Surprise Attach

“Shea, your students are at the door.”

“Who? Students? Like plural?

“Um… yes.”

“How many?”

“Um…a lot.”

I walked outside to see a flood of six students waltzed through our gate and into the compound. Let me stress that these are not just any students but actually a gang of some of my most rowdy, rambunctious rebels. Yes, the circus began at three pm on a Saturday afternoon.

Don’t get me wrong, I may call them rebels but for every comment said out of turn and every joke that breaks the focus of the class, these same boys are hardworking, fun loving and more loving than I could ask for. Also, random visits while most likely illegal in the states due to child protection laws are all too familiar. We average at least two visits from students on an average weekend. They usually do not travel in packs of six, however!

Loyola High School is currently in the middle of terminal exams and the twelve days straight of testing is wearing on students and teachers alike. It was a pleasant yet unexpected invasion of these over-energetic, study-crazed students. Once I got over the shock, I turned to Cat my community mate and could think of only one thing. “UNO?” I said. “You read my mind!” She responded with a smile.

As soon as she and I got the game, the living room and the boys set, another know at the door pulled Cat away. She returned to the living room with one of her students who had decided to stop by with the goal of teaching Cat (also known as Miss Catherine) how to make henna tattoos from scratch. Yes, this fifth grader walked up, pots and pans in her school bag ready and excited to teacher her favorite teacher how to do this beautiful Muslim tradition.

There we were playing cards in the living room and cooking up henna in the kitchen.

In one room we played UNO for over an hour until my boys, whose attention spans are currently even shorter than usual, got restless and requested a break to play football (soccer) outside in our compound for a little while. Don’t worry, however, the football match was only an intermission as round two of UNO continued for another hour or so.

The card game UNO is our go-to, let’s entertain these guests activity. This simple, yet wildly entertaining game conjures up memories of trips to the Oregon Coast with siblings and my aunt and uncle, Thanksgiving Day afternoons and power outages passing time with the family. It is crazy to me how this game, with its Spanish name has entertained me, my family, my community mates and countless East Africans. Talk about spanning cultures!

All in all, it was a good visit from my kids and though they could and would have stayed all weekend, two and a half hours of UNO and football had taken its told on good old Mr. Patrick. Reluctantly, we parted ways and they promised to visit at least two or three times during our upcoming month-long break, a promise that I fully expect will be followed through. About fifteen minutes after that amidst Cat’s students drawing henna tattoos on Cat’s hands, there was another knock at the gate and another one of my students had ventured over with the intention of teaching me a card game. This student, orphaned at the age of eleven and currently living in a youth hostel, has visited several times over the past few months. He is incredibly kind, insanely polite and extremely gentle. (If I were to admit to having favorites, he would probably be on the short list). We played cards for a while, practiced a little English, joked about my knowledge of Kiswahili and made plans to hangout during the June break. (It looks like I am already busy for the break!)

After cleaning up the house a little and Cat saying goodbye to her student, it was all too fitting that there was another knock at the door with a student Gretchen (the third member of my community) at the door. Uno? No. Henna? No. Jenga? Yes. A rousing battle between teacher and student commenced. After the fourth round, the score was tied, two wins each. Finally, in a dramatic showdown, Teacher Gretchen rose to the top as the day’s winner as her student’s turn brought the Jenga pieces crashing down onto the coffee table.

A surprise invasion of students turned out to be a wonderful way to spend a Saturday. Amidst correcting exams, proctoring tests, and calming the stresses of students and teachers for over a week, I have felt overwhelmed and bogged down by work. This random Saturday full of visits reminded me to of the bigger picture. I am here to be a teacher but I am also here to love and learn from these incredible individuals. All children, and especially our students, have a wonderful way of reminding us to see and embrace the joy that fills this world.

Carry here, carry there

The things that we carry say a lot about ourselves. Sometimes it feels like what or where of how we carry defines us. That which we carry can help us fit in better. On the other hand, these things can make us stand out and not fit in.

During a recent spirituality night, a component of the program where my fellow volunteers and I reflect on our experiences, I thought about this question. The prompt was: choose two pictures and think about the dynamic between those images here and back in the United States. I chose one picture of an iPod and another of a Maasai warrior. The Maasai are a prominent tribe from Northern Tanzania who still wear traditional clothes and are known for their strength as warriors. (I have become fascinated and in awe of these people).

