Rainy Season Begins

We had our first real taste of rainy season this weekend, and it turns out it's a lot like sitting through a NJ snowstorm: stuck inside watching movies and dangerous roads. We're not sure how long it'll last, but I suppose we could go mud-sledding when it's all over. Last night I had an up close and personal experience with the rain.

Some background: we live up on a hill, pretty well isolated from traffic and other city life. When we go "down the road" we really do go down a winding path. At the bottom of the hill, we hit a service road that runs parallel to the main highway of Dar Es Salaam. Between the service road and the highway is a very large ditch. The crossover between the service road and the highway is just to the south of our hill road. The highway is 2 lanes of traffic running north, then a median, and then 2 lanes of traffic running south.

Last night we decided to try to get takeout from "P Square," the restaurant just across the highway from our road. It's pretty much the closest possible place to us that a restaurant could be built. In good weather, it would be easy to walk down our hill, cross the highway (well, that's not always easy), and arrive at P Square in less than 10 minutes. Despite this closeness, Steph and I never actually have eaten there (it is fairly new). The kids have all had outings there with other families, and we heard very good things about the food and the prices. We felt it was high time to rectify our oversight!

Our friend and fellow teacher Dan lives just up the road from us on the hill. His wife is out of town this weekend so we invited him over. (Dan's a fellow game player and shares Dutch reformed roots, so he is always welcome here!) The plan was for Dan and I to go on down to P Square, pick up some food, and head back. It was currently only drizzling, but it had been raining all day, so we decided to drive. I felt bad about that, since it is so close!

Well, it was already raining pretty hard when we arrived. There is no real parking at P Square, so I pulled into the grass by an open field. Dan remarked how empty, barren, and dirty the field was. So ordering food here was the first interesting thing. P Square serves typical Tanzanian food...with no menu. I wanted to order some chips, some beef skewers (Mishkaki), chicken, and rice and beans. If I wasn't told what to order, I am not sure I would know what to get! Of course, our waitress didn't know what I wanted, so it took 2 waitresses and me writing our order down on paper for them to get that set.

When we first arrived, Dan and I sat down at a table near where the water ran down the roof. With the wind, the waitress was afraid we'd get wet, so she asked us to move. As we sat and waited (it took about an hour for the food), it was raining harder and harder. A pool of water outside the restaurant (it is a covered outdoor area) got over the lip of the concrete floor and the water started running beneath our feet, just a little. A few minutes later, it was an inch deep, so the waitress asked us to move again.

When we stood up and looked around us, we finally realized how bad the rain was and what was happening outside. The open field next to the car was actually where the run off from a culvert that ran under the highway came out. This field was now completely under water, and the water was running fast. It looked like a raging river, with whitewater-like rapids being created by bushes and trash in the field. The car was on the edge of this, and the street between us and the car was also completely under water. I started to worry.

I had the thought that if the water got any deeper, we might have trouble getting out of there, and I saw a patch of higher ground where I could park safely. After all their efforts to keep me dry, the wait staff must have chuckled when I just walked out into the downpour. Crossing the street was shocking...the water was already half way up my shin and really had quite a current! I moved the car safely, and made it back to the restaurant completely soaked after only maybe a minute outside. Dan helpfully filmed the whole thing on his smart phone.

Well, the culvert was now putting out water at full volume. We said, "the good news is that it can't get any deeper, it's already to full capacity." Dan then thought, "unless the water starts coming over the highway." Ha, that couldn't happen!

We got our food just after that, and paid. It could only have been 5 minutes. And as we left, we realized that indeed, the water was coming over the highway. As we crossed the street, it was already much deeper, and Dan actually fell in a pretty deep hole. Thinking fast, he was able to keep the food dry! The water was filthy and smelly, though, and he definitely need to change.

Once we could see the highway, it was like another world. Water was everywhere. A motorcycle crossed in front of us in the south-bound lanes and got stuck when the water came up to his hubcaps. Once we crossed the road into the north bound lanes, the road was almost completely impassable. The water was DEEP, and the large ditch separating the highway from the service road was invisible, completely under water. In fact, there was no sign off the area where I needed to cross from the highway to the service road. We realized this when we saw an SUV halfway on the road and halfway in the ditch (and therefore halfway submerged). They guessed incorrectly.

