45 minutes

During our short Mid-Term break, I traveled with my community to Dodoma and Arusha. In both places, we were part of the larger East African Jesuit community. In Dodoma, we stayed with the JV’s and visited their schools and participated in their community night with the Jesuits there. In Arusha, we stayed with the Canossan sisters neighboring the Jesuit Novitiate. We shared our meals with the Novices and we also shared in their community time and Mass. We were all reminded of the beauty of being part of a larger community and network of support which spans different cities, regions and countries. During our time with the novices, we learned more about their lives and their formation process. One of the surprising and inspiring revelations is that they do not have personal phones and their internet usage is limited to 45 minutes per week.

Since, they, too, are away from their families, friends and primary support networks for two years, I found their commitment to simplicity and community personally inspiring. I am, therefore, making a commitment to limit my use of the internet to 45 minutes per week for the next month. In this time, I plan to write more letters and make more intentional attempts to be present in this place and this community. I will spend more time praying for those I love and working on my relationship with God. In yesterday’s Gospel from Luke, we heard:  

“No servant can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and mammon.” 

As part of my commitment to simple living, I am taking up this challenge to focus more deeply on relationships. “Simplicity is far more rich and complex than merely consuming less; it is, at its core, a path to freedom, a call to put God and relationships before blind desires and material needs. By living simply, we regain our freedom to choose God.” (JVC Covenant) I will write reflectively during this time and share my thoughts and observations with all of you when appropriate. 

Wishing you all peace and freedom to choose God, 

Katie 

1. send package to the U.S.

It’s hard to explain and maybe not even the most important or formative of experiences I’ve had since arriving in Tanzania, but I recently felt humbled and powerless in a way I haven’t before. It happened when I went to carry out a chore which in the U.S. would be routine and mundane, yes, but in no way humbling, noteworthy or exceptionally frustrating. I went to the post office.  I went with two tasks to check off my to-do list for the week: 1. send a birthday package to the U.S. 2. receive a birthday package from a friend. Easy and straightforward, right?

Wrong. 

Now, I’ve been aware of the complications of the postal system for a few months now, but this experience was somewhat different from the others. 

1. send a birthday package to the U.S. 

I came with the envelope packed in a recycled envelope, sealed with recycled tape, featuring a recycled return address label- all very presentable, but also really simple. Way to go, Katie. Well, not exactly. Upon attempting to complete this simple task, the customs officer at the post office insisted that I open the package, buy a new envelope (for 3,500 tsh) and then re-package it all in front of him, because, “There are no secrets here.” My (ugly) gut reaction was: “Seriously? If there are “no secrets here,” where’s the sign formally informing me of this so-called official ‘process’? I’m a teacher. I’m missing school for this. I’m a volunteer, I don’t have the money to buy a new damn envelope. I’ve saved the money to pay for the pathetic contents and the postage. Now I have to buy a new ******* envelope. Really?” Thankfully, I kept this dialogue, mostly, within my own head. 

I quickly realized that this customs official was also the same person who would determine my fate when receiving the generous birthday package from a friend. I complied. I went outside, paid the 3,500 tsh for a new envelope that looked exactly like my recycled one, returned to him like a helpless child and removed the contents of the first envelope, which he examined all too carefully for their simplicity. He questioned why I would send the things I was sending and eventually instructed me how to address the envelope properly. I did everything in my power to suppress my American rage over this flagrant violation of freedom and privacy and the lack of transparency on his part. I smiled, asked if I did it right. Tried to speak as much Swahili as made sense. I played the part.

Next, I had to get the package weighed by a woman at some other location. Then I could come back and retrieve my birthday package. The bait. 

My next mistake: I addressed the package in cursive. Apparently, not proper protocol, despite my vigilant supervision while doing so. This resulted in me painstakingly reading aloud every letter and number in the address of the sender and recipient sometimes, multiple times for each letter. Again- I played the part. Bit my tongue. Smiled. Spoke Swahili. I completed the task, asked for my 200 tsh of change, which seemingly would have been ‘forgotten’ otherwise and returned to the parcel retrieval counter. 

2. Receive a birthday package from a friend

I handed my package slip to the first person at the counter. When I saw the size of the package, I’m pretty sure I let out some of that inner dialogue from before. He wrote a few different numbers on the sheet and asked me to pay 3,500 tsh. I paid him and moved down the counter to my friend in the customs’s section. I waited in anxious anticipation of what “no secrets here” would mean for receiving a package. Now, I should also mention that I had been looking forward to this birthday package for quite a few weeks. My birthday was over a month ago at this point and I knew it was coming for a while, and thought that it might have gotten lost along the way. I was glad it was finally in front of me and I was excited to see what pieces of home it carried in it across continents and time zones.

