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!

On The Mend

Last Sunday I woke with a number of aches and pains. My head had felt like a hammer had been used on it and the rest of my body was feeling similar. It’s never fun having a week-long headache, but my symptoms are finally beginning to subside. I at least felt like a human being when I woke yesterday. Ha! I went over to the clinic to get some tests done considering they received this new machine from the government that can analyze your blood. My blood and the components (WBC, RBC, HMG, PLT etc.) looked good. The malaria test which is done by analyzing a sample of my blood under a microscope was inconclusive. They didn’t find the parasite, but this could be because of my current prophylaxis (meds to prevent malaria). Christa became sick with malaria a few years back and had to have three tests done before finding out she had malaria. Yeah, I wasn’t going to spend my last days here in pain and worry.

Looking for Malaria under the microscope

I took the antimalarial pills whether I had the disease or not. With under a month to go it was recommended. It seems to me that whatever has been going on inside has packed its bags and begun to leave. The headache was faint yesterday and just about gone today. I became a bit dizzy and congested the past week, but these along with the shivering and other aches and pains have gone. With the shower only pumping out ice the number of showers taken this week was low.

Before resting, I was able to finish out my classes for the week as well as head over to the secondary school for sports time. I just sat and spoke with my students rather than run around, but it was nice to just hang out with them.

I was planning to head into Songea today in order to take care of some errands I have been meaning to get to for some time now. I decided against the idea because I thought it probably wasn’t best getting on a crammed bus just yet. I should be able to get in to town next week.

Other than those few things I have just been resting. A week becomes long when all you do is lay around. I’m not a fan, but it was needed. I am feeling much better and so things should reboot this coming week.

I have been able to get in some good reading which was nice. Apollo is a very good book and it is interesting to see how many obstacles the scientists and engineers had to overcome while planning to send man to the moon. Not only is getting to the moon extremely hard and costly, but the government (yes, even JFK) wasn’t fully onboard. Kennedy, as we all know, finally came around which helped. The number of failed launches and tests that were initiated by NASA and the space program was quite high. Obviously, these failures did help them in noticing the problems and, in the end, aided NASA in their final goal - getting an American to the moon.

This is something to note, though. We failed many, many times in getting a rocket off the ground. The world was lucky the Americans had a worthwhile and grand goal, but I don’t think North Korea has the same in mind. We laugh at their failed attempts of launching rockets, but we must be aware that we were in a similar boat in the 60’s. I hope to never see North Korea launch a rocket, but underestimating an opponent is for the foolish.

I do have to say one of the most impressive ideas that led to a successful lunar landing was the Lunar Orbit Rendezvous (LOR). Having a module separate from the shuttle, navigate its way to the surface, land, takeoff and reconnect back with the shuttle was widely thought to be a harebrained idea and, therefore, it was widely rejected. In the end, it would be one of the main reasons we ever were able to make it to the moon considering landing the entire shuttle on the surface of the moon would most likely have ended in failure.

My parents brought us kids to the Kennedy Space Center when we were young. I remember it being a ton of fun. I think I’ll need to venture down there again sometime soon.

Before bed I sometimes play the card game Hearts on my computer to wind down the day. Being sick this past week has allowed me more time to play. I have now achieved the best score possible and officially beaten the computer. I need friends. Ha!

Thanks for reading!

Overcoming a Life of Challenge with Laughs of Joy

There are a few sisters who come from Namibia each year to study at the Trade School in Hanga. Two are currently here with one studying plumbing and the other electricity. An older sister from the same convent in Namibia has stopped by to pay a visit and check in on her fellow sisters. She has only been here a few days, but must leave to visit other sisters who are attending school elsewhere. I was in the refectory when she was speaking with Br. Germanus about the time she wants to leave. He was telling her how there ‘maybe’ a car ready for her sometime in the next day or two and then he gave a range of hours it may leave. This is typical here and it only results in delays and postponements. The sister looked at him and said “No, I don’t want maybes, I want a precise time.”

Once I heard this I think I shed a tear. Way to go, sister! It felt good to hear someone asking for a precise time. She told me if all I get are these ‘maybes’ then I’ll never end up leaving. I laughed and agreed. It’s true. It is very hard to pin down a time on things here and so you must take control of the situation yourself. I think she lit a fire under the brothers butts because soon she had the Prior and Procure in speaking with her. She leaves today. Ha!

