I believe in the gift of laughter

The following post was written while I was on retreat this past April. A fellow JV led the session with material inspired by the NPR program “This I Believe”

 

I believe in the gift of laughter. If this experience as a JV in Tanzania has taught me anything in the past 18 months, it’s that the power of laughter unites individuals while healing the heart, mind, and soul. I never realized how healthy laughter was and how much I needed it in my life to feel connected with others.

But first, let me be clear: laughter is not humor or being funny. A person who is funny says or does funny things to generate a response out of others—sometimes to feel good about her/himself or sometimes to distract. It’s not all bad, but however it is, that funny person is at the center. A lack of balance is created if one is in the center and others are merely responding. Laughter, on the other hand, is a shared experience above everything else. Sure, we can laugh by ourselves and sometimes one person starts the laugh, but at the heart of laughter is that connection. Everyone can and does laugh. Not everyone can be funny. I believe in the gift of laughter because it weaves connections between people from all walks of life.

When I first arrived here in Tanzania, I struggled with the newness of everything, and especially with the language. As a person who values great conversation and meaningful relationships, I felt lost not being able to feel connected with anyone due to a complete inability to communicate. Then, one day while I was on the daladala for one of the first times alone, I was sitting next to this old woman who had a baby on her lap. Conversations were going on around me that I did not understand and I was scared to look the woman in the eye for the fear that she would start talking to me. Then suddenly, the baby started hiccupping. And after each hiccup, he would giggle to himself. He continued to do this until the laughing escalated and I couldn’t tell which one was causing the other—the laughter or the hiccups. I, of course, couldn’t help myself and started chuckling. I then glanced at the mother who joined me in laughing at this innocent and beautiful moment. I became at ease and I felt a bond to this woman and her baby.

Call it God or the spirit or a shared humanity, I believe in laughter because it crosses cultures, generations, and identities. People might express laughter differently, but each one of us has that innate physical reaction. It’s a form of communication—that same communication in which I was so frustrated because I couldn’t express myself. Maybe we laugh at ourselves in the simple mistakes that we make. Maybe we laugh at a situation because it brings us to a comfortable place. Laughter brings us together. It has helped me to not feel so self-conscious and afraid when I have messed up with Kiswahili. So that even if ‘I understand’, telling people I’m drunk is just as good. We laugh at the small mistakes. Or when the priest at community mass falls asleep during the homily, why can’t I giggle at how uncanny that is? Laughter is best shared with others. Ranking my favorite laughs among St. Peter Claver High School staff members is a fond past time. It feels good that another person has the potential to make my guard come down through a communal laughter.

I believe in the gift of laughter because it helps me to be vulnerable. If I can let the wall I built around me chip away by joining in a beautiful and uplifting moment with someone, I can push myself to share other things. And more often than not, laughter opens up doors in levels of mutual comfort and support that allows space for the sharing of deeper emotions—regardless of how well I know the language. I believe in the gift of laughter because it has brought me back to connections with other people that help me feel alive.

“I do not understand the mystery of grace — only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us.”-Anne Lamott

One year. One year of volunteering in a new country. Of laughing and growing in community. Of chalk dust and lesson planning. Of attending masses and thinking about what’s out there. Of rice, beans, ugali, and mchuzi. One year of being challenged in my beliefs and everything I know. Of mzungu and Madam Becca. Of learning the many ways to form meaningful relationships. One year of Dodoma and JVC.

When I was in the U.S. preparing to come here, I was terrified. I had no idea how I was going to learn an unfamiliar language in a completely new place with people I didn’t know while doing a job that I didn’t have a lot of experience in. (Actually when it’s written all out like that, it does sound pretty crazy…) Anyway, I tried to hide this feeling by being busy, focusing on the exciting aspects of what was to come and eating a lot of delicious food. Then, before I knew it, I was desperately bawling my eyes out saying goodbye to my family at the airport at 4 am. And now one year later, I am officially a second year Jesuit Volunteer with the fears of the past somehow subsided and new challenges woven into daily life.

Most days I wake up at 5:45 am, compete for the shower with 6 other people, and then catch the bus to school at 6:45. When I’m at school, I spend my day marking at my desk, teaching, and running around trying to find people. Students sometimes come to talk to me about things or to ask for some colored pencils for an art project or even to watch Frozen on my computer. Sometimes they just sit and chat with each other, occasionally throwing a question my way like, “Madam, what do you think about corporal punishment?” or “Madam, don’t you just love Chris Brown?”. I welcome it all. While teaching still provides me with many trials, errors, and minor triumphs, I have come to greatly value the relationships I have with my coworkers and students. I love sitting in the Humanities Office and having a conversation about Tanzanian politics and someone’s tomato farm in the same 40-minute period. I love visiting the kitchen, sneaking bites of fresh maandazi, and occasionally doing a pilates workout video with a religious sister who works there. I love when students come to me with great ideas to develop their talents—like starting a photography club or entering an essay contest. In moments like these my heart is filled with wonder and compassion. I can begin to feel the spirit of human dignity, connected through our shared humanity, and think “hey, maybe I can do this!”. Of course my work is not always shining realizations and spontaneous presence. But in the days when a student will frankly tell me that my Writing Skills class is not important (as they stubbornly continue to write Writting on exams…) or when I witness the frustration of the workers, I take a deep breath, listen, learn, and move on. Vocation is not about only the days when you feel affirmed, fulfilled, and whole. It’s also about the days when you feel broken or inadequate, questioning everything in this messy world. The important piece is the ability to take it all in with grace and humility. I still make mistakes but I am slowly learning to walk forward through everything.

