(Written on April 16, 2012, but not
published due to internet delay)
The hours had been starting to take a toll.
Although the countryside and even assigned reading were interesting they
couldn’t comfort the dull ache of leaving Arusha earlier that morning. Arusha,
with its cool temperatures, beautiful green rolling hills, and wonderful people
who had become family, had completely and utterly felt like home. I was
comfortable walking around the big busy town without a worry, ordering and
eating food uncommon to most Americans, and talking with locals. All of that
was being left like the dust settling behind us.
When we finally reached Dar-Es-Salaam
(after a delay by police wanting a bribe) my heart sunk. This
is a city of 6 million people. Skyscrapers blocked out the stars, cars jammed
together closer than sardines, homeless people slept on cardboard beds and lots
of noise overcrowded me. Oh how I cried for just wanting to be someplace away
from the big city…I was never more Mill City-sick than on the first night in
Dar-Es-Salaam.
I fell on the
bed utterly exhausted emotionally. Krista and I had waited for 6+ hours to go
home with our new host family that would hopefully start making Dar bearable
for the next moth. Our wishes had been crushed. We did get placed with a host
family, but (due to unseen complications) our professor and his wife would also
be with us. After having a wonderful father figure in Arusha for January who
was gone most of March I was looking forward to seeing another. After dinner I
was positive that was not going to be possible. Instead of building personal
relations with Baba, I listened to my professor question him on his role and
history as Arch Bishop of Tanzania. The wonderfully big luxurious house (on
American and Tanzanian standards) felt more like a prison with all the
formality. It seemed all had a certain role to play with a painted mask instead
of being oneself and building relationships.
The first
couple days of being with the host family was hard and the worst part was no
one else would understand. Bailey is living in a family with no running water,
how can she (or others in the group) understand that a modern housing
arrangement doesn’t mean it’s a comfortable home with no relationship tensions?
Although I
dislike pessimism, it would be lying to say at this point I was very optimistic
about the month in Dar. But sometimes when we hit our bottom and question what
good could come, God reminds us that His timing and ways are not always ours.
Story sharing
with Mama in two-hour traffic jams to go 20 km home each day lead to many
unexpected good times. Stories, humor and understandings are so important for
becoming familiar with another person. Although it would take a long time to
tell all the stories here, the important thing I can communicate now is that
these stories started to break the ice. It started with Mama Grace laughing at
our awkward stories from the previous three months and then further back. Then
with Baba Askofu (that means bishop) telling stories. It started to be
comfortable to talk to him as just another person rather than an important
bishop. With our two younger brothers Jeremiah “Jerry” and Joseph “Jo” it was
easer to connect (even though Jo has autism). Never doubt the importance of
humor!
Krista had an
American friend coming from Mozambique and all the housing plans she had
arranged in February fell through a few days before he was to come. However,
Mama was understanding and insisted on picking him up from the airport, having
him over for dinner, and later found a hotel for him very close to our house.
We three were able to have so much fun and break more ice with the family. One
of the major ways was through food!
In order to
show appreciation to Mama and family we three (slightly crazy and ambitious)
Americans made a Mexican burrito dinner including: 2 salsas, special bean mix,
rice, cheese, guacamole, flour tortillas (from scratch), meat and an amazing
dessert. Oh, it was wonderful to have fellowship together. Now we all feel like
friends and family with no more play masks being put on.
When the sun
shone I realized that God had even blessed the location of our home. Anytime
during the day if one is silent (yes, I can even do this) no traffic horns,
people yelling or music blaring can be heard. Instead the birds chirp in trees
by day and crickets compose new melodies by night. Sure, classes by day are
still in downtown Dar, but every night home is a haven for a tired traveler.
It’s hard to think only a week and half has
passed since coming to Dar. It’s hot (not as bad as Zanzibar), but there is so
much to be happy for that there isn’t much room to be bummed out about. The
hours are flying by way to fast, but light and happy as cool whip. God really
does know how to change situations that cause tears, into those that warm the
heart with smiles. J