Another person who is departing is the Italian volunteer who has been here only a short time. Antonella is heading back to Italy on Friday. She told me she must get back to attend school.

Eating goat meat

Considering she is leaving, Christa set up a dinner for us at Saint Monica’s (the small restaurant in the village). She had them prepare goat meat and chipsi. There are a large amount of goats in this part of the world (or at least where I have stayed during my time here). Even so, you must order the goat meat ahead of time and so she had. It was really good. It is similar to most other meats, but did have its own flavor. It was fun to try.

Afterwards, we went for a walk around 7:30PM. It is dark at this time, but it is one of the only times you can spot the bush babies. A bush baby is a type of monkey. They have small heads and big eyes. They like humans and so they will peer down at you from the trees. We were lucky to spot three of them while walking. They were jumping from the branches that hung over our heads.

While at the refectory this morning we were discussing chiefs and different tribes throughout Tanzania. I mention this because the chiefs in Tanzania differ a bit from those in Zambia. In Zambia, chiefs still hold a large amount of power. You must speak with them before moving ahead with any plans that involve their area or village. In Tanzania the chiefs are not as powerful anymore. The president and government are the people with the authority. Chiefs still exist and are very much present, but they mainly just mingle with their tribe. The tribal languages still exist even though Swahili is the national language. There are many tribes and, therefore, many languages.

Though, the language I focus on in class is English. Teaching has been going well. While teaching at Saint Benedict’s Secondary School I try my best to incorporate a game into the lesson. I have mentioned before that hangman is a favorite. It works well too. I can pick a word and then incorporate that into my lesson. If I want to discuss nouns, verbs, heteronyms, synonyms, antonyms or most anything involving the English language it works. It helps keep their attention as well.  I also allow the students to come up and choose their own word and have the class guess. This empowers them and allows them to get time standing in front of the class. I think that is beneficial.

One of my students in front of the class

The students at Saint Benedict’s Secondary School are a little younger than those at the Trade School, but they participate and respond much more than their older peers. At the Trade School it can be difficult to get them to participate. I will ask them a simple question and most will just stare at the board. I understand English is difficult and it’s not as if I am some protégé at Swahili, but they have been studying English for some time now. Yet, they are lost when I ask, “What is wrong with this sentence?” The sentence could be “I’m student at the University of Minnesota.” The simple mistake is that we have left out the indefinite article “a”. Kiswahili does not have articles like English does, but all the more reason to teach it in an English class. This makes Swahili even more difficult for us English speakers. Well, at least when trying to speak in Swahili I feel like I am constantly creating incomplete sentences. That’s just how it is, though.

When out on my long walks I have noticed a girl named Mary wandering about by herself. She also tends to be carrying a large piece of sugar cane. She will always quickly approach me and then just laugh and hold my hand. She speaks to me in Swahili. When I cannot understand her I will respond in English which she then repeats.

Mary is fun to be around and when I take out my phone to snap a picture she marvels at it. Mary may be mentally challenged, but she does not lack in personality, kindness and laughs. I always find her to be in the happiest of moods even though she faces the toughest of challenges.

People who are mentally challenged in this part of the world are not sent to school. In fact, I don’t believe they are looked after much at all. I am sure some are, but I have never seen Mary with anyone else and whenever I do see her she is always wandering about. It must be incredibly hard living in extreme poverty, but then to have an extra challenge added on top is something I believe we cannot even begin to understand.

I have met people in the same condition as Mary while in Zambia and Songea town. Knowing these people deserve the most help and receive little to none is heart-breaking. It’s incredibly difficult to witness the state in which they live. My friend Raphael whom I travelled with to Dar es Salaam has hopes to one day join the monastery and start a house for people with mental disabilities. I hope his dream comes true.

Mary and I

In these past couple of days I have come down with some illness. After messaging my Mom we believe it to be either the flu or malaria. It is difficult to know just which one you may have while living here. Whatever it is, it hasn’t been too kind to me. Even though I have begun to feel a little better I have started taking my emergency pills that are prescribed in case I come down with malaria. Those suckers should knock out whatever is happening on the inside. I’m still blogging so I guess that’s a good sign ha J

I just checked the Minnesota Twins record for the first time this season and all I have to say to that is “Yikes!” Even if I have said some un-fanlike comments about them in the past I am still very much a fan. I sure do hope they begin to turn things around soon.

Well, that’s it for now. I hope everyone is enjoying their April.

