Yesterday was Union Day. Union Day is a Tanzanian holiday commemorating the union of mainland Tanganyika with the island of Zanzibar. It is also a public holiday which means . . . no school! As a student, I did not think the teachers would be as excited for vacation as the students, but on the other side of things now, I realize that they definitely are. We frequently have responsibilities on Saturdays which require us to come to school for at least a few hours and the rest of the day is usually filled with household chores, and Mass is at either 7:00 or 9:00 on Sunday mornings (and usually two hours long), so when we have an entire day that is free- it is a real treat!
One of the teachers at Loyola had invited myself and a few other teachers to her home and shamba(small farm) a bit outside the city for the holiday. We didn’t realize quite how far outside the city, or rather how many different dala dalas we’d have to take to finally arrive at our destination, but the afternoon was definitely worth the journey. I don’t know if I’ve fully described our own neighborhood in a blog yet, so I should probably do that as a point of reference. There are many, many beautiful parts of Mabibo, but many of those things are not physical. The area we live in is a crowded combination of concrete, polluted water, mud, dirty air and a variety of smells and sounds. The people are wonderfully kind and the sense of community is palpable, but the aesthetics are raw and harsh. While I do consider myself a ‘city person’, I do also appreciate the opportunity to spend time in nature, whether that’s the beach or the forest. I like a balanced ratio of concrete to earth. Mabibo does not quite provide that balance. So . . . keeping that description in mind, imagine the joy that I experienced yesterday as we journeyed to visit our co-worker and spend the day with her and her family on her 21 acre plot of land chuck full of cashew trees, cows, chickens, turkeys, grass, potatoes, eggplants, hot peppers, maize, pineapple plants, orange, mango and lemon trees, and beautiful vistas all around. Everything we ate at lunch (including the chicken) was from her farm and we enjoyed lunch while listening to an eclectic variety of African and western pop music. We then retired to a table outside under the shade before walking all around the grounds.
The rainy season seems to be coming to an end which has brought a beautiful combination of bearable warmth during the prime of the day and coolness in the afternoon and evening. This change made the tour of her property much more enjoyable as a cool breeze would cut the warmth of the afternoon sun (don’t worry, Mom, I was still wearing SPF 80). I’m pretty confident that I got my recommended daily intake of Vitamin C from the five oranges I ate and picked myself. I learned how cashews grow and why they’re so expensive! I ate things that she picked out of the shamba and handed me and so far I haven’t gotten sick! I smelled fragrant flowers and citrus fruits. We all took pictures and laughed, and shared stories and reminisced about the different places we call home. I really felt like I was part of the Loyola community. When I got back on the squished, rickety, slightly dangerous dala dala and the mama who hopped on while it was still moving with all of her cooking supplies handed me her frying pan to hold, I accepted gladly. I was in a good place with Tanzania. I was refreshed and revitalized without even realizing that I had felt depleted from the monotony of routines and concrete.
So why are cashews so expensive? It’s quite possible you don’t care. I never really thought too much about this sort of thing either, but it is actually pretty interesting. Well . . . you see, the cashew nut grows from a single apple on the tree, so for each small apple the tree produces, there is just one cashew, which is then collected and roasted before it’s in a consumable state. Yesterday, I got to witness the whole process- we collected, roasted and ate cashews from Madame’s shamba and they were delicious!
This morning I ate one of the oranges I picked yesterday and there was something about the satisfaction of knowing exactly where it had come from that made it one of the most delicious oranges I’ve ever eaten. I guess it could be mind over matter, but it could also be that this orange actually was more fresh and delicious than ones I ate at home from the supermarket or even the ones I buy from the fruit stand in Mabibo.
When I was little and summer was coming to an end, I’d start mourning the loss of the beach, being barefoot and the carefree breeziness which shaded those precious months. When this happened, my mom would remind me to keep the memory of whatever that moment was and recall it when we were back in the routine of school, and sports, and plays, and extracurriculars. That’s what vacations are for, after all, for revitalization and renewal so that we can continue to be generous and productive and creative in our work place. That’s why labor unions fought for the weekend and holidays. Happy weekend- do something revitalizing(if only for an hour or two)!
