Tag: Life in Tanzania Page 20 of 26

A Week in the Life of Us

On October 24, 2008

Okay, okay, so I know it’s been a while since I have blogged (as some of you have so politely reminded me).

The truth is, there hasn’t been anything terribly interesting to write about. And creative topics haven’t been coming to me. Is that called a blogger’s block?

So. I will write about my non-interesting week so that you can see that life in Africa isn’t always an adventure. And despite what I said in my last post, maybe sometimes it is even boring.

We’ve been on vacation this week. For me, that doesn’t mean much except that I don’t teach my sixth grade Bible class (which is only 4 hours a week anyway). More significantly, it means that Gil is home.

Often we try to get away during our school breaks. But this time, with prices going up all over place, we decided we didn’t have the money, we weren’t ready to leave Josiah overnight, and there just aren’t too many toddler-friendly places around here anyway.

So. Then our not-so-exciting break turned even more un-exciting when Gil got sick Saturday-Sunday-Monday and Grace and Josiah got sick Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday, including the oh-so-wonderful Wednesday when Grace cried pretty much the whole day due to an ear ache.

So we visited the doctor and got meds. Lots of them. “Mommy,” Grace told me that night after getting totally doped up, “I have nose drops and ear drops…and mouth drops!” (referring to the cough syrup). What can I say? My dad is a pharmacist. I believe in medicine.

But there were some highlights along the way.

Tuesday we went to the pool.

Nope! She’s not drowning. She’s swimming!

And the happy little guy. Who actually isn’t that happy while I am writing this because he still doesn’t feel good. But he was happy in the pool.

Yesterday Gil did a photo shoot for two girls who are very special to us.
And their parents are doing very important work assisting Bible translation.

Victoria, grade 7

Christa, grade 9. (I know you are reading this, Christa! Do you like my choice?)

Today we went to Tanzania’s one-and-only mall to get Grace’s ears pierced, since every Tanzanian little girl has her ears pierced. But we discovered that the jewelry store is closed on Fridays because the owners are Muslim (Fridays for Muslims are kind of like Sundays for Christians). So then we had to explain to Grace that, no, she wasn’t going to get to wear her earrings today after all. She was sad. Probably because she didn’t really realize that “getting your ears pierced” actually involves piercing.

We also got to host our mission team meeting on Monday night, have some teens over for dinner on Tuesday night, and last night, Gil and I went to go see a free movie about the Red Cross during the “European Film Festival.”

And today, while doing some grocery shopping and noticing that the price of disposable diapers has increased AGAIN, I decided, THAT’S IT!, I’m going to cloth. (Though I have made that decision before and changed my mind…so we’ll see).

So now, at this moment, while waiting for pictures to download, I am researching cloth diapers. I do already have some, and Grace uses them at night, but they are the old-fashioned kind which you have to fold and pin. I didn’t realize until recently the amazing cloth diaper diversity that is out there! Any suggestions from anyone? I’m a little overwhelmed with all the choices….

There you have it. A vacation week in the life of an American couple living in Africa with two small children. Whether you really wanted to know all those details or not.

“Adventures”

By Amy Medina

On October 12, 2008

In Other

There’s always parts about living in Africa that could be considered “inconveniences” or “problems” but that I am learning to choose to see as “adventures.” And sometimes, I succeed.

Last week we saw two chalk lines headed down our road and around the corner. They also happened to pass directly through our driveway. A couple days later, when we saw workers digging a trench between those two lines, we got a little worried that the trench was therefore headed for our driveway.

And indeed, it was, as you can see from the picture above. The water company decided to put in a new pipe and figured our driveway was the best path.

Thankfully, after living here five years, I’ve had enough practice seeing such things as “adventures” that I actually saw the whole thing as rather humorous. After making friends with all the workmen by bringing them orange Kool-aid, they were all very helpful when it came to passing children and bags over the large trench in order to get in and out of the car and in and out of my house. And when it rained and the entire thing became one giant mud pit and I was still trying to get in and out of the car with two small children, it became even more humorous.

One thing is for certain: Life does not get boring here.