Thanks for reading!

The Art of Volunteering

Following midday prayer is lunch and that is just what I have come back from. Midday prayer has added a nice break in my day. The prayers are read out loud in Swahili, but I still enjoy. Like I have mentioned before, the pronunciation of Swahili words is easy. The formation of sentences and the meanings cause me to get stuck. So, I am able to read along with the prayers although I am unsure of the meaning of most of what I say. It’s from a prayer book so it can’t be that bad J

I have now switched my status from ‘relax and leisure’ (if you can call climbing a massive mountain leisure) to ‘active duty’. I have begun teaching, playing Frisbee and going to the debates of my students at Saint Benedict’s Secondary School. In addition, I have spoken with Mr. Baraka about teaching at the Trade School and I will be, but not until next week. I came to school this week ready to teach only to find the classrooms empty and kids just sitting around. After asking around I figured out that the first week back is for cleaning the environment.

I was surprised they needed the whole week to do so. I have stopped by each day because that is where I am able to receive a small bit of internet and have found that nobody is cleaning the environment. I have taken this as an excuse for not having (or wanting) to hold class. It can be frustrating for a guy like me who enjoys structure. It’s just another thing one must get used to when living in Africa. There is no set time on when things will start, even when those things are school.

Graphing the child's weight

I have put in time at the clinic as well. We held a children’s clinic this past week which was fun. I just walked in and asked the nearest lady if I could help. If Gertrude, the nurse I was speaking to, was Minnesotan her response would have been “Oh, you betcha!” They quickly put me to work. I was in the vaccinations room. The mothers would record the weight of their child on a card, I would take it and record the number on a graph so they know if their child is a healthy weight or not. After, we gave vaccinations for all sorts of things. Pneumonia, measles and rubella were the top diseases we vaccinated against. Others received some for tetanus, rotavirus and one for bronchitis. I have injected a vaccine into the arm and butt; however these were going into the side leg. I didn’t feel comfortable with injecting a squirming baby into the side of its leg so Gertrude did it this time. I recorded what child got what vaccination in a big book.

The clinic was packed. Hundreds of people were there and so we had a lot of screaming babies. When one starts the rest follow suit real quick, especially when they see the needle.

My return to Saint Benedict’s Secondary School was nice. I went to sports time and brought my Frisbee along. They were happy to see that I had returned. A few of the girls hugged me and this led to the other 300+ girls to giggle and comment something in Swahili. I guess that is what is to be expected, though. They are middle and high school age and so I am sure that some girls give other one’s crap for liking to hang around me.

Vaccine for Pneumonia

At sports time I noticed many of them were playing a game they call La-day. Two girls stand at different ends while one is in the middle. They throw a foam ball that is packed with cloth on the inside at the girl in the middle. Yeah, it sounds bad, but they love it. If the girl in the middle catches the ball then she gets to chuck it at one of the other ones. They thought it would be fun if I played and so I did. The countless hours of playing catch with my brother Thomas came in handy. I must have caught 90% of the balls thrown at me which led me to chuck it at the one’s doing the throwing. All of the girls were laughing so hard. They all ran away as fast as possible in order not to get hit. Like I said, the ball was really soft. It did not hurt to get hit, but it sure was fun to throw around. Winner winner chicken dinner.

I attended the debate my students hold each Friday. I enjoy going. The majority of volunteering is exactly what you think, working various jobs and helping out where it is needed, or, in other words, getting your hands dirty. However, I have found that there are other areas of volunteering that don’t necessarily require me to get involved, but matter just as much. The art of volunteering is finding out that there are a lot of great things that make up what a volunteer does.

One of those things is going to the debate. I have made it a requirement to just watch the debate rather than chime in with every argument I have to the topic being discussed. I want the students to debate the topic, not me. I go because I want to support my students and so I just sit in the back and watch for the hour or two. I think just being present sends a good message.

Another area that is similar to the debate is when I help someone set up a Skype account. It’s not the most intense or crucial work, but it matters nonetheless. I was at the Trade School trying to access the internet the other day when one of the sisters asked if I could help with setting up a skype account so she could speak with her friend in Namibia. I did so and we were able to get her online so she could call her friend. The happiness it brought her made the time I put into setting up the account worthwhile.

Sister Saima logging into Skype!

