Wouldn't It Be Great?

 

While waiting for my kids to get home one day, a little girl in a hijab who had befriended my daughter motioned for me to talk to her. Who knows how long she had been waiting outside our house. I bent down to hear her better as she almost whispered, “My mom needs a job sir. Please, our life is very hard. Can you give us money?”

That same week, someone reached out via social media when they discovered my wife was working at a school for kids with developmental disabilities. “My child has Down Syndrome and I can’t afford to take care of her. My family has disowned me. (Disabilities are sometimes shunned in East African culture) She is living in the village while I work in the city, but I don’t make enough. I need more money. Please help.”

After nearly four months of living in Tanzania, one discovers that these types of stories are not uncommon. As I struggle to wrap my head around the magnitude of need and to understand some of the root causes of poverty, I oscillate between American solutionism and despair. There are no simple answers to any of this.

Somebody recently asked me, “Kyle, why don’t you just give money to people who need it and then they can solve their own problems.” This is a fair point and we have actually done this several times. However, we continue to learn (sometimes the hard way), that simply handing money over can actually hurt more than it helps. For example, if you give money to children begging on the street, it might encourage them to not go to school. If you pay for a community initiative on your own, you might be undermining valuable community cooperation that is seeking to accomplish the same initiative. This is not to say that financial help is not needed. It most definitely is. But how it is implemented, by whom, and within what context, are of paramount importance. As the book, When Helping Hurts poignantly observes when discussing mission work, “If we treat only the symptoms or if we misdiagnose the underlying problem, we will not improve their situation, and we might actually make their lives worse.”

Recently, I taught a small business development course that was free and available to anyone who was interested in starting a business or who wanted to learn some new skills. The makeup of the class varied considerably. There were young and old people, Muslims and Christians, men and women. There were university finance students who knew more about calculating the cost of capital than I do, out-of-work single mothers with business ideas, and some local non-profit managers who are trying to create economic engines so they don’t have to rely so much on foreign aid. The latter group learned some difficult lessons during Covid as outside donations plummeted and nearly killed their organizations.

I created the business course because I wanted to share some of what I’ve learned about small enterprise over the years and to learn more about the local startup ecosystem. It is not easy to start a business in Tanzania. The interest rates on bank loans are suffocating, hovering between 16 – 40%. Population growth exceeds employment growth, so it is difficult to find work and especially difficult to obtain the types of jobs that allow someone to improve their overall economic condition. Most people with jobs work 6-7 days a week, but the average wage is only $2.00 per day. You can imagine how the wheat shortages from the war in Ukraine or global commodity inflation might affect people here. Despite the best of intentions, it is very difficult to meet basic needs let alone start a business.

I’ve also observed that the education system tends to reward rote memorization and abject conformity. Risk taking is not readily embraced as a societal norm. Of course, anyone who has ever done a startup or pursued higher education, or a better paying job knows that risk is part of the equation. But what if you fail? Here, failure can literally mean starvation or at a minimum can bring great shame to one’s family. The good news is that the paradigm is changing. The median age in Tanzania is 18 years. The 23 countries with the lowest median age in the world are all African. Startup energy abounds on the African continent. It is fueled by significant need/opportunity, youthful energy, and expanding social networks of would-be entrepreneurs. Investment capital is starting to flow into Africa at faster rates and what’s more is that many of the young Tanzanians I talk to want to do it right. They don’t just want to achieve wealth just because. They want to create a stronger Africa that preserves its culture, protects the environment, and helps lift the masses out of poverty.

The term “social enterprise” (which means a business that puts people and the environment ahead of profit) is sometimes an anathema in Western culture. Among the youth that I’ve spoken with in Tanzania, there is no other way to logically do business. As a missioner in Africa with business experience, I must ask myself, how can I support this? I can hold a hand to show solidarity in suffering, for moment. I can offer a hand out to alleviate hunger, for a moment. And these moments are sometimes needed and always have value. But I can also provide a hand up that will help people help themselves and empower them to help others as well. This is clearly the harder thing to do. It takes time, resources, and perseverance. In the US, about 50% of all new businesses fail within five years. In Tanzania, the challenges are even more significant, but so too is the desire to succeed.

