we’ve decided that we need fly swatters and we are going on a rampage. Then we concluded that they would come reincarnate; they don’t really seem to die even when you squish them.
Having not grown up with many insects, I’m not so comfortable sharing my personal space with small vermin. When we did have a bug problem, there were sprays, candles, creams, nets, and swatters. The average person here just ignores the buzzing and continues on with their activities. I don’t know if I could ever be acclimated to that. I’m far more accepting than I was. I draw the line though at the fly trying to crawl down my drinking straw to seal some of my soda.
Insects are a part of life in Tanzania. Like a previously stated, there are some things I can tolerate. The baby termites that live in my desk have an agreement with me: they can walk along the wall and under the desk ledge but my bed is off limits. They seem fairly respectful of this. Occasionally there is a rogue who meets an early end. The homes I’ve visited are not necessarily proactive about insects either. When the ants are parading not the sink they get washed away. No pesticide is use. I think the mentality of they just will come back is prevalent. I’ve seen this to be true. I’ve sprayed my closet more than twice and I still have spiders that like the top shelf. I’ve just decided not to put things up there. Leave them alone and they leave me alone. Part of me misses the awful smell of insecticide once a month (the manager would come and spray our apartment when I was living at home). I felt a little safer opening cupboards and drawers. For now I keep dong the double check: first the handle, then look again. Then open the drawer gingerly.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Making A Living: The Art of Entrepreneurship
Yesterday one of my professors made an interesting comment during lecture. She said “People are moving to the cities because they believe they can earn a living even if it is selling water.”
The number of street vendors, small business owners, and machingas is something I’ve thought about before. Her statement returned me to those thoughts.
Everywhere, and I do mean everywhere, there is someone selling something. Through bus windows and on street corners, there are people making a living by selling things almost anything you can imagine. I can buy a variety of things fro the guy strolling though an intersection with a box of merchandise on his head. If I put my arm out of a dala dala window at any stendi or major intersection at least two men will come up offering to sell me bottled water. It’s such a foreign thought that these men support themselves by selling bottle of cold water that they buy on credit to passersby all day long. It is such a meager subsistence. What happens if he has a family? Probably all of the able bodied adults in the house work to make something. I can’t help but wonder what if he can afford to send his children to school. If he or anyone in his family get sick, treatment from conventional health care is more than likely out of the question.
I have to applaud their ingenuity of these vendors as well as their tenacity. Any place there is an opportunity to sell goods, someone is. They work day after day in the rain and tropical sun peddling their wares to earn a living. These individuals have to make money everyday or there is no food on the table tomorrow. Savings are slim if present.
I remember my first retail job. It was awful! Sears and I should have never met. It’s not that I wasn’t good at it, but I was so bored. It took more energy to work a five hour shift at Sears than an eleven hour day at my previous job that was mentally demanding. If I had to make ends meet for the rest of my life selling things, I could do it because that’s what I had to do. I would be miserable. My version of retail was far more tame than this pattern here. At Sears I had to run the till, fold some shirts and put up with old men asking whether I liked their boxer or brief selection more.
In Tanzania retail sales, in the form of petty vendors and traders, are a whole different extreme. It is a never-ending cycle of sell goods and buy more stock to sell to pay off the debt to buy more inventory. It seems to be an endless system where it is hard to get far enough ahead to leave the system for something else. I’m sure it’s possible but unless you have a really hot commodity then financial help from family or fiends may be necessary to buy your way out and move on. It seems certainly possible to make a living, but what standard of living is afforded? It seems unfair to criticize the system when I have no other foreseeable alternative to fix it. It’s too big off a mess for me. I’ll stick to health care issues. Economics are over my head!
The number of street vendors, small business owners, and machingas is something I’ve thought about before. Her statement returned me to those thoughts.
Everywhere, and I do mean everywhere, there is someone selling something. Through bus windows and on street corners, there are people making a living by selling things almost anything you can imagine. I can buy a variety of things fro the guy strolling though an intersection with a box of merchandise on his head. If I put my arm out of a dala dala window at any stendi or major intersection at least two men will come up offering to sell me bottled water. It’s such a foreign thought that these men support themselves by selling bottle of cold water that they buy on credit to passersby all day long. It is such a meager subsistence. What happens if he has a family? Probably all of the able bodied adults in the house work to make something. I can’t help but wonder what if he can afford to send his children to school. If he or anyone in his family get sick, treatment from conventional health care is more than likely out of the question.
I have to applaud their ingenuity of these vendors as well as their tenacity. Any place there is an opportunity to sell goods, someone is. They work day after day in the rain and tropical sun peddling their wares to earn a living. These individuals have to make money everyday or there is no food on the table tomorrow. Savings are slim if present.
I remember my first retail job. It was awful! Sears and I should have never met. It’s not that I wasn’t good at it, but I was so bored. It took more energy to work a five hour shift at Sears than an eleven hour day at my previous job that was mentally demanding. If I had to make ends meet for the rest of my life selling things, I could do it because that’s what I had to do. I would be miserable. My version of retail was far more tame than this pattern here. At Sears I had to run the till, fold some shirts and put up with old men asking whether I liked their boxer or brief selection more.
In Tanzania retail sales, in the form of petty vendors and traders, are a whole different extreme. It is a never-ending cycle of sell goods and buy more stock to sell to pay off the debt to buy more inventory. It seems to be an endless system where it is hard to get far enough ahead to leave the system for something else. I’m sure it’s possible but unless you have a really hot commodity then financial help from family or fiends may be necessary to buy your way out and move on. It seems certainly possible to make a living, but what standard of living is afforded? It seems unfair to criticize the system when I have no other foreseeable alternative to fix it. It’s too big off a mess for me. I’ll stick to health care issues. Economics are over my head!
Monday, November 24, 2008
My Cross-Cultural Observation Specimen
I witnessed the most interesting blend of cultures while I was in Game. Heading to the checkout with my laundry washing powder and chocolate bar, the lady who was walking the same direction became my cross cultural observation specimen. I was tempted to pull out a notebook and take notes but that could have been taken as rude or just plain weird. I’m already enough of an oddity.
She was dressed in designer jeans and nice blouse with a kanga tied around the top half of her jeans. Her newborn was strapped to her hop by a kanga sling characteristic of Tanzanian women, a diaper bag on her shoulder and carrying packages of diapers in her hands. This image I a bit confusing.
What I saw I interpreted like this: This is a woman in Tanzania’s emerging affluent middle class. She is combining her modern dress with traditional dress. Even though she chooses to use disposable diapers instead of a cloth diaper, she keeps with her culture in using the kanga to carry the baby. She chooses to carry a diaper bag for the baby’s things, something I’ve never seen other Tanzanian women do. Is it a symbol of affluence or convenience? I don’t know the contents of said bag so it is hard to comment.
I wonder how many more there are like her - women who are still tied to their upbringing yet have the ability to do something different. Does she have disagreements with her mother or mother-in-law about the way she cares for her baby because her choices differ from theirs? What does her husband say about her choices? Does he care if the child is raised with a more Western mindset or traditional? It seems fair to conclude that they are more likely than not to have more conveniences in their home and are able to afford better medical care. How did her pregnancy and delivery compare to other women in Tanzania? Does she breastfeed exclusively or did she decide for the pricy option of formula? I have more questions than I could ever ask. I’m just left to wonder and take mental notes until I can discreetly pull out my notebook.
The similarities I see are: She cares for her baby like any mother would. She keeps touching its cheek and adjusting its little hat. This baby looks happy and well care for. It’s cooing and looking content. Mom is with family who also periodically looks at and makes faces at the baby. They seem to want to be involved in the little one’s life.
Babies are babies everywhere. In reading my Developmental Psychology text, I’ve had a chance to explore parenting from a cultural perspective. It’s true that the culture in which this child is raised will more than likely make him/her more social and relationally oriented and generally more reserved. Universally, this baby will go through a phase of role playing to learn about the world and have to learn the dangers of stairs. It is seems so ordinary to see a baby yet it’s a wonder to watch them grow. This mom has the responsibility of guiding this child through life to figure out who he/she is in relationship to the world and his/her immediate family. It is up to this child’s parents like all parents to help their children shape their mindset and find their place in society regardless of the culture they come from.
She was dressed in designer jeans and nice blouse with a kanga tied around the top half of her jeans. Her newborn was strapped to her hop by a kanga sling characteristic of Tanzanian women, a diaper bag on her shoulder and carrying packages of diapers in her hands. This image I a bit confusing.
What I saw I interpreted like this: This is a woman in Tanzania’s emerging affluent middle class. She is combining her modern dress with traditional dress. Even though she chooses to use disposable diapers instead of a cloth diaper, she keeps with her culture in using the kanga to carry the baby. She chooses to carry a diaper bag for the baby’s things, something I’ve never seen other Tanzanian women do. Is it a symbol of affluence or convenience? I don’t know the contents of said bag so it is hard to comment.
I wonder how many more there are like her - women who are still tied to their upbringing yet have the ability to do something different. Does she have disagreements with her mother or mother-in-law about the way she cares for her baby because her choices differ from theirs? What does her husband say about her choices? Does he care if the child is raised with a more Western mindset or traditional? It seems fair to conclude that they are more likely than not to have more conveniences in their home and are able to afford better medical care. How did her pregnancy and delivery compare to other women in Tanzania? Does she breastfeed exclusively or did she decide for the pricy option of formula? I have more questions than I could ever ask. I’m just left to wonder and take mental notes until I can discreetly pull out my notebook.
The similarities I see are: She cares for her baby like any mother would. She keeps touching its cheek and adjusting its little hat. This baby looks happy and well care for. It’s cooing and looking content. Mom is with family who also periodically looks at and makes faces at the baby. They seem to want to be involved in the little one’s life.
Babies are babies everywhere. In reading my Developmental Psychology text, I’ve had a chance to explore parenting from a cultural perspective. It’s true that the culture in which this child is raised will more than likely make him/her more social and relationally oriented and generally more reserved. Universally, this baby will go through a phase of role playing to learn about the world and have to learn the dangers of stairs. It is seems so ordinary to see a baby yet it’s a wonder to watch them grow. This mom has the responsibility of guiding this child through life to figure out who he/she is in relationship to the world and his/her immediate family. It is up to this child’s parents like all parents to help their children shape their mindset and find their place in society regardless of the culture they come from.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Instant vs. Instant
One of my lectures made an interesting comment a few days ago. He said something to the effect of “Tanzania has become an instant society. We have instant news, instant coffee and fast food.” I had to contain a chuckle. If he thinks that those tings in a Tanzanian context are “instant,” what does that make my corner of the world? The reality is “instant news” is CNN for half an hour broadcast a few times a day and local news nightly. “Instant coffee” is king of true; it the granules you dissolve in hot water. Fast food is a laughable concept. When I think about “instant” in this context it is CNN, MSNBC, and Fox available 24/7, Starbucks in less than three minutes, and McDonald’s with the goal of the minute and a half drive through. Instant is such a contextual word!