We managed to go north a bit and made it to the next cross over which was on higher ground. A bajaji was stuck in the mud, but we got around him and then back up our hill. Whew!

In review: went to get food across the street, waited an hour, forded a river, avoided driving off the road only due to another person doing it first, ate food! It was pretty good.

One Year

One year ago today, I quit my job as an insurance underwriter without a backup plan.  After months of struggle, Tim and I decided that life was too short for me to be that miserable and together we took the first of many leaps of faith.

While I don't regret that decision now, there have been many raw moments of heartache over the past year when I just cried out to God for a do-over, "Why didn't I just stay where I was?!  Yeah, it wasn't great, but it wasn't too bad.  And it paid well.  And I could use my brain and take care of my family simultaneously - who ever gets that chance?"  I felt a lot like the Israelites in the desert...they knew that being slaves in Egypt wasn't fun but at least they had grapes and pomegranates there (Numbers 20:5).   It's so easy for me to see that God wanted something infinitely better for His people Israel, but so difficult to see this same desire in my own life.

The honest truth is that I never, ever wanted to be a stay at home mom...and especially not one whose youngest child is 7 years old.  Although I quit my job without a next step, I truly believed that I would work again soon.  I had been talking to some companies within my industry and was also toying with the idea of starting a consulting business.  But every door was closed and once it became clear that our next step was to move to Africa, I was thankful for the time I had to coordinate this epic move.

Again, when I moved to Tanzania, I really believed that I would take a few months to get everybody settled but then I would return to work.  Then the realities of having a dependent visa and not knowing a word of Swahili became apparent.  I honestly don't know if I will work while I'm here and I need to make peace with that.  I can't worry about the glaring gap in my resume and whether or not I'll ever get a job again when we do return to the U.S. (let alone a career to which I feel called).

I have spent the past year doing more crying, trusting, despairing, growing, and doubting than I ever have before.  I've learned that my identity was unhealthily wrapped up in my job and in what I do rather than who I am.  I've realized that I have a lot of shame in not working.

However, I've also learned that even though I'm not earning money or "producing," I'm still doing necessary work and I am using the intelligence God has given me.  I have discerned a lot about myself and my personality, my strengths and weaknesses, and the core values I hold dear.  I've confronted the judgmental attitudes I've had towards women who don't work and repented of this failing.  I'm slowly realizing that this "idle" time is a gift and it is a blessing to be free from the entrapment of a soul-sucking life.  It's a blessing to spend time with my children and my husband and I'm thankful that we can afford to have one adult at home to handle the myriad of logistics to living and parenting in Africa.

I still really, really miss working.   I wish God would share the future (and an amazing, uplifting career) with me.  But in the meantime, I'm trying to take one day at a time, trust in God's perfect timing, listen for His voice, and learn everything I can in this continuing season of unemployment.

Greetings

One of the most readily apparent differences between Tanzanian and Western culture is the heavy emphasis placed on greeting one another here.  Coming from a somewhat-unfriendly area of America (NJ) I was definitely not prepared for this!  Back home, I might smile at a store clerk and occasionally give the non-greeting of "Hi, how are you?" (which may or may not have received a response), but I definitely would never inquire of their family or ask how their job was going.  Even to my friends, it was always a casual, "Hey!  What's up?"

Here in Tanzania, greetings are pretty essential.  My non-scientific analysis seems to show that 2 greetings is a good amount for most people.  Most of the time, this is fine, but if I'm feeling particularly task-oriented or introverted, I long for the days of the anonymous store transaction or the casual "Hi!" across the playground.

Tanzanians love their greetings and seem to have an infinite variety.  My gardener, in particular, is always trying out new ones on me which I then look up in my dictionary.  The good news is that for the vast majority of greetings, the correct response is "Nzuri" (good)....even when things are not nzuri.  You can also deviate into "safi," which literally means "clean."  That one always makes me laugh, because with all the dust and grime here, I don't think I can ever report than I am truly "safi."  Another option is to add "sana" (very) if you're really doing well.  Nzuri sana!  Safi sana!

Here are a few examples from the vast array of greetings.