When I am not at school, I like to visit or have visitors. One of the most beautiful aspects of living in Tanzania (and East Africa) is the culture of hospitality. The breadth and sincerity of the hospitality I have received is like nothing I have ever experienced. Time and time again, I am welcomed and loved and invited to share in someone’s home and family. I once met a woman in a kitenge shop and after having a really nice chat and before I left (without buying anything) she invited me to her home. I accepted and really enjoyed myself. I find beauty and joy in visiting people’s homes so whenever I’m free, I’ll call and ask the person if they’re available. Coming from a culture in the U.S. where it is incredibly rude to just invite yourself over somewhere, it took a long time for me to get over the feeling of being imposing. Am I a burden? What if they don’t have enough food at their house that day for one extra person? Will I be able to follow the conversation enough? But over the past year I have grown to embrace the Kiswahili saying of wageni ni baraka, or visitors are a blessing, and actually tend to live the opposite: visiting is a blessing. Mamas have taught me to cook a variety of Tanzanian dishes, babas have educated me about history and government, and watoto have been patient to teach me a new song or show me what they’ve learned in school. Friends have bought me sodas when they themselves are not drinking them, or made a special dish just because I’m visiting. I try to do my best in accepting these gifts with humility and sharing whatever I can in return: help with homework, my sous chef skills,  new language vocabulary—anything that I can offer. Because what is life without the blessings of accompaniment and mutual understanding and support? Wageni ni baraka. I hope I can take even a fraction of this boundless, loving generosity into my being.

As I reflect on my past year, one word keeps coming back into my mind. Gratitude. I am utterly grateful for the opportunity to come here, the people I have encountered, personal growth, and so much more. I have compiled a short list of little things for which I want to express sincere thanks and remember from 2015:

• Reading 30 books (see list at bottom)
• Living with 9 other people at various times in community
• School bus rides
• The support and encouragement of the Jesuits
• My host family. My host family. My host family.
• Watching Community with my community
• Building pillow forts
• Cooking often and appreciating the skills I have developed
• Lessening my coffee intake
• Laughter and great conversation during community dinners
• The creation of the school magazine with another volunteer, many students, and staff
• Chips mayai with everything on top
• My complete acceptance for and love of my new spirit animal identity: the sea turtle
• Being ‘in’ on the inside jokes of the Humanities Office
• Good days in the classroom
• Bad days in the classroom
• Retreats with the Dar volunteers—especially Arusha and Rombo
• Listening to the same 3 sisters of one congregation try to convince me to join them as an aspirant (don’t worry, I’m not)
• Drinking real coffee while overlooking Lake Kivu on a beautiful balcony in Rwanda
• F, J, M, D, V, R, A, P, M, and many other individuals who have helped shape my time here (especially community mates)

When I first started this blog, I had big dreams of making it into this poised reflection and glimpse into my life here in Tanzania for family and friends. And for maybe the first 5 months, it was like that but since my last post was six months ago, I have definitely dropped the proverbial ball of responsibility. In addition to writing more consistently on this blog here are some more goals that I have for 2016:

• Write in my journal at least once a week
• Find ways to increase my creativity
• Write letters to friends and family in the US
• Say “yes” more spontaneously
• Grow something in the backyard (and take care of it so it doesn’t die)
• Continue exercising at least 3 times per week
• Read books that I normally would not pick up
• Spend more of my idle time with others

One year is a big milestone. By January 1, 2016, I am going to have spent every single day of 2015 in East Africa and at the end of 2016, I will be back in the U.S. Sometimes this feels completely normal, as Dodoma has become my home. Other times it continues to shock me that I made this commitment and continue making it every day. Some days I really struggle with my identity as a volunteer. How do I appropriately respond to comments about white privilege? How can I be involved at school without taking away opportunities from local staff members? Other days the constant comments about my body and how much food I am eating or not eating make me feel so worthless. I can never win. Still on other days I am in awe of how much genuine time people will spend greeting each other. How is your day, how have you woken up, how is your family, your work, your young sister, your holiday, etc. It’s quite nice. And then further still, on other days I am moved by the rain after a long period of dryness and dust. It’s so fresh and renewing. This year has been filled with many moments of opposing emotions and thoughts and I have been trying to float through the ebbs and flows of it all.

A previous volunteer posted a quote near our bathroom mirror that I read most mornings and it always provides me with a refreshing reminder through this experience:

“Dear Human,

You’ve got it all wrong. You didn’t come here to master unconditional love. That is where you came from and where you’ll return. You came here to learn personal love. Universal love. Messy love. Sweaty love. Crazy love. Broken love. Whole love. Infused with divinity. Lived through the grace of stumbling. Demonstrated through the beauty of… messing up. Often.

You didn’t come here to be perfect. You already are.

