Burr, it's cold here!

I’m sitting in the Arusha Tourist Inn again and it feels like home. We stayed here three times in January and to come back from such a crazy month in Zanizbar is really nice. Today is one that requires a lot of patience. We got in from Zanizbar on Saturday and are starting our internships today. Except not even all of them are set in stone yet. I’m waiting for the woman who runs the school I’m going to be in to come back and get the three of us working there this month. But, because this is Africa when she says “I’ll come to get you” it could be hours. Which it has been hah. Others are off and working though at Compassion International and an organization that helps widows own their land and find jobs. Another one of our girls is going to be working in an juvenile detention center. I’m going to be helping in a 6^th grade history/civics class. Ann Teberg, a Whitworth Ed professor who is helping a lot with our internships and has a school near Arusha, said that she’ll be sure to tell them not to throw us in too quickly. According to her, in the past students have shown up and the teachers of the school give the whole class to them and say “teach.” Ah! I would be incapable of doing that right now! They are convinced that because we are Americans we are automatically better and know how to teach. Crazy. It is true that American taught teachers are better quality, but I’m expecting to learn so much from them. And the students. The most I know about my internship is that I will get to and from it by the bus that my house sister rides. All the teachers take the bus with the kids so I wont be the only adult on it, just the only white girl =]

We’re all very happy to be back in Arusha. Zanizbar was great but so hot that here feels cold and this weekend was the first time in a month that I didn’t feel sticky while putting on my clothes after taking a shower. We’re all also very happy to return to the families we lived with in January. It’s like we get to go home! It’s a really fun feeling to be returning somewhere we’re familiar with. And, we women don’t have to worry so much if our knees flash when the wind blows our kongas or that our shoulders are covered in our homes.

There are a lot of perceptions about women, men and the Muslim culture, like suppression of women through clothing and polygamy and distance between guys and girls. I didn’t know what I all thought about it, but remember hearing once that women feel empowered by wearing their full body dress and rather enjoy it; I’ve kept that in mind ever since I learned it. But, living in Zanzibar gave me a lot of opportunity to learn about this, from both male and female friendships I had.  I became friends with my house mom’s 16-year-old sister and was able to ask her a lot of questions and just hear about her life. My last Sunday there we were at her house for dinner (which means we went around 2:30pm and didn’t get back until after 9pm) and got a chance to really hang out and talk. She took us to see the roof of her house, which over looked a Hindu Cremation sight surrounded by trees where a bunch of guys play soccer and work out. It also gave us a beautiful view of the most gorgeous sunset I’ve ever seen.

Here are some fun things I’ve learned. If a man proposes, a girl cannot refuse her hand. I learned from my roommate that a man can have up to four wives and a wife can have up to one husband. Even if she does not want to, she must marry if her family says she must. But that also creates a security net for an unwanted marriage- the father may say no. But I’m guessing that if it’s a well off man or a close family friend there’s no way out of it. Sukhyrat (Sue-hi-rat), my house mom’s sister (whose name I can pronounce but not spell, so I’m going to call her Sue) says that she isn’t afraid of marrying because she trusts her father’s judgment. Her father, by the way, is like this crazy old Indian guy that always sits on his balcony and never has a shirt on his thin, hunched, aging body. He also loves my roommate and I and has a great sense of humor, so it was fun to be welcomed into his house.

I learned that weddings here are spread over multiple days, which is easily compared to an American wedding process. You have the engagement, bridal shower, maybe a bachelor party, the wedding itself and a reception, maybe more than one reception. But the wedding day is the big, big day. Here, every day is just as done up as the actual wedding day. From the pictures and videos we’ve seen the bride wears multiple dresses, all full of color and amazingly beautiful. The engagement party seems like the actual wedding; the bride is all dressed up and tons of people come for it. This day is meant only for the women though. The days very between preferences but normally there is a time when all the men gather, usually dressed in their long white gowns and hats. The there is the wedding day. On this day the brides face is completely covered. In all the pictures the groom and friends and family around her all smile wide and she is just a covered body. Smiling as well, I’m sure, if she wants to. Then the day after the wedding is another big party; the cake cutting happens here and the bride is exposed like normal. There is normally a bridal breakfast and lunch as well. In all of this there is a time when the in-laws feed and give individual gifts to the bride and groom.