While the culture is changing in Tanzania to be faster paced and convenience oriented it is nothing compared to the hustle and bustle I left behind several months ago. Going home I am left to ponder how I will adjust back into this lifestyle. From what others have said it comes naturally. The bigger question is do I want to go back to this way of living? Tanzania has put the brakes on my personality in many ways. Waiting is something I am much better at now. Just today I stood for 20 minutes waiting for a dala dala. I would have never done that before. Here there is no other option so you just wait. It’s amazing how much time I can use up by just sitting and watching and thinking about nothing. It’s really relaxing.
With the speeding up of the Tanzanian lifestyle, especially in urban areas, it is causing a bit of a generation clash. These are to be expected as one group transitions with new technology and culture changes. Even so, this one seems to be a bit more pronounced. Young people walk around connected to their friends via cell phones and text messages. They are on the move to get places and see things. They are following more media trends in their lifestyle choices. Even though these changes are taking place I feel like they are happening in Tanzania more slowly than they have in other parts of the world. People, whether for reasons of apprehension or lack of finances, seem to be interested in the changes taking place in their society yet are slow to join in. It seems that the financial situation has a lot to do with it.
The average Tanzanian has no comparison point for the pace of life outside of Tanzania unless they have traveled there. There are few sub cultures based around workplaces, schools or community organizations that have adapted the Western pace. The biggest contributing factor to that is they still have to interact with the rest of Tanzania that is not on their timetable.
Going home the effects of my time in Tanzania on my scheduling and lifestyle remain to be seen. Will I take more time getting from place to place? Will I schedule back to back appointments leaving little room for deviation from my schedule? How will my friends and family react to my adjusted concept of time? I think all remains to be seen. It’ll have to be a re-entry blog.
While the culture is changing in Tanzania to be faster paced and convenience oriented it is nothing compared to the hustle and bustle I left behind several months ago. Going home I am left to ponder how I will adjust back into this lifestyle. From what others have said it comes naturally. The bigger question is do I want to go back to this way of living? Tanzania has put the brakes on my personality in many ways. Waiting is something I am much better at now. Just today I stood for 20 minutes waiting for a dala dala. I would have never done that before. Here there is no other option so you just wait. It’s amazing how much time I can use up by just sitting and watching and thinking about nothing. It’s really relaxing.
With the speeding up of the Tanzanian lifestyle, especially in urban areas, it is causing a bit of a generation clash. These are to be expected as one group transitions with new technology and culture changes. Even so, this one seems to be a bit more pronounced. Young people walk around connected to their friends via cell phones and text messages. They are on the move to get places and see things. They are following more media trends in their lifestyle choices. Even though these changes are taking place I feel like they are happening in Tanzania more slowly than they have in other parts of the world. People, whether for reasons of apprehension or lack of finances, seem to be interested in the changes taking place in their society yet are slow to join in. It seems that the financial situation has a lot to do with it.
The average Tanzanian has no comparison point for the pace of life outside of Tanzania unless they have traveled there. There are few sub cultures based around workplaces, schools or community organizations that have adapted the Western pace. The biggest contributing factor to that is they still have to interact with the rest of Tanzania that is not on their timetable.
Going home the effects of my time in Tanzania on my scheduling and lifestyle remain to be seen. Will I take more time getting from place to place? Will I schedule back to back appointments leaving little room for deviation from my schedule? How will my friends and family react to my adjusted concept of time? I think all remains to be seen. It’ll have to be a re-entry blog.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Crusades in Developing Countires by Foreign Evangelists
I’ve seen many ads since I’ve been in Tanzania for crusades by foreign evangelists. I don’t think that I like it. Mass crusades seem to play on individuals emotions and create converts without discipleship. In a country where so many claim to be Christian, it is tough to find someone who can explain the concept of salvation. Something more is needed. Discipleship is the thing that creates changed lives. It is frustrating to see so much money being spent on big crusades when the same amount could more efficiently be spent on pastors’ salaries so they can do more discipleship oriented activities. New converts need a personal connection to help their decision become a transformed life.
The same funds could also be spent on relief projects. Its been said over and over that people don’t care what you know unless they know how much you care. What better way to share your life and apply the teachings of the Gospel than meeting basic needs? Areas of education, healthcare, sanitation and food relief are all things that meet basic needs. People are far more receptive to a Gospel they see making a difference in their lives, without any strings attached, than they are to the overwhelming emotional push. If the goal is to create long term converts and not just feel good about ourselves for doing “mission work” then it’s time to do something that actually matters!
I happen to believe that the God I serve is one who loves us unconditionally and calls us as believers to serve each other in humility in love. It’s never ok to ask someone to change their beliefs in order to receive aid. That is manipulation and predatory not unconditional love and acceptance.
How different would Tanzania be if missionaries years ago had embraced more of that philosophy? Yes, many good things were done and are still being done though I still wonder. Allowing people to retain their cultural identity is possible and being a Christian. Being Westernized is not a symbol of salvation. The same philosophy has been repeated in countries around the world. The ethocentricism and ignorance of it are astounding. I think most of these errors were results of ignorance. People didn’t take the time to learn about the communities they wanted to evangelize. No life sharing and laboring together happened. It was a take over and mini brainwashing. In trying to do something good, great harm occurred.
Organizations still send out missionaries. In the past I was more in favor of it than I am now. I think the modern “missionary” should be one who goes with the expressed purpose of living a life that is an example to others. Out of that comes the opportunity to share your beliefs. Whether it be education, business, forestry or some other occupation, living and working among the people you are trying to reach is hard but the most rewarding and effective. The serious evangelism should be done by nationals. They already know the language and the culture. They have a level of trust with locals because they are a part of the community. So much can be accomplished with time and relationship. It is necessary to meet the call of the “Great Commission.” I hope this idea spreads. It is necessary to do what is best for those we are giving our lives for not what is self-serving.
I think Paul puts it beautifully in 1 Thessalonians 2:8-9 (NKJV) “… we were well pleased to impart to you not only the gospel of God, but also our own lives, because you had become dear to us. For you remember, brethren, our labor and toil; for laboring night and day, that we might not be a burden to any of you, we preached to you the gospel of God.”
I think he had it right then. It is time to go back to this model and be effective!
The same funds could also be spent on relief projects. Its been said over and over that people don’t care what you know unless they know how much you care. What better way to share your life and apply the teachings of the Gospel than meeting basic needs? Areas of education, healthcare, sanitation and food relief are all things that meet basic needs. People are far more receptive to a Gospel they see making a difference in their lives, without any strings attached, than they are to the overwhelming emotional push. If the goal is to create long term converts and not just feel good about ourselves for doing “mission work” then it’s time to do something that actually matters!
I happen to believe that the God I serve is one who loves us unconditionally and calls us as believers to serve each other in humility in love. It’s never ok to ask someone to change their beliefs in order to receive aid. That is manipulation and predatory not unconditional love and acceptance.
How different would Tanzania be if missionaries years ago had embraced more of that philosophy? Yes, many good things were done and are still being done though I still wonder. Allowing people to retain their cultural identity is possible and being a Christian. Being Westernized is not a symbol of salvation. The same philosophy has been repeated in countries around the world. The ethocentricism and ignorance of it are astounding. I think most of these errors were results of ignorance. People didn’t take the time to learn about the communities they wanted to evangelize. No life sharing and laboring together happened. It was a take over and mini brainwashing. In trying to do something good, great harm occurred.
Organizations still send out missionaries. In the past I was more in favor of it than I am now. I think the modern “missionary” should be one who goes with the expressed purpose of living a life that is an example to others. Out of that comes the opportunity to share your beliefs. Whether it be education, business, forestry or some other occupation, living and working among the people you are trying to reach is hard but the most rewarding and effective. The serious evangelism should be done by nationals. They already know the language and the culture. They have a level of trust with locals because they are a part of the community. So much can be accomplished with time and relationship. It is necessary to meet the call of the “Great Commission.” I hope this idea spreads. It is necessary to do what is best for those we are giving our lives for not what is self-serving.
I think Paul puts it beautifully in 1 Thessalonians 2:8-9 (NKJV) “… we were well pleased to impart to you not only the gospel of God, but also our own lives, because you had become dear to us. For you remember, brethren, our labor and toil; for laboring night and day, that we might not be a burden to any of you, we preached to you the gospel of God.”
I think he had it right then. It is time to go back to this model and be effective!
Friday, November 21, 2008
The Survival Mentality
This is from a few days ago. Today is the 24 day mark! I arrive back in Dallas for the long drive home so soon! I'll be back in Washington after the first of the year. Don't worry...you'll get to see me. After all I'll need help moving into the dorm. :) I'll even take you out for Chinese food afterwards. Let me know if you are on Team Move Shanea In!
Love you all!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In talking with my friend Sala, the other day, she made the comment that there are parts of Africa you never hear about. She wasn’t talking about forgotten districts or countries, but modern urban centers. Close to my dorm is a Western style shopping complex, Mlimani City, complete with department stores and a movie theater.
We were at Mlilmani City and she made the remark that she would have to bring her camera and take pictures because her family at home wouldn’t believe that this was really in Africa and so close to her.
We can go there, enjoy air conditioning and see the latest block buster. It is not so for most Tanzanians. The prices are beyond their means. There is the section of society though that embraces it as part of their regular lifestyle.
Mlimani City, this shopping center, isn’t far from people and communities where malnutrition and sickness happen more often than not and kids are denied an education because their parents can’t afford uniforms. It is the clash of income strata and cultures. The school I volunteered at is just behind the shopping center. I had students in my class that were told not to come back until they had better uniforms and others who were using pencil nubs because their families cannot or will not buy them pencils for class. A pencil barely costs a few hundred shillings the equivalent of thirty cents. One example, is a lady who does all of my tailoring and dress making. She lives in a one–room house with her niece that she is raising. They share a bed and cook in the alley behind their house. They have very little. Their small home is all she has. The front porch has been turned into her workshop where she sews for the neighborhood. She is a fortunate lady even with the little she has. She makes enough money to send her niece to school and keep a meager diet on the table. The people living further down the street are not so fortunate. The family there has older children who have left school to sell items on the street corner to help supplement the income for the family.
It’s such a contrast of worlds! There are luxury automobiles on the streets in downtown Dar. These weren’t things that I imagined or read about before coming here. The media portrays the image of everyone is starving and sick when it’s not completely true. There is most certainly an affluent minority.
Dar is like any other major city I’ve ever visited. There are very affluent areas and there are slums. It is easy to see the difference when you “cross the tracks.” Some of these areas are just as friendly as the more tourist friendly areas though others…let’s just say I ended up in one such place by accident and ended up fending off a would-be mugger. The worst parts of Dar still have cholera outbreaks because there is one pit toilet shared by four or five families and when it rains they drain it into the street.
The thing I remember here is that urban centers in the States may not have cholera outbreaks though there are entire communities that are modern slums. There are also rural communities that live in abject poverty and are the poorest of the poor. The biggest challenge for this group of impoverished people is that a large portion live in secluded communities and out of sight. They become people who are easy to forget. It’s hard to imagine that people in America still go hungry but they do. There was an article I read on the CNN website recently that highlighted the same issue. We are a wealthy nation yet we forget to care for the poorest of our poor. The challenging part is to help those who need the aid and screen out those who are able of taking care of themselves yet choose not to.