“No secrets here,” meant that the customs official got to open my birthday present before me, sift through it, assess the value of each item in comparison to what was written on the declaration form and determine whether anything was “dutiable” (a new word for my vocabulary). It turned out that only the body lotion was potentially “dutiable.” I explained that yes, the contents were only really of any value to me- which is why they were sent to me, a simple volunteer/teacher living in Mabibo. Again, feeling like my privacy and freedom were being violated in a strange way, I remained silent. The joy and excitement of opening a special birthday package from home was stripped down to a raw assessment of the monetary value of each item it contained. It was humbling and frustrating and sad in a strange way. 

In the end, he didn’t make me pay for the contents of the package. “Next time, though,” he said, “ be prepared to pay for dutiable items.” And then, I left. Feeling simultaneously victorious and defeated, I left to wait a little bit longer to push my way on to the next daladala headed back to Mabibo. 

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The next day, I was traveling with some Form 6 Loyola students to a college fair. Many of them had questions about my life at home, my life in Tanzania, my future life, etc. One girl asked me a pretty simple question: Is life easier or harder in the U.S. or Tanzania? With the events of yesterday’s Posta experience in mind, as we sat in traffic, the answer I gave was, “Well, life is certainly different in both places, but daily tasks are just much more burdensome here. Everything requires a little bit more energy, a little bit more patience and a little bit more detachment from plans or schedules. The U.S. isn’t perfect: there’s traffic there, too, but it moves. There are rules you have to follow there, too, but for the most part, you know what they are. You know what is expected of you and you can usually expect that most strangers will comply with those expectations. Daily life here is just more tiring. At least for me.” 

She seemed satisfied with my answer. But I guess another answer is that there are just different ways of communicating information and going about a daily routine. One isn’t necessarily better or worse than another- more or less frustrating, perhaps, but not necessarily better or worse. 

Updates

School:

School has been both busy and life-giving.  This next year at Loyola is going to be a bit of a transitional year for the role of JV’s at the school. For many years, the primary responsibility of JV’s at Loyola has been teaching in the Human Development Program, which focuses on preparing students from both Kiswahili and English-medium primary schools for the rigor of an English-medium secondary school. For a number of different reasons, the board has decided to temporarily disband the program starting this January. So, my role next year as well as the role of future JV’s at Loyola will be changing in pretty significant ways. 

I’ve begun to take on additional roles outside of the classroom recently and I’ve also visited another Jesuit High School- St. Peter Claver, Dodoma- where JV’s are doing a variety of different jobs. Some of the changes or additions to my current responsibilities include coaching the girls’ basketball team, helping form Loyola’s Campus Ministry and looking into ways of adding English support and enrichment to the curriculum. I’ve also been meeting with students in an advisor role through Campus Ministry. We’re looking into ways of developing Campus Ministry into a vital and comprehensive part of the Loyola community. Of course, I am not alone in these steps, there are a number of teachers along with the Campus Minister and the Guidance Counselor involved, but since my teaching responsibilities will be decreasing significantly in January, this opens up a possibility of increasing my involvement in this part of Loyola.

Right now, I am thoroughly enjoying teaching Science and English writing to H.D.P.’s along with Form 1 Catholic Religion. We are approaching a 10 day break between the 3rd and 4th quarters which will be a welcomed respite from marking and lesson-planning. We plan to travel, as a community, to visit the other JV’s in Dodoma and also spend some time with the Jesuit community in Arusha. First, we have to finish signing and handing out report cards along with my second set of parent-teacher conferences.

Community:

Our community is preparing for the next transition in the flow of JV life. In December, Cait and Beth will return home and Kathleen and I will welcome two new volunteers into the Dar community. We have a site visit from our J.V.C. Program Coordinator coming up in a few weeks along with Re-Orientation/Dis-Orientation retreat. 

We’re planning to train for the Uhuru Day Half Marathon in Dar, which will take place in the thick of the oppressive heat of December. More than anything, it will be a nice goal to work towards as a community and I don’t plan on being too focused on my finish time as I do simply finishing. Providence in May has got nothing on Dar in December, so I will continue to extend my mindset of gentleness to this endeavor. 

Speaking of exercise- in addition to our formal basketball practices, I’ve attracted a small and informal group of girls who seem to be interested in learning new exercises and improving their physical fitness, so that has been a joyful addition to Friday afternoons. We started this past Friday with some simple yoga poses, strength training of sorts and a little bit of cardio! I hope that the interest continues as I enjoyed sharing that part of my daily routine with my students.

Spirituality:

I’ve recently begun spiritual direction with Sr. Columba, Loyola’s guidance counselor. So far, this has been beneficial and illuminating as I continue to discern God’s call for me both here in Tanzania and beyond. This practice has been important for noticing God in daily life: in the people, places and experiences which support me and love me from near and far and also in the moments of frustration and depletion.