You came here to be gorgeously human. Flawed and fabulous. And then rise into remembering. But unconditional love? Stop telling that story. Love, in truth, doesn’t require modifiers. It doesn’t require the condition of perfection. It only asks that you show up. And do your best. That you stay present and feel fully. That you shine and fly and laugh and cry and hurt and heal and fall and get back up again and play and work and live and die as you. It’s enough. It’s plenty.” –Courtney Walsh

As I brush my teeth and skim over this in the morning, I am calmed by the simple okay-ness of crying and laughing and falling and all of those things that make us purely human. I laughed when I caught the 3-year-old member of my host family eating straight out of the sugar bowl. I felt hurt when corporal punishment is overwhelming at school or when yet another person harasses me while walking home. I played with neighbor children and my community and danced with friends. I have fallen in the faces of corruption and injustice. And I have risen to the sounds of unity, generosity, and joy. I am okay and I am going to be okay. And not just okay. Better than that. I am going to love and live with everything that I am and have. That reminder alone is enough to move me through my second year as a JV.

_____________________________________________________

Reading List 2015 (in order of completion)

• The House of Spirits, Isabel Allende
• The Shack, William Young
• I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
• The Long Loneliness, Dorothy Day
• Murder on the Orient Express, Agatha Christie
• In the Land of Magic Soldiers, Daniel Bergner
• I Shall Not Hate, Izzeldin Abuelaish
• The Dressmaker of Kahir Khana, Gayle Tzemach Lemmon
• Theology Brewed in an African Pot, Agbonkhianmeghe Orobator, SJ
• On Beauty, Zadie Smith
• One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
• Left to Tell, Immaculee Ilibagiza
• What is the What, Dave Eggers
• The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
• Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami
• The Elegance of a Hedgehog, Muriel Barbery
• A Sunday at the Pool in Kigali, Gil Courtemanche
• Love Invents Us, Amy Bloom
• The State of Africa, Wangari Maathai
• No Longer at Ease, Chinua Achebe
• All about Love, bell hooks
• Flight Behavior, Barbara Kingsolver
• Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison
• Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston
• Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr
• Dreams from my Father, Barack Obama
• Go Tell it on the Mountain, James Baldwin
• Is Everyone Hanging Out without Me?, Mindy Kaling
• The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien
• The Book of Mev, Mark Chmiel

*If anyone would like to discuss any of the books above, please send me a message!

 

 

 

 

Form 2 class trip to the Parliament.

Making spring rolls for a birthday celebration!

Listening to the story of the Baobab tree. Clearly entertained…

Peace walk with the students.

A Form 3 student busting a move during a dance performance.

P&J Week Mass

In the drumming zone.

Peace and Justice Week procession.

Serious drumming skills.

The Scouts getting ready to lead the school in the National Anthem.

Yes, I am holding a chicken and yes, I am dancing it to a community mate as a present.

Partaking the the tradition of washing guests’ hands before they eat.

Form 1 students on a sports day.

We’re stardust, and that’s pretty cool right?

While on retreat over Easter, an American Jesuit priest/impressive scientist gave us a talk about space. If I’m completely honest, most of it when over my head or just freaked me out (as space things tend to do). My take of his presentation was about the connectedness between all of us in this unimaginably, finely-tuned universe that we live in. If you’ll excuse my complete lack of any scientific background, basically after the Big Bang millions of particles were floating around in space, coming together and making some pretty cool stuff. Those particles were remnants of an exploded star. Now fast forward some years and that dust came together in just the right way to create Earth and everything on it. So, yes, it actually is really neat that I and you and each person and thing on this planet are woven together by the magic and material of a star. It makes the vastness of well…everything seem a litter closer to home. If only a little.

For the past few months, my life has felt like those particles floating in space. Sometimes the movement is aimless and slow, and at other times it is fast and overwhelming—all the while bumping into other particles and making connections with them. It has been a lot of back and forth, up and down. And through all of this—the infinity of unknown one receives in a new culture and place—I’ve been pretty happy moving along through the nothing and the everything with some great and comforting fellow ‘particles’ by my side. There is no destination and I’m definitely not creating anything as marvelous as the Earth, but let’s just say the ‘space’ I’m experiencing is freaking me out less and less as each day passes.

Some quick catching up for all my avid readers relatives who have expressed deep concern for my disappearance since February.

Language: Learning a new language is tough! I’m still very frustrated with myself at times; my absorption is slow and I often lack the gut to speak. However, I recently started a new goal to learn at least 3 new words every day. So far it’s going pretty well. And now I no longer tell people “I’m drunk (nalewa)” instead of “I understand (naelewa)”—which has caused some pretty funny moments. While video chatting with my parents one night, the night guard at the parish greeted me and we chatted for a few minutes through a half-open window. While I understood maybe half of what he said (the rest was picked up my extreme hand gestures), my parents seemed impressed. It was a nice reminder that I am moving forward.

School: Things at school are improving and my responsibilities, for the most part, have leveled. Teaching will always be difficult but at least my subjects were part of the terminal exam timetable this past week! Students openly groaned at morning assembly when this announcement was made. Is it terrible that I smiled a bit? But I wasn’t happy with their exam results. I understand that it was their first one and that the standards here are a bit different (a B ranges from a 55-64), but I was disappointed that the average of some of my classes was below a 60. It is a really good point to move forward though for next term. I and my students can learn a lot from how things have been going and how they can improve. And now that I’m used to the brief 40-minute periods and making myself look ridiculous in front of 50 moody kids at a time, I’m ready to bring more creativity to the classroom.