We were at Mlilmani City and she made the remark that she would have to bring her camera and take pictures because her family at home wouldn’t believe that this was really in Africa and so close to her.
We can go there, enjoy air conditioning and see the latest block buster. It is not so for most Tanzanians. The prices are beyond their means. There is the section of society though that embraces it as part of their regular lifestyle.
Mlimani City, this shopping center, isn’t far from people and communities where malnutrition and sickness happen more often than not and kids are denied an education because their parents can’t afford uniforms. It is the clash of income strata and cultures. The school I volunteered at is just behind the shopping center. I had students in my class that were told not to come back until they had better uniforms and others who were using pencil nubs because their families cannot or will not buy them pencils for class. A pencil barely costs a few hundred shillings the equivalent of thirty cents. One example, is a lady who does all of my tailoring and dress making. She lives in a one–room house with her niece that she is raising. They share a bed and cook in the alley behind their house. They have very little. Their small home is all she has. The front porch has been turned into her workshop where she sews for the neighborhood. She is a fortunate lady even with the little she has. She makes enough money to send her niece to school and keep a meager diet on the table. The people living further down the street are not so fortunate. The family there has older children who have left school to sell items on the street corner to help supplement the income for the family.
It’s such a contrast of worlds! There are luxury automobiles on the streets in downtown Dar. These weren’t things that I imagined or read about before coming here. The media portrays the image of everyone is starving and sick when it’s not completely true. There is most certainly an affluent minority.
Dar is like any other major city I’ve ever visited. There are very affluent areas and there are slums. It is easy to see the difference when you “cross the tracks.” Some of these areas are just as friendly as the more tourist friendly areas though others…let’s just say I ended up in one such place by accident and ended up fending off a would-be mugger. The worst parts of Dar still have cholera outbreaks because there is one pit toilet shared by four or five families and when it rains they drain it into the street.
The thing I remember here is that urban centers in the States may not have cholera outbreaks though there are entire communities that are modern slums. There are also rural communities that live in abject poverty and are the poorest of the poor. The biggest challenge for this group of impoverished people is that a large portion live in secluded communities and out of sight. They become people who are easy to forget. It’s hard to imagine that people in America still go hungry but they do. There was an article I read on the CNN website recently that highlighted the same issue. We are a wealthy nation yet we forget to care for the poorest of our poor. The challenging part is to help those who need the aid and screen out those who are able of taking care of themselves yet choose not to.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Africa No One Talks About
In talking with my friend Sala, the other day, she made the comment that there are parts of Africa you never hear about. She wasn’t talking about forgotten districts or countries, but modern urban centers. Close to my dorm is a Western style shopping complex, Mlimani City, complete with department stores and a movie theater. We were at Mlilmani City and she made the remark that she would have to bring her camera and take pictures because her family at home wouldn’t believe that this was really in Africa and so close to her.
We can go there, enjoy air conditioning and see the latest block buster. It is not so for most Tanzanians. The prices are beyond their means. There is the section of society though that embraces it as part of their regular lifestyle.
Mlimani City, this shopping center, isn’t far from people and communities where malnutrition and sickness happen more often than not and kids are denied an education because their parents can’t afford uniforms. It is the clash of income strata and cultures. The school I volunteered at is just behind the shopping center. I had students in my class that were told not to come back until they had better uniforms and others who were using pencil nubs because their families cannot or will not buy them pencils for class. A pencil barely costs a few hundred shillings the equivalent of thirty cents. One example, is a lady who does all of my tailoring and dress making. She lives in a one–room house with her niece that she is raising. They share a bed and cook in the alley behind their house. They have very little. Their small home is all she has. The front porch has been turned into her workshop where she sews for the neighborhood. She is a fortunate lady even with the little she has. She makes enough money to send her niece to school and keep a meager diet on the table. The people living further down the street are not so fortunate. The family there has older children who have left school to sell items on the street corner to help supplement the income for the family.
It’s such a contrast of worlds! There are luxury automobiles on the streets in downtown Dar. These weren’t things that I imagined or read about before coming here. The media portrays the image of everyone is starving and sick when it’s not completely true. There is most certainly an affluent minority.
Dar is like any other major city I’ve ever visited. There are very affluent areas and there are slums. It is easy to see the difference when you “cross the tracks.” Some of these areas are just as friendly as the more tourist friendly areas though others…let’s just say I ended up in one such place by accident and ended up fending off a would-be mugger. The worst parts of Dar still have cholera outbreaks because there is one pit toilet shared by four or five families and when it rains they drain it into the street.
The thing I remember here is that urban centers in the States may not have cholera outbreaks though there are entire communities that are modern slums. There are also rural communities that live in abject poverty and are the poorest of the poor. The biggest challenge for this group of impoverished people is that a large portion live in secluded communities and out of sight. They become people who are easy to forget. It’s hard to imagine that people in America still go hungry but they do. There was an article I read on the CNN website recently that highlighted the same issue. We are a wealthy nation yet we forget to care for the poorest of our poor. The challenging part is to help those who need the aid and screen out those who are able of taking care of themselves yet choose not to.
We can go there, enjoy air conditioning and see the latest block buster. It is not so for most Tanzanians. The prices are beyond their means. There is the section of society though that embraces it as part of their regular lifestyle.
Mlimani City, this shopping center, isn’t far from people and communities where malnutrition and sickness happen more often than not and kids are denied an education because their parents can’t afford uniforms. It is the clash of income strata and cultures. The school I volunteered at is just behind the shopping center. I had students in my class that were told not to come back until they had better uniforms and others who were using pencil nubs because their families cannot or will not buy them pencils for class. A pencil barely costs a few hundred shillings the equivalent of thirty cents. One example, is a lady who does all of my tailoring and dress making. She lives in a one–room house with her niece that she is raising. They share a bed and cook in the alley behind their house. They have very little. Their small home is all she has. The front porch has been turned into her workshop where she sews for the neighborhood. She is a fortunate lady even with the little she has. She makes enough money to send her niece to school and keep a meager diet on the table. The people living further down the street are not so fortunate. The family there has older children who have left school to sell items on the street corner to help supplement the income for the family.
It’s such a contrast of worlds! There are luxury automobiles on the streets in downtown Dar. These weren’t things that I imagined or read about before coming here. The media portrays the image of everyone is starving and sick when it’s not completely true. There is most certainly an affluent minority.
Dar is like any other major city I’ve ever visited. There are very affluent areas and there are slums. It is easy to see the difference when you “cross the tracks.” Some of these areas are just as friendly as the more tourist friendly areas though others…let’s just say I ended up in one such place by accident and ended up fending off a would-be mugger. The worst parts of Dar still have cholera outbreaks because there is one pit toilet shared by four or five families and when it rains they drain it into the street.
The thing I remember here is that urban centers in the States may not have cholera outbreaks though there are entire communities that are modern slums. There are also rural communities that live in abject poverty and are the poorest of the poor. The biggest challenge for this group of impoverished people is that a large portion live in secluded communities and out of sight. They become people who are easy to forget. It’s hard to imagine that people in America still go hungry but they do. There was an article I read on the CNN website recently that highlighted the same issue. We are a wealthy nation yet we forget to care for the poorest of our poor. The challenging part is to help those who need the aid and screen out those who are able of taking care of themselves yet choose not to.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Election Day
We decided at 6:30 in the morning to brave the monsoon and head to the embassy to watch the election results. It had been pouring buckets most of the night and the streets were flooded. We made the call and Obedi showed up 20 minutes later. The five of us piled into his taxi and headed for the embassy. A boat might have been more effective because of all of the roads and intersections that were flooded.
Once we arrived at the embassy, we were escorted into the main lobby of the building where the election party was in full swing. By the time we made it there CNN & MSNBC had called the race. “President-Elect Barack Obama” was scrolling across the bottom of the screen. We waited to hear both of the speeches. I was impressed by both and shed a few tears during both. I was secretly hoping that John McCain would win so I would probably be the only one cheering in the middle of the embassy party.
Making a point to be there for the election results was one of those life moments. If I hadn’t gone, I probably would have regretted it for a long time. It’s a story that is now mine. When I get asked in 20 years “where were you when you got the news of Barack Obama?” I can respond, “At the US embassy in Tanzania.” It’s a little more fun that “watching CNN at home.”
American politics leading up to the election was often a conversation topic with Tanzanians. The obvious candidate favorite was Obama. There were shirts declaring “Tanzanians for Obama,” kangas with his face on them, and plenty of newspaper space devoted to his campaign. Once people found out that I was American, they wanted to talk politics. Tanzanians are impressed that a black man could become President. “America must truly be a place where anything is possible” is something I’ve heard more than once.
Tanzanians are also interested in America because historically America has been interested in Tanzania. The US through USAID, mainly, sends millions of dollars to the country for relief and education programs. The Peace Corps sends volunteers to teach in the schools and work in the hospitals. There are also numerous mission organizations working in Tanzania in religion as well as healthcare and education. There is a definite connection of personnel and finances between the US and Tanzania. It makes sense that Tanzanians are interested in what happens with our government. The government is the one that approves the foreign aid budget and programs that fund so much of the work here directly via USAID and the Peace Corps, and indirectly via the World Food Programme and other UN affiliates.
There has been a bit of worry from some Tanzanians I’ve talked with. They are concerned that because of his Kenyan roots, he will cut funding to Tanzania and send the money to Kenya. Who knows at this point but they still like him.
Once we arrived at the embassy, we were escorted into the main lobby of the building where the election party was in full swing. By the time we made it there CNN & MSNBC had called the race. “President-Elect Barack Obama” was scrolling across the bottom of the screen. We waited to hear both of the speeches. I was impressed by both and shed a few tears during both. I was secretly hoping that John McCain would win so I would probably be the only one cheering in the middle of the embassy party.
Making a point to be there for the election results was one of those life moments. If I hadn’t gone, I probably would have regretted it for a long time. It’s a story that is now mine. When I get asked in 20 years “where were you when you got the news of Barack Obama?” I can respond, “At the US embassy in Tanzania.” It’s a little more fun that “watching CNN at home.”
American politics leading up to the election was often a conversation topic with Tanzanians. The obvious candidate favorite was Obama. There were shirts declaring “Tanzanians for Obama,” kangas with his face on them, and plenty of newspaper space devoted to his campaign. Once people found out that I was American, they wanted to talk politics. Tanzanians are impressed that a black man could become President. “America must truly be a place where anything is possible” is something I’ve heard more than once.
Tanzanians are also interested in America because historically America has been interested in Tanzania. The US through USAID, mainly, sends millions of dollars to the country for relief and education programs. The Peace Corps sends volunteers to teach in the schools and work in the hospitals. There are also numerous mission organizations working in Tanzania in religion as well as healthcare and education. There is a definite connection of personnel and finances between the US and Tanzania. It makes sense that Tanzanians are interested in what happens with our government. The government is the one that approves the foreign aid budget and programs that fund so much of the work here directly via USAID and the Peace Corps, and indirectly via the World Food Programme and other UN affiliates.