Anyways, looking at these two images, I got caught up in thinking about what we carry both physically and emotionally. The Maasai carry walking sticks, daggers and a forceful strength. In their plaid clothes called ‘shukas’, these men and women walk through city streets bridging a span of time and tradition. Then there is me, living my days teaching and growing with a small part of this huge city. Each time I see one of these elegant yet rugged warriors, I am shocked back into realizing the gift that is my life here.

Back to carrying and the reason for this post: where we go and how we go there can look or feel different depending on what we carry. While I like the image of one of these Maasai men with an iPod clipped to his delicately beaded belt, the two feel worlds apart. The unfamiliar and the familiar, however, are shifting as the hours, days, weeks and months define my perceptions, understandings and, simply put, me.

As I walk through the streets and walkways between houses of Mabibo, I do not carry the same things that I did in Seattle. Five months ago, walking to work with an iPod in one pocket and a wallet with an ID, atm card, credit card and so on, was somewhat of a security blanket. These items seemed essential and made me feel normal. There I was, securely stable and successfully striding toward my next destination with my things, my comforts.

Here, I rarely carry money, I haven’t an iPod and security is not the feeling that guides my path. What do I carry here? I currently carry thoughts of exams, exercise books and enthusiastic students; to-do lists, to-email lists and to-pray for lists. I carry friendships new and old. I carry uncertainty. Above all, however, I carry hope. Hope for my children. Hope for this new life. Hope for those I love back home.

I guess if I can conclude with my first statement that what we carry is that which defines us, I am defined by my thoughts, my to-do lists and my hope.

Lastly, to anyone who is reading this, I hope you are well. I miss home and I miss you. There is not a day that goes by that I am not overwhelmed with thanksgiving and gratitude for the people who have inspired and supported me. So, I thank you, I love you and I hope you feel a bit closer to me and my life here in Tanzania after reading this!

Coexistance

An ant crawls across the wall, interrupting my gaze as I attempt to focus of correcting tests. I have two options, squash or look away and continuing marking exams. To squash every bug that interrupts my life here in Tanzania would be exhausting to say the least. What do I do then? I co-exist. This idea of co-existing has infiltrated my thoughts over the last several days.

I currently co-exist with many things: people, insects, sounds, smells, sights, emotions, and so on. I have come to realize, however, that I co-exist in one of two ways. I live in an existence that is either ‘next to’ or ‘with’ these individuals, bugs, etc. What is the difference? Well, I am not quite sure but there is a feeling, an emotion and/or a connection that separates the two forms of existence.

For example, I live surrounded by ants, cockroaches, rats, mosquitoes, spiders, centipedes, millipedes, praying mantises, bees, flies, chickens, roosters, fire-flies, crows, stray cats and other living things that I do not even know the names for. I pick ants out of my coffee cup and fend off roosters on my walk to school but shy away from a real interaction with or appreciation of these ‘creatures’.

I then think about Dar es Salaam, this city that I now call home. This half-Christian and half-Muslim metropolis is a fine example of this first definition of co-existence. These two faiths live next to one another, in peace BUT just that, next to the other. Muslims sell rice and beans to Christians who feed their children who then play soccer next to a mosque that sounds the call to prayer. People just exist next to one another in most respects. The Catholic lives next to the Muslim. The Muslim student goes to Loyola High School (a Catholic, Jesuit institution). The follower of Jesus sells vegetables to a restaurant owned by a follower of Muhammad. Utilizing goods, appreciating the other’s presence and seeing the ‘other’ is a form of existence. A co-existence of sorts. Allah or God, they/we/humanity co-exists.

As these five months have slowly welcomed me into this new life in East Africa, my understanding of what, who, how and why I exist here has been shaped. I struggle defining what I live next to and what I live with in terms of existence. I can say definitely that I live next to insects or bugs and that I do not live in depth or intentionally or ‘with’ them. I live in a strong, powerful and meaningful co-existence with the natural surroundings; appreciating, respecting and loving the beauty of the natural world. People, however, are much more of a challenge to figure out. Community mates, co-workers, neighbors and strangers alike, challenge me to question this dichotomy and dynamic. Do I live next to you or with you? With whom do I affect, reach, connect, join, walk with, understand and/or exist WITH?

I am a very small part of this community while this community is a very large part of me.

In my heart, I exist in this place wholly but in terms of space, I occupy such a small fraction of this community. Everyday is a lesson and each lesson draws me one step closer to understanding this question of: With what, where, with whom and how do I exist in my new life here?