I got a unique chance to experience a wedding while in Zanzibar which also led to the chance to wear legit Indian clothing. We’re not completely sure which day we attended because there were only women, as if the engagement day, but the groom also showed up and there was cake. So, who knows. The room was full of women in their colorful dresses and done up with make-up. For a long time some were just dancing to the singing, drums and tambourines, and we waited for the bride to enter. Finally she came, helped by her sisters and mother (you could tell who was family by who had henna covering their arms). She was beautiful, in her twenties, wearing a white and light blue dress and a stark white veil. I hoped I wouldn’t see what our friends saw at a wedding they went to: a young girl who looked terrified and ready to cry, who hardly looked up. As she entered her head was down and she was expressionless. Drat. This is sad. As I though about it, though, this solemn face with eyes to the ground was pretty normal. I heard of it, saw it on TV and was now seeing it in person. Even the groom had no smiles when he entered, or even as they cut their cake.

Lucky for Sue, who doesn’t want to marry until she’s in her twenties, her father wants his daughters to marry later too, making school a priority (unlike her 17-year-old cousin who married her 32-year-ole cousin in December- and they looked very happy and bright eyed in all of their pictures and videos- and is with child already).

So that we started talking to Sukhyrat about what her plans were. She wants to do cool things. Number 1: she wants to be a diver. Number 2:  she likes to paint and wants to learn hair and make up; being in her last year of school, she reminds me of my own sister. Number 3… Number three is her last choice, but by the way she talks, it’s the only path. Number three consists of waiting until she’s done testing at school to find out what she’s good at and what she can do. We talked to her about what schools she could find and suggested the marine biology university in Stonetown. But its comes down to the fact that diving is for men, thus never something she can do. I was only able to leave her with, “Maybe you’ll be the first.” The hair and make up is a good shot. It would be easy to learn because there are so many of these shops around and it’s a big part of their culture, but she has to approve it through her parents first, and she’s not too optimistic about it. So she’s left with her tests. We tried to brainstorm with her and were able to come up with working in government or international relations because of the three languages she already knows and she’s interested in being a lawyer. There is a promise in her third and only true option, in her eyes, but it was sad to see her so sure that what she really wanted to do was completely unreachable to her. It’s for boys.

So then, speaking of boys. I asked Sue what she thought about girls who didn’t wear their headscarves or who were hanging out with boys. She is dealing with the rebellions of her peers. She is not allowed a cell phone or Facebook because they are an easy way for guys and girls to meet up or date, which is exactly what’s been happening. She’s also dealing with friends who tease her because when they go out and don’t wear their headscarves, but she continues to. Why? She fears sins. It is a sin for every hair that can be seen by a man. That’s a lot. I’m curious about when scarves are worn just halfway on the head and if that counts, or about that moment, when the boys playing soccer could look up and wave to us, but I didn’t say anything. Others heard that the covering of the body had a lot to do with men and their inability to control themselves, so for purity reasons. Funny thing though, if you go to the club at night the same girls that are covered in the day look like their “in a rap video” according to Abbey (a fellow student). We’ve been having good conversations among ourselves about this and if that is right. There is a lot of “Men should control themselves!” and I like to throw out that women shouldn’t flaunt either, its dangerous for both sides. But Sue likes to wear hers regardless of that argument. So, from what I gather, she doesn’t have any guy friends and most who follow their traditions don’t have friends of the opposite sex.

I must say that because of my previous perception that men and women are separate, I got really happy when I would see a group of guys and girls walking together, talking and even pushing each other around. But I’ve hardly seen anything like that. I have seen what Sue was talking about, guys and girls sitting alone together and I wonder who knows about it, and who doesn’t.

So then there are my relationships with guys here. It’s much different because I am white. As a white woman in Africa I am actually an “honorary man” so, especially in Zanzibar, I was more able to converse with men than the local women can. And, the men are the ones to speak to us. Our male peers are more likely to attempt to spark friendships with us than the women around us. I think that it is intimidating on both sides for the women, Americans and locals, but we really wanted to befriend them. That’s something I still have to figure out how to do. But this is what all of us women on our trip are experiencing: an overwhelming amount of conversation about boyfriends and marriage. If the question, “Are you married?” doesn’t come up in a conversation, it’s successful! My conversation partner through SUZA was a young man finishing up his teaching and history degree (funny because that’s my same major also). It was a great experience because it did help me get used to having local guy friends. But, after a day in his village, asked by all his friends if I was married and even talked to him about marrying him, I broke and allowed myself the security only a lie would bring when two more guys asked if I was married on the bus on my way back home. I said no, because that’s the truth, but at that moment I realized my only true way out of the discomfort and annoyance was to say, “I have a boyfriend.” It was amazing how that toned things down. It’s not that all the men here are out for that, because I also really enjoyed the time I spent with these guys, helping them with English and them helping me with Swahili. I thought about being very honest with him and his friends, saying that for us Americans, it freaks us out when they talk to us about marrying them after two days. But I didn’t explain it to them. In ways, its flattering, mostly its makes for laughable stories, but still, a very interesting experience.