Working at a boarding school keeps everyone very busy. It was hard for me to adjust to the expectation that my presence is needed most weekends but I’ve really seen my relationships with students and staff grow because of it. Through International Women’s Week, Peace and Justice Week, Art Club, Community Service, and other events and activities, I have been able to reconnect with some of my passions and witness those same joys in my students. Students have reflected critically about their experience doing service in the neighboring village. A few others from art club wouldn’t show me a banner they painted until it was finished because they wanted it to be a surprise—and seeing students proudly display (or dance) their talents in the Talent Show have all been real moments of joy in these past six months. They continue to impress me every day and I really enjoy helping them to develop. This kind of work pushes me through the challenging moments of learning how to navigate the school and the people who work here with me. I also love sitting in an office with 12 other teachers. At first, it was really challenging because of the language barrier and some issues related to gender, but now I am so grateful for the little community that has formed. I’m actually ‘in’ on the inside jokes and have received an immense amount of support and growth from them. Sitting and listening to all the hilariously weird things that go on and the inside scoop on the school, and building some meaningful relationships throughout it all, has brought me a lot of laughter and ease.

Easter Break: At the beginning of April, I had about two weeks off from school for an Easter holiday. Ryan and I decided to meet up with the two first years in Dar for a trip back to Morogoro to reconnect with each other and our friends at language school—all before heading to Arusha for retreat with the rest of the JVs. Spending a few days outside of Dodoma, in a relaxed atmosphere with some incredible people, was the perfect way to step away from the stress of school for a bit. I had so much fun exploring, chatting, and dancing (of course) with the people who first welcomed me into this experience. We then continued to Arusha for continued rejuvenation during retreat and Easter celebration. I felt so refreshed during those two weeks and ready to return back to school.

Now I am on a month-long break from school and I am definitely ready to embrace it. The past few weeks have been consumed by marking over 400 exams for the 327 students I have in From 1 and Form 3 and it was exhausting. I’m really looking forward to have time to focus on some things I’ve had on my mind for a while—visiting people, reading, buying shoes (I can only wear my holey ones for so long), and maybe traveling a bit.

I’ve been here for six months and that milestone feels so strange. Time here is moving quickly before my eyes and sometimes I feel like it’s still February even though so much has happened since then. The realness of this experience and length of time is settling in and honestly my feelings about that change from day to day. One moment it totally freaks me out and a wave of missing home rushes over me and then the next minute it feels like the perfect amount of time and I can’t believe how fast the months are flying by. It’s hard to think that the last time I saw a lot of my friends was almost a whole year ago and that there is a year and a half more to go before I see them again. Realizing that I will miss big “life events” in the lives of loved ones is upsetting as well. However, I knew all of this coming into the commitment and the excited anticipation of what is to come outweighs the gravity of being in Tanzania for two years and makes it less frightening. Over the past six months, I’ve had many times when I’ve stumbled, made a complete fool of myself, and even failed. I have made mistakes in and outside of the classroom and I have witnessed things that make me uncomfortable or sad. There have been lots of tears and stress from adjusting to a new culture, type of work, and living environment.

At the same time, there have been many moments of laughter, learning, and growth. Throughout the past six months, I have learned a lot about myself and I am eager to continue to do so. Entering into a completely new place where I knew practically no one yet had to jump (mindfully) into work, community, and life here was an opportunity to see how I am in those situations. How do I cope with language barriers? How have I balanced the sometimes crazy demands at work with getting to know my surroundings? Am I developing relationships the way that I intend? What does my identity as a teacher look like? Am I being myself in and contributing to the community? I have been reflecting on all of these questions and with a gentle, critical eye I have started to process the first fourth of my Tanzanian time. I have really enjoyed learning so much about myself—in the areas where I feel strong and also where I can grow. One thing that I’ve learned is that I really use humor to ease transition and difficulty. Laughter is a simple way to bridge differences and provide a foundation on which I can develop friendship and trust. I’ve noticed I’m more outgoing now than I ever have been. I think that personal development is due in part to the need for social connections and the creation of a joyous space but I also think I really have the freedom to be completely me. Of course I constantly think about who I am within this culture and to the people around me but I feel like everything I do is authentic to who I am at this moment—and I’m not sure if I have ever been that confident. So, while the past six months have been a serious roller coaster of emotions, I am looking back with a grateful and reflective smile. I now look forward to the 18 months of struggles and joys to come.

Why Baltimore is Still Not Breaking My Heart

A little over a year ago two, almost complimentary, articles circulated my university’s campus. The first was called Baltimore City, You’re Breaking My Heart and it attempted to highlight many of the city’s problems as told by a woman, seemingly well-off, who lived near Patterson Park. By her experience, the city is a dangerous place that can be fixed by a bigger police presence. (After checking the article again yesterday, I saw the author made many notes to address the loud criticism her piece received). I didn’t agree with her solitary references to white deaths as opposed to the black deaths that occur. I didn’t agree with her refusal to look at the years of layers of oppression that contribute to the poverty and crime she hides from, while noting expensive restaurants as one of the city’s few saviors.