Time-related greetings:
Habari za asubuhi (how's your morning?)
Habari za kuamka (how did you wake up?)
Habari za mchana  (how's your mid-day?)
Habari za jioni (how's your late afternoon?)
Habari za usiku (how's your evening?)
Habari za leo (how's your day?)

Note that "habari" actually means "news," and so a more literal translation would be "what's the news of your morning?"  However, since no actual news is ever given, just the "good" answer, I think that's a more accurate representation.  I find the mchana and jioni ones a bit tricky, as "mchana" is only technically from 12-4 and "jioni" is only from 4-7 pm...I realize this obsession with correctness is not very African, but what can you do?

Then there are more specific greetings:
Habari za nyumbani (how's it at home)?
Habari za kazi (how is your job)?
Unaendaleaje?  (how are you continuing?)

The tricky one for me is the category of "problem" greetings because in Swahili, the way to say negative things changes depending on the subject of the sentence:
Hujambo?  (you have no problems).  Response:  sijambo (I have no problems).  Again, even if you do have problems, you don't report on this.
But if the person asks about your kids, they would ask, "watoto hawajambo?" and the response would be "hawajambo" (they have no problems).

Finally, there are the one-word greetings (my favorites):
Salaama! (peace)  Response:  salaama
Mzima!  (everything)  Response:  mzima
Mambo (how are things?) Response:  poa (calm)
Shikamoo (to elders) Response:  marahaba

Most days I walk to school to pick up the kids and I pass a large contingent of Masaai on the hill.  Every day I try out a new greeting on them, so I'm remembering quite a nice variety these days.

Berega, part 2

A little more about my week in Berega!

We slept in dormitory-style rooms with 4 bunk beds and mosquito nets to a room.  Although we only had one working outlet among our 5 rooms, it was a little bit cooler than Dar and so we didn't miss fans too much.

Meals were served in a communal dining hall and were very tasty!  Although I was expecting beans and rice every day, there was a really nice variety.

The majority of our time was spent with the young kids, aged 4 months through 2 years old.  Most of the kids are orphans whose mothers died in childbirth, and quite a few have older sisters aged 10-14 years old.  These girls are called the "bintis" (daughters in Swahili) and, if they stayed in their village, they would be forced to embrace a hard life as single parent/primary care taker for their small sibling.  Here in the orphanage, they still care for their sibling and participate in chores, but living in community with 3 meals a day is quite a bit easier for them (although they still have to quit school).  Once the children reach 2 years of age, they return to their extended families or are adopted.

We divided into 3 groups for the week.  One group taught English to the 7 year old quadruplets of the orphanage director.  These kids are already fluent in English, German and Swahili and have a bundle of energy.  Another group cared for the babies under age 1, and the third group interacted with the toddlers.  The baby group taught the younger bintis to read and write in Swahili and the toddler group helped the older bintis with crafts each day.

A lot of time was spent playing in the covered "banda" with the kids.

Time for lunch!!

Time for milk!!  I was amazed at how well these small kids did with "regular cups." My own kids were given sippy cups for quite a long time past this age.  The kids also put the cups back on the tray after they were finished..a skill my 12 year old still has to master...

Kids aged 1-2 can have some "stranger anxiety," and I'm sure it didn't help too much that I was a strange-looking white woman.  It took them quite a lot of time to warm up to me, but by the last day almost all of them were running up to me, playing games with me and calling me "mama."  It was hard not to stuff one in my suitcase (especially since Josh has been lobbying for a Tanzanian brother).

Among the many lessons learned this week is that I have a lot to learn about contentment.  By any standard, this is a hard life for the bintis.  They work long hours, with few comforts that we take for granted in the West, they have had to quit school, and there are hundreds of flies everywhere (including buzzing in the babies' eyes and noses).  I think of how I reacted to these deprivations myself and how happy I was to return to running water and my spacious home.  Yet, what do the bintis spend most of their time doing?  Singing praise songs.

"I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength." (Philippians 4:11b-13).

Berega part 1

Once a year, all the grade 6-12 secondary students at Haven of Peace Academy (HOPAC) spend an entire week volunteering for others.  It's called Service Emphasis Week (SEW).  The younger kids stay at home and go to their projects around Dar each day, but the older ones live and work outside the city. I was privileged to be a chaperone for 6 days with 13 HOPAC kids, spend 15 hours in a bus, and help to care for 18 orphans aged 0-2 years old.

