Ordinary?

I’m not writing this blog post after any particular ‘critical incident’ or from any specific source of inspiration. I hope you’ll continue reading anyway. 

I’m writing because I’ve been using, “but there’s nothing new,” as an excuse for not writing for almost three months. This is partially true. There really isn’t ‘much to write home about.’ I am here. I have been here for a long time. And I have kind of forgotten which incidents are unique, or special, or noteworthy. They are just part of my life. It’s as if I’ve forgotten that there’s something worth sharing, worth writing. And maybe there isn’t; and maybe my parents are the only ones who will read this; and maybe that’s o.k. 

My life has gotten smaller. I don’t watch the news everyday or read the newspaper. I am not in communication with a great many of my friends and family on a daily or even weekly basis. I am also not really lamenting this distance. I don’t mean this to sound harsh or callous. I do miss and love many people from home, but this wound just isn’t so excruciatingly fresh anymore. It’s more like the scar on my right shin. With time, Vitamin E supplements and sun exposure, it has mostly blended into the pale, freckly landscape of my leg. It’s there; you can see it if I point it out to you; I could explain in vivid detail the act that initially formed the wound, if you were interested, but most days you probably wouldn’t even notice it. I love my family, I love my friends and I will be happy to see them again, but I’ve healed. I’m here and I’m at peace with this.

I have a community here. I have co-workers and a parish and a neighborhood of people whom I see everyday and greet and pray with and share my life with. I guess this is immersion. This is the whole point after all, right? Then why does it feel so devoid of significance? of blog-worthy moments?

Last Sunday, I went for a run, showered, went to Mass, made fruit salad, graded essays,  sorted beans, baked bread, ate with my community, read my book and . . . went to bed. I think my life as a five year old actually may have been more ‘blog-worthy’- at least then I played out imaginary dramas and wrote raps with my big brother. 

My daily life is quite remarkably ordinary. I wake up at around 5:00 a.m., exercise, make coffee, read the readings of the day while eating breakfast, go to work, come home and do something very similar the next day. It might sound dull, but it isn’t. There are still those moments of joy I wrote about in a previous post, there are still moments of confusion and misunderstanding, but I’m just more balanced. I’m happy, healthy, joyful, enthusiastic and at peace. I am grateful for this peacefulness and I’m grateful for the ways it has allowed me to be present to God in others, in the everyday details of life in Mabibo.

after the storm

There will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears and love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears. Get over your hill and see what you find there with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

(Mumford and Sons, “After the Storm”)

This past month has been very difficult. Many of the things I hoped wouldn’t happen, or couldn’t even anticipate happening while I was living so far from home seemed to happen. People I loved got sick, died, suffered, grieved, lost hope, became confused, distant and overwhelmed. And it seemed like it all happened to all different people in my life at the same moment. I was being pulled, yanked even, from this place and these relationships back to my roots. I became confused, distant, overwhelmed and sick(thanks to a nasty little parasite). But through all of this, I felt God drawing me closer.

God had given me all of the people, love and support I needed at exactly the right moments to sustain me, to give me hope, to allow me to love and to forgive despite my confusion. Yesterday, I found clarity as I reorganized my room as a physical sign of renewal. I read through letters, cards and notes from the last two years and some things I had written in college. The love from family and friends in those letters and physical signs of support was overwhelming, but what was most surprising was something I had written as part of my “Public Service Autobiography” for my Public and Community Service Capstone in 2012. Generally, when I look back on things I wrote in college, I do so while laughing at my pretension and self-righteousness. This, however, was the exception. It was totally and completely honest and relevant.  

(I refer to the story of “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” several times- it’s worth reading if you haven’t already!)

Here it is:

 “I am constantly trying to answer the questions I did not know I was asking myself when I was five-- how do I walk away from Omelas? How do I identify an injustice and rectify it? How do I make my communities more honest, complete and accepting? How do I bring peace into the world? And most importantly, how do I walk away from Omelas while maintaining and developing my relationships with my loving, supportive, undeniably hard-working and selfless family in the suburbs? It has taken time, thought, reflection, and a range of emotions including anger, sadness, joy, bliss, and confusion to understand this dilemma.

I now know that I will always challenge myself to consider this question of my place in the world. I haven’t been complacent since I was five and I don’t think I will ever allow myself to be complacent. That does not, however, mean that I will never allow myself to be content. On the contrary, I will not be content with my most important relationships unless I am working on my relationship with the child and slowly walking away from Omelas, slowly working to live more honestly. At this pivotal transition point, it may seem exceptionally important to reflect on how I do this and how I will continue to live my life, but in reality, this is a question I have been asking myself since I was 5 and probably won’t stop asking myself until I’m 105. 

I am at peace with this realization. It may seem completely intimidating, unstable, impractical and unconventional to many, but I gain inner calmness, stability and purpose from challenging myself to think about my relationship with injustice and my place within or without the walls of Omelas. The inner calmness, stability and purpose which I gain from working for justice is what sustains me and allows me to be present to my family and friends throughout the world.”