The second article was written in response to the woman’s single story of this complex city, titled Baltimore City: You’re Not Breaking My Heart. I thought the author eloquently spoke to the limited view the woman had that caused her to “be tired” of the crime, violence, and “being surrounded by drug dealers.” The piece by Tim Barnett shed light on what many people refuse or cannot see and I appreciated his bold, challenging, and thoughtful views about this city I grew to love and miss. I agreed and my heart was not broken. I refused to let the city be reduced to crime rates. While I do not claim to be an expert of the city by any means, and I know that four years is but a fraction of a lifetime living somewhere, I had many opportunities that enabled me to learn and grow in a place I called home.

This week, after pouring over many news articles, Facebook rants, and deep reflections, both of those articles came to mind. As I process and reflect on what I can learn from far away, I feel moved to share why Baltimore is still not breaking my heart—why it still lies in, strengthens, and develops my heart through these rampant, pervasive injustices that paint the headlines today. With a heavy (yet whole) heart I have been reading about the events in Baltimore over the past few weeks. It is the same story of Ferguson, of New York, of California, of Arizona. It is the same story of a history of unjustified police brutality towards black men within a system of institutional failure and racial inequality. It is the story of a seemingly recent trend, but one that has been happening for decades. And unfortunately, it is a story that will probably happen again.

Unarmed black man is killed by the police. That’s the story. Yes, there are varying details in each of these cases and at times the threat to an officer’s safety is real, but race cannot be ignored. It should never be ignored. Our society has been feeding us a solitary image of black individuals since before the slave trade, manipulating us into believing it, and then reinforcing it through carefully chosen news articles, flashy crime rates, and stereotypical television characters. This is the story of the thugs and ganstas, the absent fathers and the drug dealers, the pregnant teens and the inarticulate ‘at-risk’ kids. When society perpetuates these images over and over again we believe them and some people think that is all they can live up to.

Baltimore did not escape this discrimination. There is a history of racial inequality in the city that is embedded in housing laws, employment, business practices, education, health care, and attitude. Everything and everyone has been affected by racism. Back in September, the Baltimore Sun investigated police brutality in the city of Baltimore. The Sun examined hundreds of court cases about individuals who have been beaten by the police and noted that most of the victims were black. Since 2011, there have been 317 cases of police misconduct and only about 100 instances where the victim ‘won’. This misconduct and complete abuse of power cost the city almost $6 million in settlements and court judgements. $6 million! Think of what else that money could have bought to improve the city. The article also tells the stories of some of these individuals who have unbelievably terrifying stories. Race plays a part in this. When police assume that every black person is a criminal and strips the dignity and humanity from those individuals by throwing them into the concrete, race is present. When the retribution is a legal settlement to quiet the issue instead of sweeping legal reform, race is present. The Sun’s investigation demonstrates that Freddie Gray is not the first, nor will he be the last, example of racial injustice in our society.

The demonstrations this past week in Baltimore reminded me that throughout my time here in Tanzania so far, it has been easy for me to simply forget about racial justice in the U.S. Issues about race look differently here and while I am thinking about them, I have almost forgotten about an injustice I feel passionately about in the U.S. The effortless act of letting race slip from my mind is an example of my privilege as a white person. Freddie Gray, Michael Brown, Eric Garner and countless others who were and are discriminated against due to the color of their skin do not have that luxury. Thinking about how to overcome the many obstacles one faces on the basis of their race leaves little room to simply forget. As hard to read as the news has been, it is a needed reminder for me to continue working for racial justice wherever I am.

Seeing that the march happened on North Avenue, where I ate dinner every Tuesday with men at a transitional home, and that Freddie Gray was from Sandtown, where I spent my sophomore year at Habitat for Humanity, has left me wondering about all the people who has touched my life over the past few years. I have witnessed the effects of police brutality and heard stories of racial discrimination. I have also seen the apathy of fellow students who refused to venture into the city with deplorable crime statistics. It brings me great sadness to now see things escalating, knowing that I am a world away and cannot do anything to show support. I can only think of my friends in Baltimore and hope that they, and all black Americans, find peace and justice soon. Barnett said, “love is not partial…to love Baltimore is to love it WHOLLY.” And I will. I will love this city from the vacant homes to the beautiful parks and from the suffering to the uninformed.

The continued illustrations of inequality in Baltimore also give me anger. I’m angry that my friends and neighbors are targets of police brutality. I’m angry that the media has focused on the estimated 100 people who are turning to violence instead of the thousands of peaceful protestors with a clear message. And I’m angry that blackness is something to be feared and misunderstood. As a young, white woman I cannot feel the pain of racism nor the frustration of living amidst failed and apathetic responses. I can, however, learn. I can learn through the stories of others. I can listen with an open heart and mind. I can educate myself about the institutional and systemic factors that contribute. And I can be present in solidarity to those who live with this injustice every day. But yes, I’m angry. I believe that anger, when channeled positively and in a healthy way, can bring about peaceful change. It is an emotion that deserves attention. It serves as a motivator when things seem hopeless and it brings people together over a similar cause. Black Americans’ anger is real and should not be undermined by violence or misrepresentation. When silence and waiting do not overturn a system of discrimination and when nothing changes for decades, people get tired of the constant battle. They become infuriated with the same story over and over again. Freddie Gray was another catalyst of a call for change. Freddie Gray represents this system that has deserted black Americans and people will rally behind a chance to change that system. That chance, and the thousands of others who fight for it, are why my heart will not break for Baltimore. It will be strengthened by the united call for racial justice.