There has been a bit of worry from some Tanzanians I’ve talked with. They are concerned that because of his Kenyan roots, he will cut funding to Tanzania and send the money to Kenya. Who knows at this point but they still like him.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Being a Recipient
Going to Tumamoyo was a really great experience. I look forward to going again. We splint the kids into two groups for tutoring. I took the girls and Chris took the boys. My little ladies, Rose, Esther, Happy, and Farajhe were eager to get into their lessons. The thing I discovered first is that they are excellent listeners and are able to repeat nearly verbatim the things I would read aloud. It gives the appearance of the ability to read when in fact they cannot decipher the words. When I asked them to read the questions out loud, they could not. When they answer questions in their workbooks individually, they match the words from the questions with the words in the story and answer the next line because it is usually the answer to the question. When the next line wasn’t the answer, I discovered what was going on. These girls have a long way to go to be able to pass their exams. I know they can do it; it’s going to take a lot of work.
During their lessons the group from Citi Bank came. They were very late but we were happy they made it. The biggest gift they brought was a pick-up truck full of food – rice, beans, sugar, salt, milk, and cooking oil – to be distributed to the children’s families.
Watching the volunteers unload the food, I felt like and insider for the first time in a really long time. I knew what was going on. I wasn’t the one staring wide-eyes trying to understand the meaning of what I saw and figure it out. For a split second, I felt role reversal. I could see the situation with perspective of the people being helped, not the one coming to help. I felt so grateful because I had an understanding of that those bags of beans meant to those kids. It means one more decent meal to keep them healthier one more day. It is one more chance to take in important vitamins to keep bones and eyes strong.
I’ve seen a system that works at Tumamoyo. Those kids are eager to learn and get something more out of life for themselves. They want to learn and the Mama Mkubwas are committing to seeing them through.
This is not a system that would work at home. It relies too much on people knowing their neighbors and having a sense of community in a neighborhood. In Tanzania, and other places the Salvation Army has piloted, the curriculum, it works. Tumamoyo is one of those non-governmental organizations that work and is really effective. The board has found what works and is culturally appropriate and is applying it to get results. The cookie cutter approach of foreigners coming in with a plan didn’t happen. This group has grown into its own and decided to work within the boundaries of the culture it serves not make the people conform to a different set of values. From seeing the sometimes disastrous results of well meaning organizations I think that it would serve many of them well to step back and evaluate what works in the community versus what makes people feel good about their involvement in other places. Ultimately, humanitarian work isn’t about making workers and donors feel good it is about getting results to help the people the projects are intended for.
During their lessons the group from Citi Bank came. They were very late but we were happy they made it. The biggest gift they brought was a pick-up truck full of food – rice, beans, sugar, salt, milk, and cooking oil – to be distributed to the children’s families.
Watching the volunteers unload the food, I felt like and insider for the first time in a really long time. I knew what was going on. I wasn’t the one staring wide-eyes trying to understand the meaning of what I saw and figure it out. For a split second, I felt role reversal. I could see the situation with perspective of the people being helped, not the one coming to help. I felt so grateful because I had an understanding of that those bags of beans meant to those kids. It means one more decent meal to keep them healthier one more day. It is one more chance to take in important vitamins to keep bones and eyes strong.
I’ve seen a system that works at Tumamoyo. Those kids are eager to learn and get something more out of life for themselves. They want to learn and the Mama Mkubwas are committing to seeing them through.
This is not a system that would work at home. It relies too much on people knowing their neighbors and having a sense of community in a neighborhood. In Tanzania, and other places the Salvation Army has piloted, the curriculum, it works. Tumamoyo is one of those non-governmental organizations that work and is really effective. The board has found what works and is culturally appropriate and is applying it to get results. The cookie cutter approach of foreigners coming in with a plan didn’t happen. This group has grown into its own and decided to work within the boundaries of the culture it serves not make the people conform to a different set of values. From seeing the sometimes disastrous results of well meaning organizations I think that it would serve many of them well to step back and evaluate what works in the community versus what makes people feel good about their involvement in other places. Ultimately, humanitarian work isn’t about making workers and donors feel good it is about getting results to help the people the projects are intended for.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Update about Campus Life...I'm Back
So classes are somewhat back in session today. I'm supposed to meet with my professors to set up new class times. Some of them will be quick intensives others like my textile class will sun weekly for the rest of the semester. I'm only here 27 more days so it isn't too terribly important how many classes I get in. As of now it won't be many.
I returned to campus Sunday afternoon after spending the weekend away. I went to Morogoro then to the beach. It was a relaxing weekend and I ate well. I've discovered that I travel on my stomach most of the time. If I know I'll get fed well, I'm there! i had the best lasagna I've had in a long time besides my own.
Coming home I was greeted by a closet full of spiders and a return case of the mildew/fungus. My suitcase contracted a growth in transit. I though I had eradicated it but apparently not. I'll be spending a large part of tonight cleaning out my closet and killing bugs.
Take care and keep your eyes peeled for a new set of posts about Morogoro to be coming soon!
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Post Blog Update:
I met with several of my professors so far - 3 of 4. They want to cram a semester's worth of material into 2 weeks. Intensives with each of them. My workload just skyrocketed. The nice part is my classes are small so I can ask questions. The hard part is that I have to be very prepared since in most cases there are fewer than 5 of us to generate the discussion after the lecture.
This has put a huge wrench in my plans to deliver the cows and goats to the boma as well as meet with the village leaders where I was hoping to help with the maternity ward construction next week as I have an exam scheduled for Monday. Grrrrr! I'm feeling a teeny bit of stress as all of this is mounting on top of my paper. I'm pretty far along in it but there is still lots to do.
I returned to campus Sunday afternoon after spending the weekend away. I went to Morogoro then to the beach. It was a relaxing weekend and I ate well. I've discovered that I travel on my stomach most of the time. If I know I'll get fed well, I'm there! i had the best lasagna I've had in a long time besides my own.
Coming home I was greeted by a closet full of spiders and a return case of the mildew/fungus. My suitcase contracted a growth in transit. I though I had eradicated it but apparently not. I'll be spending a large part of tonight cleaning out my closet and killing bugs.
Take care and keep your eyes peeled for a new set of posts about Morogoro to be coming soon!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Post Blog Update:
I met with several of my professors so far - 3 of 4. They want to cram a semester's worth of material into 2 weeks. Intensives with each of them. My workload just skyrocketed. The nice part is my classes are small so I can ask questions. The hard part is that I have to be very prepared since in most cases there are fewer than 5 of us to generate the discussion after the lecture.
This has put a huge wrench in my plans to deliver the cows and goats to the boma as well as meet with the village leaders where I was hoping to help with the maternity ward construction next week as I have an exam scheduled for Monday. Grrrrr! I'm feeling a teeny bit of stress as all of this is mounting on top of my paper. I'm pretty far along in it but there is still lots to do.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Zanzibar: Idd Festival
Our first night in Stonetown was the first night if the Idd celebrations. The community was celebrating the end of Ramadan, the period reflection and fasting for the Islamic community.
We headed over to the field, Mnazi Moja grounds, not far down from out hotel. From the outside it looked like any American street festival. There were tents everywhere, lights, and the smell of cooking food. Once I was inside the festival area, I saw similarities and differences. The similarities were pretty obvious. There were lots of children running around vendors of various kinds set-up selling all sorts of things. The main items for sale were food, specifically chipsi and kabobs, and lots of toys. There were no game booths and there were whole families playing together, dressed in their best clothes. All of the little girls were dressed up like princesses and brothers were dressed in little matching outfits. There was more sparkle on the ladies headscarves and dresses than a Vegas stage show. As we meandered through the festival grounds everyone was in a celebratory mood. Friendly smiling faces asked us over and over if this was our first Idd celebration. It was a nice evening out in Stonetown. It was a great chance to see interactions among families and the general community.
It felt safe and comfortable to be in the middle of this crowd. I’ve discovered that anywhere that children are present and safe, I feel safe. I enjoyed the time mixing and blending in a tiny bit. Most people were so busy with their celebrations that little attention was paid to us by adults. The children on the other hand were fascinated by the sight of three mzungu women walking through the crowd. They followed us asking for candy and money and giggling excitedly.
It felt a teeny bit like home too. I missed the Greek Festival and the Puyallup Fair this fall. It was my bit of the fall festivities. Not quite the same at home, but enough to help me not miss it so much.
This festival is one more piece of socialization that is used to reinforce cultural identity. Creating and reinforcing the culture and religious identity. The community seems to be really close knit. Part of that closeness is the shared occasions and close living quarters. When you live stacked on top of one another and squished in side by side, it is hard not to encounter people. In doing so you learn about their lives.
Current American suburbs have nice partitions that keep people from bumping into each other and communicating. It takes effort to cross the barriers. In Tanzania, and definitely in Stonetown, it is expected that you know your neighbors and communicate with them. The environment and culture are conducive to it.
Going home, and taking part oft his experience with me means making a point to chat with the girls who live on my floor, leaving my door open to invite passersby to say hello, and remembering important days and making them special. It isn’t something that is foreign to me. I know that recently, I’ve let life crowd out people and focus me on tasks. I want to be a relational person. Being in the situations reminds me that there is a different way to live.
We headed over to the field, Mnazi Moja grounds, not far down from out hotel. From the outside it looked like any American street festival. There were tents everywhere, lights, and the smell of cooking food. Once I was inside the festival area, I saw similarities and differences. The similarities were pretty obvious. There were lots of children running around vendors of various kinds set-up selling all sorts of things. The main items for sale were food, specifically chipsi and kabobs, and lots of toys. There were no game booths and there were whole families playing together, dressed in their best clothes. All of the little girls were dressed up like princesses and brothers were dressed in little matching outfits. There was more sparkle on the ladies headscarves and dresses than a Vegas stage show. As we meandered through the festival grounds everyone was in a celebratory mood. Friendly smiling faces asked us over and over if this was our first Idd celebration. It was a nice evening out in Stonetown. It was a great chance to see interactions among families and the general community.
It felt safe and comfortable to be in the middle of this crowd. I’ve discovered that anywhere that children are present and safe, I feel safe. I enjoyed the time mixing and blending in a tiny bit. Most people were so busy with their celebrations that little attention was paid to us by adults. The children on the other hand were fascinated by the sight of three mzungu women walking through the crowd. They followed us asking for candy and money and giggling excitedly.
It felt a teeny bit like home too. I missed the Greek Festival and the Puyallup Fair this fall. It was my bit of the fall festivities. Not quite the same at home, but enough to help me not miss it so much.
This festival is one more piece of socialization that is used to reinforce cultural identity. Creating and reinforcing the culture and religious identity. The community seems to be really close knit. Part of that closeness is the shared occasions and close living quarters. When you live stacked on top of one another and squished in side by side, it is hard not to encounter people. In doing so you learn about their lives.
Current American suburbs have nice partitions that keep people from bumping into each other and communicating. It takes effort to cross the barriers. In Tanzania, and definitely in Stonetown, it is expected that you know your neighbors and communicate with them. The environment and culture are conducive to it.
