Being Victorious

Acknowledging the small victories is imperative when living and serving in Africa. In fact, it’s important wherever you are. There are many times when I feel as if there is so much that needs help and the task is overbearing. Then there are times when I wish I could do more to help. It’s a battle.

I have witnessed starvation and hunger, droughts and thirst, disease and illness, the uneducated and curious, poverty and the lack of funds and many more things while abroad. Witnessing these and others has the ability to make you feel inadequate and insufficient. Almost as if you were hired for a job working on computers only to find out you know nothing about computers.

What I mean is that there are times where I will just sit and think over the privations each person here faces far too often. The struggle grows from not knowing or being unable to completely eradicate the problem. Knowing there is a lack of clean drinking water and not being able to physically do something in helping create more is tough. The struggle grows when thinking of the corruption that has stolen so much of Africa’s wealth, the Panama Paper tax havens that allow billionaires to avoid contributing and the companies that create a fake vaccine only to fill their need for greed at the cost of other’s suffering. 

It’s a difficult hurtle get over.

Still, we can. 

The small victories in your everyday work are of a value that even the billionaire’s and their tax havens can’t buy.

Granting yourself a little bit of time to admire the work you have put forth can do a lot of good. Leading a game in class, helping vaccinate 50 children, building 20 desks or just being present at sports time may not be monumental or earth-shattering actions, but they do help. They are victories. To be victorious we must overcome something. We must defeat it. 

These are victories because we are overcoming the struggles of everyday life. We are laughing when we could be sulking. We are healing when we could be sickening. We are showing support, building up others and helping the one’s around us become better and lead healthier and happier lives. 

There are so many people who need help and so to think you alone will save Africa or the world is ludicrous. However, having ideas on how to help and putting these into action is a great way to start. These ideas and small ways of helping are what win the battles that will eventually lead us to winning the war. The small victories that are accumulated by so many volunteers are what help the most. This is what keeps me going forward. It’s easy to quit. The one’s who make the most difference are the ones who fulfill their duty and take it to the end. Too many things are left undone and so completing the job is best. 

One of my victories is using games in class. I could lead a strict lesson on English where most of the kids are lost and confused, but that would get us nowhere. Instead, I have found that teaching through games such as hangman, pictionary and a board race are much more effective. It is fun for the kids and they don’t even realize they are learning. It helps in getting them to participate which I believe to be the main struggle. One can incorporate quite a lot into each game and it allows the students to be creative. 

So many lessons can be learned from hanging a man.

The other students wait to see the picture their classmate drew, the word they want guessed or prepare for a race against their friend to see who can answer a question the fastest. It’s fun to take part in. Most of the students’ days are made up of sitting in class while listening to one of their teachers drone on. These games help spice things up. A game helps brighten their day and if that is the only victory I get all day then I am okay. It is worth it.

The students are required to attend mass every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday. One thing I have noticed throughout my entire time here, both in Zambia and Tanzania, is that there is a mad dash for the offering and communion. I call it organized chaos. Organized because no one is talking and there is a place where the dash ends (the alter), but chaotic because everyone tries to get there first. This causes a massive pileup. In America, we all filter into a nice orderly line and things go smoothly. There is no such thing here.

It just amazes me that this happens because you would think someone would finally be like “hmmm, this doesn’t make any sense. Things would be quicker and smoother if we had a single line.” This thought has never come up, though. I just wait till the end to get communion so I’m not crushed into a pile of bodies. Everyone knows communion is over when the mzungu is sitting down.

The same goes for exiting the church. Everyone piles up at the door and squeezes through. You would think there was something exciting outside with how hard everyone pushes to get out. Alas, there is nothing. Everyone is budging and pushing for no reason at all. Once again, I just wait till I’m the last one out.

Last week I was battling an illness, however I am back to normal this week. I feel good. 

I was able to make it into Songea today in order to complete some errands I have been meaning to get to. I believe (and hope) that was my last time heading into Songea. It is fun to head into town and get away from the village for a few hours, but now that my time is wrapping up I don’t see why I would need to go there anymore. I also feel as if there is a target on my back whenever I do because of immigration officers. It’s just easier not having to deal with them and so I keep to myself in the village. 

Alas, they have found me here too. Immigration stopped by the monastery yesterday and so I was called into Fr. Novatus’s office. I had to show my passport, answer some questions and clarify that I am just visiting.

“Why are you here?”, “What are you doing here?”, “What do you do back home?”, “When did you arrive?”, “When do you leave?”

It’s getting annoying and a bit absurd. Immigration laws have been tightened because of illegals from other countries crossing the border without admittance. They should think about posting an officer at the borders rather than having them wide open…hmmm…I don't know...that could be an idea.

God Bless the hands that craft these scrumptious cookies.

There is a nearby village called Salla-Bon-Koo. I have no idea how it is spelt considering I have only heard the name read aloud and never written. It’s a popular spot for people to ride their bikes and there happens to be a small hill with a cross on top. When living in a village these things become major attractions. I think I will head there one of these days just for fun. Hopefully the rain behaves itself.

Quick shout out to Joyce who works at the small little shop in Hanga village. She whips up these mean cookies which are only 250 schilling (12 cents) and they are darn good. They literally may just be dough which signals to me that my taste buds are dead ha, but they are delicious. I’m going to be stopping by and snagging some of these for my last weeks.

Now that I am the only one in the guesthouse again Mamababy, the woman who keeps the guesthouse maintained, was like “ah, mimi na Joseph!” (Me and Joseph) haha so yes, it’s just us now. She doesn’t stay in the guesthouse, but she is the one who maintains it so I have gotten to know her well.

That’s all for now. It seems as if the Minnesota Twins have found their fire. I know they just fell to the Brewers last night, but it would be great to see them win back all those lost games.

*Google just let me know that my blog is at 4,985 views. This post should break 5,000. Thank you to all of you who continue to read and keep up with my adventure. I thoroughly enjoy writing this blog and you all are the great motivation that keeps me going. (I, myself, probably account for 1,000 of those views, but I'm feeling pretty good about my blog right now so I'm just going to forget that piece :) ha!)

Thanks for reading!