There was quite a funny piece to this story too. When it came time for her to select a password she needed help. I asked her what her favorite food was so we could go from there. She replied, “Bread! I love bread!” We both laughed. Hey, that’s fair, bread is pretty darn good. So, the word bread along with some numbers is now her password. I told her to just think of her favorite food if she ever forgot her password haha!

The other day a pipe in one of the rooms in the guesthouse came loose and began spraying a small amount of water. I noticed it, but it wasn’t until the morning which meant it had been spraying all night. It’s amazing how a small amount of water can accumulate so quickly. I always put a towel down by my door each night so I don’t have any creepy crawlers journeying into my room while I sleep. I was smart to do so. When I removed the towel in the morning it was sopping wet. I followed the trail of water to the other room. We were able to get somebody to come and help tighten the pipe. All is fixed now.

In the guest refectory there is a small TV that has only one channel on it. I tend not to pay attention to it most of the time considering the shows are all in Swahili and the acting is atrocious. No, really. My high school had a video club that produced a small segment for the school to watch each week and that was bad, but I would rather watch their acting than this. You would understand me better if you saw for yourself.

Though, luckily each evening at dinner there is a show called Isidingo that comes on. Christa, the older Austrian woman who has been here for quite a while, and I have kind of grown into it. The show is produced in South Africa and is in English. It’s one of those soap operas so the story line and plot move along very slowly. It has become a joke between Christa and I to guess what will happen on each episode and so it is fun to watch every once in a while.

The most recent book that I have been reading is titled George Washington by William Roscoe Thayer. I have been saying how I wanted to read a book on one of our past presidents and so I thought George would be a good one to start with. Though, I am guessing what drew me towards this particular book was my frugality. When I was young my parents constantly told me how important it was to save money and so I do. It just so happens that I hate spending it too. I am beginning to realize this may be why all of my past relationships have failed. Ha! J I never spent enough of that cash.

Oh well. Anyway, as you probably have guessed, this book was free and so I downloaded it. I didn’t expect much, but have found that I really enjoy it. It’s a wonderful biography on the first president who, I think, gets overlooked far too often. George was the man. The real MVP of America. I need to read more on other presidents, but Washington has to be one of my tops for now. George Washington was a great leader who cared about the country and its people and made sure to appoint the right people to office rather than just his friends. He wasn’t really feeling a second term, but the people liked him so much that they asked for him to go another four years. He did.

So, George Washington was pretty much the opposite of every candidate running for president in 2016.

Interesting fact: George was stricken with smallpox when he was a young man which left him with pox marks on his face for the remainder of his life. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see any pox marks on the one dollar bill, folks. All the painters and sculptors have omitted this detail from their art work.

Also, the American Revolutionary War’s main reason for taking place was not because of independence, at first. Great Britain was trying to oppress the freedom and rights of the colonies and they weren’t having any of it. King George III still rolls over in his grave thinking about the Stamp Act. Taxation without representation, come on man! Kings…fools, I tell ya.

However, after a while they thought it may be best to secede and become independent. Most people were on board, but there were some loyalist still around. Guess where they lived? New flippin’ York. This doesn’t affect my view on the state of New York, just their baseball team. Add one more reason to hate the Yankees. Their jerseys might as well be red coats!

For living in the 1700’s there is a decent amount of documentation on George Washington. However, it makes me think about how the biographies of presidents from the current generation will look. “And here is a selfie of President Anderson when s/he was in the seventh grade.”

Alright, that is enough about George. The next two books I have queued up and ready to go are Apollo by Catherine Cox and Charles Murray and Collected Poems by Dylan Thomas. As you know, Apollo is about the space missions and America’s race to the moon. It looks really good. In addition to Apollo my grandfather Tom sent me a book titled Collected Poems by Dylan Thomas. A famous poet, Dylan Thomas is able to create great imagery through the language he uses. I look forward to reading more!

For all of my Game of Thrones fans!

In other news, gas and oil has been found in Tanzania and therefore a number of companies are coming over to start collecting. Tanzania is rich in natural resources, but it seems they lack the knowledge on how to collect. It is a bit sad because some of the resources that are going to be gathered reside inside the national parks. There goes some more of our beautiful earth.

The temperatures are still high in comparison to Minnesota, but winter is coming. It isn’t nearly as hot as it used to be. A sister who is visiting from Namibia had visited the U.S. before and so I asked where she had stayed. She told me Duluth, Minnesota. I laughed. No way. I told her I am from Minnesota and she couldn’t believe it. She said she doesn’t like the snow. I told her I think Tanzania is too hot. J We all have our preferences.