Going home, and taking part oft his experience with me means making a point to chat with the girls who live on my floor, leaving my door open to invite passersby to say hello, and remembering important days and making them special. It isn’t something that is foreign to me. I know that recently, I’ve let life crowd out people and focus me on tasks. I want to be a relational person. Being in the situations reminds me that there is a different way to live.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Mori: Multiple Families & Polygamy
Coming to Tanzania I knew that I would meet polygamous families. I didn’t quite understand the dynamics of the whole situation. In most cases the families I’ve meet don’t openly live with their multiple wives. The multiple wives live in different communities in the same area. The men rotate as they please and send finances occasionally to support the family. In the specific case I know the best, the other wives are aware of each other, though it is a bit of a chilly relationship. Most communities know that some men take more than one wife. I find the most fascinating cases to be the ones where the second or third wife was taken at the first wife’s request. She decided that there is more house or farm work than she wants to do or there are more children to be birthed and the first wife doesn’t want to have to do it.
The one specific family I met in Mori was the husband and the second wife. This wife had the younger children. The first wife lives several villages over and has an older set of children. These children have moved away and send money to their father that is supposed to do to their mother. The father uses the money to support the second family as he frequents the local bar to the children’s dismay. He took this second wife because he wanted to not because the first wife asked for him to.
The other family I met was more open with the living situation and the multiple wives. In the Maasai boma, the leader had three wives. All of them live in the same area. Their children play together and they socialize. The relationship among them seems far warmer than the other family. My guess is that it is more socially acceptable and open to have multiple wives in this culture. Even though the other group permits it, it isn’t as warmly received or the norm.
I think both of these are extreme examples of the spectrum of polygamy that exists in Tanzania. They are simply my experiences with the people I’ve met here. Both of these along with the monogamous couples I’ve met have provided an interesting insight to Tanzanian family relationships. Each of them are very unique though the culture is evident in the distribution of household labor and social roles.
Watching families here it is easy to see the expectation that even if the woman is employed outside of the home, she is to take a major role in domestic life, including cooking and cleaning. The women are also expected to play hostess while the man sits back and socializes or is not present.
I’m not sure exactly what conclusions to draw except that families at home have different interaction patterns as well as some similarities. It is more interesting to sit back and watch not analyze the situations. The most interesting families to watch are those who have adapted to more Western styles while still retaining a large amount of their traditional practices.
The one specific family I met in Mori was the husband and the second wife. This wife had the younger children. The first wife lives several villages over and has an older set of children. These children have moved away and send money to their father that is supposed to do to their mother. The father uses the money to support the second family as he frequents the local bar to the children’s dismay. He took this second wife because he wanted to not because the first wife asked for him to.
The other family I met was more open with the living situation and the multiple wives. In the Maasai boma, the leader had three wives. All of them live in the same area. Their children play together and they socialize. The relationship among them seems far warmer than the other family. My guess is that it is more socially acceptable and open to have multiple wives in this culture. Even though the other group permits it, it isn’t as warmly received or the norm.
I think both of these are extreme examples of the spectrum of polygamy that exists in Tanzania. They are simply my experiences with the people I’ve met here. Both of these along with the monogamous couples I’ve met have provided an interesting insight to Tanzanian family relationships. Each of them are very unique though the culture is evident in the distribution of household labor and social roles.
Watching families here it is easy to see the expectation that even if the woman is employed outside of the home, she is to take a major role in domestic life, including cooking and cleaning. The women are also expected to play hostess while the man sits back and socializes or is not present.
I’m not sure exactly what conclusions to draw except that families at home have different interaction patterns as well as some similarities. It is more interesting to sit back and watch not analyze the situations. The most interesting families to watch are those who have adapted to more Western styles while still retaining a large amount of their traditional practices.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Mori: What's One More?
In Mori, there are many families that have taken in children of relatives. This situation isn’t that uncommon in Tanzania. It’s is also something that regularly happens in Dar es Salaam. Relatives wanting something better for their children send them to the city to live with an uncle or cousin that has a decent paying job hoping that their child can get into a decent school and or get a job to make money for the family. There is also the absorption of orphans and abandoned children. In Mori we met a great little grandmotherly lady who has taken in several of her grandchildren because the parents, either because of death or finances, could no longer support them or wanted them. She in one on thousands across Tanzania and Africa as a whole that has done this. It is this philosophy that expands families and illustrates the importance of family connection and networks. This is such a family oriented society. Almost anyone can tell you a long list of people they are related to. It is this system that keeps many children out of orphanages and off of the streets. The hardest part to see is the problem with HIV/AIDS and the number of children left behind. These extended family networks are strained at the amount of children that are being left. Then there are those who have no one to turn to. They end up being street children.
The extended family concept proves useful for university students too. My roommate is from Dodoma. She didn’t have a room at the university immediately. She stayed with her uncle in town who was able to accommodate her for several months until the University Housing Authority gave her a room assignment. Her extended family network made it possible for her to go to school even though the university could not accommodate her at the time. I don’t know if that is something that most people in the US have the ability to do. Even if there is a relative that lives close, whether or not they would take you in would be the question.
This concept of extended family is something that is challenging the traditional orphanage/children’s home model in Tanzania. For years NGOs, specifically churches, have set-up shelters and homes for orphaned children. These centers provide a standard of living, in most cases, beyond the village norm and standard. When these children become legal adults at 18 they are put out of the home and back into a life they haven’t known for years. This system is failing these children by failing to prepare them for real life. The extended family network needs to be utilized and supported instead of the shelter system. There are one or two organizations currently using this system, though it should be the focus of more programs. At this point those using this system of support or the extended family in the form of counselors and school fees for the “displaced” children have seen major successes.
Looking at these types of programs that challenge the traditional “help the orphan” mentality is an issue that needs to be addressed by foreign donors. It’s not about doing what feels good for us; it is about addressing the real needs of children and preparing them for adult life.
The extended family concept proves useful for university students too. My roommate is from Dodoma. She didn’t have a room at the university immediately. She stayed with her uncle in town who was able to accommodate her for several months until the University Housing Authority gave her a room assignment. Her extended family network made it possible for her to go to school even though the university could not accommodate her at the time. I don’t know if that is something that most people in the US have the ability to do. Even if there is a relative that lives close, whether or not they would take you in would be the question.
This concept of extended family is something that is challenging the traditional orphanage/children’s home model in Tanzania. For years NGOs, specifically churches, have set-up shelters and homes for orphaned children. These centers provide a standard of living, in most cases, beyond the village norm and standard. When these children become legal adults at 18 they are put out of the home and back into a life they haven’t known for years. This system is failing these children by failing to prepare them for real life. The extended family network needs to be utilized and supported instead of the shelter system. There are one or two organizations currently using this system, though it should be the focus of more programs. At this point those using this system of support or the extended family in the form of counselors and school fees for the “displaced” children have seen major successes.
Looking at these types of programs that challenge the traditional “help the orphan” mentality is an issue that needs to be addressed by foreign donors. It’s not about doing what feels good for us; it is about addressing the real needs of children and preparing them for adult life.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Strikes & Closed Univeristy
Hey All!
Just a little update. I'll be writing more about this all as I have time to process it and access to an Internet connection.
After three days of student strikes, the University closed to Tanzanian students. They had four hours to clear their rooms and leave campus or face military removal. It was interesting. I was off campus when it happened so I came back to a ghost town and a line of cars trying to clear security.
My program coordinator called last night and asked us to leave campus until we were assured that it is safer than it is now. I'm in Morogoro as I type this. More travel to come.
For now, we don't have classes. Supposedly they are to continue on Monday. We'll see about that. It could be an independent study semester. I can keep myself busy with my research paper.
Well I'll write more as I know more. Until them enjoy my posts about "normal" life in Tanzania!
Just a little update. I'll be writing more about this all as I have time to process it and access to an Internet connection.
After three days of student strikes, the University closed to Tanzanian students. They had four hours to clear their rooms and leave campus or face military removal. It was interesting. I was off campus when it happened so I came back to a ghost town and a line of cars trying to clear security.
My program coordinator called last night and asked us to leave campus until we were assured that it is safer than it is now. I'm in Morogoro as I type this. More travel to come.
For now, we don't have classes. Supposedly they are to continue on Monday. We'll see about that. It could be an independent study semester. I can keep myself busy with my research paper.
Well I'll write more as I know more. Until them enjoy my posts about "normal" life in Tanzania!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Mori: Remembering the Dead
Everyplace we visited in Mori either on the way or once we got to the place, the first thing we did was visit the graves. We were required to take plant clippings from nearby plans and place them in the planter onto of the grave. It was easy to see who had been buried the longest by the amount of vegetation on the grave. The one time we came close to forgetting, it was a big deal. We had already left for our walk. We had to go back and place the plants and pay our respects. The other important aspect was placing the clippings in the order which the people had passed away – the most recent death was honored last. Unfortunately, some of the graves we visited were only weeks old. Most of them were close to the family homesteads that we visited. Others were in remote parts that were once settled, but have since been abandoned. These plots were far off of the normal path and required quite a trek to reach them. It was necessary though since the people buried there were relatives of the people we were visiting.
It is an important custom to pay this respect to passed family members. It seems that the people we were visiting had a deep respect for what the legacy their family left. By honoring where they come from, the also carve out an identity for who they are now. I think some of it stems from their pre-Christian heritage. The stories of these people are passed on from one group to another. In this small community, most of which does not have electricity, entertainment is in the form of stories. Not so much formal storytelling that comes to mind, but stories that are shared as part of everyday life. There is a ceremonial aspect as well. Whether it is wearing a funeral kanga to mark the passing of a loved one or the planting of vegetation on the grave, it is a way to commemorate the contribution left and reinforce the linage.
There is not the same culture at home. As strange as this may sound the main objection I have to being buried when I die is that in 20 or 30 years someone will still be coming to leave flowers. Based on trends I’ve seen that is a virtual impossibility. I’ve been out to visit the site of the last funeral I officiated. As sweet as that lady was, it looked like no one had been out there in a while. There is not the same respect paid the passed loved ones as here. Another factor that plays into this in my culture is that the places people are buried are usually far from where their relatives live as opposed to being close to where their family lives. It requires a special trip to visit the burial site. Instead of visiting the place where the loved one is buried, stories and photos can be used to share the person’s life. There is even a different perspective on death. It is seen as finality and something negative. In Tanzania culture, death seems to be seen as part of life, an inevitability that comes after a long life. Though this even that seems to be changing as HIV/AIDS infections rise. American culture seems for forward looking compared to Tanzanian culture. It seems like the majority of each generation sets out to do it better than the one before without taking the item to reflect on what could be learned from those who have gone before us.
It is an important custom to pay this respect to passed family members. It seems that the people we were visiting had a deep respect for what the legacy their family left. By honoring where they come from, the also carve out an identity for who they are now. I think some of it stems from their pre-Christian heritage. The stories of these people are passed on from one group to another. In this small community, most of which does not have electricity, entertainment is in the form of stories. Not so much formal storytelling that comes to mind, but stories that are shared as part of everyday life. There is a ceremonial aspect as well. Whether it is wearing a funeral kanga to mark the passing of a loved one or the planting of vegetation on the grave, it is a way to commemorate the contribution left and reinforce the linage.
