Monday, May 11, 2015

Just One of those Days....

Deep down, I knew that a day that included a sick kid, a sick dog and a sick self, (not to mention pouring rain and mud) would make for a challenging set of circumstances.  I wasn't wrong.

We all get those days, regardless of where we live, but I feel like these no good, very bad days come more often and are more demoralizing here than they would be in the bubble of comfort I used to call home.  As a friend and I were discussing just last week, the margin between a great day and a day which is an epic fail is very narrow here.

Even after being here for almost 2 years, I still struggle with cross-cultural living.  I still feel like a fat, ignorant, clueless and insensitive mzungu (foreigner).  One reason for this is that I'm reminded that I'm a foreigner every day by the people around me, sometimes multiple times, just in case I forget.  Some days I'm able to laugh it off.  Other days, like today, I can't.

Today's installment of The Idiot Mzungu:
* When I moved here, I knew that there was such a thing as Tanzanian time.  I knew that people were not digital-watch-punctual and that being on time just doesn't happen.  What I didn't realize was that not only are people frequently late...they are also frequently early.  It's still the same concept:  time is not important in this culture.  But it really messes with me when someone is an hour and a half early for an appointment.  And of course, there's no apology for this - it is what it is.  How in the world can you plan your day when someone could easily be two hours early or late?  My type-A planning self cannot handle this.

* No matter how many Swahili words I know, I'm still not going to know what in the world people are saying.  I know the word for "flour" (unga) and I know the word for "soap" (sabuni) but never in the world would I think that unga ya sabuni is an actual thing until our gardener is standing in front of me, asking for it.  I stand there, frozen like a deer in head lights.  Does he mean flour and soap?  Soap flour?  What is soap flour?  He stands there, pity in his eyes for the ignorant mzungu.  Finally, by process of elimination, I determine that he actually wants soap powder.  This mirrored a painful conversation that I had with the woman who cooks for me several weeks ago.  I knew the words for "oil" and "water" but had no idea that vegetable oil is actually referred to as oil water.

* I'm never, ever going to get the indirectness of this culture.  If you want something, ask for it!  If you are sick and you need money for the doctor, please just tell me.  I'm happy to help.  I'm clueless enough trying to read Western non-verbal communication.  If you're expecting me to understand that when you say some vague words and gestures, you are really asking me for help, it's just not happening.  On the opposite extreme, I'm continually taken aback at how total strangers can be super direct, as in the case recently where the guy I buy my groceries from told me that I should give him a present of a football before I move back to America.  Um, why exactly should I do this?  Oh, right - it's because I'm a super rich American that can just shower Tanzanians with gifts at every opportunity.  My bad.

*  There are so many other things I could go into: the tiny nature of shopping carts, meaning I either buy for only a day or two or look like the giant, ridiculous consumer that I am (today they needed to call up some extra help when the mzungu and her overflowing cart of groceries - big order! came through), the recent experience I had in the mall when I received a marriage proposal from a Masai that I had never met before, the frequency of strangers coming up to me and touching me and starting up conversations.  I seriously feel like a zoo animal sometimes.  (On a side note, a friend was telling me how when her friend lived in India, her kids would be photographed every single time they were out....thankfully it's not that bad!)

Tomorrow is a new day, one in which I will have new reserves of patience, humility, grace, and love for my host culture (or maybe the day after tomorrow).  And one day, I'll look back on all these experiences that have grown me and shaped me and realize that they were preparing me for something in the future that I can't even imagine right now.  Truly, none of these no good, very bad days is wasted.

If nothing else, I'm comic relief for hundreds of people in Dar es Salaam....

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