And to clarify, the women here are very strong, especially when they gather together for weddings and such. They are always laughing with each other and enjoying themselves and most run their homes strongly.

Also, as an American, I experienced a sort of pressure to wear a headscarf. There is no obvious or outward pressure, but just a desire to fit in. After the first two weeks I got used to being among them without my head covered. But it was really fun when we did wear headscarves to the wedding and our school graduation. After debriefing in our group we all said we would wear headscarves all the time if we could do it over again. When we did wear them, other women were more likely to talk to us and they loved it, telling us how beautiful we were =] They are such fun women!

So that was a lot of fun to be a part of and learn from. As a women, I loved trying on their dress and felt very beautiful in it. But, if I lived in Zanzibar, what would bother me the most is the restraint it has on physical activity. The physical activity pulls on me there. If I was a girl living in Zanzibar, I would not be able to join the boys jumping off the stonewall into the water in the afternoon. I would not be able to join my guy friends in a fun game of soccer. I would not be able to run properly because my buibui would be in my way. I could join the girls’ one soccer field that we spotted, or use the water to be active, but I saw No girls swimming. Of course, men have their requirements too, wearing their sacred dress on Fridays because that’s the Holy Day. But the freedom is clearly greater for them.

It’s all very interesting and can spark really great conversations and debates, but I’m so glad to be just learning so much right now.

I’m still in the hotel. Some people have already come back from their internships with news like, “They didn’t know who we were or why we were there,” and, “We still don’t know if we can work there tomorrow.” Hah, TIA! I believe that our professors here are going to be able to work everything out. But, like I said, today, and maybe the next few, will require a lot of patience. Just the African experience =]

In the future:

This coming weekend will be in a Maasai village and we’ve all opted to take the chance to sleep with them and their goats.

In two weekends we are taking a retreat to the Mountain View Lodge that is attached to the side of a mountain.

Our spring break is all planned out too. We will see four game parks in 7-8 days and be staying in Serena Hotels, which are very nice. The Serengeti is one of our stops and now is the best time for elephants and lions. Very much looking forward to that.

Prayer requests:

*Smooth going with our internships. That we would all benefit a huge load from them and make amazing connections.

*That with lack of internet and communication, those of us needing to schedule for classes for next year will be able to get everything we need and on time. That all of our credits earned here would transfer back smoothly as well. 

*Continual health and safety.

*Now that we aren’t actually in school for Swahili, that we would still grow in vocabulary and ability with our host homes and internships.

Praises too:

I passed my Swahili test with an 87, which will go back to the states as an A!

Still safe, still healthy, still growing and no where close to being done.

A chat with my family on Skype was very uplifting the other day. I miss my friends and family dearly. I'm realizing more and more, though, that I don't miss the noise of American society and media and am not looking forward to returning to that. 

I want to welcome any questions too. Comment if you have any!

Tutaonana marafiki yangu 

See you later my friends

Sounds and smells, and honor and dedication.