There is not the same culture at home. As strange as this may sound the main objection I have to being buried when I die is that in 20 or 30 years someone will still be coming to leave flowers. Based on trends I’ve seen that is a virtual impossibility. I’ve been out to visit the site of the last funeral I officiated. As sweet as that lady was, it looked like no one had been out there in a while. There is not the same respect paid the passed loved ones as here. Another factor that plays into this in my culture is that the places people are buried are usually far from where their relatives live as opposed to being close to where their family lives. It requires a special trip to visit the burial site. Instead of visiting the place where the loved one is buried, stories and photos can be used to share the person’s life. There is even a different perspective on death. It is seen as finality and something negative. In Tanzania culture, death seems to be seen as part of life, an inevitability that comes after a long life. Though this even that seems to be changing as HIV/AIDS infections rise. American culture seems for forward looking compared to Tanzanian culture. It seems like the majority of each generation sets out to do it better than the one before without taking the item to reflect on what could be learned from those who have gone before us.
Monday, November 10, 2008
A Village Perspective on Female Circumcision
Just a heads up...the following entry contains discussion of adult subject matter and medical prodecures. Please use judgement when sharing with others.
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In my Society, Culture and Health class, the topic of female circumcision, also known as female genital mutilation, came up. My professor shared with us this case study and village view point before we began our discussion into the dimensions of health:
There is a set of villages in Tanzania who still practice female circumcision. When they are asked what the significance is of this act, there is a surprising answer. They believe that all people are born as men. The differentiation occurs when the women are circumcised. They believe that if the clitoris is not removed then it would grow out to become a small penis, and the entire village would be male.
In looking at the trend to stop female circumcision because of the medical complications and reduced quality of life that goes along with it, the cultural implications must also be taken into account. Changing the ritual of circumcision means confronting years of tradition and family experience. Circumcision is seen as a rite of passage and a definition of a woman’s place in the community. For these communities if female circumcision is stopped, there needs to be another cultural practice put in place. Otherwise the traditional roles of men and women will be confused in addition to changing marriage patterns. The men would object to marrying uncircumcised women because technically, from their viewpoint, they are still male.
What I’m familiar with regarding female circumcision is the gruesome accounts and horrifying results of the procedure. I’ve never been presented with the reasons why cultures have practiced female circumcision historically other than men wanting to exercise control over women. Yes, female circumcision can and does have horrific side effects and outcomes for women. On the other hand, it’s more about culture and less about brutality in more cases than not.
When female circumcision is removed form a community a new rite of passage needs to be instituted so less culture impact is felt. It is tradition and ritual that holds many communities together. The harm needs to be diffused with education from respected sources in the community and the idea of a small culture needs to be embraced.
My viewpoint as an outsider and me who has not and will not be circumcised is more or less a subjective analysis because I cannot even imagine or undergoing such a procedure. Having researched women’s issues in Tanzania and other countries, I am a definite advocate against female circumcision because of its repercussions. Knowing all of this though, I have to acknowledge that it will be something that is hard to eliminate. As a future healthcare provider, I will inevitably see patients who have undergone the procedure. There is a chance that I could end up working in a community that insists on practice in this in the future. How am I to persuade them to change their behavior when generations of women have undergone the procedure and have had little to no negative impact? (Yes, I have previously stated the horrors of this. There are ways to make the procedure “safer” reducing the risk of infection and proper stitching to avoid future tearing during intercourse and childbirth. That does not negate other side effects though which will not be discussed here. If you have questions, please e-mail me and we can discuss it that way.) This task calls on me has a health care professional and cultural learner to find a way to help diffuse the harm without removing identity. It is easy to say that it needs to be done by someone. It’s a completely different task when you think about it in terms of “How would I handle it?”
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In my Society, Culture and Health class, the topic of female circumcision, also known as female genital mutilation, came up. My professor shared with us this case study and village view point before we began our discussion into the dimensions of health:
There is a set of villages in Tanzania who still practice female circumcision. When they are asked what the significance is of this act, there is a surprising answer. They believe that all people are born as men. The differentiation occurs when the women are circumcised. They believe that if the clitoris is not removed then it would grow out to become a small penis, and the entire village would be male.
In looking at the trend to stop female circumcision because of the medical complications and reduced quality of life that goes along with it, the cultural implications must also be taken into account. Changing the ritual of circumcision means confronting years of tradition and family experience. Circumcision is seen as a rite of passage and a definition of a woman’s place in the community. For these communities if female circumcision is stopped, there needs to be another cultural practice put in place. Otherwise the traditional roles of men and women will be confused in addition to changing marriage patterns. The men would object to marrying uncircumcised women because technically, from their viewpoint, they are still male.
What I’m familiar with regarding female circumcision is the gruesome accounts and horrifying results of the procedure. I’ve never been presented with the reasons why cultures have practiced female circumcision historically other than men wanting to exercise control over women. Yes, female circumcision can and does have horrific side effects and outcomes for women. On the other hand, it’s more about culture and less about brutality in more cases than not.
When female circumcision is removed form a community a new rite of passage needs to be instituted so less culture impact is felt. It is tradition and ritual that holds many communities together. The harm needs to be diffused with education from respected sources in the community and the idea of a small culture needs to be embraced.
My viewpoint as an outsider and me who has not and will not be circumcised is more or less a subjective analysis because I cannot even imagine or undergoing such a procedure. Having researched women’s issues in Tanzania and other countries, I am a definite advocate against female circumcision because of its repercussions. Knowing all of this though, I have to acknowledge that it will be something that is hard to eliminate. As a future healthcare provider, I will inevitably see patients who have undergone the procedure. There is a chance that I could end up working in a community that insists on practice in this in the future. How am I to persuade them to change their behavior when generations of women have undergone the procedure and have had little to no negative impact? (Yes, I have previously stated the horrors of this. There are ways to make the procedure “safer” reducing the risk of infection and proper stitching to avoid future tearing during intercourse and childbirth. That does not negate other side effects though which will not be discussed here. If you have questions, please e-mail me and we can discuss it that way.) This task calls on me has a health care professional and cultural learner to find a way to help diffuse the harm without removing identity. It is easy to say that it needs to be done by someone. It’s a completely different task when you think about it in terms of “How would I handle it?”
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Scary Stacks
Printed materials have their own unique value. The library at the university is fairly scarce on virtually everything except East African History. Since my research paper is about healthcare, I have become familiar with the science collection. I consulted the card catalog, the kind with 3x5 cards, and was greeted by spiders. The next time I went to the library the power was back on so I consulted the computerized catalog. When my key word search yielded only five books, I tried multiple other word combinations. None of them turned up anything better. I decided to try and find the area that the few books I turned up might be. After combing row after row of dusty mis-shelved and unlabeled books, I gave up looking for anything specific. I found a section that looked promising. I skimmed the ten or twelve shelves reading titles and synopsis to find books that may be useful for my paper. I was excited to find an entire shelf of World Health Organization manuals on various subjects. When I looked at the copyright dates, 1986 – 1989, they were reshelved. The only other semi-recent publication was copies of the American Journal of Public Health from 2003.
Printed resources are necessary for learning in the Western education system. I think that I started write book reports in the third grade. Current teachers in Tanzania see little value in books. The mentality is that they made it through school without books, why are they necessary now.
My professors assign readings for books that are supposed to be in the library yet there is one copy that has been lifted by previous year’s students. There are four card catalog computers available for 15,000 students. It is common to spend more time looking for books than actually reading them. At this point I have yet to find any of the books that I need for any of my classes. The books I need are MIA. The few readings I have been able to get my hands on are from the professor’s personal collection and they have been photocopied.
Going home I have a new appreciation for the Mordvelt collection at PLU. I will complain less about the cost of books. Buying books means I don’t have to violate international copyright laws. Here students, when they find books, are expected to photo copy whole volumes of texts. It is hard on my conscience.
Students here are supposedly attending one of the best universities in East Africa and most of them can’t get their books for assigned readings. What is available in most cases in horribly out of date. For example, in my Sociology of Development class, all of the texts cited on the syllabus as references are from pre-1980. On the issue of development there are certainly more contemporary writings. Students and professors can’t get them here. They are either too expensive or just unavailable. Most of the departments have little to no budget for curriculum development and text purchases. More than one account has been given of professors that come to the US on the LCCT exchange and spend their money on books to bring back and not much else because there is such a lack of information.
This is challenging thought when this university is putting out professionals that aren’t even reading up-to-date journals.
Printed resources are necessary for learning in the Western education system. I think that I started write book reports in the third grade. Current teachers in Tanzania see little value in books. The mentality is that they made it through school without books, why are they necessary now.
My professors assign readings for books that are supposed to be in the library yet there is one copy that has been lifted by previous year’s students. There are four card catalog computers available for 15,000 students. It is common to spend more time looking for books than actually reading them. At this point I have yet to find any of the books that I need for any of my classes. The books I need are MIA. The few readings I have been able to get my hands on are from the professor’s personal collection and they have been photocopied.
Going home I have a new appreciation for the Mordvelt collection at PLU. I will complain less about the cost of books. Buying books means I don’t have to violate international copyright laws. Here students, when they find books, are expected to photo copy whole volumes of texts. It is hard on my conscience.
Students here are supposedly attending one of the best universities in East Africa and most of them can’t get their books for assigned readings. What is available in most cases in horribly out of date. For example, in my Sociology of Development class, all of the texts cited on the syllabus as references are from pre-1980. On the issue of development there are certainly more contemporary writings. Students and professors can’t get them here. They are either too expensive or just unavailable. Most of the departments have little to no budget for curriculum development and text purchases. More than one account has been given of professors that come to the US on the LCCT exchange and spend their money on books to bring back and not much else because there is such a lack of information.
This is challenging thought when this university is putting out professionals that aren’t even reading up-to-date journals.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Feeling Pretty
I’ve reached the ”hump” mark in my trip. As much as I love Tanzania, there are a few things I am really missing. I the past few days I’ve been thinking a bit about one particular topic and numerous other female international students have made the same remark to me: “It has been a long time since I’ve felt pretty.” It is generally in the context of having the opportunity and the necessary elements to dress up and such. I put on my nicer clothes to go to church, but it’s not the same. I miss being able to do something with my hair besides put it up in a pony tail or a bun. I miss my favorite bottle of perfume and pearls. I know all of those things will be there when I get home, though coming from a lifestyle that allows me to have the opportunity to get dressed up I am missing it.
It is possible to feel “attractive” because you get attention as a white female in Tanzania. The attention for being the exception to the norm doesn’t make me feel pretty. Here I guess I should define “pretty” and “attractive.” Pretty is when you feel good about yourself and you do it for you only. The “attractive” term is when someone else notices or you spend time courting to receive attention externally. These are my definitions for the context of this discussion.
There are definite standards for female behavior and dress on campus. The majority of the ladies conform to the social norm. Most of the international students including myself don’t dress nearly as nice and the girls on campus. Generally, I don’t care too much. My feet hurt just watching them hike all over campus in heels. The conditions here are not very conducive to me wanting to dress in uber fashionable wear and stylish shoes everyday. I’m more of a functional gal. Without dressing in the same manner, the majority of us still seem to attract attention because we obviously stick out. The things that are considered “in” here are several seasons off what is popular in the States or would never even be fashion appropriate. It is a sight to see sometimes. Their style of dress does not take me away from what I’ve grown up with at home. It seems that a fashion bug has swept the younger girls around the area. It is such an issue that some of them give up meals in order to have the money to buy the “in” clothes and accessories. Other young ladies take up the company of older men or other male students in order for them to foot the bill for their fashion needs.