Sound the hallelujah chorus, yesterday I received my passport back from Fr. Novatus. His friend from immigration was able to take it to the border of Mozambique and get it stamped. I will be able to stay in country longer and leave when I must. All is well.

To conclude, the clinic just had two women give birth. I was told both babies are girls. I responded to the nurse, “That’s wonderful; the world is a better place now!”

Thanks for reading!

More Than What Meets The Eye

I am white. Well, Caucasian if we want to get official. I am also a man.

I am a white man.

“Mzungu, mzungu…MZUNGU!” I hear called both near and far as I walk through the village.

“Why would you be worried about having children and a wife? All white men are rich so it doesn’t matter if you have a lot of kids. You can pay for them all.” I hear when discussing the topic of wealth in my class.

“Mzungu, give me money!” I hear a group of five 14-year olds call out as I walk by.

“Mzungu, Mzungu, look over here.” I hear as a little girl waves franticly at me from across the gravel road.

In addition to hearing a lot about my skin color and the wealth that is associated with it I feel the never-ending stares. The long gazes at my strange and very different appearance as I walk into a classroom or down the road garner not double-takes but triple and even quadruple-takes as people yearn for a better look.

**Before I dive deeper into this topic I want to make sure first that everyone understands that this post is NOT supposed to be a political one that debates the issues that fill our newspapers, internet and TV screens each day. What lives matter or what racism is or is not will be for you to discuss with your friends and family. What I am trying to do is just highlight for the reader my experience as the sole white man among a black population and how we all can learn from it.

A few years back my sister, Grace, would say “settle your kettle” if I was getting upset. I don’t believe this post will make anyone upset, but if you find that you are then take my sister’s advice, grab your kettle and settle it.

 I would also encourage you to read the entire post.

---- Life as a Minority

Life as a minority is different than that of the majority. Above, I focus on the piercing eyes, misinformed and incorrect stereotypes as well as the array of hollers that come from one simple feature of my person - my skin color.

Am I the only one who has ever experienced this? No, of course not, different people with different skin colors from around the world experience this each day. Since this is the case I feel it has been good for me to live through a bit of it. I have learned what it is like and how a person of the minority may feel. A valuable lesson that will help me relate better to others.

For a white man in a black impoverished community there has been only one thing I have noticed that is associated with my skin color. Yes, you guessed it, that one thing is wealth.

---- White and Wealthy

Stereotypes and misattributions can cause a range of emotions and feelings. It can become frustrating and even a bit hurtful. Dealing with the unwanted attention and a number of preconceived ideas about my person on a daily basis is, if nothing else, tiresome.

The preconceived idea that I walk around with money falling out of my pockets is frustrating because, well, I don’t. I am sure that would be a nice feeling, though. When discussing money I try and compare the price of a mango in Tanzania to that of one in America. A mango (embe) in Tanzania costs around 25 cents (500 schilling). In America, I believe mangos to go for more than a dollar or two (2,500-4,000 schilling). So, in Tanzania, I can buy quite a few mangos. This then leads me to look quite wealthy when in reality a big part of this is simply the currency rate and exchange.

Now, do I and a lot of Americans have more money saved or available to use than many Africans? Yes, I would say we do. Though, this isn’t to say there are no Americans living in poverty, are homeless or struggling to buy food. This is where the problem arises. Many people here don’t believe there are people in America like this.

In America, if you were to focus in on just me as an individual, as an independent (eliminating my family), then I would be considered poor. That all changes when you pluck me up and place me in the middle of Tanzania’s population. Now, I would be considered wealthy. All you have to do now is associate that very small amount of wealth with my skin color and wahh-lahh the preconceived idea that all white men and women are wealthy is born.

I understand where this misguided thought comes from, though. As a nation, the United States of America is much wealthier. The U.S. has been able to grow and maintain this status. I’m not going to say our economy or government is the best, but it sure ain’t bad. So, in comparison with Tanzania, yes, our nation is wealthy, but, like I said before, just because there are a large number of white men and women in America a person’s wealth depends on much more than just their skin color.

This recount is simply my take and view on this idea of ‘white and wealthy’ that has been affixed to me for a long period of time. It is meant to help all of us realize the challenges that a person faces when we automatically attribute and idea or thought to them based on the color of their skin. Additionally, I am sure being seen as wealthy is one of the smaller challenges a person of the minority faces. There are many worse preconceived ideas that others have based on another’s skin color (just watch the news and you will see).