There are some wonderful smells here in Zanzibar. We're close to the ocean so there is that soothing ocean smell and sound. The cooking tastes and smells lovely. Sometimes we know if pilou is being cooked near by or if someone just made fresh bread. Zanzibar is the spice center, so we’ve enjoyed smelling fresh as fresh gets spices from a spice farm we visited. Cloves and ginger and allspice and nutmeg. They make natural lotions and soaps our of these and cocoa and lemon grass. And perfumes; the Ylanglang (lang-lang) tree is also called Channel 5. We’ve smelt the incents of Catholic Mass and the smoke that lingered in the room of a wedding we went to.
And then there are the other smells. Like the scent of the unfamiliar soap used to clean our clothes. Not bad, just unfamiliar. But often there is a strong smell of garbage, naturally, from the piles we walk by to get to school. Some of them are near dumpsters, others just on the side of the street. And you know when they’ve become too full because the next day that spot is black from being burned. So there’s the garbage, mixed with some sort of sharp sour smell, like when there is ketchup left in the trash. And other times there are wafts of poop when we walk through the neighborhood streets. Sometimes my bath water has a hint of fish smell to it as well, making me wonder how clean I’m getting. But its clear, cool and running, so I fell refreshed. Then there is my own sweat. I’m just going to be honest, okay, because TIA. We don’t always smell 100% nice. Who am I trying to impress though?
The door next to ours in the apartment complex it a place where Muslim children go called “tuition.” We hear them singing almost nightly. As Ryan pointed our at mass last week, “why do African voices always sound so good?” it reminds me of my family singing in Arusha, where I’ll be back to next week. Below our window the road provides us with plenty to hear. Cars driving by and the high zipping of motorcycles speeding unregulated it seems, normally late at night. I’ve seen two café racers, for those who know of my slight obsession. The sound of motors coming close, reaching their peak and then drifting away is actually pretty relaxing. If there is ever any silence on the road the voices of men still come through louder than our ceiling fan (also a soothing noise. We hear the young men across the street where they sit on their bikes outside one of the lil’ dukas (shops). These are scattered around town, selling food, toothpaste, air time and powdered milk. Voices rise up to greet each other or yell playful jests. We hear laughing a lot and sometimes kids and women’s voices. We hear a lot of “We!” (WHEY) which is short for “wewe,” meaning “you.” Get’s peoples attention. Things bang and break, like wood carts being dropped or bottles being ran over in the street. Horns warm people of the approaching vehicle. A few people are probably checking their mufflers after the loud exploding noises we’ve heard also. As the guys hang out at the duka, popular music plays and fills our room when the prayers from the near by mosque aren’t. I’m amazed at how much I can visualize of what’s going on outside just from what I hear.
I’ve fallen into the latest fad here among the Whitworth group though: The Hunger Games. Kate brought the first book and went into such a fuss about it when she found our Krista shared the same love for them, that she and Ryan bought the second and third books before leaving the Seattle airport. The series is snaking its way through our group. It is a nice get away for my senses. I read the first book in one weekend, which is rare for me. I haven’t read any book at that pace besides Heaven is for Real and The Circle Trilogy. Shout out Danny Gubitz! I didn’t bring any recreational books of my own because my plan was to only have my Bible with me. That’s where the faith comes in.
I’ve been at the same church since 1997, almost 15 years. I’ve had no reason to leave, it’s my home. Now I’m four months away from it. This is giving me ample time to see other denominations more closely, complete with special African bonus. My third Sunday here I went to a Calvary Chapel church which is more similar to my home church than the others and I’d like to go back when I return to Arusha. I’ve been to two very different Catholic services and an Anglican one. And, of course, I’m exposed to the 99% Muslims here. What I’ve been exposed to has made me reflect on my own personal honor and dedication to the Lord. (Nothing to do with my actual church. Note, I’m not comparing churches here, totally personal faith).

The catholic service is very scripted, more than I’m used to. As I watched and attempted to copy the guys in front of me and listen for the que, I finally saw beyond the rituals. Like kneeling next to the pew before sitting, or before entering or leaving the alter. Or dipping your fingers in the holy water before entering the sanctuary. I saw the honor behind all of it. Honoring the house with cleansing, honoring God’s alter by bowing, honoring the house of God so fervently. Coming to the Lord to be cleansed first then to ask for his blessing. I though about how often I jump into desperate, or even simple, prayers before saying, “Lord, thank you and forgive me, making me clean as I come to you.” I know that these are actions and that any religion can have things that become habitual, but God is using them to examine my heart. And I really enjoyed the Catholic rituals! Seeing the heart I was meant to have behind it.

I even started thinking about the structured dress of the bishop, the helper people (I’m so formal with my titles) and the one nun I saw. So clean cut and pure, white with a light blue head dress. A symbol of how anyone would want to present themselves before the Lord. And then it got really personal. Why do I wear my best dress on Sundays? Surely to show the Lord my great ability to produce new outfits. No, to look good! My Sunday attire, I have realized, always reflects back to me. How selfish. Am I going to start dressing like a nun? No. I’m also a practical thinker. But this was a personal heart check that God used from my experience at Mass, and it was good.

