DRIVING
Driving is a thing here. Like – it’s kind of insane (compared to the States). I would have said that about several other countries I’d traveled to before coming to Mwanza, but it’s like real here (although a Tanzanian friend here has suggested driving here is nothing compared to the Congo!). The funny thing is, I realized today that I was getting used to it. Seeing a pikipiki (motorcycle) headed straight at me down the wrong side of the highway doesn’t even bother me anymore. Dodging pushcarts filled with grass or bananas, avoiding pikipikis that zoom through red lights, maneuvering “roads” to our house that would be called nothing more than rough jeep trails in the US – in less than 3 months it has become our new normal. Even the kids don’t point out the crazy things we see going down the road anymore (“look, it’s a pink bedazzled coffin strapped onto the back of a pikipiki!” or “There is a guy with his wife and 4 kids all crammed on the back of that one!”).
MUZUNGU = TRAVELER
The people here – from the short few months we’ve been in Mwanza – are very friendly, open, and welcoming. Being White, we are referred to as “muzungus” (the word for “traveler” in Swahili – but now used to refer to anyone with light skin). Because “muzungus” make up a very, very small percentage of the population here – we stand out. It is rare that we can walk by a group of school children, vendors, pikipiki drivers, etc. without being pointed out and talked to. The reasons for this are varied: curiosity (mostly from the young children), opportunity (perhaps the muzungu will buy this item for a good price or needs a ride on a pikipiki), charity (it doesn’t hurt to ask a muzungu for money), novelty (outsiders that aren’t from here are considered interesting – we’ve even been told that locals are proud to introduce their muzungu friends). It’s all a bit odd for us if I’m perfectly honest. As a rule, I like to blend in and not be noticed. That is an impossibility here – and will be for the next 3 years. It doesn’t matter if I live here for 100 years, I will always be an outsider, a traveler, a muzungu. I’m adjusting. (And honestly, I don’t mind making the groups of little kids happy by simply waving at them and saying “hello” back to them in English. They all laugh and squeal and get a kick out of a simple greeting from “the muzungu” who speaks English.)
LANGUAGE SCHOOL
Kyle and I are in language school 5 days a week from 8am until 11am. Swahili (referred to as “Kiswahili” here in East Africa) is not a particularly hard language as far as the structure of the language. The part that is challenging is that the words are just so DIFFERENT for us; they are not at ALL similar to English or Spanish or any of the romance languages. Swahili is the native language of the Swahili people (primarily found in Kenya, Tanzania and Mozambique); it is a Bantu language with a number of words borrowed from Arabic and Persian. There are also the occasional adapted German or English word. For the most part it requires pure, simple rote memorization of sounds for both Kyle and me. Karibu = Welcome. Ninapenda chakula = I like the food. Tunaenda sokoni. We are going to the market. Mtu = Person. Mwalimu = Teacher. And so on. It’s been 3 months. Progress is slow. But it’s being made. I actually had a conversation with a lady at the market yesterday and (think) I understood all of it! Duolingo is an amazing tool/app and I recommend it to anyone wanting to learn a language! It’s really been helping us. Between language school, Duolingo, talking with locals, and a few workbooks we’ve been given I think we will learn enough to get by.
THE KID'S SCHOOL
The kids are at Isamilo International School – a small school here in Mwanza that runs off the British Cambridge system of education. Interestingly, English is used for teaching starting in about middle school in all the schools in Tanzania. Isamilo uses it from the get-go – so the kids did not have to adjust to Swahili for schooling. There are obvious pros and cons to that. Learning Kiswahili will be a challenge for them as they are surrounded by English both at home and at school. But it has definitely made the transition to East Africa and a new school easier and they seem to be adjusting well. Ideally, I would have loved to have sent our kids to a public school here so they could have become fluent in the language quickly. Unfortunately, local schools in Tanzania are not a great option for several reasons: the use of corporal punishment is still very much in use, the class sizes are often 80 or more students to one teacher, and the public schools still use what most of us would consider outdated methods of teaching (mostly sitting and copying notes from a blackboard all day). The hard reality is, though, is that the cost of private schooling for most Tanzanians is simply not feasible and public school is the only option. Because our kids had been homeschooled while living in the US, the change to a Monday through Friday classroom setting was a huge adjustment. We joke that it was probably a bigger adjustment than moving to Africa. We are incredibly proud of them for the way they embraced the changes and I’m happy to say they have done a beautiful job adapting to a very different style of learning.
A NEW WAY OF BEING
Of course, all the above observations (driving, schooling, language, etc.) are simply what I am seeing and experiencing as a Westerner stepping into East Africa during my first several months. Both Kyle and I are trying very hard to simply experience and observe without too much judgement or attachment as we navigate what feels like (at times) a very different reality and very different world than the one we came from. I recognize that my Western way of thinking often looms larger than I would like it to. I will be very curious to revisit my observations 12 months from now to see how they have shifted or changed. And that is part of the beauty of traveling outside one’s own country and culture. That these new experiences and observations might mold us, shape us, nudge us (and sometimes dramatically fling us) into new states of being. Into new ways of being in the world – and with others. And that I believe, is a very good thing.
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