Thinking back to the little girl whose mom needs a job or the overwhelmed mother who needs a better paying job so that she can support her special needs child, I wonder what can be done to help? Wouldn’t it be great if they could be hired by a successful social enterprise or given financing and mentorship for their own business? Economic development wasn’t really what I had in mind when we left the US to serve in Africa for 3.5 years, but it is what I am seeing as potentially the best way for me personally to help those in need.

So What Exactly Are We Doing Here, Anyways …

I ask myself that same question almost every day. The first several months in Tanzania were exciting and exhausting and wonderful (and at times very strange) as we adapted to a very different culture and a very different way of living. During those 3 months the kids adjusted to their new school, Kyle and I adjusted to a routine of Kiswahili classes in the mornings – and figuring out how-to-live-in-Tanzania during the afternoons. We learned how to pay our electricity and water bill, how to buy food at the markets, applied for our work permits and driver’s licenses (I won't get into the driver's license saga - which is still ongoing!), and began to understand the city of Mwanza a little bit more. We adopted a guard dog for our property (which we immediately managed to Americanize and turn into a pet much to the local Tanzanians great amusement and confusion), met a lot of people, and more or less learned how much more we have to learn.

All this took a surprising amount of time and energy. I often found myself collapsing into bed by 9 o’clock at night completely exhausted – feeling like I’d accomplished exactly nothing that day. And this is why Maryknoll Lay Missioners asks for what seems like a very long 3.5 year commitment to mission (I used to think 2 years with the Peace Corps was a long time!). Maryknoll Lay Missioners does mission a bit differently than many organizations – for several reasons. The first of these is that we are not here to “share the good news” or “proselytize.” And thank goodness for that, because in our short 3 months we have spent in Tanzania, it is very apparent that the Muslims, Hindus, and Christians here live more deeply rooted in their faith than anywhere else I have lived. If it’s my faith I came to share, I would be severely lacking when measured up against almost anyone here. Secondly, Maryknoll does not usually drop missioners into preassigned “jobs”. Honestly, some days I wish they did. It would be easier in many ways. “Here – go be a nurse at a clinic.” Instead, we are asked to accompany those around us: the poor, the suffering, the marginalized. We are asked to walk with them, be with them, and hear them. Maryknoll believes it is only from that place – that place of being with – that we can truly begin our work as missioners and begin to meet the needs that are most pressing at that moment.

And this is where it can get overwhelming. Because the needs are literally everywhere. Not enough to eat. No clean water. No consistent healthcare. Children without shoes. Infant orphans without formula. No jobs. Continued stigma around HIV/AIDS. Who am I fooling that I can do anything about any of these things? The sheer magnitude of unmet needs can literally feel debilitating and so overwhelming that I want to pack my bags and go back home. It’s too hard, I don’t know how to hold all this, I have nothing to offer Tanzania, I shouldn’t be here.

That’s the reality of mission for me on many days. Self-doubt and uncertainty. Another missioner posted a meme on Facebook the other day. I don’t remember who it was quoting, but it hit me at a deep soul level. “Sometimes the fear doesn’t go away – and you’ll have to do it afraid.” This month I’m beginning work at Huruma School (huruma=compassion in Swahili) – a school started by Maryknoll Lay Missioner Bertha Haas back in 2004. It started when she saw several local children with disabilities in her neighborhood that did not get to go to school. Being an educator prior to becoming a missioner, she decided to start offering classes for these children. Soon her classes grew from several students to 10 and then to 20. Currently there are over 60 students at Huruma School.

