A short story about surrender

Many of you know about my tendency of arriving five minutes late to meetings, social activities, and leisure events. I like to think that I uphold a higher standard of promptness for work and school-related priorities (like going to class) although even with these I am guilty of being late on some occasions. Sometimes I am late because I try to do just one more thing before I leave my house, other times I am prone to being late because I get caught up in a conversation with someone that I pass on the way to my destination. The bottom line is that being on time was not among my top priorities in life.

In my travels, I have learned that the value of time is very different among different cultures. My experience in Guatemala led me to understand that non-Western countries place very little importance on arriving on time, much less on arriving early like I was taught to do when I was younger. The clearest example in Guatemala was during one afternoon when I sat waiting with my service group for someone to lead us to our service site. We waited at the meeting place for at least two hours until our leader arrived, without showing a hint of awareness of our irritation. Looking back, I am grateful for the humility we showed in resisting to make our impatience known to the leader and thereby embarrass ourselves and probably cause some kind of cultural offense.

Living in Tanzania continues to test my willingness to surrender my beliefs and expectations that I have derived from Western culture and challenges me to have humility as I seek an understanding of the beliefs behind the experiences that cause me to become impatient and frustrated with the day's affairs.

Last Saturday was one of these days.

My morning began with the ambition to take a daladala to school early, so that I might arrive before lunch-time. This would allow time to prepare some things before I left with the students for community service at 2pm. We were going to a new service site to play with children who have mental disabilities and myself and the other teacher who I lead community service with were excited for the day. Around 10 o'clock, I was informed that a Jesuit was running errands in town and would be able to give me and my community mate a lift to school. This would be much more convenient than waiting in town for up to an hour for a ride on a daladala. Our Jesuit friend estimated his errands would take an hour. So we waited. And waited. And waited. At 12:30pm he came, apologized for the delay, and drove us into town to pick up the school nurse who was taking care of a student who needed special attention. The nurse said she needed just ten more minutes to finish the business. Time was nearing 1:30pm and I began to worry that we would be late for community service. I called the bus driver to see how close to school the bus was. No response. Meanwhile the teacher who I lead community service with calls me and tells me she has not heard from our service site to confirm that it was okay for our 45 students to come for the afternoon. I began to panic: What if the bus is late and we are delayed in reaching the service site on time? What if we make it to service site but they are not ready for us? What if I am late and the bus driver and students (and service site) have to wait because of it? The stress and desire for control increases. Thirty minutes later, the nurse returns with the student and declares that we need to take the student to the hospital. So we drive to the hospital and wait some more as the good nurse makes sure the student is taken care of before we leave. It is now ten minutes until two o'clock as we drive away from the hospital towards school. On the way we stopped at a mechanic shop to pick up another Jesuit friend whose truck was having engine troubles. As we drive into the shop, our friend tells us our front tire has a puncture. It was in this moment that I willed myself to let go of this innate longing for control.

You see, in the United States there is a culture that encourages punctuality. Culture is created by people in a society and society in the U.S. is very systematic. Every person has a role to play and follows a routine each day to fill that role. Before I came to Dodoma I worked in the kitchen at a shelter. Every morning I woke at 5:30, locked the door of my friend's apartment and drove to the shelter. I entered the gate with my key card, and unlocked the kitchen doors. Inside the kitchen the first step was to turn on the lights and start heating water for oatmeal, then set up the breakfast buffet by 6:15 so that the residents could eat before leaving for work or school. My work day continued with this routine of deadlines that kept food service on time for the residents. I was held accountable for this routine. If lunch was not ready at 11:30am, the residents would soon take their complaints to the central office. If I slept just five minutes past my alarm and arrived five minutes late, I would find my coworker waiting for me outside of the kitchen. In the U.S., or at least in the parts of the U.S. that I have lived in, the only good excuse for being late is if a serious accident or emergency happens. Sure, we all are late to meetings or classes or work from time to time with some excuse like sleeping in late, having just one more cup of coffee, getting stuck in traffic... but in general we strive to be prompt because this behavior is praised, even awarded in our society (if you ask the employee of the month they are probably almost always on time). This is the culture I come from. Even if punctuality is not a personal priority I know that it is expected of me by others.