---- There is So Much More

I suppose what frustrates me the most about constantly being called ‘white man’ is the fact that everything else that I am gets left behind, thrown out the window or forgotten. I am no longer a Catholic, an alumnus of Saint John’s University, American, athlete, a motorcyclist, blood donor, volunteer, a funny friend or brother. The list could go on, but I am guessing you get the point.

All of these things that make up who I am are stripped away and what is left is a color.

I am white.

Now, you may be thinking, well how can someone forget that you were a blood donor or an alumnus of Saint John’s University when they did not know it in the first place? I would tell you that this is a great question and an even better point.

You cannot forget something if you never knew it was there in the first place.

What I am trying to get at is the fact that there is so much more beyond the color of a person’s skin. It may not matter to you that I like motorcycles, but it does to me. Motorcycles are great! It’s something that makes up a piece of me just like being Catholic does, but these wonderful qualities and characteristics are lost when all I am is simply a color.

It’s important to realize that each person you meet or pass by has, just like you, a bunch of great things that make up who they are. The color of their skin is just simply one part that can actually be seen, but, as we all know, there is always more than what meets the eye.

To conclude, no, I would never become angry at another person, especially a small child, for not knowing more about me other than the color of my skin. That’s okay.

Additionally, I get it, saying ‘white man’ can be an effective way to point out whom you are speaking to or about. We just need to be more careful of how we say it, what preconceived ideas we attach to the person and, finally, be fully aware that there is so much more awe-inspiring pieces beyond that of which the eye can see.

I hope I have conveyed myself well enough for all of you to understand my experience of being the minority and how it has helped me change my views and feelings. I have learned a lot and I feel all of us could benefit from an experience such as this.

If you are still caught up on what lives matter and need some help then allow me – all lives matter. 

Yours, mine, and everyone’s.

Thanks for reading!

Oh, and Grace. As much as I love your short phrases please do not revive “settle your kettle.” I can already here it in my head haha. Love you, little nugg! J

How Far We Have Come

Another lesson I have learned and feel could be beneficial to us all is realizing and acknowledging how far each of us have come. This is an important thing to do every once in a while. It makes me happy to think of all the places I have been, work I have done and things I have seen while living in Africa. Far too often we fall into a cycle of taking things for granted. It’s automatic. This is why it is nice to take time and notice where we are and what we are doing.

With April showing up and making itself at home I have realized that I am unsure if or when I will return to Africa and, therefore, better make the most of the time I have left. Due to this realization I am determined to enjoy my last months and do what I try and do with everything else – make the most of the time that I have. You should do the same.

Whether you are reading this while lounging around your dorm room, sitting back in your chair at the office, relaxing on your couch at the cabin, spending quality time on the toilet (we’ve all been there), sitting in the cockpit of your airplane (that would actually be really cool) or while driving your car (alright, that’s just irresponsible, though, I do appreciate your dedication to my blog) take a minute to realize how far you have come and all the things you have experienced. It’s pretty great once you do so.

Our past is the only reason we have a future. Past memories guide us to what is next. We constantly build off of what we have learned, seen, heard, liked, disliked, want and need. I am using what I have learned from this past year to make these last months the best. Furthermore, what makes the future so exciting and inviting is the fact that I get to bring with me all that I have learned to the next stage in my journey. You get to do the same and so you should.

This whole ‘reflecting on the past so it can benefit the future’ idea may seem like I am flying out of Africa tomorrow. Last year’s volunteers may have left at this time, but I am not. No, it’s more about realizing the moment while we are still in it and once you do move onto the next stage in your journey you will not only be ready, but have that wealth of knowledge stowed away in the overhead bin just waiting to be used.

For me, work has begun to pick back up. Schools are resuming and I have stopped by the clinic to see what I can help with. Additionally, Br. Germanus has returned. His sister recently passed due to complications of HIV and AIDS. A very sad story, but it is nice to see him around the monastery again.

At the clinic, I may be able to get involved with the sick bay and dispensary. I think I have had enough of the dispensary life while in Zambia (you can only hand out so many pills) and so working directly with the people will be more fun. I believe there will be a clinic check-up next week where a number of children will come in and be checked over. Height, weight and overall health will be assessed. Malnutrition is a serious issue and so being able to monitor the children as they grow helps keep an eye on each one.

