Tupopamoja

Yesterday, I was reminded of the importance of community and accountability. For obvious reasons, we JVs tend to stand out a little bit more than most of our neighbors, which makes our presence or absence at neighborhood events noticeable. I have grown up in tight-knit communities in which one’s absence or presence at certain events is also noticed, so I’m used to this cultural norm to a certain extent. What I forgot along the way was that, despite our differences, the mental checklist that our Tanzanian neighbors keep extends to us in pretty much the same ways it does to other community members. Community accountability is a core Tanzanian value and one which is sometimes a challenge to our American, independence-loving sensibilities. It is a challenge I have grown to appreciate.

Yesterday morning, we decided to sleep-in instead of going to our neighborhood prayer group (Jumuia). The group is a small subsection of our parish and the basis from which all parish activity stems. We have recently become regular participants in this group and do intend to at least try to continue participating into the school year. It will be a challenge since it meets at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday mornings, but if I’m waking up at 5:00 a.m. to run anyway, what’s the difference, right? (My former, sleep-loving self would have laughed at such an argument. Growth.) Really, though, because it is the foundational part of East African parishes, we think it’s important for us to be present at least every once in a while. It’s also an intentional place for speaking and praying in Swahili and getting to know our neighbors better- generally a nice idea, except for the whole 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday thing . . .

Because we were out a little bit later than usual the night before, we slept instead of prayed yesterday. We, foolishly, thought we could get away with this, especially since we kept our eyes open (and mostly attentive) during the extended, special edition, two hour version we attended last week. . . Saturday afternoon wedding Mass counts for Sunday, right? Wrong. 

As we went about our daily business later in the day, two separate Jumuia members stopped us to asked where we were . . . Is everyone o.k.? Someone must be sick? Traveling? Yep. No. Nope. We were lazy. We apologized and promised that we would be present and punctual next week. I might have been slightly bothered by this kind of accountability this time last year. ‘Mind your own business. I’m gonna do what I want. I’ll sleep if I want to.’ (Something along those lines) But this time, I appreciated it. It felt nice to be missed, to be noticed, to be a part of the community, to be held accountable to our commitment. Perhaps more than simply growing in my sleeping patterns and dependence on iced coffee, I have grown in my commitment to intentional community and in my detachment from excessive ‘me’ time and doing what I want, when I want, how I want. There’s value in this, I think.

I was again reminded of the importance of accountability as I passed the mama who sells soda, about 10 minutes after the Jumuia interrogation. (Backstory: I had bought 4 bottles of soda on New Year’s Eve without bringing glass bottles to exchange. She didn’t charge me for the bottle fee, but instructed me to return the bottles the next day.) Somehow, this little task slipped my mind. But, don’t worry, as I greeted her with “Shikamoo!” yesterday afternoon, she greeted me with, “Sister, where are my bottles?” “Right! of course, I’ll bring them later. Thanks for the reminder.”

Sometimes there is great value to open, honest accountability. I’m glad I have grown in my appreciation for this part of community life and I hope that it will continue to form the ways I interact with others in my communities beyond my two years in Tanzania.