Most people know about the Muslim dedication to pray five times a day. Our religion professor in Arusha said an Indian student once told one of his Christian students “you only pray once a week!” The student rightly tried to correct his peer, saying he prayed daily, even multiple times a day, but it wasn’t enough for the Muslim student. Examining me, I think myself dedicated. But the Muslims here have really taught me something. I praise myself for the prayers I throw up lying in bed at night, and the little comments I make throughout the day. While these men, and women, make their way, multiple times a day, to sit facedown to Allah, God? Allah? It’s the same to them. How can I praise myself when I hardly give a sacrifice? And it’s so dumb of me too! To not spend time with Jesus, because its benefits me as well. It’s dedication and honor to my God, and it’s salvation and refreshment love that I so need. To not dedicate quality time to the Lord is spiritual suicide. And it’s my choice. I was hoping to become better at spending time with God, praying and reading my Bible, here in Africa, but it hasn’t actually happened until the last week and a half, after finally having these exposures and revelations.

So, while none of this has gotten into theological doctrine on faith, like being exposed to other religions often does, I’m glad because I don’t want to open that can of worms right now. God is using it to rework my relationship with him. (So don’t anyone start going at it the faith and works argument, because I’m not arguing nothin’). I’m sure my view will be challenged while I’m here too. But for now, will I bow when I pray? Will I only do it more rituality now? Maybe, probably not. Who knows. I am lead by the Holy Spirit and not worried about my actions, just how they reflect my heart. Because they don’t come from nothing, these rituals and actions. When I lift my arms in worship I do feel more free. When I speak out loud it is more powerful, declaring life, battling death. These things are very real and what I do does matter. My heart and my actions have been examined lately. So examine what you do, and don’t do, and why. How are you feeling lately? Have you spent time with your loving God today?

I do believe that heart leads to actions.

Jesus loved, Jesus acted.

Go love. Go do.  

Hi, I’m Ashley and I’m an international student.

This fact is really good and really hard.

Here are some more details about school and my days.

The SUZA campus we are at sits right in town and is the Center for Language. Our Walimu (teachers) are two older Tanzanian men, Omar and Hasan, and are absolutely fantastic teachers. The first full day here we toured our campus and visited another that sits right on the water and met probably all of the staff. In the first week we were learning as one group in one room besides three girls who hadn’t taken Swahili in Spokane. The second week we broke up into three smaller classes. So now I have class with four other students and Mwalimu Omar. We don’t have any other students with us in class but interact with them a bit outside in the courtyard. At the end of the month we will have an exam and receive a grade, which is a little intimidating, but hamna shida (no problem). SUZA is considered one of the best places to learn the language and Swahili and Arabic, we just learned, has made its way to the top of the most important languages list, cool!

Since we get out around noon we normally have the rest of the day free. When there aren’t lunches or outings planned by our house mom, I go home for lunch and sleep for a while, do homework, play with the kids a bit or read. Some days we go out, walking around the market (soko) or going down by the water to do homework or swim. We have one path through the market to the water that we know very well. The market we like to go to runs along the main road and leaks into the alleyways behind it. These small streets create a maze of shops, shaded by the tall buildings. There is a coffee house I really enjoy as well called Zanzibar Coffee House. It’s fairly touristy, if people can find it in the streets, but it makes for a nice get away. There are certain venders and artists we found we like to visit also.

The main waterfront is a place called Forodhani. Its very touristy but also has a ton of Zanzibar culture surrounding it. You can always find boys jumping over the edge into the water and there are places to grab a soda and watch the ocean. There is the occasional vender giving you a good deal on scarves or a charming young man wanting to exchange help with Swahili for help with English. A beach lined with a few hotels sits next to Forodhani and it’s a beautiful place to watch the sunset. Nighttime is when this place is most alive. The large area over looking the water holds dozens of individual vending tables light up by lanterns come night fall. Here people can pick out plates of seafood on sticks with Tanzanian bread and full crab arms. Or get some “pizza” (its more like an omelet) or watch them make Tanzania Mix for you (a local soup that is probably one of the best things I’ve had). Or go to the fruit table and get a large chunk of pineapple. And of course there are multiple booths selling the infamous sugarcane juice that you watch them press right in front of you. I have been out after dark way more here than in Arusha, always in groups, and it has been very safe and very fun. Sometimes we’ll walk to places near our house with our family to get chips (French fries) and meat kabobs for dinner.

My roommate and I have also taken many little trips to visit the extended family of our host family who all want to meet us. On multiple occasions we’ve been eating food and our host mom says, “Oh, my father brought that for you!” or sister or aunt or someone we’ve meet. We even went to have lunch at our housefather’s sister’s house, just my roommate and I and our two little siblings. We had a true meal there, eating on the floor without any silverware. Also, something in my soup looked like a shellfish but I guess it was part of a chicken. It’s been a fun adventure getting to know the town as our home.