I often find myself feeling fear these days. The principal and staff look at me as if I’m a doctor. I’m not, I’m a medical-surgical nurse that has worked mainly with the elderly in American hospitals for most of my nursing career. I know nothing about cerebral palsy, muscular dystrophy, deafness, Down syndrome, or autism in children. And yet there is a great need. Most of these children do not have regular (if any) access to medical care. I’m afraid that I don’t have the answers. That I’m not who they really need (“Is there a doctor in the house!?”). That I’m going to fail, that I won’t be enough. I look to former missioners like Bertha Haas – as well as the many Maryknoll Fathers and Sisters that have walked before me – for inspiration. Many of them were sent abroad not knowing what their mission would look like. I’m sure many of them felt fear. I’m sure many of them opened hospitals and schools and tended to those in great need – afraid.

So, what are we doing here? Most days I’m not able to answer that question. Perhaps in 3.5 years I’ll be able to look back and give a definitive answer. For now, though, I am trusting the process that Maryknoll has been following for the past 100 years: accompany and be with those on the margins. And yes, I do rely on my (often wavering and sometimes unsteady) faith to carry me through the days I feel the fear more deeply. In the ancient, almost 3,000-year-old, words of the prophet Isaiah – God reminds me: Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand (Isaiah 41:10). A promise. But then, more recently, the 2,000-year-old ask (yes, Jesus did have an ask of us). Go out – and love one another (John 15:12). Whether back home in the Northwest with my neighbors, at the hospital with my patients, or abroad in Tanzania with a bunch of kids I know medically very little about – that’s the ask. For all of us. Love one another: one day, one person at a time. 

  

Staff helping students unload from Huruma bus; 10 year old girl at Huruma School

(Bus pictured above was bought with the help of Maryknoll Lay Missioners)

Binti (binti=daughter in Swahili) - our adopted Tanzanian dog

I Bless the Rains Down in Africa …

After finishing language class for the day, Kyle and I headed to one of the fruit and vegetable markets to buy our groceries for the week. Being one of the larger sokonis (markets) for buying produce, it is always busy and a bit chaotic; it also has good prices and quality produce so we are usually willing to brave the craziness once a week. Trucks filled with fruits and vegetables pull in and out, sellers of small goods line the streets trying to sell their wares, and crowds of piki pikis (motorbikes) wait outside the market to give shoppers a lift home.

That day was no different than any other as we wove in and out of the traffic and pedestrians trying to find a place to park our car. The market was in full force and the loud hum of a busy sokoni met us as we walked between lines of sellers searching for beans, carrots, and onions. With our bags half-filled we were in a hurry to check off our list of needed items before heading home for the day. As I stood waiting for a lady to measure and crush the kisamvu leaves** I had just bought, a loud crack of thunder sounded above us.

Within seconds, the heavy “tink-tink” of raindrops began to hit the metal roof above. Within a minute, a torrential downpour opened up and it felt like half of Lake Victoria had been picked up and was being dropped down upon us. I am from the Oregon Coast and grew up with heavy rains; I also lived in Arizona for a time and experienced the flash flood rains of the Southwest during monsoon season. I have never experienced rain like I have in Africa. The intensity and duration of the rain in Mwanza is like nothing I have ever seen before. Within minutes, the walkways of the market had turned into a raging torrent of muddy water. Vendors quickly covered their goods with tarps. Kyle and I found a dry space under the metal pole roof that covered the market; the sound of the rain on the roof was deafening. The air became chilly as the rain continued to pour down.

And then, because we could not talk due to the noise of the rain – and because we could not leave due to the downpour – we simply stood. And what I noticed was quite stunning, and quite unexpected. The movement, the chaos of the market – had stopped. Completely. Venders leaned back and rested now that their produce was covered and safe. Customers found a place to sit amidst the colorful rows of mangoes and pineapples. First one thermos, then another, emerged from beneath tables. Cups of tea were poured and passed around. The woman selling kisamvu looked at me, smiled, and asked “Karibu chai?” (Do you want a tea?)