This past week Antonella and I worked together on an informed consent form for patients. It pertains to blood transfusions. In very simple English we outlined what they would be consenting to. This is something that adds a little structure to the processes done by the clinic.

In April, I will focus more on midday prayer rather than morning mass. I think it will fit into my day a bit better. I will go to daily mass when able, but midday prayer will fit nicely with my work.

One thing I have really enjoyed are the sisters (nuns) who I eat every meal with and see constantly around the guesthouse and village. They continue to speak to me in full Swahili which can be difficult, but I am learning to pick the key words out of the sentence and go from there. 

Constant jokes are passed back and forth and I feel I have become closer with them than the brothers. Of course, this is not to say I don’t know any of the brothers. I know many and they are very kind. One brother always responds ‘indubitably’ when I ask how he is. Not sure if it makes much sense, but it is so common and such a funny word for one of them to say that it always gets a laugh. Furthermore, back when I was becoming used to Swahili and how to ask for someone to pass me something I would say, “May I please have the rice?” Well, the word raisi in Swahili is the word for president. So, I am actually asking for someone to pass me the president. This probably isn’t too funny for you reading this, but these kinds of things happen often and make for a fun time.

I think I will have to bust out my mom’s sewing kit again. I have found a few tears in my clothing. I am no expert sewer, but I might as well give it a shot. I’ll probably end up leaving the majority of my clothing anyways.

Avocado has begun being served at meals which is a delicious addition. I have begun mixing it with my rice, beans and vegetable. I am one of those guys who doesn’t mind when one food touches another. I actually prefer it. Anyway, the addition of the avocado is great. However, I am sure now that my stomach is so used to rice and beans that when I get home it will be in all sorts of knots when I try something much different ha.

My passport has been shipped off to the border. No, seriously, it has been given to an immigration officer who will then take it to the border and get it stamped for me. This sounds super weird to us Americans, but things here operate in a much different fashion and so you just end up going with the flow. The weirdest things tend to be the ones that work.

If something does happen to my passport then I will have to march over to the U.S. Embassy in Dar es Salaam. Good thing I have a copy of my passport and driver’s license on me.

Plane tickets out of Africa for the middle of next month are being looked at. The BVC has a travel agent and I have discussed my European plans as well as my final flight home with her. Lots of connecting flights, but I am hoping we can narrow that down a bit.

In African news, President Jacob Zuma of South Africa has been told by the high courts to pay back some of the money he took and spent on luxurious items and improvements to his home. Rumors of impeachment have spread and tension has risen. I believe Mr. Zuma to be a poor president for such a wonderful country. I hope he is removed from office soon.

The United States has issued attacks on terrorists in Somalia which is just north of Tanzania and Kenya. I believe they are tracking down a leader of one of the groups who is hiding out in Somalia.

Well, I better get on over to midday prayer. Tonight I think I will stop by Saint Monica’s restaurant in Hanga for some chipsi (French fries mixed with egg), a Tanzanian special. I did just talk about enjoying my time here, right? Chipsi has and will continue to help me do so. Yum!

Thanks for reading!

Hurricane Immigration Hits Hanga

Easter Break is currently taking place and so it was smart of me to return this week. It has been a nice relaxed transition back into village life and work. The biggest obstacle I face now is immigration.

Immigration laws are stricter now since the president has enforced new regulations. Fr. Novatus, the procurer, is the man I have been working with this week to figure out my papers and visa. I let him know back in January that this would need to be taken care, but this is Africa and things usually are completed last-minute. I suppose my trip interfered some as well. He has a friend at the Songea immigration office and I hope he comes through for us. It would be such a big help to get the stamp placed in my passport and to not have to worry about this anymore.

If I cannot get an extension through the office in Songea I will have to leave the country. My current visa expires April 4th and so that means I will be hopping a bus and getting out soon. Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to this.

Once my visa is figured out I will be able to stay in Tanzania until my departure in May. I still have to contact the BVC to arrange my flights into and out of Europe, but that should not be very hard.

Two summers ago I worked at Camp Lincoln which is located on Lake Hubert in Nisswa, Minnesota. In addition to working at Camp Lincoln I was lucky enough to attend as a camper for many summers. Throughout my time I met many great friends from around the world. While working as a counselor I met friends Adam and Jamie who both live in the U.K. Both visited me while attending college at Saint John’s University before they went home.

