We’ve had a very productive week in the village. Along with our regular school teachings, we had four community teachings, reaching about 200 people. The first community teaching was scheduled for Monday out near the Nazareti Primary School, one of the schools we teach at twice a week, about an hour’s walk away from the center of town. Gaby and Stefanie expected no one to show up. They weren’t sure the sub-village leader would have gotten the message out to the people and that they would actually come. I just expected to do an effective teaching with no expectation of how large the crowd would be.
We arrived 5 minutes before 11 and saw some men hanging around a duka close to the school, seemingly waiting for something. They turned out to be waiting for us—waiting for the teaching. I think the village leader told them 10AM so that they would show up in a somewhat timely manner for starting. As it turned out, there was a funeral at the same time, so not as many people showed up as would have otherwise, but I was happy with the turnout. We had a crowd of 21 very attentive men, which was good because we didn’t have to split the genders and teaching group for the gender-sensitive topics. We each were prepared to teach individual sections of the curriculum. I taught the sections on sexual transmission of HIV and prevention of sexual transmission as well as the “taking action” section at the end. The SIC curriculum incorporates the ABC’s (Abstinence, Be Faithful and Condom Use—the ABK’s in Swahili), which offer choices, and are both proven to be effective in reducing the impact of HIV as well as supported by the Tanzanian government, which helps our case in the event that an individual comes up against what we’re teaching. The citizens are very proud Tanzanians and love their government, so many will support what their government supports, which is a progressive approach to the AIDS issue.
We taught for almost three hours as the men sat, scowling in concentration, listening carefully to what we had to say. Because it was a group of Babas only (no women), it might have been wise of us to have switched it up and had Jonas or Joey teach the sexual transmission section, because even the grown men had a hard time staying completely serious. I have so far been very serious and professional in my teachings (maybe there’s some room for humor in the future), but the fact is that I’m still a woman talking about sex. Good thing we didn’t have me or any of the other female teachers do the condom demonstration... with our huge, black, rubber, anatomically accurate prop. They would have been in fits. So Jonas took care of teaching that for us.
In my sexual transmission section, I talked not only about the ABKs, but also about the importance of good communication and trust between sexual partners. Finally, I added something I really believe: The way I see it, personally, is that one of the most loving things you can do is protect yourself and your partner from HIV transmission. A whopping 80% of HIV transmissions in Tanzania occur through sex—typically an act of intimacy and love. So the most loving thing you can do is communicate with your partener about how to stay healthy. Our village appears to be very family-oriented, and I felt like the message was well-received. When I sat down for the next person to teach his section, I asked Gaby if she thought it was preachy. I didn’t think it was, but I was more reassured when she said she didn’t think it was, either. Although I feel very strongly about the kinds of attitudes people should have around HIV and their lives and community, I am careful to be respectful of them as people at choice and of another culture.
In my personal conclusion at the end of the teaching, I also added that now that they know a lot, they have a kind of responsibility to change their behavior a little. I explained that I don’t want to change their culture, but there are some behaviors that must be changed to keep the community and themselves safe—namely, sexual and child-bearing behaviors. I also was inspired to thank them personally for coming to be taught, as it gave me a lot of energy to keep teaching in their community. I’ve come a long way and am living in a very different environment, and it is very fulfilling to be able to do this.
The men were deeply grateful for our coming and teaching to them. They asked good, thoughtful questions throughout the session and listened well the whole time. At the end of the teaching, the sub-village leader who organized the teaching and brought people to it, assigned on of the men—which happened to be one of the most attentive ones and the one asking the most questions—to lead the group in a tradition they have for thanking people they respect and to which they’re very grateful. The assigned man had everyone stand, and exlained to us that they would repeat three things three times, starting with “pasha” (rubbing their palms together to heat them up). When the man said, “Choma!”, the men clapped three times towards us, stomped three times, and snapped their fingers three times at us, all together. It was so cool to have them honor us so, “according to their culture.”
* * *
Africa is beautiful. If there’s one t hing I’ve learned since being here, it’s that the skies are ALWAYS incredible. For example, on my safari in the Serengeti, I quickly realized that the image of the rays of sun shinging down throught the clouds to spectacularly light the land- and sky-scape was by no means something Disney made up for The Lion King. It’s as much a reality here as night being dark. Why is it so beautiful? The skies are SO vast. I grew up in a valley, so I always had hills surrounding me. But here, my horizon is flatter, farther away, and with one mountain—or two on a clear day—characterizing the skyline. I can see clearly where the sun comes up and where it goes down. And speaking of mountains, I saw Kilimanjaro on Tuesday in the evening for the second time—the first time since our introduction to the village. It looks smaller than I think it should and certainly much smaller than Mt. Meru. But I like it. It’s beautiful, and it’s different from Mt. Meru in that it doesn’t just look like a jagged rock... it has snow!
Also, at night, because there are no city or ambient lights, the universe above is free to take its turn show its own spectacle of light. I see more stars here than I can ever recall seeing at once, even out at the Colorado River in the desert. Maybe I just need to get out more. But since coming here five weeks ago, there’s been only one night that I’ve not seen the Milky Way. And after that one night it rained. Often (maybe as a result of drinking chai before going to bed, hmm...), I am forced awake in the middle of the night by an insane urge to go to the bathroom. I have to leave the house to walk to the choo, and on the way back stop in my tracks to look up at the stars. I’m grateful for these emergency choo-visits in the night because they give me the opportunity to see the stars, when the stars alone would not have gotten me out of bed. I think I’ll keep drinking chai before bed.