The rain lasted almost an hour. It thundered down in an incredible show of Mother Nature’s power and resolve. The hush that had fallen over the market crowd continued with the rain; tea was shared, lunch was eaten. Everywhere people rested and waited. A collective, unspoken wisdom permeated it all: here, we follow the rhythms of nature. Here, we listen to her voice and heed her call. Here, we are not in a hurry – we are willing to wait. When was the last time, I wondered, I was willing to wait? When was the last time I was willing to bend my will to the will of Mother Nature without resentment or irritation at having my day disrupted or my plans ruined?

As I stood listening to the rain, watching those around me relax into the storm and drink their tea, content in the moment – something in my soul wanted desperately to join them in their willingness to wait – and be with – the rain. And the lyrics from the song Africa by Toto began to run through my mind: I seek to cure what’s deep inside / Frightened of this thing that I’ve become … I bless the rains down in Africa.

I am so grateful for this opportunity to live in Tanzania, to see the world through different eyes.  Instead of me blessing the rain in Africa, however, it is the rain that is blessing me, curing me.  Perhaps, with time, the rain will bless me with the wisdom of how to sit back, relax into the storm, drink a tea – and simply be present with those around me, content in the moment, as we wait together for the storm to pass.

**Kisamvu, called cassava in English, is a plant that is eaten readily here – the roots are cooked like potatoes and the leaves are first crushed then simmered with peanut butter and cocnut milk. Interestingly, cassava leaves contain high amounts of cyanide; crushing and then boiling the leaves in water removes the cyanide and renders it safe to eat. The leaves are high in protein and vitamin C, as well as various B vitamins.

Arriving in Tanzania (Part 3)

SHOPPING

Buying … almost anything … is not easy for us. Gone are the days of 2-day Amazon shipping or Costco one trip shopping. It seems like you can find most items in Mwanza – if you are willing to look for them. But looking for them is often not easy. And the language barrier Kyle and I face is still very real. We have both noticed improvement over the last few months – and with the help of Google Translate we have successfully bought several household items that I’m not sure we would have been able to find before. Options for buying are: 1) small storefronts downtown that specialize in certain commodities, 2) open air markets – some permanent ones and some that travel to different parts of town throughout the week (these are similar to our flea markets back home), and 3) overpriced items at the one mall in town. Almost all transactions are done in cash, as well, which is very different for us. ($1 US = 2300 Tanzanian shillings (TSH) for those interested). We’ve used debit cards in the US for so long now I almost forgot what an ATM was! Because labor is so cheap here, many items are still handmade. Shoes, clothes, chairs, desks … All these items can be bought from a local “fundi” (specialist) for a decent price. Getting shoes resoled here is still a thing. I picked out cloth from a local store and had several skirts made for the girls and myself from a local seamstress. And all the kids’ uniforms were measured and made by a local tailor. (All these items are made on old Singer sewing machines with foot pedals and no electricity!) Those professions are, for the most part, long gone in the US and it’s been fascinating to see locals with skills that we no longer possess in our US American culture. Most the items we buy back home anymore are made in China or abroad; it’s been so interesting to be able to buy locally and see the product actually being put together!

THE FOOD

The food in Tanzania is mostly simple, but nutritious. It is perhaps one of my favorite parts of living here so far. There are several small brick and mortar grocery stores in Mwanza and we do buy a few items at these each week: a small brick of cheese (dairy products are expensive here as a rule and hard to find), a few boxes of juice, coffee beans, tea, packaged cookies to put in our kids’ lunches. Most items, though, we buy at the open-air market (or “sokoni”). There are many of these located throughout the different neighborhoods, some small and some quite large. We’ve found our few favorite ones (2 are within walking distance from our house) that we frequent several times a week. Here we buy 90% of our food for the week. A typical week of market purchases for us looks like: onions, garlic, eggplant, tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, fresh spinach leaves, cassava leaves, cabbage, pineapple, watermelon, apples (expensive but it’s a treat I continue to buy for the kids), bananas, passion fruit, potatoes, plantains, various beans, lentils, rice, and eggs. Our family doesn’t eat meat, but you can also find chicken (live ones), fish from Lake Victoria, and cow, pig, and goat meat. My understanding is many locals don’t eat a lot of meat, but those that can afford it do include it in their weekly diet. A typical meal for us in the evening includes beans or lentils, a starch (potatoes or rice), and some sort of cooked greens or vegetable. A typical meal for a Tanzanian family might be a type of porridge in the morning, then a dish called “makande” in the evening (hominy-type corn mixed with beans). They often may include “dagaa” (a small sardine-like fish that is dried and sold in the markets) and “ugali” (a cornmeal mash that is similar in consistency to grits but without the butter or spices added). The ugali is eaten with the hands and used to scoop up the dagaa (or chicken or some other brothy meat dish that it is typically served with). I’ve gotten pretty good at whipping out banana bread a few times a week in our little oven, and we’ve created a weekly Sunday homemade pizza night tradition at our house. Finding pizza sauce isn’t easy, but when I do find it I buy several jars of it. Because the oven is so small, I have to cook miniature pizzas in batches – but nobody seems to mind that one pizza is cold, one is warm, and one is hot when we sit down to eat. Pizza is pizza! (And Collin’s favorite dinner of the week!).