Being punctual is low on the list of expectations in Tanzania, and on this Saturday I willed myself to let go of my longing to meet this expectation. As I waited in Dodoma I reflected on all of the lives that interacted with each other and the small things that happened that caused the day to unfold as it did. At first, I saw these as delays- starting with the errands of my Jesuit friend. Doing any business in Dodoma always takes longer than one might expect. Going to the bank involves waiting in a line for at least 15 minutes. Walking through the market includes greeting the friends and shopkeepers you know along the way. Buying electricity might require waiting for the seller to return from break, or wherever she may be. Then, the nurse who was delayed with the student for those thirty minutes may have been delayed because the pharmacist had to handle an emergency in the morning that delayed his re-stocking of medicines. There were other inconveniences, for example the bus driver was unreachable, I learned, because I was given his old phone number. The service site was not reachable because the matron's phone was not working. The tire had a puncture because of the rough roads it manages everyday...so many things that are well out of my control that I was labeling an “inconvenience” or “delay” to my day. But since when was this day mine? All of these people whom I interacted with were equally a part of this day. Their agendas became intertwined with mine. Their plans and mine affected each other. One person's own human error influenced others. It was futile to worry and get stressed out over these things which were out of my control. When I allowed myself to let go of my expectation for the day to unfold as I thought would be best, I could find joy in the small moments that happened. Like the rain that was blessing the dusty town of Dodoma, or the two dogs running in circles in a yard across from the hospital, or the unfortunate coincidence of having a punctured tire with so many people relying on the service of the vehicle...

We decided the puncture was not severe enough to take immediate action and continued the journey to school. When we arrived we saw the school bus pulling into the gate just before us. The students boarded the bus and we arrived at the service site. The matron welcomed us with open arms and the students shared so much love with the children.

There have been many days like that Saturday. Days when the bus is 30 minutes late to pick us up for school in the morning, days when the morning assembly extends into the first period and the timetable is off schedule for the rest of the day, days when choir practice lasts for two hours instead of an hour and a half, days when dinner is at 8:30pm instead of 7:00pm because the electricity went off, days when the tailor is absent from her sewing table and having an outfit made is delayed another week, days when the morning plans are pushed aside by a determined effort to catch a rat in the kitchen.

I am learning to surrender myself to the events and lives of people that enter my life each day and screw up whatever schedule I imagine having for myself. It is not the accomplishment of completing a lengthy to-do list that brings me joy at the end of the day. It is the student who stays in my office to chat about life. It is the companionship and compassion the students show with the students as they played with young children during service. It is the will of my Jesuit friend to kindly wait while the nurse cares for the student. It is the conversations and jokes exchanged with my coworkers as we escort the students to service without a sure plan of what will happen. I still think following a schedule is important, as it is one of the surest ways to make plans with others, but ranking punctuality as a top priority is setting myself up for unnecessary stress and worry when the day does not follow this plan. By letting go of this desire it is possible to welcome something else in its place: the lives of others. And I am learning that there is much joy to be found in doing that.  

Wanafunzi Wetu [our students]

It has been two and half months now, and the commitment to live and work in Tanzania for two years is starting to sink in. Friendships are forming, the streets are Dodoma are becoming familiar, and understanding Kiswahili is becoming more possible with each day. Upon arrival in Tanzania I was told that it takes three months for a visitor to move past the condition of being a guest. I near that mark with excitement, feeling grateful for these weeks of learning that are leading me to a deeper understanding of the culture and myself.