As far as language, the whole ‘student’ part, I am picking up new Swahili fairly well. It’s funny when I don’t know a word in Swahili but my mind knows I’m not supposed to be speaking English, suddenly my Spanish from years ago kicks in, words I forgot I even knew. It’s fun, but doesn’t actually help anything because it’s still not Swahili. Despite the fact that it’s amazing how the brain retains things. I can easily make conversations with people in the stores or tailor shops but when I think about all the slang, all the little ways we speak differently in America and knowing that those differences exist here too, man I have so much to learn. And they talk so quickly with unfamiliar words. My biggest struggle so far has been listening and picking up on what people are saying. In class our teacher speaks slowly, but in the real world the pace quickens and I can’t quite put all the things I hear into place. I’ve gotten down the formula for putting my own sentence together but if I’m talking to someone who doesn’t know some English to fall back on, i.e. the aunt who we had lunch with the other day, I feel out of luck. This has been really hard. You can continue to have fun and laugh and play across language barriers, but after a while I do want to get to know people more and without conversation it is hard. It makes even starting a conversation difficult. I also don’t want to say anything wrong or respond to them in the wrong way. I might think, “Shoot, did I just tell them I want to go somewhere I actually don’t by the way I responded?” It can be frustrating and tiring, but is also more reason to study my Swahili.

The other day we received conversation partners from SUZA so I will be meeting and hanging out with my new friend, Sleiman, quite a bit. I was pretty scared to be partnered up with a local student at first, but I got over it and know that it's going to be one of best things I have. 

That is mostly outside of school. For in school, picture this: the majority of the school is locals, so mostly Africans, and Muslims, which means all the women are covered and some of the men wear traditional Islamic dress and hats. And then here I am, only 12 others like me among a few hundred. I feel exposed, literally. Think this could give me perspective for cultural interaction upon returning to Spokane? I think yes. There are a few German students we have meet but they are beyond us in Swahili and carry conversations with the local friends they’ve made over the last four months. We have found friendship with two American couples though and a German couple who are possibly more in love with American football than a large percentage of Americans. They actually planned our trip to a sports bar about 2km outside of Stonetown to watch the Superbowl replay Monday night. Yea Giants!! Both of them actually play on German teams, men’s and women’s. I told Batza I think it would be fun to join the women’s football team that just started in Spokane. She probably thinks I’m really cool now. They have been volunteering in Tanzania for a few months. The four Americans are about two years into their 10-year plan to be in Tanzania. They are being sponsored by individuals and a church back down south somewhere and are learning the language and making friendships before figuring out what God wants them to do exactly. Sadly both these groups are leaving within the next week.

In addition to our teaching, SUZA takes us on field trips every week, Wednesdays and Saturdays. We’ve been to a Museum, a white sandy beach and Jozani Forest where we saw Colobus monkeys and mangrove tress. Planned we have a spice farm, a few villages where we’ll spend more time on the beach and one trip on the schedule says “swim with dolphins” (!!) but I have to remember TIA (see TIA blog post if you haven’t). We’ve also been able to feed sea turtles and hold lil’ baby turtles. I wasn’t expecting these great experiences!

So yes, there are difficulties. It’s hard to be different. Sometimes I want to go home and have a hardy conversation with my friends. I hear about the happenings of Whitworth and Jan-term breaks and wish I could be there. I miss my family and my familiar church (p.s. trying churches here has been a great experience). But then, in reality, nothing in me wants to leave this place yet. It is still hard to believe that I am here, making connections across the globe, walking around the streets of Africa and learning a language I plan to become fluent in. You know those pictures of white sandy beaches and clear, turquoise waters that stretch out, turning dark blue, a few wooden boats scattered here and there with white sails? That is a piece of my reality this right now. You know those stories people tell of the days they learned how to manage the other side of the world? I’m just starting to write them. You know the people who have Facebook friends around the world and you’re like, “Do they really know that person?” I get to say yes. Point being, there’s no where I’d rather be right now and it’s all because of God’s peace and my trust in his plan. It’s all God, because, you know those times when you just want to cry, or be alone! Yea those have been happening too.

There is so much God is doing in Spokane and I wondered why he wanted me to leave now. I knew somehow there would still be connection and according to the news I recently heard, there is. That part of my blog was read at my church was reassuring, encouraging, humbling and so, so much of a blessing. Thank you to all those supporting me. The Lord has great things in store. I can't wait to see them revealed.