In 2014, I swore I would visit them in the coming years and they promised to show me around Europe. I have been in contact with Adam for many months now and as my time in Africa draws to a close my time in Europe can be seen in the headlights. I look forward to a little Euro-trip and am glad to have some great company that will be along for the ride.

However, that is still to happen and even though I am totally a man who enjoys planning ahead I have learned that I must focus on the here-and-now. Main goal for today: Get immigration papers in order so Joseph isn’t imprisoned in a Sub-Saharan African prison. Wooop!

In fact, I was lucky to be travelling throughout March. I was told that a few immigration officers paid a visit to Hanga village while I was on Mt. Kilimanjaro. They met with all of the volunteers here and even issued fines to a few. I have learned it is best to say “I am just visiting” when asked what and why I am in Tanzania. If you say I am working at a secondary school as well as the nearby clinic they get pretty upset. I think this is because they fear you are coming and taking jobs from Tanzanians. In reality, we are just helping out, but they don’t see it in the same light.

Ricardo, who I mentioned in earlier posts, was still here and was lucky enough to just be in his room when confronted. He was able to play off the “I’m just visiting” excuse. However, for new volunteer Antonella, who just arrived a week or two ago, things were a little worse. She was seen working in the clinic and so she was issued a fine.

It’s too bad. It makes volunteers worried about helping out and working. Now, I understand immigration and it would be a whole different story if we were taking jobs from others, but we aren’t. If anything, we are just additional hands helping improve the village life.

I am glad to have dodged that bullet.

Christa and I were joking at dinner about how I may have to head to the border soon if things don’t work out in Songea. Just like Nelson Mandela, I, too, may have my very own Long Walk to Freedom.

Anyways, I will keep you updated as I tackle the immigration business this week.

I just mentioned the new volunteer from Italy, Antonella. Antonella arrived about two weeks ago and will stay in Hanga until April 15^th. It is not a very long stay, but it’s nice to have another volunteer around. She is 25 and is studying to be a nurse.

Once Easter Break is over, immigration is in the rearview mirror and things begin to pick back up I will reenter the school. Additionally, I will start working in the clinic while gardening again. I hope to begin this weekend if everything goes smoothly.

With the extra free time I have had I was able to take care of the mound of clothes that became dirty over this past month. All clean now. I have also been able to go on a few long walks through the village which is one of my favorite pastimes. It is a great way to greet and meet villagers and many of them have asked about my climb and love to see my summit photo on my phone (not sure if they love the phone or the photo more haha J).

I made my way over to Nocagugu the other day which was nice. I enjoy walking there and I thought I better say hi to Raphael before he begins to think I never made it back from Dar es Salaam. When I reach I am usually greeted by one of the monks who runs the formation house. They always congratulate me on my walk from Hanga as if I had just climbed to the top of the highest freestanding mountain on earth ;) (I thought that was a clever joke). Really, though. They think walking all that way is a major feat and I just do it because I like walking. They also have beer in storage for visitors and so whenever I make it out there I am always greeted with a beer. I may need water, but they think a beer for their visitor is better ha. Too funny.

Lately, the small guesthouse I reside in has been filled with Fr. Mugaga’s relatives. They visit every Easter. They are quite rowdy into the late hours of the night, but I suppose it becomes hard to control a family that is so large. I feel as if I meet a new member each day. I think they will be moving out this week.

I have begun reading The Zombie Room by R.D. Ronald. No, it’s not about zombies. It’s about three men who become good friends while in prison. Once released, they meet a woman who has been caught up in an operation that supplies women to men for money. The three friends from prison begin helping her and the others trapped in this terrible operation. The author jumps around a bit and so you have to make sure to pay attention, though, it is a good book.

Next, I have been thinking about reading a book on one of the U.S. presidents. If not, then a nonfiction book of some sort. Do any of you have suggestions?

Well, that is that. Just working my way back into daily life here. I think I will go for a long walk this afternoon. It rained yesterday, but today looks sunny and warm. I hope everyone’s March passed nicely and that your March Madness brackets turned out better than mine. Damn you, Michigan State. Way to be hot all the way up to the tournament and then let half of the country down in your first game. It hurts, I tell you. It hurts. I’ll actually be able to watch the games next year so hopefully that will help.

Happy April, friends. That Minnesota spring should be thawing you all out by now. Enjoy it and get outside.

Thanks for reading!