However, lest you think I am now an expert at being “adventurous,” I am struggling very hard to take the recent news of more power cuts with an adventurous spirit. During the entire year of 2006, Tanzania endured a major power shortage and we were without electricity from 7 am till 7 pm each day. Now there is once again a power shortage, and starting last week, we are without power from 9 am till 6 pm on Mondays and Wednesdays. I’m afraid this will be only the beginning…as is often the case.

It certainly is not the end of the world to be without power two days a week. There are many people in the world, including most of Tanzania, who never have electricity, but when you have it, you depend on it. All of the work I do at home (school projects, lesson planning, and work on my master’s degree) is done on my computer. But probably the hardest part is no fans now that we are entering summer.

So. I am trying to remind myself that there are far greater inconveniences in life, and I should be most concerned about how power rationing affects the economy of Tanzania, since so many businesses and factories are reliant on it.

Okay. It’s an adventure, right? We’ll play outside in the sprinkler more; I won’t have to worry about getting my computer work done since I can’t do it anyway; and it will make me all the more grateful for when the power is on. Such is the stuff of sanctification.

Not Quite the Same as a Game Park

By Amy Medina

On October 4, 2008

In Other

A number of months ago, about a mile from our house, we saw a large sign appear labeled “Zoo,” with an arrow pointing down the road.

We were intrigued. There’s never been a zoo in Dar es Salaam, and the arrow pointed down a road that didn’t lead to much.

So yesterday, since there was no school, we decided to be adventurous and find the Zoo. The signs led us through a village, down a bunch of very bumpy, very dusty dirt roads, to what looked like someone’s house.

It was someone’s house. And the Zoo was in their backyard. A very, very large backyard, mind you, but a backyard just the same. The owner and his family live there. When we arrived, their laundry was hanging out to dry and they were just finishing lunch.

We did a little negotiating over the price (think you could do that at the San Francisco Zoo?), and since we were the only visitors there, the wife and her little boy showed us around.

It actually was more than we were expecting. They had a few zebra, wildebeest, a baby crocodile, two lion cubs (repeatedly labeled “Lion Curbs” in the brochure), some gorgeous birds and a few other things. The cages were all hand made but sturdy, and the animals looked relatively healthy. All of the animals were native to Tanzania. I asked our guide how they got them.

“We have trappers,” she said.

Oh. Got it.

Wildebeast. Not quite the same as seeing them in herds of hundreds out in the wild.

Loved seeing all the birds up close, though it was a little depressing to see the gorgeous birds of prey in cages too small to fly in.

These were my favorite. Gigantic land tortoises. I think they are native to Zanzibar Island, since that’s the only other place I’ve seen them before. They are enormous, very gentle, and very old (can have longer life spans than humans).

Too bad we didn’t get Daddy in this picture. Could have been our next prayer card!

At the end of the visit, Gil asked Grace what animal was her favorite.

“Minnie,” she replied. Interesting, considering our Jack Russell wasn’t at the Zoo.

Actually, I think her favorite was a little monkey that fascinated her.

“Mommy,” she said. “He’s talking to me!”

“Really? What’s he saying?”

“He’s saying that he wants to get out of this…this…[looking up and down at the cage]…this basket!”

You’re right, Grace. I think that’s what he was telling you.

The Least of These

By Amy Medina

On September 21, 2008

In Other

She is given a broom and a bucket.
Every day, she does the same thing: Sweep the dirt off of the busy streets.
With a scarf over her face to keep out the dust, and dodging traffic, she sweeps under the sweltering tropical sun.
All day. Every day.
It’s a government job, and I can’t imagine it pays more than $2 a day.
Yet she is a lucky one, because she has a job and gets to bring money home to her family.

There are dozens like her throughout the city. Every day we see them sweeping.

And I wonder: What does it feel like to be a street sweeper? And why not me?

Living With (But Not In) Poverty

By Amy Medina

On September 18, 2008

In Other

What would it be like if your next door neighbor lived in a tin shack with no running water or electricity, and rarely had enough food to go around?

This is my tension.

Dar es Salaam is a city of 4 million people. It is growing economically in leaps and bounds. The fancy hotels are overflowing with visitors here on business. New banks seem to be opening every week, with lines that go out the door. Our school, HOPAC, which costs $4000 per year for tuition, is bursting at the seams with a waiting list a mile long. The only other high quality international school in the city, IST, which costs more than $12,000 per year, is also bursting at the seams. There are many wealthy people in this city.