At school I am finding myself being challenged and stretched as I learn about the way meetings are run, how administration and the teaching staff interact with each other, what motivates teachers and students to perform well...these are facets of the Tanzanian work culture that I am slowly coming to understand. This is the first year that teachers at SPCHS have shifted away from using corporal punishment. Before classes started this year the Jesuit province of East Africa hosted a training seminar on child abuse and human rights. All of us teachers attended and discussed what child abuse looks like in the school setting and what alternatives we can use to discipline our students. Classroom management is a constant uphill battle. Each class has over forty students, and the stubborn few often stand out and distract the serious majority. Many of the students have become accustomed to corporal punishment, but now public shaming has taken its place. Students who misbehave by not wearing the proper uniform or by not cleaning their tables and dishes after lunch for example, are called to stand in front of the student body at morning assembly; sometimes they must kneel on the concrete until the assembly is finished. These methods seem to be very effective; students do not want their classmates to stare and laugh at them in front of everyone, they would rather remain one among the many of students who followed the rules. A student's test scores and grades are also made public for all students to see. The idea behind this, I have learned, is that a student who performs poorly will be called out among his or her classmates and reminded that they have not done well so who are they to laugh and make jokes during study time or act as if they know the material. Understanding this method has taken many weeks, and still I question how harmful this method might be for the mental health of the student who was disciplined or performed poorly on the exam. Sometimes the students cry when they see their low score. Does seeing how that score compares to others leave the students feeling defeated, or motivated to work harder? Does public embarrassment leave the student feeling a lasting shame that leads to isolation or does the feeling give way to better decision making in the future?

The students are kept to a strict schedule: they wake at 4:30 or 5:00am and go to their classrooms for an hour of study time before 6:30am Mass. Breakfast is served at 7:00am, then they gather for the morning assembly or class meetings at 7:30am. Classes begin at 8:00am. At 9:20am there is a thirty minute break for tea. Classes resume until lunch at 12:30pm. Afternoon classes are from 2:00 to 4:00pm. Then there is an hour and half for sports, cleaning, or debate activities, depending on the day. Dinner is served at 6:30pm, then at 7:30pm students return to their classrooms for evening studies until 9:30pm.

The schedule changes for the weekends, though the times remain similar: On Saturday students can sleep until 6:30am Mass, then they have breakfast before going to their classrooms for Continuing Assessment Exams. Tea break is the only interruption in this time until 12:30pm lunch. After lunch is community service: this includes slashing the grass around campus, cleaning the dormitories, picking up trash, or traveling with the Community Service Department for the off campus service projects that I help lead. There is free time from 4:00pm until 6:30pm dinner, then a planned activity from 7:00 until 9:30pm. Mass on Sundays is at 7:00am, then morning study time until lunch. Sunday afternoons are free until 6:30 dinner, then the evening study schedule resumes.

The students are starting to readjust to this tight schedule since being on break in December; some still struggle with staying awake during classes after a short night of resting from their long day of work, while other students are so intentional with their free time that they use it to work on the things they are most passionate about. Some share with me the stories they have written, or the pictures they have drawn, others show me their long term goals and a month by month guide of all the steps they will need to take to reach that goal. The students are my inspiration on the days when I feel tired or lazy. Witnessing how they put their passions into action is what motivates me to put a little more energy and creativity into my lesson plans. Hearing their stories and ambitions helps me see life in their eyes, and think more deeply about how I am spending my time and how much energy I put into my passions. When they share with me their insecurities and become vulnerable about their challenges – of learning English, of managing time, of moving on from a father's death- I am moved to have compassion, to listen to their stories, and encourage them to celebrate their unique experiences that have shaped them into who they are. 

These little conversations are some of the many blessings that come with each day. They fill me with gratitude for all the people and places that have led me to being here, and all the support I have and still receive as I learn how my skills can be used to serve others. The more closely that I work with our students the more I am able to understand that age, gender, and space do not define who a student is; it is the seeking to be and understand more that defines the student. Being with the students reminds me that I am a student myself, and from them I have much to learn.