The broad culture, American fashion, puts major emphasis on the styles and appearance of young women. The community I come from takes a bit of a different approach, but there is still the opportunity and expectation of a certain level of dress. Realizing how much I miss some of my little personal treats is a bit surprising to me. I’ve apparently internalized more of the culture values that I thought. It seems that I haven’t had the occasion before to think about it. I am comfortable with who I am and the image I present in Tanzania. I am more conservative than most of my cohort of international students as a whole and I wear trousers more often. This has been a point of much discussion. I am stuck though by my little routines that I’ve used to feel better about my personal appearance. More than once here when I’ve gone to do interview for my research paper, I’ve caught myself wishing for my favorite heels and dress suit.
It is possible to feel “attractive” because you get attention as a white female in Tanzania. The attention for being the exception to the norm doesn’t make me feel pretty. Here I guess I should define “pretty” and “attractive.” Pretty is when you feel good about yourself and you do it for you only. The “attractive” term is when someone else notices or you spend time courting to receive attention externally. These are my definitions for the context of this discussion.
There are definite standards for female behavior and dress on campus. The majority of the ladies conform to the social norm. Most of the international students including myself don’t dress nearly as nice and the girls on campus. Generally, I don’t care too much. My feet hurt just watching them hike all over campus in heels. The conditions here are not very conducive to me wanting to dress in uber fashionable wear and stylish shoes everyday. I’m more of a functional gal. Without dressing in the same manner, the majority of us still seem to attract attention because we obviously stick out. The things that are considered “in” here are several seasons off what is popular in the States or would never even be fashion appropriate. It is a sight to see sometimes. Their style of dress does not take me away from what I’ve grown up with at home. It seems that a fashion bug has swept the younger girls around the area. It is such an issue that some of them give up meals in order to have the money to buy the “in” clothes and accessories. Other young ladies take up the company of older men or other male students in order for them to foot the bill for their fashion needs.
The broad culture, American fashion, puts major emphasis on the styles and appearance of young women. The community I come from takes a bit of a different approach, but there is still the opportunity and expectation of a certain level of dress. Realizing how much I miss some of my little personal treats is a bit surprising to me. I’ve apparently internalized more of the culture values that I thought. It seems that I haven’t had the occasion before to think about it. I am comfortable with who I am and the image I present in Tanzania. I am more conservative than most of my cohort of international students as a whole and I wear trousers more often. This has been a point of much discussion. I am stuck though by my little routines that I’ve used to feel better about my personal appearance. More than once here when I’ve gone to do interview for my research paper, I’ve caught myself wishing for my favorite heels and dress suit.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Zanzibar: Eye to Eye with the Fish
This is the first in a series about my trip to Zanzibar I took in early October. I have a few photos up. Unfortunatley the ones from described in the following entry were not usable as the underwater camera malfunctioned. Grrrrr! More to come about Zanzibar soon!
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Snorkeling in Zanzibar was amazing! The ocean was really choppy and I bobbed around like a cork. It was so nice. The Indian Ocean was warm and smooth, yet saltier than I expected. The first place we went was called The Aquarium. It is a huge circular reef inside of a depression. There were lots of fish to see. I never knew that purple and turquoise striped fish existed, but I saw them with my own eyes. The mist interesting discovery squished between my fingers. There were tiny jelly fish blobs in the water. The ones I touched didn’t sting though. They felt like a cross between Jell-O and snot. Because the waves were strong I could glide along and see new coral growth on the reef after years of dynamite fishing without fining much. The line greens were brilliant and the schools of small sliver fish were shimmering.
Our second spot was on another reef about 30 minutes by boat away. Here the waves were even stronger. It was hard to keep a course fining along. If I stopped for even a second I was off course. This was the length of the trip that exhausted me. This trail had great sea cucumbers and brightly colored starfish. There were also this nifty black fish that had a peacock feather pattern on its back fin in orange and yellow. There were also lots of black spiny sea slug type things. Depth perception in water is tricky. More than once the waves pushed me over large sponge coral. In my fear of harming them with my fins because they were so close, or so I thought, I spread out snow angel style to let the waves carry me over the corals. We were hoping to see turtles but after much swimming, they were no where to be found.
I was really pleased with the company we chose. One Ocean is a top rated PADI dive center. They were professional and reasonably prices. The others from our group who went snorkeling decided to rent a boat from a guy on the beach. I suggested that they not do it because of safety and environmental concerns. I know with One Ocean they are responsible and accountable for the environmental impact they cause. They also have emergency network services and safety training. The guy from the beach has none of these things. It is an issue of being responsible to your customers and being a safe citizen. The guy is probably just trying to feed his family but the ethics I question. He is taking responsibility for people he has no ability to help in an emergency. While the other group was out the next day, I was worried. If something went wrong no one knew where they were. There is also the issue of environmental responsibility.
With such a fragile ecosystem it makes sense to invest in companies who are caring for it. In running this type of business, it is necessary to honor the need to protect the environment because without it there is no business.
The coolest part of my snorkeling adventure was not the mild seasickness. It was my encounter with a black bug-eyed fish. His shimmering scales caught my eyes. I paused fining to stare at him to see what he was doing. This fish looked me in the eye as I slowly passed over. It was an Old West style showdown. I’d hardly call it fair though as I was 20 times his size. I can only wonder what crossed it’s mid as it swam away.
I hope this amazing reef is protected for ears to come and continues to flourish. So many other people need to see this type of environment to understand the need to protect it and do something about the warming of the world’s oceans. The littlest temperature change can kill off species and allow others to thrive throwing off the natural balance of the ecosystem. I’m not a big Save the World shouter, but there is a definitely need for the US as well as other countries and us as individuals to set-up and reduce pollution. Whether it is green house gas emissions or water pollution that affects the world’s waterways, it is our individual responsibility to do something about it. I might not be able to change the nation’s perspective or behavior but I can change mine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Snorkeling in Zanzibar was amazing! The ocean was really choppy and I bobbed around like a cork. It was so nice. The Indian Ocean was warm and smooth, yet saltier than I expected. The first place we went was called The Aquarium. It is a huge circular reef inside of a depression. There were lots of fish to see. I never knew that purple and turquoise striped fish existed, but I saw them with my own eyes. The mist interesting discovery squished between my fingers. There were tiny jelly fish blobs in the water. The ones I touched didn’t sting though. They felt like a cross between Jell-O and snot. Because the waves were strong I could glide along and see new coral growth on the reef after years of dynamite fishing without fining much. The line greens were brilliant and the schools of small sliver fish were shimmering.
Our second spot was on another reef about 30 minutes by boat away. Here the waves were even stronger. It was hard to keep a course fining along. If I stopped for even a second I was off course. This was the length of the trip that exhausted me. This trail had great sea cucumbers and brightly colored starfish. There were also this nifty black fish that had a peacock feather pattern on its back fin in orange and yellow. There were also lots of black spiny sea slug type things. Depth perception in water is tricky. More than once the waves pushed me over large sponge coral. In my fear of harming them with my fins because they were so close, or so I thought, I spread out snow angel style to let the waves carry me over the corals. We were hoping to see turtles but after much swimming, they were no where to be found.
I was really pleased with the company we chose. One Ocean is a top rated PADI dive center. They were professional and reasonably prices. The others from our group who went snorkeling decided to rent a boat from a guy on the beach. I suggested that they not do it because of safety and environmental concerns. I know with One Ocean they are responsible and accountable for the environmental impact they cause. They also have emergency network services and safety training. The guy from the beach has none of these things. It is an issue of being responsible to your customers and being a safe citizen. The guy is probably just trying to feed his family but the ethics I question. He is taking responsibility for people he has no ability to help in an emergency. While the other group was out the next day, I was worried. If something went wrong no one knew where they were. There is also the issue of environmental responsibility.
With such a fragile ecosystem it makes sense to invest in companies who are caring for it. In running this type of business, it is necessary to honor the need to protect the environment because without it there is no business.
The coolest part of my snorkeling adventure was not the mild seasickness. It was my encounter with a black bug-eyed fish. His shimmering scales caught my eyes. I paused fining to stare at him to see what he was doing. This fish looked me in the eye as I slowly passed over. It was an Old West style showdown. I’d hardly call it fair though as I was 20 times his size. I can only wonder what crossed it’s mid as it swam away.
I hope this amazing reef is protected for ears to come and continues to flourish. So many other people need to see this type of environment to understand the need to protect it and do something about the warming of the world’s oceans. The littlest temperature change can kill off species and allow others to thrive throwing off the natural balance of the ecosystem. I’m not a big Save the World shouter, but there is a definitely need for the US as well as other countries and us as individuals to set-up and reduce pollution. Whether it is green house gas emissions or water pollution that affects the world’s waterways, it is our individual responsibility to do something about it. I might not be able to change the nation’s perspective or behavior but I can change mine.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Educating the Deaf
This morning I met the one sign interpreter employed by UDSM. He has two students that he is responsible for. This is the first year that the university has provided accommodation for hearing impaired students. In talking with him, we discussed the deaf education program in Tanzania. There really isn’t one. There is a shortage of interpreters because there is no where in Africa to be trained as an interpreter. There is very little access for most deaf children to learn sign. If they do learn sign there are no interpreters available in the public school system and very few interpreters for hire if the parents can afford it. The deaf children, who are completely capable in every other way, are forever at an educational disadvantage because they start behind in the educational system. Only recently has there been any action directed at educating deaf children in the traditional education system.
From what Thomas told me, any of the training that has been done has been from American interpreters that want to increase hearing impaired education in Tanzania. Of the children I’ve met in Tanzania that are hearing impaired, only one has had a cochlear implant, a surgically inserted hearing aid. I have no idea what it costs here, but I’m sure that only the wealthiest families can afford the procedure and maintenance along with the doctor’s fees. I have to wonder if families with hearing impaired children in rural areas even know that there is such a procedure available to help their children regain their hearing.
In the US, the public school system is required to provide accommodation to special needs students whether it is in class interpreters or special classes. The health system from the time a disability is discovered accommodations are made and information provided to help parents help their children. There are play groups to teach toddlers and parents sign language.
The changes in educating special needs children in Tanzania are slow coming, but they are coming. So far great strides have been made in educating the blind. Even the university is accommodating many blind students. The hard part to watch is the number of students that are being excluded from the educational system now. The government is making slow strides in legislation and funding for special needs education and funding for educational programs. The problem is not only with visually and hearing impaired children, it is for children and adults with physical disabilities as well. There is little assistance for anyone with disabilities. There are few options for employment. Many disabled people are reduced to begging.
From what Thomas told me, any of the training that has been done has been from American interpreters that want to increase hearing impaired education in Tanzania. Of the children I’ve met in Tanzania that are hearing impaired, only one has had a cochlear implant, a surgically inserted hearing aid. I have no idea what it costs here, but I’m sure that only the wealthiest families can afford the procedure and maintenance along with the doctor’s fees. I have to wonder if families with hearing impaired children in rural areas even know that there is such a procedure available to help their children regain their hearing.