However, the vast majority are not. Thankfully, we don’t see starving people in Dar es Salaam the way we did when I lived in Ethiopia as a teenager. There are people starving in Tanzania, and I’m sure even in the city, but it’s not the norm. But that doesn’t mean that the majority are very far above it.

Earlier this week, my house worker, Esta, asked me for an advance on her monthly pay. I asked her what she needed it for and she said that her husband still hasn’t found work and they are out of food. Since she had received her salary less than two weeks ago, the fact that she is asking for an advance for food is not a good thing.

I gave her the advance, and some food, but inside I felt sick. Esta has worked for us for two years and is such a dear woman. She is about my age, been married for two years, and has a baby girl who she brings to work with her. She is a believer and is full of joy. But her life is hard. She and her husband rent two small rooms. Not a two bedroom house—two rooms. One for sitting and one for sleeping. She cooks outside and uses an outhouse. They have electricity but rarely use it. They do not have running water. Esta’s husband has been out of work now for over a year. There is a 40% unemployment rate in this city.

We pay Esta about $80 per month, and this is her only job. In addition, we pay for almost all of their rent and cover all of the medical expenses for her and her baby. If she is still working for us when her daughter goes to school, we will help with school fees too. We pay over the going rate. Yet….we’re talking only $80 a month to live on, folks.

Then there’s our life. We live in a four bedroom house that is (sort of) similar to an American house, though rent is about 4 times cheaper here. We have all the amenities, except for a dryer or dish washer, but I have Esta. We own one ten-year-old car. My pantry is always full of food.

We are not living extravagantly by American standards. When we moved here, we carefully thought through our standard of living. We have been purposeful about the location and size of our house—we chose all the details for very specific ministry-related reasons. We live at or below the standard of living compared to the other HOPAC families. In fact, most of the Tanzanian kids at HOPAC live far above us.

Yet I live with constant tension between our lifestyle and that of so many of the people around us—even those about 100 yards from our house. The truth is, even if we lived at a lower standard, as some of the missionaries in the villages do, we would still have more than most Tanzanians. We never have to worry about having enough to eat. We never have to worry about money for a sick child. We are allowed plane trips to the States every couple of years. Our children are guaranteed an excellent education and all the opportunity they will ever desire.

When Gil and I go out to dinner, I think about how that one dinner was a week’s wage for many people in the city. If we go to a hotel for our anniversary for a night, we could easily spend a month’s wage of an average Tanzanian. I think about it when I buy dog food. Or Pringles. Or books. Or anything that goes beyond basic living expenses.

Sometimes I just want to run away from it all. It’s just too hard. When Esta asked me for the advance for food, I just wanted to leave Tanzania and go back to America. I often just want to pretend that poverty isn’t really there. Of course, living in the States doesn’t make poverty go away. But in America, surrounded by people who live in luxury, it’s easier to live in denial.

Of course, not everyone is rich in America. But even the poorest have electricity, running water (that won’t make you sick if you drink it), shoes, free education for their children, food stamps, presents at Christmas, a TV, and often even a car and a computer. More importantly, people in America have opportunity to get ahead. Most of the rest of the world does not.

But there are no easy answers. How do we remain generous while staying within economic and cultural norms in Africa? What is the balance between generosity and fostering unhealthy dependence? How many “creature comforts” of western life can still glorify God? How do we really distinguish between “needs” and “wants” (which are very much defined by our culture)? Why do my kids get to experience Disneyland, bubble baths, dress-up clothes, swimming pools, and university, and the kids around the corner do not? Why has God allowed us to have so much and so many to have so little? And what is our responsibility in the midst of that?

Think on poverty, my friends. Though I want to run away from it, God never desires us to put our heads in the sand. When not confronted with it head-on, it’s easy to pretend it doesn’t exist. In the end, I’m thankful I live with this tension. Heaven forbid I start pretending that this life really is heaven, and that I “deserve” comfort—as I am often so tempted.

When my struggle ceases, I will be either in sin, or in Heaven.