Hi, I'm Ashley, and I'm becoming part Tanzanian. 

Zanzibar Update

It’s been just one month that I’ve been in Tanzania and May feels like many moons away. I cannot wait to come home, but at the same time I don’t know how I’m going to leave this place. We’re in Zanzibar now and I’ve gotten used to walking the streets and putting itch cream on the 37 bites below my knees (I counted) from sand fleas or mosquitoes. I’m also used to living in my own sweat and am grateful for another house with running water. I prefer cold showers over warm now and even though there is a shower head, I kind of like the bucket showers as sometimes the trickling faucet takes a while to rinse my hair out completely. But, I get clean and it’s wonderful. Let me tell you more about my home

As I said, again I am blessed to be in a home with running water and power, though power outages are a constant occurrence here. We live on the second story in one of many large soviet built apartment complexes that are about six or seven stories high and seem almost a quarter mile long. They aren’t the most beautiful things on the outside, grey and cracking, but are cozy on the inside. My roommate and I have a well-furnished room with two full-size beds, a coffee table, double-door armoire and wood vanity-type-thing, we also have a ceiling fan (praise the Lord) and a light that charges for when the power goes out. Some of the other students are in one-story homes; all are in walking distance of SUZA (State University of Zanzibar Africa). We have just a few minute walk through the homes and shops along the rocky dirt road, saying “hello” to all who greet us. Then bravely cross two main roads to the college.

This month I am living with a Muslim family from India. According to our house dad their family has been in Zanzibar for three generations, about 200 years, so for both him and his wife, Africa is home. Khairat (HI-RHAT), their little girl, is almost six and her little brother, Mohammad, is almost three. They are trilingual in Swahili, English and Indian and sometimes they mix all three into their sentences; it’s quite amazing. The two children warmed up to us quickly and love to make conversation. Mohammad and I will go back and forth repeating random words in Swahili. “Hodi,” “Karibu,” “Jambo,” “Shika,” Marahaba,” “Nzuri,” “Asante”.  The boy loves to talk and has a little “sh” lisp with his S’s. I think his favorite word right now is cheetah, though. And we are called Auntie- “Auntie, Auntie, Auntie!” They have many western TV channels, so we’ve been able to watch a little CNN or BBC and even the Karate Kid. There are many little stores and an internet café close by and even the beach is walking distance,

I am well provided for by our family and the housemaid, Estella, who is African and who cleans our room and washes our clothes. Our family has also been so kind as to get us toilet paper because, you see, you will never see anyone greet you with or eat with their left hand. Also, I’ve been eating so very well. Food is pretty big here so there is always a lot of it. Part of me wonders if it’s the American stereotype, but still, they really like to feed us. And it is great food. In Arusha our family warmed us up to traditional African meals, feeding us more American type stuff like chips (French fries) and eggs, and throwing in more African food as we went along. Here, since we are living on an island and with an Indian family, things like coconut curry are common and seafood- though I can’t bring myself to eat the little fish with faces still… wimp? Eeeeh, maybe. I did try baby shark the other night though. It was good but as I was eating it I wondered why it had to be baby shark…? Then things like rice, cooked bananas, fruit and doughnut like pastries called mandazi can be found in most households. But I’ve noticed some of my favorites, mandazi, chapatti, kachori, are all cooked in oil or deep-fried and I’m thinking dang, I better watch what I eat and how much of it! Wasn’t expecting to worry about that here. None the less, I will hopefully be able to recreate these great foods at home.

First Arusha, now Zanz.

I mentioned in my last blog that I have been noticing how similar the differences are. Just like the culture shifts across America, Zanzibar culture is quite different from Arusha. Religion is important in Arusha but it is more visible here. The Muslim population is 99%. In Stonetown alone there are 15 mosques and only two churches, Anglican and Catholic. (The Anglican is actually built on top of an old slave market). Ally, our father, leaves a few times every day to pray at the mosques and we can hear the prayers ring out over the town from our window. There is no difficulty in the fact that we have different beliefs and are living with them. In fact, if we wanted to have a conversation about it, they would be very open. Ally asked me why I was here learning Swahili and I told him my faith had a large part to play in it. He nodded and understood. The prophet Mohammed’s birthday was last week and the city had a huge party and a parade. I asked Ally why everyone in the parade wore the colors green and white; he said it was the colors of Paradise. “You know Paradise?” he said. I said that I did, that I had learned about it, and that was that. We’ll see, maybe a great conversation is in store.