Lina and I during my second visit to the Hando’s home.

Ryan, Isaac, and Tom on our way to Mama Goodluck’s restaurant in Ihumwa.

My host mom teaching Victoria some cooking skills.

Find the monkey!

The cutest children you will ever see. Dereki, Lina, and Paulo.

Ryan and Victoria at the top of Simba Rock!

“We must focus on the climb of the mountain, not on reaching the top.”

We celebrated community night last week with the multitude of religious communities that we JVs spend a lot of time with: IVREA and St. Gemma sisters, the Ihumwa Jesuits, and the K/ndege Jesuits. We met at the IVREA sisters’ house in Ihumwa on St. Peter Claver High School’s campus for mass and a relaxed evening filled with great food and conversation. I spent most of the evening talking to one of the Jesuit novices who is here in Dodoma for two months. We were talking about life and how we both got to where we are today and he shared with me some of his struggles using the analogy of climbing a mountain. He said if we have a goal and only focus on that goal or one aspect of our lives, and not on each moment, then we miss out on the lives we are living now. Sure, it may be rocky and challenging, and at times we all want to stop and rest, but being present in our immediate surroundings and to the people in our lives now is what’s important. In doing that we live our lives to the best of our abilities and may even realize that what we think we want at the top of the mountain is in fact something else. And when we do get there, wherever and whenever that may be, we’ll appreciate it that much more just based on the climb itself.

That image and reminder has stayed with me for the past few days as things have become a bit challenging here. My initial immersion and pure wonder at everything around me has worn off and life has started to set in. As difficulties come to light, it’s important for me to not ignore the climb and focus on one thing at a time, like community or work, but live in the hard times to learn and grow from each rock and turn.

I started school at the beginning of January and working at a high school is not as terrifying as I thought! I teach nine 40-minute periods per week of Writing Skills and Values to Form 1 and Form 3 students (7^th and 9^th graders age-wise). I’m glad to teach part-time and to teach subjects that are not on the national NECTA examinations. I don’t feel as much pressure with my lack of formal training to achieve Tanzanian standards. But I definitely have days when I leave my class thinking I could have done better or wishing my students didn’t throw random things at each other (or eat paper…), but I’m learning different methods that work best for me and the students. It still feels really weird to call myself a teacher but it’s growing on me. My Form 3 students are taking a little longer to figure out although my Form 1 kids are so fun (and funny). Mary, Ryan, and I organized an orientation for the new Form 1 students a few weeks ago and while it was extremely chaotic, I’ve really seen the effects it had on my students now. We know each other a little better and there is a mutual respect present that may have taken me months to achieve if Camp Mag+s didn’t happen.

In addition to teaching, I also serve as the art club advisor, a co-advisor with Victoria of the magazine club, a guidance counselor, and the co-head of the community service department. Oh and the headmaster asked me to create a sexual misconduct policy for the teachers’ contracts. Before I came, I told myself that I would not become over involved but would you look at me now…To be fair, all of these roles were assigned to me as a volunteer but oh does it keep me busy! It gets quite overwhelming at times but I’m taking things day by day, each slow step up the mountain.

I am generally enjoying the actual work at school and I really feel like I can use some past experiences in what I’m doing here at SPCHS. In recent weeks, however, some broader challenges have surfaced. One is the issue of corporal punishment. I knew that I would see that form of classroom management here but I did not expect to see the severity that I have or experience certain reactions. During Camp Mag+s, I saw a student who was caned so harshly, the wounds on his forearms had split open and were bleeding. That was the first time I really saw it and I was shocked. These Form 1 students were supposed to have a fun weekend while learning about their new home and this student experienced such a punishment during his first few days away from his family. I handled it by focusing on the immediate health needs and checking up on the student later, but I’m still wondering how to handle it overall. I see some punishments occur when I don’t see a reason or they seem far too aggressive for my limited understanding of caning and other forms of physical punishment. I grew up scared of a call home or an extra writing assignment. Such physical methods just don’t exist in public or formal places anymore in the U.S. so witnessing this frequently has been rather jarring. I am not expected to use it but students will act out more in my classes sometimes because they know that I won’t. And some teachers undermine my authority by caning my students in front of me and telling me “not to worry about it.” It’s really frustrating but my community is there to support each other and I will learn to navigate these things with time. I am not here to change anything and I can’t stop it, but I can meet students on the other side with a different kind of love and support. My conversation with the novice helped me to realize that I can’t ignore the parts of this experience that are hard, I have to live in them and through them in order to get a little higher.