Amani,

MLS

We are workers, not master builders

Hello again and happy new year!

The past two weeks have been filled with lots of activity at school. Form I students arrived one week before Forms II, III and IV for orientation and a chance to adjust to life at a boarding school before the older students could flaunt their experience. Now, the students at St. Peter Claver have all arrived and are preparing for classes to begin on Monday. Originally the plan was to start school a week earlier, on January 13^th, but Sunday was Zanzibar's Independence day and that night the President made an announcement that the public holiday would extend into Monday. Tuesday was another public holiday, the Islamic holiday of Maulid Day, and so school was delayed again. That same day the teachers were informed of a seminar we were to attend on Wednesday and Thursday, so our opening day with the students was moved to Friday and classes are assumed to begin on Monday. This change of events has reminded me of the importance of being flexible!

There is much excitement and activity among the teachers and administration as we prepare for the first year of graduation. With St. Peter Claver being so young there are many opportunities for growth and improvement in what has begun. Last year many students struggled academically and with disciplinary issues and it was realized that in order for students to do well in school, their whole selves (psychological, emotional, social, spiritual, physical) must be nurtured. Thus came the creation of the all-encompassing Campus Ministry department that oversees all clubs, sports, guidance and counseling, service-learning, and faith and spirituality programs. I have joined the Campus Ministry team in the guidance and counseling department and the service-learning department. For guidance, I will meet with four different streams of students each week and lead discussion on topics like peer pressure, relationships, family issues and being homesick, identity, and discerning vocations. The service-learning program was started three years ago by another JV, and has been carried on by other teachers. I have joined the team and will lead sessions on community service before the students go out to the villages to do service.

As I prepare for these sessions I have been reflecting on the differences of doing community service in the U.S. compared to doing community service here in Tanzania. The service-learning team has gathered feedback from the older students on their experience of tutoring in a nearby village and now we sit with the recognized challenges of doing service in places where the restraints on resources, time, and abilities are confounded with things like a lack of chalkboards, textbooks and other teaching aids, language barriers between students who have been taught in English but now must teach in KiSwahili, and inconsistencies of bringing a different group of students every week due to limited transport. When the resources are few and the need is great and the students think that charity is the only way to be of service, how can they gain an understanding of social justice? I have been told that we teachers are shaping the future leaders of Tanzania. How can they learn about social justice and acts of service in a way that they will be able to incorporate them into their daily actions now, so that later it will be reflected in their decisions? How can this be taught to 11, 12 and up to 18-year olds? Will the students even understand the message of justice that St. Peter Claver is imparting on them? When they graduate will they leave fully embracing the school's motto “To Learn, To Love, To Serve” that they have drilled into their heads and repeat at least a dozen times every day?

This week for spirituality night my community reflected on this Sunday's gospel reading (John 1:18-34). In the reading, the Pharisees challenge John the Baptist when he speaks of Jesus' coming for Baptism. They ask him, if he is not the Messiah then why he is baptizing people? John the Baptist, such a humble and faith-filled man, denies any such title and recognizes that his being is just one of many in the world, and he is there only to serve the Lord. His humility grants him the grace to accept that his work is not his own but the work of a greater force. These readings come at a perfect time as I prepare to teach.

Each of us are servants under this same great force. Our work then, is not our own but a continuation of something that was started by something greater. We are here for a short time and our work will continue beyond us. The teachers at St. Peter Claver seem to really get this. Already I see how tirelessly they work day and night, putting all of their energy into the lives of the students and their methods of teaching. They are able to look past disciplinary issues to see that each student is a child to be nurtured and loved. Their work is overlooked by many and misunderstood by some, but they manage because they embody the understanding that “we are workers, not master builders” (words by Oscar Romero). They are my inspiration already when I am troubled by the challenges of community service or the fears of managing a classroom of forty some students on my own. They are my living examples of John the Baptist and his humble ways of accepting that the work he has been given is God's work, and his task is to do his best with the work and trust that others after him will carry it on.