COFFEE

Coffee is not a big thing here, and it seems that many locals don’t drink it at all. Kyle and I are big Northwest coffee drinkers and have continued our morning cup of joe since arriving in Tanzania. Someone gave us an old French press and a local Kilimanjaro coffee bean brand is available in the grocery stores (though the cost is quite high compared to other goods here, so it really is a luxury). Chai tea (spiced and/or sweetened tea) on the other hand IS a big thing here and something that everyone seems to partake in – whether the sellers at the market, teachers at school, even vendors on the side of the road. There is a heavy Indian influence here in Mwanza, so a good milk chai seems to be a very important part of many people’s day.

WILDLIFE

So far, I’ve been most impressed by the variety (and number!) of birds in Mwanza. Being close to Lake Victoria (we are perhaps a 10-minute walk down dirt roads to the shore) we get a variety of water birds, as well as many song birds and birds of prey. As I sit here writing this I can hear no less than 5 or 6 variety of bird calls out our window. Small, large, unusually long tailed, hawks … The variety is overwhelming and beautiful. I forgot to bring a bird book of East Africa with us to Tanzania and I haven’t any luck finding one locally in Mwanza. I’m hoping to have someone bring one when they visit us. There are monkeys all around – though none on our property yet. We’ve heard they like mango trees (which we have none of). But we see them on all of our walks and the kids have them in the trees at their school. They are funny to watch and always bring a smile to my face – especially the babies that can be silly and playful and often get in trouble with their mums. Other than that, we see an occasional stray cat or dog and plenty of chickens. The cats are dogs are rarely seen as pets here except by the foreigners. Dogs are sometimes kept to guard houses – but as a rule they are locked away all day in a kennel and only let out at night to guard the fenced property. Otherwise, you mainly see them wandering the roadsides in search of food, usually looking malnourished and mangy. That said, it’s a vast improvement from what we saw in Mexico last year. The dog population here is not out of control like it was in Baja and the dogs people do keep to guard their houses seem to be properly fed. Having an animal as a pet is culturally just not a thing here, as it’s not in many other countries (I do feel that Europe and North America are more the exception than the norm when it comes to animals as pets). We haven’t had the opportunity to see the Serengeti yet – though it is only perhaps 3 hours driving from us. We did skirt the edges of the park on a visit we made to Musoma in February and got to see a hyena, wildebeest, and baboons. We look forward to going into the park sometime later this year or next.

ASANTE SANA

My hope is that these last 3 blogs (Arriving in Tanzania Parts 1-3) would give readers an opportunity to understand a brief overview of what we have been experiencing since arriving in Tanzania. As you can imagine, it is very hard - if not impossible - for our family and friends back home to imagine how daily life has changed for us over the last 3 months as we adjust to a very different new "normal." My intention moving forward is to have shorter, more specific blog posts. If there is a topic or area or question you would like discussed, please feel free to leave a comment and I will see what we can do! Asante sana (thank you very much) for reading our blog!