In the US, the public school system is required to provide accommodation to special needs students whether it is in class interpreters or special classes. The health system from the time a disability is discovered accommodations are made and information provided to help parents help their children. There are play groups to teach toddlers and parents sign language.
The changes in educating special needs children in Tanzania are slow coming, but they are coming. So far great strides have been made in educating the blind. Even the university is accommodating many blind students. The hard part to watch is the number of students that are being excluded from the educational system now. The government is making slow strides in legislation and funding for special needs education and funding for educational programs. The problem is not only with visually and hearing impaired children, it is for children and adults with physical disabilities as well. There is little assistance for anyone with disabilities. There are few options for employment. Many disabled people are reduced to begging.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Oh the smells!
It's been three days now and the whole of Dar Es salaam is without water. A main pump on the river where Dar gets it's water from had a major mechanical failure. It's been interesting. We've been without water before. In that case you go to the emergency tanks downstairs and fill your bucket. Now there isn't even that water. It's been used or diverted to health care facilities. I've learned how to take a shower with less than 2 quarts of water. The smells are stacking up. We're our of our reserve water to flush the toilets. It's been an adventure. One of the girls on my floor has malaria...the kind with vomiting and such. No flushing here. I miss air freshener and running water.
It should be back on in a few days. Until then the whole city is in need of a shower.
It should be back on in a few days. Until then the whole city is in need of a shower.
Mori: Meaning of a Bride Price
I’ve heard so many jokes and references it bride prices since I’ve been in Tanzania that I’ve lost count. Some of them were from others outside of our group. Admittedly most of it is internal and a bit of a running joke as to “our value” when approached by men. It provides for interesting conversation as to what our “worth” is. I’ve always viewed the bride price and buying a wife or a woman who does housework for you and keeps your bed warm without any real relationship.
After discussing it with women who have been part of negotiations for the bride price for their relatives I have a different perspective. The process of negotiating a bride price involved getting commitments from the family of the groom in term of items or finances. These items are not what determine the bride’s worth as a person. These items show the commitment of the families to support the union and the children it produces. If even one family member has reservations about the marriage, their potion of the bride price can be withheld as a sign of disapproval or concern. From what I was told, the bride and groom can go ahead and get married, if they choose, but it is seen as an unwise choice. They risk not having support for their children in the form of land and a family inheritance. This becomes a serious issue for the couple. This relationship and exchange in the form on a bride price seals the two families together. One lady I spoke with said that divorce would be a mess because of the things that would have to be returned. Also, the children of the marriage become part of the husband’s family. Since children are your retirement plan and long life insurance, loosing those children in a divorce is a very undesirable outcome.
The exchange of this bride is the melding of two families. It is seen like that at home too, though here it takes on a whole different dimension of permanent. I have to wonder if more families were involved in the marriages I’ve known that haven’t made it, would the outcome be different. The people who know you best are your family. They, usually, can provide the best insight into situations and provide and outside perspective that is necessary.
As much as the bride price is part of the culture, it is something that is also subject to change as the time change. Once fathers may have requested livestock, now cars could be requested. Some families make the bride price as a symbolic gesture and honor to tradition without actually expecting huge sums.
In places where a large bride price is still expected and young men have much haste to get married; there is a way around the system. The young man “kidnaps” the girl of his choice. Of course, usually she is in on the plot too. The next morning you send word to the girl’s parents and your relatives that she is OK and negotiations being. Usually the man’s family frowns on this act because they are left to pay virtually whatever the bride’s family demands as she has already been taken.
As much protection this system seems to offer the new couple, I can’t imagine having to begin or be in one of the conversations for one of my relatives. I think it would be even more nerve wracking if it was about me.
After discussing it with women who have been part of negotiations for the bride price for their relatives I have a different perspective. The process of negotiating a bride price involved getting commitments from the family of the groom in term of items or finances. These items are not what determine the bride’s worth as a person. These items show the commitment of the families to support the union and the children it produces. If even one family member has reservations about the marriage, their potion of the bride price can be withheld as a sign of disapproval or concern. From what I was told, the bride and groom can go ahead and get married, if they choose, but it is seen as an unwise choice. They risk not having support for their children in the form of land and a family inheritance. This becomes a serious issue for the couple. This relationship and exchange in the form on a bride price seals the two families together. One lady I spoke with said that divorce would be a mess because of the things that would have to be returned. Also, the children of the marriage become part of the husband’s family. Since children are your retirement plan and long life insurance, loosing those children in a divorce is a very undesirable outcome.
The exchange of this bride is the melding of two families. It is seen like that at home too, though here it takes on a whole different dimension of permanent. I have to wonder if more families were involved in the marriages I’ve known that haven’t made it, would the outcome be different. The people who know you best are your family. They, usually, can provide the best insight into situations and provide and outside perspective that is necessary.
As much as the bride price is part of the culture, it is something that is also subject to change as the time change. Once fathers may have requested livestock, now cars could be requested. Some families make the bride price as a symbolic gesture and honor to tradition without actually expecting huge sums.
In places where a large bride price is still expected and young men have much haste to get married; there is a way around the system. The young man “kidnaps” the girl of his choice. Of course, usually she is in on the plot too. The next morning you send word to the girl’s parents and your relatives that she is OK and negotiations being. Usually the man’s family frowns on this act because they are left to pay virtually whatever the bride’s family demands as she has already been taken.
As much protection this system seems to offer the new couple, I can’t imagine having to begin or be in one of the conversations for one of my relatives. I think it would be even more nerve wracking if it was about me.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Mori: Tourism, Porters, and Kilimanjaro
We hiked up to the entrance of Kilimanjaro National Park today. It was a bit of a hike up from the hotel we started at to the park gates. It wasn’t so far as it was steep and a bit of a rough path. All long the way the children were shouting “Hellos” and “Jambos.” It was a very scenic trip thought I could definitely feel the altitude. Our guide kept telling us “Pole, pole!” We were eager to get up to the views.
Once we made it to the park and through the gate, I saw a crowd of men standing at the far end of the park. Our guide said that the men that were waiting were porters that were waiting for new groups of would-be climbers to come through the park so they could have work. Some of them wait several days before they get a job. Once they are hired they are gone for at least five days. Ideally the climb should take seven to be as safe as possible for the climbers and staff. I was amazed to see the way the majority of these men are dressed. T-shirts and jeans with second hand tennis shoes or sandals with a ball cap were the normal outfit. I saw no sign of appropriate footwear or warmer clothes as it is below freezing at tow of the last stops on the way to the summit. The bags they were carrying for the most part were sports duffels. They would put the handles over their shoulders like back pack straps. Even the luggage was substandard. These men were climbing without adequate gear. The only thing that is a bit redeeming is that on the Marangu side, there is a paved path up to one of the mid range huts/overnight camps. It is used by the porters instead of the mountain path. It is also used by emergency vehicles in the event a climber is injured or requires immediate evacuation. He or she can be brought down to the summit fairly quickly.
The porters are limited to the amount of weight they can carry. On their way through the gate their loads are weighed. The porters are only allowed to carry a specific weight limit (50 kg?). The guidelines were established to protect the porters. Many people were willing to pay extra for the porters to carry additional weight reducing the cost of additional porters. Many of them were being injured this way. After several years of hauling bags that were too heavy, they incurred back injuries that prevent them from working anymore in other labor. Many porters have been injured working on the mountain. They make good wages for a few years then they are crippled for the remainder of their lives. The increased income they made by carrying extra weight becomes pointless.
The park is on the side of the mountain known as Marangu. The Marangu route is known as the Coca-Cola route because of the number of tourists that go up to the summit that way. Machingas sell souvenirs to tourists. There are many small eateries and guest houses just outside of the gate as well. I met several girls who made a summit attempt and the one thing they mentioned several times was how crowded the route up was.
There is a definite influx of tourists’ dollars into the community and there is money to be made for anyone who is willing to work with the tourists in pre or post trip services as well as those who work on the hike up and back. As challenging as it is to see what seems like the exploitations of locals, the communities around the area are dependent on tourists for money, labor and the tax revenue they generate. Tourists need the services and the communities need the labor. Without the cash generated many of the individuals who run small businesses would be subsistence farmers or own small shops eking out a living selling goods to their surrounding community.
The porter situation seems like a bit of the day laborer set-up in some area of the states before all of the immigration reforms and crack downs. Workers would wait in a public place, gas station or restaurant, for people to come through and hire them for the day for yard work or construction. At least in the case of the porters, there is a bit of a protection system set-up.
Once we made it to the park and through the gate, I saw a crowd of men standing at the far end of the park. Our guide said that the men that were waiting were porters that were waiting for new groups of would-be climbers to come through the park so they could have work. Some of them wait several days before they get a job. Once they are hired they are gone for at least five days. Ideally the climb should take seven to be as safe as possible for the climbers and staff. I was amazed to see the way the majority of these men are dressed. T-shirts and jeans with second hand tennis shoes or sandals with a ball cap were the normal outfit. I saw no sign of appropriate footwear or warmer clothes as it is below freezing at tow of the last stops on the way to the summit. The bags they were carrying for the most part were sports duffels. They would put the handles over their shoulders like back pack straps. Even the luggage was substandard. These men were climbing without adequate gear. The only thing that is a bit redeeming is that on the Marangu side, there is a paved path up to one of the mid range huts/overnight camps. It is used by the porters instead of the mountain path. It is also used by emergency vehicles in the event a climber is injured or requires immediate evacuation. He or she can be brought down to the summit fairly quickly.
The porters are limited to the amount of weight they can carry. On their way through the gate their loads are weighed. The porters are only allowed to carry a specific weight limit (50 kg?). The guidelines were established to protect the porters. Many people were willing to pay extra for the porters to carry additional weight reducing the cost of additional porters. Many of them were being injured this way. After several years of hauling bags that were too heavy, they incurred back injuries that prevent them from working anymore in other labor. Many porters have been injured working on the mountain. They make good wages for a few years then they are crippled for the remainder of their lives. The increased income they made by carrying extra weight becomes pointless.
The park is on the side of the mountain known as Marangu. The Marangu route is known as the Coca-Cola route because of the number of tourists that go up to the summit that way. Machingas sell souvenirs to tourists. There are many small eateries and guest houses just outside of the gate as well. I met several girls who made a summit attempt and the one thing they mentioned several times was how crowded the route up was.
There is a definite influx of tourists’ dollars into the community and there is money to be made for anyone who is willing to work with the tourists in pre or post trip services as well as those who work on the hike up and back. As challenging as it is to see what seems like the exploitations of locals, the communities around the area are dependent on tourists for money, labor and the tax revenue they generate. Tourists need the services and the communities need the labor. Without the cash generated many of the individuals who run small businesses would be subsistence farmers or own small shops eking out a living selling goods to their surrounding community.
The porter situation seems like a bit of the day laborer set-up in some area of the states before all of the immigration reforms and crack downs. Workers would wait in a public place, gas station or restaurant, for people to come through and hire them for the day for yard work or construction. At least in the case of the porters, there is a bit of a protection system set-up.
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