I have found this inner calmness, stability and purpose here in Dar es Salaam, living as a JV- learning to teach and be taught, learning to love and be loved, learning to listen and be listened to, learning to give and receive, learning to be gentle and accept gentleness. This is a grace. It is a grace I am thankful for. It is a grace I pray for and try to nurture while recognizing my own flaws and brokenness.

“So, in the quietness of this place, in this group, in this particular moment, on this particular afternoon, surrounded by the presence of the Holy, my heart whispers to me: keep fresh before me the moments of my Highest knowing that in fair weather or foul, in good times or in tempests, in the days when the darkness and the foe are nameless or familiar, in the mix of voices, mine and others, in my fears and my frets, my weakness and my love I may not forget that, to which my life is committed.”

(excerpt from Deep is the Hunger by Howard Thurman)

Paka na Ng'ombe

This past Monday evening, after returning from a full day of school and basketball practice, I planned to continue my own exercise routine at home before eating dinner with the community. Like clockwork, just as I began my evening workout, our lovely neighborhood children began banging (no, really. not knocking- banging) on our gate. Either a reserve of endorphins from basketball practice or God’s hand was responsible for my generous and patient response to the gate. I calmly explained that we can’t play right now because we’re cooking and exercising. Case closed. Goodbye. See you tomorrow, when you will surely return and try again. 

Surprisingly, and to my dismay- my calm, but somewhat curt response did not deter them . . .

Their response: “Can we exercise with you, teacha?” 

My intentionally delayed response: “Are you sure you really want to? We can’t play around.” 

Their immediate and enthusiastic response: “YES, YES, teacher! We want to do exercises with you.” 

So, intrigued and incredulous about where this could lead, I welcomed them to the porch where I continued with my routine. I figured I would start with a challenging exercise so maybe they’d want to go home early. Of course, my attempt to discourage and tire them out also failed. In fact, it had the exactly opposite effect. They loved it. They laughed, counted together and cheered the whole time. “Another, teacher! Another!” 

We did jumping jacks and high knees, lunges and downward dogs; we took turns counting in English and Kiswahili. When I finally gave into their joy and gave up trying to keep my ‘me’ time just for me, I realized that I was having way more fun meowing for paka pose and mooing for ng’ombe pose than I have ever had inhaling for cat pose and exhaling for cow alone in my room. We all had a blast, and, in truth, I probably got a better and longer workout from all of the laughing and the joy distracting me from my tired body. I finally understood what the yoga instructors mean when they say, “have fun with your practice!” Making animal noises and helping some chubby kids find their way into warrior pose was definitely more fun than my calm, solitary practice.

I am now certain that God was in that moment reminding me, yet again, to let go of my plans and make room for joy. 

“The simple life is one in which there is always time to remember the divine purpose behind each of our tasks, time to listen for a possible divine amendment to the day’s schedule, and time to be thankful for the divine presence at each moment of the day.” 

(from Plain Living: A Quaker Path to Simplicity by Catherine Whitmire)

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.

Merry Christmas from Dar JVs in Dodoma!

Updates as of 12/17/13

Some updates:

1. School closed about 3 weeks ago now and time has been flying by ever since. We have visited a lot of families and friends as Beth and Cait said their goodbyes. Witnessing their goodbyes has made me very grateful for a second year here to continue to develop the relationships I have begun to form in my first year as well as to dive deeper into different communities of which we are already apart and to improve my Swahili now that I am comfortable with other parts of Tanzanian culture.

2. We all finished the Dar Uhuru Day Half Marathon despite the unfavorable conditions. The race started at 7:00 a.m. and so the sun had already risen with a vengeance.  I thought I was lost at one point and mistakenly directed to the full marathon course and I cried a little bit, almost gave up but thankfully found the determination to keep running along without very much direction. Let’s just say any race I run at home will feel like a breeze compared to this one. But we all finished and with pretty decent times, so we accomplished our community goal!

3. That same day, after some final preparations in the house, Erin and Alyson arrived with the new JVs for Dodoma. That evening, we traveled together as a community through the rain and darkness that welcomed these four new JVs to Tanzania. Goodbyes and hellos commenced during that week of transition from the Dar 2013 community to the Dar 2014 community. Beth and Cait left early Friday morning while Erin and Alyson were at their homestays and Kathleen and I had a nice full day to relax and get ready to truly begin a new year when we all came back to our home together for the first time as a community. I’m feeling great about the transition and am looking forward to what this next year will bring!

4. Tomorrow, we are leaving for our retreat in Arusha, where, thankfully, it is cooler and quieter. We will spend a few days there with the Dodoma volunteers getting to know each other and getting familiar with the four JVC values and thinking about how we can live them out in this next year. Then we will travel with the Dodoma volunteers to celebrate Christmas at their home. We are looking forward to the change of scenery and weather conditions and of course the company of the Jesuit and JV community to celebrate with.

Thank you all for your love and support, even when I don’t have internet access to stay in touch with you. You are all always in my daily thoughts and prayers of thanksgiving. I’m wishing you joy, peace and an awareness of God’s presence in your life for the Christmas and holiday season!

Uhuru Day Half Marathon

After completing the hottest and least enjoyable running race I have ever participated in, but at least we all finished!!!