This trip took me into the Africa that many people imagine, but one which I had not yet experienced.  I am grateful to have gone, but almost every aspect of this trip took me incredibly far outside my comfort zone...

1.  The only bridge across the river leading to the orphanage was washed away in January, so we knew going in that we all needed to cross it on foot with all our luggage.  I personally thought that this "river" would be more of a "creek," but it turned out to be fairly substantial.  It had rained heavily in the mountains the morning of our arrival and so the river kept rising throughout the day.  We ended up hiring men from the village to ferry our belongings across (just try telling teenage girls to "pack light!") and crossed the swift-flowing river in groups, planting our feet against the current.  When the girls crossed, the water was up to their knees. When we leaders crossed, it was up to our thighs.  And by the time our bus driver parked the bus and tried to cross, it was impassable (neck high), so he had to sleep on the other side of the river.  Being responsible for the lives of 13 teens in this situation (one of whom was deathly afraid of water due to a childhood friend who had drowned), was among the scariest times of my life.

 
(not the best photo, which I took from inside the bus, but you can see the first group of girls crossing..and how wide that river was!)

2.  There was no running water and so we used pit toilets and bucket showers for the week.  Thankfully, my co-leader grew up in the village so she knew a nifty trick to burn grass in the hole to create a sweeter-smelling experience.

 (this made me chuckle every time I went to the "barth room" - which was actually used only for showers.  The door marked "toilet" was where the hole was).

3.  We were in the middle of nowhere.  The bus was parked on the other side of the river and although there was a hospital of sorts nearby for emergencies, we were really isolated.  We lost power the last night and it was just absolute blackness (on the positive side, the stars were amazing!)  I just realized how much of a city girl I really am.

4.  Leading a missions trip in the U.S. with U.S. kids is a lot different than leading a trip in Tanzania with international kids.  Of the 13 girls, we had 9 countries represented (Uganda, Tanzania, Finland, Germany, U.K., U.S., Spain, India, Greece).  We also had girls of Christian, Muslim and Hindu faiths.  I got to see how the Indian kids brought their own personal spices from home to jazz up the food (and even braved some of their condiments!)  I tried to teach a card game to kids whose first language is not English and so the terms we throw around with mutual understanding such as "a hand of cards," "trump," "tricks" were just not translating.  Even leading with a Tanzanian co-leader was a very different experience.  Although we worked very well together, there were definitely cultural differences in how we viewed and responded to situations.

I'll talk about the work we did and those amazing, beautiful orphans in my next post!

The Shikamoo

One of the most important greetings in Tanzanian culture is the one given to your elders. To my American ears, it's pronounced Sheek-a-MOE (though any Tanzanian friends, feel free to correct me!)

This greeting is to be given to anyone older than you, even by just a year or two, anytime you see them. It literally means, “I hold your feet” although it's not necessary to do anything than utter the greeting. It's so important that even babies who cannot yet talk are taught to touch the head of the older person as a greeting of respect.

The appropriate response from the elder is “marahabaa” (mar-a-hah-ba) which means, “I thankfully accept your respect.”

There really is no similar practice in America. Not only is there no official respect given to elders, but in our youth-obsessed, age-denying Western culture, most people don't even want to be considered older or reminded of their age. It still startles me to hear Africans in their 20's or 30's give me the elder greeting, mainly because I'm still that age in my own mind and in America, we would be considered peers. There's definitely something in me that strongly resists being labeled "older."

However, one of the realities that I'm coming to grips with is that here in Dar, “the elder” is usually ME! Life expectancy is a lot shorter for Africans (hunger, disease, hard work) and so there really aren't a lot of older people around. The number of people I've had to “shikamoo” is much fewer than the “marahabaas” that I've given out.

In America we tend to view age as a weakness, not a value. It's culturally acceptable to hide away the older people in nursing homes; generally speaking, our movies, TV, and advertisements feature only young, healthy, beautiful people. If we can't see older people, we can remain in our pursuit of the fountain of youth, and be blissfully ignorant of our own mortality, wrinkling faces and crumbling bodies. Unlike in Africa, reaching old age isn't a rare, honoring accomplishment, but more of an expected yet very unwelcome process for Americans.

