It has taken me quite a while to formulate this post. It is a struggle to try and compose a cohesive and coherent picture of daily life here when I am aware of the lack of larger context for most people back home. I remember reading the blogs of former JVC volunteers in preparation for my own departure and thinking that it all seemed so new and different and slightly incomprehensible in terms of my own personal life experience. Now, having been here almost four months already, it is becoming increasingly more difficult to explain the “big” or “noteworthy” events and activities that happen when it is the small moments, faces, comments, and smiles that color them and make them truly meaningful. These small moments are rarely explained; in fact I think they are rarely even mentioned or noted. They are the quiet yet essential background music of our lives here. They are the conversations with the vendors who sell us bananas every week, the sounds of the roosters throughout the neighborhood, the melody of the call to prayer from the nearby mosque as I wake up every morning, the bucket showers, the power outages, the neighborhood kids knocking at our gate to play, the staff meetings, the increasingly normal taste of instant coffee and the laughter that comes from our daily ups and downs in community. These moments and so many more are the creative forces of our environment here. They impact the way we perceive what happens around us, and what happens to us as well. With that being said, I apologize in advance for any lack of clarity from here on out. Even if I had unlimited time and the most expansive vocabulary, it would be too great a task to paint an adequate picture of “life in Tanzania”, and for that richness of experience I am truly grateful.
In thinking about daily life here, the theme of the last month or so has been, “It’s all about perspective.” The amount of times I have repeated this phrase is indicative of just how much I am learning here. It’s interesting to recognize that the way in which I see things often differs from the volunteers who have lived here a year already; my frame of reference is still very “American” at times. For example, upon arrival here, I thought that my days were long. I thought that I had to get up early. I thought that I was exhausted when I got home every day. Teaching was, and still is, a very new and difficult endeavor. Then, I began interviewing students who wanted to host American high schoolers coming for an immersion trip:
Q: “How far away from school do you live? What time do you get up in the morning? What kind of transportation do you take to school? Who stays with you at home (parents, siblings, grandparents, extended family, etc.)?”
The answers to these questions jolted me back to reality a bit. I think I was still operating on the schedule of a college student where anything before 8am is just “too early.” Many of the students at Loyola travel an hour or more every day to get to school, a large percentage of them via public transportation. Accounting for the infamous traffic jams of Dar es Salaam, students often get up before 5:00am in order to be at school by the reporting time of 6:30am.
Their days consist of eight or nine class periods (about half of the 16 total subjects they are studying), each 40 minutes in length, with two 40 minute breaks for tea and for lunch. After classes end, an afternoon study period commences. Students finally begin to head home around 4:00pm or later, beginning yet again the rush hour commute. At home, kids understandably have chores and household responsibilities in addition to studying, spending time with their families, and just letting loose and being kids. Sometimes with this regimented schedule, I forget that many of my students are not older than 13. My life at that age certainly did not require a comparable amount of independence.
As volunteers, we live within walking distance of the schools where we work. We have the ability to stay late at school or come early if need be. We get to see students out and about, in the neighborhood and at church. We have the luxury of time, the luxury of rest, and the luxury of access to our basic needs within walking distance of our home. Gaining a better understanding of my student’s lives outside of school has deepened my appreciation for my own living circumstances here. Our lives as volunteers are very simple by traditional American standards, but we have everything that we need, and as a bonus of geographical proximity, we get to sleep in just a little bit longer than most everyone else. It’s all about perspective.
Last week, two of my community-mates and I spent some time looking at a photo album of the past JVC volunteers in Dar es Salaam. It featured snapshots of the schools at which we work and our home adorned with different decorations and filled with different faces. The idea of perspective again filled my mind, as we talked about our place in the long line of volunteers that have lived and worked in the Dar community. We talked about their legacy, their guidance, and the stories that they lived and shared. I came to a greater understanding that this house, this program, and this history are so much bigger than each of us volunteers individually – and when the days feel long or overwhelming, when I feel like teaching English and learning Swahili and cooking four things on a two-burner stove is just frustrating or hard to grasp, it helps to remember the bigger picture. It helps to remember that many of my students know my JV predecessors, having met them and had them as teachers. They bring life to the pictures I’ve seen and anecdotes I’ve heard. Through my students I learn more about the volunteers who came before me and the way they shaped these bright young people. Every person has a unique story, but these stories – our stories here- are inherently intertwined, woven in, around, and through the others over the years.
Most volunteers join JVC for similar reasons – the desire to live out Jesuit ideals, to live simply in a new place and culture, forming new relationships, and engaging in dialogue and action informed by the ideals of social justice and community. The way each of us carries out this vision, however, differs greatly in terms of daily interactions and duties. It can be hard sometimes to see this bigger picture, this unified mission, when we are caught up in our own school schedules and responsibilities. There are moments when I feel like I am not “doing” enough, when what’s on my plate for a Tuesday morning is grading 180 spelling tests, and that doesn’t quite feel like social justice work – but it’s all about perspective. My work here is to be with the students, to teach them what I can about English and to learn from them what they can teach me about life. I share my American culture with them and they share with me their Tanzanian identity. I get inordinately frustrated when they forget to put periods at the end of their sentences and spell “a lot” as one word, but then they surprise me with wisdom beyond their years in talking about their dreams and their faith. If I can be a part of them growing into loving and compassionate human beings, if they know that I care about their achievement and their well-being beyond the classroom, I will regard these years as a success. If when I return home they have learned something about intercultural and interfaith exchange, I will be a proud teacher.
I think that understanding my place in this larger picture is an important recognition of the brevity of my time here. However, as much as this experience already means to me and as much of it as I will take back to America when the time comes, a large part of these two years will continue to linger here, indirectly shaping the lives of students, neighbors, and future volunteers alike, just as the experiences, relationships, joys, and challenges of former volunteers have quietly but significantly shaped mine. I have been welcomed by the community that they have worked to build. I have been able to share in the friendships that they have formed. When the daily challenges begin to take their toll, it is this community, influenced by the past and so vibrant in the present, that sustains me here. It is all about perspective, and it is through this lens of collaborative support and appreciation for the small details that I strive to view my experience each day.
Thank you for reading and for your desire to share in this experience with me. Here are just a few of the faces that add color to my life each and every day.
A Home Across the Globe 