Here is the quote I referenced from Oscar Romero. It is a reminder for me to embrace my time in Tanzania with an open heart and to have humility with the work I have been given.

This is what are are about: We plant seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promises. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capability.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the mater builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders, ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.

Until next post,

MLS

Christmas in Dodoma

Decorating our gathering space.

After our retreat in Arusha the four volunteers from Dar came back to Dodoma to with us to celebrate Christmas. The first step was to decorate our house and new Christmas tree. Using the DIY ornaments that my community mates had received in care packages, we made reindeer ornaments and pompom Santas and hung paper snowflakes cut from old European magazines, all the while singing and dancing to an eccentric mix of holiday music. With our house decorated, we were ready for Christmas Eve.

The marketplace on Christmas Eve

The eight of us spent Christmas Eve shopping for food supplies in the market. The market was packed to its fullest. People filled the aisles and walkways, everyone gently pushing or elbowing their way through in order to reach their desired food stand, young boys appeared around every corner offering to carry the increasingly heavy shopping bags in return for a tip, while faint greetings of “Heriya Krismasi!” were spoken as some sellers and customers finished their transactions. We stopped for a some avocado-mango juice and a quick bite before continuing on to the outside market. Here we picked up our vitenge that a church friend had sewn into outfits for us. The streets were filled even in this market as people picked up new bow ties and shoes while sellers wandered about trying to sell Christmas trees and ornaments. When we came back home the cooking commenced: guacamole (made from some of the biggest avocados I have ever seen), mango salsa (made from mangoes that were the same size as the avocados), hummus (pureed by hand), chapati (made from, um, wheat flour), and beans (made with spices of sorts...). After feasting we went to Midnight Mass and found the church adorned with gold and white banners. Children sang and dance in unison throughout the Mass, filling the aisles and encouraging the congregation to sing and sway with them. I have found a new appreciation for the Christmas hymn, “Angels We Have Heard On High” and its Latin refrain because it was the only Christmas song I was able to sing along to, as all the others were in Swahili. The church holds about 500 people, and this night it was packed completely! Making introductions are a tradition in Tanzania. When you are a guest within a group of people you will probably be asked to introduce yourself. So, at the end of Mass on Christmas Eve the priest publicly welcomed us to the community, and to properly receive this welcome we, each of us, introduced ourselves at the pulpit, in KiSwahili to the entire congregation. It was horrifying! But a lesson learned to always be ready with short KiSwahili greeting for times like these.

Dodoma JVs

On Christmas morning we went to Mass at Village of Hope, an orphanage run by Sisters of the Precious Blood for children who are HIV positive. After Mass we planned to play with the kids until lunch time, not knowing that we would be competing for their attention with their Christmas presents. The priest distributed batteries after Mass, and after that we knew we were defeated. After all, what kid can resist the joy of battery-operated toys? Instead we gave some love to the babies in the dispensary until it was time to go. We had another feast on Christmas Day, opened treasured gifts of chocolate bars gifted to us from our German community mate, and played games until we couldn't stand the evening mosquitoes any longer.

Christmas in Dodoma looked quite a bit different than past Christmases in the Midwest. There were not any mall Santas, or carolers, or aisles of red and green in every store. There wasn't even any snow. But Christmas here was free from the pull of consumerism that so easily absorbs the lives of many at Christmastime. I saw just one house decorated with Christmas lights and it looked quite absurd sticking out from the other dark houses in the neighborhood, shopkeepers did not order special products that are relevant only to this season of the year, and I did not see a single roll of gift wrap or ribbon. This year I found myself being so easily grateful for the things that matter most: God, family, friends, and food. The decorations, the lights, the presents...none of these were there to distract from the simple joys that Holidays bring and the miracle of Christmas that rests in our hearts.

Our Christmas tree

Wishing all of you a very merry holiday season and happy new year!