I absolutely love my morning wand evening walks, too, especially if I take them alone. We teach every morning at 8AM, so I walk every morning from my house to school at around 7:30AM... rested, fed (with chai na maziwa na sukari! / chai with milk and sugar!) and looking out at the beautifully lit landscape from horizon to horizon. I walk back in the evenings from the Mwenye Kiti’s house, usually from planning lessons, often just before sundown. With the sun on the other side of my village world and with it so low in the sky, the trees are perfectly silhouetted against it and the fire-like clouds. There’s no need for underexposure photography here. But even with the sky so vast, there never exists a feeling of emptiness. At these times, it is easy and most natural to feel connected to the universe.
* * *
Despite appreciating the beauty of the scenery, I became very conscious during the week of the fact that I didn’t have my rock with me. I’ve been dealing with such a multitude of deep frustrations that I’ve been operating from a place of not understanding what I was going through or even knowing what to treat for. On the day that it hit me this week, Gaby said a few things very well. She said that although she doesn’t understand my beliefs or philosophy, she does see that I’m far from them. She also said that at the end when we go back home, people will ask us how it was... We’ll say that some of it was actually quite hard. But what people might not understand is that “some of it being very hard” can translate into days of living that very real experience, but that yes, we did get some good photos. Somehow both the things she said were very helpful and supportive. I knew they meant something. But I didn’t value the latter as much as I do now until she told a group of us on a crowded bus ride about a time she became so altitude-sick while climing the highest mountain in South America that she was actually very scared. Unstoppable nose-bleeding and vomiting during a night when she had to wait at that altitude until dawn... I realized why I sensed before that she knew what she was talking about.
Joey also said something very well that day. He said that this is what culture shock really is: not having your rock. I wasn’t sure I agreed at first, as I could see myself traveling with a friend and never losing my rock. But that’s not the same category. Traveling with a rock, you can still assimilate into and experience a culture without losing your foothold. I guess I’ve got some culture shock starting to heal.
Stef also said something well. She didn’t say anything but just hugged me. I really needed that. My teaching group is definitely growing on me.
In the meantime, I’m finding rocks all over. I’m re-centering and being clear on who I am and why I’m here. It’s a process, so I don’t plan on finishing that this week, but I’m starting in a big way. I think it’s safe to say that the next time you see me, I’ll be changed into a more revealed me.
* * *
Our second community teaching happened at the village office for two sub-vilages. It was scheduled for 12 noon but didn’t start till 2PM because of another NGO in the village, Catholic Relief Services. Somehow they got our audience first.
This teaching reached about 75 village members, both babas and mamas. Fortunately/unfortunately we were teaching a group of mamas at the dispensary simultaneously, so our teaching group was already split and we couldn’t divide the men and women and teach them separately. We ideally try to do this for community groups because the women will tend not to ask questions on important topics like sexual transmission if the men are present. Also... they just about die of embarassment when we talk about condoms, and many end up crying during the condom demonstration. I think it’s a combination of laughter and embarrassment, but they turn their faces away or cover them with their kanghas, head scarves or hands, and when they reappear, they’re wiping their eyes and show no sign of being publicly amused.
* * *
So, I’ve been here for a little over a month and living in the village for over two weeks. I’m getting used to some things... I never used to drink tea, but I now drink about four cups a day. With milk. And sugar. It’s like hot liquid candy. I’m getting used to shaking everyone’s hand, and I’m getting used to being quite dirty. Even on the weekends when I have the opportunity to take a hot, running-water shower, I only take one. At home I was used to being dirty from working with the horses, but I could always just clean up. But here, even when you’re inside, it’s still not quite clean. So you just start getting dirty again. I’ve only taken three bucket showers here (but I don’t smell, I swear), I don’t wash my feet every night like I probably should, and I figure that having clean hands means no more than using hand sanitizer, whether or not it gets the dirt off. It’s rare to see my fingernails clean. But I do brush my teeth (not always floss... because of the “not clean” hands situation) and “wash” my face with pre-moistened towelettes every day and night. I’m also getting used to using very little toilet paper, and I don’t mind the food.
It’s a good thing I like to eat rice, beans and cabbage, because I eat a lot of it. And fresh fruit, which no one should mind. We also often eat makande (a corn and beans chunky moosh dish), and we always eat with one utensil: a spoon. Last week we were served tikitikimaji (watermelon) twice a day with sliced bananas. I don’t think I will ever get tired of tikitikimaji! And it’s also a good thing I like ndizi because we basically have some sort of banana or plantain product at every meal. The foods are not cooked with any spices, so it’s also a good thing thaty I have a history of liking bland foods. But this might also explain why on the weekends I want curry!!
* * *
That’s all for now. I have a more detailed description of my family, classrooms and our work in the works. Again, you can let me know what you would like to hear about, as this is just becoming my way of life and it sometimes easy to skip over things I deem basic.
Also, please note that the SIC P.O. Box (so, my mailing address) has changed to 16390.
Finally, you’re welcome to email me personally. I love comments on the blog, but be aware that they give me no way of replying to you personally. My email address is carrie.c.weaver@gmail.com, and just because I’m far away “doing good” doesn’t mean your life is not important to me! :P
I love you all. Thanks for reading! :)
Peace.