There have been a few other challenging aspects in the past few weeks but I’ll reflect on those later. On a much lighter note, and continuing this quasi-theme I seem to have developed in this post, I actually climbed another mountain last weekend! Well, a rock really. In the post card that I sent many of my friends and family before coming here, there is a picture of Dodoma that highlights a large and seemingly-random rock in the middle of the city. It’s called Simba Rock, or Mount Simba, and I got to the top (nearly). On Saturday morning, Ryan, Victoria, and I walked there and climbed about 45 minutes to the highest point we could go without scaling some treacherous-looking sides. This was MUCH easier than the mountain in Morogoro—in that in the time it took me to walk to Mount Simba, climb it, walk back, and shower I would have still been climbing to the top of the other one… It was really fun! We saw monkeys jumping from rock to tree while we watched from above and took in the fantastic view of Dodoma. I fell (again) on my way down but at this point I would be surprised if I didn’t leave with a few scratches.

Other updates include a family of cockroaches that seem to be vacationing permanently in our kitchen, another incredible visit to my host-family where they said my Kiswahili is improving, some great community bonding, and my first solo trip into town. The cockroaches are actually disgusting but tackling it with my community has been an unexpected bonding experience and it feels okay to have ‘normal’ issues like household things here. My host family has been such a godsend. They still expect me to come every weekend, but when I do see them I feel instantly relaxed. The stresses of home and school are put on hold and I just spend a weekend cooking, playing with kids, and making many language mistakes. It’s really nice. Also, my community has started to really mesh well together and I feel like I know a lot about the layout of the town and can travel comfortably alone. It was really hard for me to imagine feeling such comfort and normalcy before coming here, but it happens—little by little I’m starting to see a home here.

At risk of killing the metaphor, focusing on the climb will help me to take in each moment, challenging or otherwise, so that I don’t trip all the way up. This outlook encourages me to sit for a bit with a new friend, take my time working through the hard parts, and pay attention with the earth is telling me to do something differently. It helps me to breathe when I see cockroaches crawling out of the refrigerator or when I can’t stand to be at my desk, but also to be present when I’m in an eye-opening conversation or witnessing the pure beauty of Dodoma. I’m not really sure what’s at the top yet. It may be the end of my time here or the comfort of teaching but it may also be simply a guiding peak that gently pushes me along, through each day. The point is that it doesn’t matter what it is or when I’ll get there. The point is that, with every part of my body and mind, I climb the path in front of me.

“In Tanzania, things are always good”

Exactly one month ago, I arrived in Tanzania and was welcomed into the arms of my community. Such gracious welcoming has not stopped for the past four weeks and I’m really starting to feel comfortable here. I am met with “Karibu! (Welcome)” by each new person, who genuinely means to welcome me as a visitor to their country, their home. This puts me at ease and I am happy to say that I am really loving it so far!

When I first arrived with the other new Tanzania JVs (Ryan, Barbara, Allison), we spend a few days in Dar Es Salaam. We landed in the densely populated city and we met with a wave of humidity and blinding sunlight. Bye-bye snow! Our community met us at the airport and we continued to the Dar volunteer house, and then for two days we toured the city and placement sites. I was able to see where Barbara and Allison will be working, which will be nice to remember and visualize when we share experiences. I must admit though, for those days I was so tired and in awe that I was actually (finally) here so it’s kind of a blur! But I hope to return soon.

After Dar, the four of us newbies left for Kiswahili language school in Morogoro. The school was at a Lutheran Junior Seminary and it was so nice! We all had our own rooms and bathrooms and were fed multiple times a day (despite some initial worry), with a common space for all the students and an area to wash clothes. We had lessons in the morning with Chuma and then split for drills in the afternoon- with two chai (tea) breaks of course. Chuma was so patient with us and moved quickly to accommodate for us not being there for very long. We learned so much in each day we could ramble off a list just before morning chai at 10. I need to study more, but the initial exposure and practice was excellent! In the afternoons Allison and I were with Bestina, who pushed us to speak through repetition and patience. And by the end of the two weeks we were able to be part of a graduation. I’m not sure if I learned enough to “graduate” but it was really nice to witness the English students show off and celebrate with our teachers. I miss them all already but (classic Tanzania) they welcomed us to stay there if we want to visit.

On the weekend (and on two days when we skipped classes…) the teachers took us on little field trips. We traveled to the town of Morogoro and to a Massai cow market. The market was amazing! The Massai is a huge tribe here in Tanzania that has their own land, government, and traditions. The structure reminds me of how Native Americans live within the United States, although the Tanzanian government seems to actively support the Massai during land disputes. Cows are a huge commodity for the Massai, as most of their livelihood lies in buying, selling, and trading with them. At the market, there was a large open space with hundreds of cows being auctioned and roaming about. And since the business is mostly men people were surprised to see so many women, especially white women, walking in the middle of the field. Our guide, who teaches at the school, did an excellent job of explaining how life works for the average Massai person and how they are thriving within a political state.