In peace,

MLS

Creating a community

     Last week we set out to Arusha for a retreat with the Dar volunteers. Our nine-hour bus ride from Dodoma was prolonged when our bus overheated, probably from the overzealous acceleration it made up the steep inclines of the mountains we passed over. Arusha was filled with green. Trees, bushes and grasses fill the countryside and add more brightness to the already colorful city. Plant nurseries line sidewalks and roads, giving the feeling of a year-round springtime to the area. As you know, I lived in Arusha last year when I traveled with a service-learning program. There was some time to walk around the city again during an afternoon outing and the eight of us snaked our way through the shops, hotels and markets lining the downtown area. Arusha is the hub for tourism in Tanzania, as it is centrally located between the major national parks, the most well-known of these being the Serengeti and Mt. Kilimanjaro. As a result, Wazungu abound in Arusha and many businesses, like cafés that sell avocado milkshakes and bookstores filled with classic novels, cater to the normalities of many Western lifestyles.

Retreat center in Arusha

     For retreat we stayed with the Conossan Sisters in their Spiritual Center, positioned directly next to the Jesuit novitiate of the East African Province. The second-year JVs led our retreat, beginning with a day of reflection on what in our lives has brought us to JVC. The second day we focused on community and how we envision living out the JVC values together, and on day three we shared thoughts about the greater community of Tanzania, including cultural gender expectations and ways to work for social justice. After an afternoon of silence, we concluded the retreat by joining the Jesuit novices first for evening prayer, then dinner accompanied by a welcoming song, then an hour of competitive games of Foosball, darts, and pool in their rec center.

      Nearly everywhere we go, people graciously welcome us to share in their experience of living in Tanzania. Polepole (slowly, slowly), I am becoming quicker at initiating and responding to greetings in KiSwahili to people who pass me in and around town. Greetings are quintessential to Tanzanian culture; they reflect the ideology of Ujamaa (familyhood) that the first president Julius Nyerere instilled in the people of Tanzania. He attempted to unite the many tribes here, believing that by joining together and working for the common good the country could overcome poverty and achieve economic sustainability. The importance placed on greetings- taking time to both greet and respond, often an exchange that lasts several minutes- appears to be one of the ways in which Ujamaa is still carried out.

     Two weeks have passed since arriving in Tanzania and each day our JVC community in Dodoma becomes a little bit stronger as we learn more from each other. In our own way we too, are striving for Ujamaa so that we may share in this experience of Tanzania together. The retreat in Arusha enabled us to share personal reflections and begin our first conversations of how we can live in community together. Creating an intentional community is not an easy task. It requires the sacrifice of personal time, patience as we learn about each other and gentleness with ourselves as we reveal and realize the monsters that are not always so hidden in our own selves. But with community we can challenge long-held beliefs and values to help each other learn a new perspective and become more culturally sensitive to the belief systems that create Tanzanian culture. Dorothy Day, a co-founder of the Catholic Worker House in the United States, understood the importance of community. She wrote,

The only answer in this life, to the loneliness we are all bound to feel, is community. The living together, working together, sharing together, loving God and loving our brothers and sisters, and living close to them in community so we can show our love for Him.

My running/reflection route during retreat.

Her words are a guiding power as the stages of community building begin here in Tanzania.

MLS

P.S. I promise to post pictures soon.  We are in transition of simplifying our lives by means of giving up our convenient, though usually weak, internet access at home.  The parish office nearby has a reportedly stronger connection and should make uploading photos a less tedious task.  

P.P.S. Pictures finally posted. Enjoy!

A magnificent ravine on the running route. Also served as a great place for reflection.

People washing clothes in the river at the bottom of the ravine

My feet after walking the dusty path to the ravine.

An introduction to Dodoma

Hello there,

My feet have landed again on Tanzanian soil and the hot sun that beats down on East Africa kindly rested as a way of welcome.