Despite the fact that it makes me feel uncomfortable when I'm the older one, I do think that it is a beautiful practice to honor your elders. Leviticus 19:32 says, “Rise in the presence of the aged, show respect for the elderly and revere your God. I am the LORD.” I think there is so much wisdom to be gained from the elderly and I value hearing their stories.

Although I'm not planning on moving into the Holland Home anytime soon, I'll try to keep aging gracefully and “marahabaa” with real appreciation!   

(Tim's) Spare Time

Well, now that I've gone into too much detail about my teaching week, what do I do when I am not teaching? I will admit that I do have a decent amount of free time in my schedule. On Thursday and Fridays I get off at 2:30 and have no after school activities! Even coaching football, and my other after school committments, gets me done at 4. (I worked until 5 almost every day at EC!) And here in Dar, I have no night meetings, no church committees, no track season of long meets. If the kids have school activities themselves, we live just a short walk away! I know there are definitely people in America with schedules 3x as crazy as mine!

Even here in Dar, some fellow teachers have extraordinary committments and responsibilities. Some are starting churches, or helping in ministries at church, and have all those typical night meetings we are used to at home. Some are involved in youth groups and "YoungLife," which keep weekends filled. And there are others with connections of orphanages or duties from their calling organizations.

So I feel pretty guilty often about my schedule. But something I've learned about myself over the years is that teaching takes a lot out of me. Part of it, I believe, is realizing how much of an introvert I am. Pouring energy into my students is what I love to do, but it does leave me pretty drained. Introverts basically use "alone time" to recharge those batteries back up. I make no claims to being a great "high energy" teacher who daily inspires his students to reach for the stars, but whatever it is I do with my students does tire me out.

So, I do enjoy downtime being at home with the family. Of course, this isn't always down time. There is plenty to do. I don't always succeed in keeping up with the dishes, but I try. Helping the kids with doing homework and just being a decent dad and husband. I don't think I am always particularly good at that either all the time!

For fun, the kids and I play some video games. They have their Kindle Fires or Nintendo DS consoles. I have my computer. Even though we don't have TV, we do download and watch some American shows together as a family, especially Survivor and Amazing Race. It's annoying that we have to download these "illegally," as all we want to do is watch them during the same week they air. There's no other way to do it...even if we had the bandwidth to stream the files from CBS's web site, CBS itself blocks streaming to other countries! Steph and I have also watched Downton Abbey, Sherlock, and Game of Thrones.

There is also plenty of reading, and as of this Christmas, I think the whole family owns and uses Kindles. I have made some headway on the list of "best science fiction and fantasy" that NPR published last year.

Before bed at night, I've been playing some video games while listening to sermons I can find online. The best news: I can download sermons from the awesome preacher at Prairie Lane CRC, Omaha (look him up!) It's either him or Tim Keller! I used to listen to various podcasts, but I am pleased with this new idea. For me, it's the perfect way to wind down yet be engaged and thinking at the same time.

Strangely, board games have been getting the short straw. There are good opportunities for gaming here in Dar with both family and friends, but recently we've been too tired. I think it is that the hot, humid evenings just don't scream out "sit around a table with sticky cards!"

Now, if I do have a second ministry, it is probably in my time spent participating in team sports. Yes, Tim Steen Athletic Missionary is probably not the description of me that comes to mind, but so far living in Africa has been pretty good for my body. I don't have a scale, but I am pretty sure that I am lighter than I've been in about 15 or even 20 years! and I'm starting slowly to get into some shape. My athletic skills, on the other hand, might be beyond repair. On Wednesday nights, the community plays football. On Saturday mornings, I can walk down to HOPAC and get into a basketball game. And on Sunday nights, I am actually pretty decent at Ultimate Frisbee. Unfortunately, I think I've over done it lately, and developed some tendonitis in my knee. The best news, however, is that playing sports (and coaching football) has let me develop relationships with both community members and students this year. It's been great getting to know these people outside of class. So it's been good for me, but it's been good for relationship building as well.