A few days before we left, we skipped class and a few teachers took us and two other students to climb one of the beautiful mountains surrounding Morogoro. I asked Bestina if it was hard and she said that it’s easy and it only takes two hours to get to the top. Two hours? I asked her again and she said, “oh maybe it will be hard for you”. And was she right! We started out on a windy dirt road, which was pretty easy, and then suddenly took a sharp turn vertically up the mountain. We continued like this for what seemed like an eternity and 20 minutes kept turning into one more hour. I was lagging and trying to keep up while enjoying the view and not falling off the side…and a little bitter at the same time. But when we finally got to the top the view was incredible! It opened up into a valley of farms, homes, and a breathtaking landscape. We rested for a while and then continued down, which was much easier for me than on the way up. I even sang a Frozen duet with one of the teachers. I would have cried if I had to exert more energy on the way up…

After language school we all went to Dodoma for Christmas and retreat. I was so eager to see my new home and community! We arrived on Friday and had the opportunity to meet the outgoing JVs, Jamie and Roxanne. They were able to share their wisdom with us for one evening before they left early the next morning. It was really nice to be able to put faces to names and witness how much this experience meant to them. After they left, we had one day of rest when the second year Dar JVs arrived, and then had retreat from Sunday until Christmas Eve. Retreat was just what I needed to settle some nerves and prepare for my time in Dodoma. The time for both communities (Dar and Dodoma) to bond was really special- though, retreats do have that almost instant, unique effect on people.

On Christmas Eve we cooked a feast at the house and I picked up a kitenge (a type of fabic) dress that I had made for the holiday and it turned out really nice! I wore it to mass that night and people loved it! At mass, all 8 JVs had to introduce themselves and I had to do it in Kiswahili! I practiced what I wanted to say and people said I did a good job although I may have blacked the whole experience out because I can’t even remember if I said my name. There were hundreds of people! I don’t think any amount of self-confidence will get me over public speaking to the masses (at mass. Haha).

On Christmas Day we rested for a bit and then went to the Jesuit community on the school’s campus where I’ll be working. St. Peter Claver is so big! It looks like a college campus but it’s still under construction. I am definitely eager to start. Tomorrow…yikes! Anyway, after the tour of the school we cooked dinner for everyone and shared a great meal with the Jesuit community. It’s good to know that I have them for support when I need it. I also talked to my family on Christmas for the first time since arriving. It was harder than I thought but it was really nice to hear their voices. And I’m sure it will get easier as time goes on.

After Christmas, the Dar community left and (part of) the Dodoma community was together in their home! Last week we had ICO, or In-Country Orientation, and toured more of Dodoma and site placements, and met with a ton of different people. On New Year’s Eve we went to mass (so much mass) and then celebrated the birthday of the second years, Mary and Victoria. It was such a blast! We had a dance party in our living room and ate cake. We also had this Ugandan banana wine that I thought was good but ended up making me sick until the next afternoon. I barely had a glass, I swear! Overall, things are starting to feel familiar here in Dodoma and I can’t wait until I am able to navigate it alone.

This weekend I stayed with a host family who is friends with one of the Jesuits at the parish. They live on a huge compound so the many members of their family (11 children, including 3 sets of twins!) can pass in and out. I spent most of my time with the mother and father, a daughter, and three grandkids. All were extremely welcoming and taught me a great deal about language and an “ordinary” day of a Tanzanian. A cooked a lot throughout the weekend and the family joked that I had passed their test and could actually cook some Tanzanian food (score!). I hope to continue to visit them throughout my time here.

Tomorrow starts my position at St. Peter Claver! Students don’t arrive until next week, which is nice that I have some transition time, so I’ll be spending the whole week in meetings and planning lessons. It’s still weird for me to even say that I’ll be teaching but I am excited to finally start and get into a routine. Next time I post I hope to be more detailed. There was just too much this time! If you have any questions or would like to know more about anything, please let me know! I’m happy to share. I hope you all are having a joyous holiday season!

Well, here I go!

Tomorrow I finally embark on my two year journey in Dodoma, Tanzania! The process with JVC began almost a year ago and I have been waiting officially since April to begin this new chapter of my life. The past few months, called lovingly by other late departures as “limbo,” have been a rather strange time of much love and laughter and, more recently, of tear-filled “see-you-laters.” I have spent the last six months soaking in as much family and friends as I can while trying to prepare myself for what will be probably the most challenging experience of my life thus far.

Back in July I attended orientation with all the JVC and Rostro de Cristo volunteers and it really helped me to feel at peace with my decision to accept this next step. The other volunteers challenged and supported me in the best of ways and Tanzania suddenly felt so real. I am still in awe at the amount of beauty, humility, and inspiration I witnessed during those two weeks. I know that each of them will thrive through their passion in each of their placements for the next year or two years.

Since July, I have been adjusting to the strangeness of being home for this long since high school while trying to visit friends and family and continue preparation (don’t worry, Swahili is still quite sub-par…). Now that the day of departure has finally arrived, I am feeling pretty much everything in the book. Most of the time I am so excited that the anticipation is over and that I can finally jump into JVC and Tanzania with much newness and joy. Then, at sudden times, I get hit with a pang of sadness and nerves. It’s a bit unsettling that I’m leaving the comfort of my home and the company of loved ones for two years- the gravity of which is quite sad. Starting a new job and living with the pillars of JVC in a new community is just as scary as it is exhilarating as well. But then I am reminded of how wonderful this new adventure and life will be. To continue the back and forth of emotions, I reread my application to the program and I was inspired by my own words to enter into the unknown. I am truly eager to embrace the challenges and graces of the next two years.

Thank you for the immense amount of support and unconditional love I have received over the past few months, and many times prior to that. I will keep in touch as much as I can and please know that you are all in my thoughts. Until next time (when I’m in Dodoma!!!)…

Sending much love,
Becca

JVC and RdC Volunteers