As the plane landed in Dar es Salaam the rains came down. Our taxi driver maneuvered us around potholes of water and flooded roads until we arrived at the JV house in Dar when the rain ceased at last. I did my best to navigate the unkept road while balancing my backpack on my back and another volunteer's plastic tub of clothes in my arms, all the while looking down at the simple Tom's shoes on my feet as they side-stepped pools of water and mud pits. If you are not familiar with Tom's shoes, you only need to know that they are less than ideal in wet conditions and there is no better way to break in a new pair than by soaking them completely.

The morning after arriving in Dar we took a bus for Dodoma. The breezy ride was accommodating for sleep and the occasional bump in the road reminded me to take a look outside to see the landscape change from the green, humid city of Dar to the brown, desert landscapes of Tanzania. Then, at last, Dodoma!

Many people here call the city of Dodoma the Shamba (farm) because it is a quiet city that stretches out close to villages. Methods of agriculture are known by many and few buildings rise above three floors. Compared to Arusha the streets are calm, the people more genteel and very few other Wazungu (people of European or North American descent) wander about. A short bike ride takes me out of the city completely and onto a dirt road that passes homes, rich and poor alike, in neighboring villages. Cacti and Christmas trees give shade to the roads near our house while roosters, goats and playing neighbor children are the background music for each day. In the heart of the city is the marketplace. Wooden stalls and a tin roof shelter the core of the market and the sacks of grains and rows of produce that lie within. This maze eventually leads you outside again, to the street lined with stands where kitchen supplies, fabrics, shoes, household cleaners, and nearly anything else that you need can be found. Beyond the market are business buildings, banks, cell phone stores, a post office, photo shops, restaurants, churches, and schools. The city is growing quickly and construction abounds throughout: newly paved roads; the building of a two-story, state-of the art medical center; even a stop light was sighted at one intersection. The daladala is perhaps the most common means of transport. These twelve-passenger vans are often crowded with twenty, stopping frequently to drop off and pick up more passengers. Motorcycle taxis are probably the fastest way to navigate through the city and bicycles are common for personal use. Car taxis are also available and useful when loaded down with luggage. Walking is a great way to greet others and be welcomed into the new area. During the day the sun is hot, blazing down on the skin and blinding the eye that dares to look up. But, our arrival must be blessed with good luck because the rains have followed us from Dar to Dodoma and during the first evening here the rains came (the first since March) and nearly every evening since a cool downpour settles the dust, pollen and heat of the day.

And so, with the help of my community mates, bug spray, and sunscreen, I am slowly making a home and adjusting to life in Dodoma.

In peace,

MLS

Our humble abode.

A front porch view of the first downpour of the rainy season.

Parting words

Friends,

Tomorrow, this journey in Tanzania takes off! The past several months have been filled with so many blessings, of hiking adventures and nights out on the urban front with friends, of story-sharing and laughter with family, and of prayerful reflection that has calmed and centered me as I prepare me for these next two years.  Many of you have been a part of this treasured time and I am filled with gratitude for your support and encouragement that will sustain me during the joys and struggles that are to come.

A wise person once shared with me the phrase, 'This too, shall pass.'  These words echo in mind as I prepare for many unknowns while saying difficult 'goodbye, for now's, struggling to balance my excitement for all that awaits with the sadness of leaving many whom I love deeply.  This phrase reminds of the fleeting nature of time and encourages me to embrace each moment, be it darkly difficult, wholly joyful or minutely mundane.

For many months now, I have been living with a feeling of 'not yet.' Those feelings are now passing as the new adventures begin.


My flight leaves Kansas City at 12:25 pm tomorrow, (less than 24 hours away!). My first stop will be in Washington DC, next in Zurich, Switzerland, then in Nairobi, Kenya before finally landing in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania- almost 24 hours later! My fellow JVs will be awaiting the arrival of myself and the three other volunteers who are beginning their first year with JVC as well.  Keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we begin this journey together!
Next post shall come to you from Tanzania!!!!

Amani (peace)

MLS