In Arusha bare shoulders were okay. Here, it is rare to see any woman without her headscarf or “buibui” (long black dress) and about a third have them cover their faces when outside. Khairat wears her headdress and uniform to school, but has not yet started wearing it everywhere outside the house like her mother, Sophie. But don’t be fooled, the fashion is booming here, just in its own way. In America I have certain accessories I like and favorite colors, it is no different here. The women accessorize with colors under their buibui and colorful, jeweled or sequenced head scarves. I’ve seen a variety of pins used to hold their scarves like small simple needles to large jeweled pins, even headbands over their scarves. Their colorful dresses sometimes show under the buibui, giving a pretty splash of color. It is fashion, just like we have fashion, and they are beautiful. To respect the culture and our families we cover our shoulders and knees at all times besides our rooms and the beach, and Zanzibar is hot, very hot. I think we’re in the 80’s before noon every day. But when we asked our housemother’s sister if her buibui was ever too hot, she just shrugged and said, “It can be.”

Another major difference here is exercise. To start, they are already very fit people- their jobs and lives in general require a lot from them. But, our first morning here Sophie took us swimming at 5:45 am. As we were walking to the beach a woman, maybe in her early 50’s, shuffled past us in her long buibui, head scarf and running shoes. What!? I left my shoes in Arusha because I hadn’t actually needed them yet and no one, especially women, was seen running in Arusha. A while later another woman passed us. Up and down the streets ran men and women just before the sun came up. As we neared the beach a small group of elderly men were running sets on an inclined road. Some bare-footed women joined them. Up and down the beach people were running distances and short sprints, swimming, doing push-ups, stretches and abs. What fit people! These unexpected events surprised us and made me regret not bringing my shoes, but the swimming, walking and straight up heat make us sweat quite a bit.

The buildings in Zanzibar definitely have more of an Indian taste to them also. It is clear that the trade and such from the north had a large affect on the development here. We learned that bricks were made illegal because they wanted all of the new buildings to look like the old ones, keeping the stone look, thus Stonetown. The tourist population is much higher here also, leading to a number of very nice hotels and tourist beaches.

The driving here is much calmer than in Arusha, too. Though still pretty crazy, there is not as much passing on narrow roads and more of the roads are paved. Motorbikes still do their thing, weaving in and out without regulation. I’ve seen more road signs here also and for the first time, on the way out to a village we visited, there were yellow shoulder lines on the road.

Rather than dogs all over there are cats. Tons of cats. Very tame, but probably not the cleanest. As much as I want to hold them, I was reminded that they probably haven’t been treated for fleas…uuwww, good point…

My health.

Like I said, I am still eating well, trying new foods and enjoying mostly all of them. Even learning how to make some and will be bringing back recipes. And besides being tired often, I am staying healthy. Only twice has my stomach given me problems. But, I’m definitely counting my blessings, as some in the group haven’t faired so well. Emotionally and mental I am doing well, also. There are times when I wish to be back home and it’s hard to realize how much time we still have here. But, I am getting what I wished for: I hoped that this trip would go by slowly. I didn’t want to be at the end of it thinking about how quickly it came and went. And, indeed, it has felt very, VERY slow. I keep reminding myself that this is a good thing and, though some days are harder than others, I am also wondering, “How am I ever going to leave this place?” Before I left America it was made clear to me that God was going to use this trip to solidify his plans for me; that what I learned or who I met here would lead to the next steps for my life; that he would expose guidance through this trip. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I know that someday, for some reason, I will be back to this place. The Lord is also walking me some deep spiritual thinking that makes me weary sometimes, but only good will come from this trip. I know it, because God is good and it is by his grace that I am even here.

Relationships are solid too. At times I get stressed out when my house mom insists that we go out, but I am tired and don’t want to. She loves to insist. And our group is successfully living together, I would say.

Prayer requests:

>That I will be aware of whatever God wants to reveal to me while I’m here and grow closer to him, learning how to hear his voice.

>That my health continues to stay steady.

>That my mind soaks up Swahili well. I want to pass this class!

>That I would have grace for my housemother when I’m tired and she wants to take us out everywhere (granted, we have seen some cool things with her)

>And that our group dynamic stays steady (we’ve been pretty clear of drama, for the most part)

This is just a quick update, really. An internet café is close to my home so I hope to have more posts this month.

To my friends and family at home, I miss you dearly and have been praying for you. I have so many more stories to tell already! Thank you again for all the support. I’ll probably end up saying this after every blog post.

Ashley