5/17/11 Culture and Respect

This morning after breakfast I walked down the beach looking for seashells for mom. I passed a man dressed in traditional Masai clothing. “Mambo.” “Mambo poa.” He stopped to talk and walk with me – he and his walking stick, me and my baggie of shells. He asked where I was from, how I learned Swahili, why was in Zanzibar. He is from Arusha (thus the clothes) and plans to return there next month. I told him we would be going there next week. Would we climb Mt. Kilimanjaro? Haha, no – just look. He was impressed that I was in university. He is 28. He wanted to know if I was married. When I said no, he said, “But having a husband is good so he can take care of you?” “Uh, maybe. Maybe not.” He laughed. (Even far from home I cannot escape this question – and it is more difficult to answer here.)

He taught me a few more phrases in Swahili – of which I have forgotten now, unfortunately. We parted as I finished my shell search. Nafurahi kukuona. Nice to meet you. He replied in Swahili, “Best to you.” I wished him a safe journey home. He called himself ‘Rafiki’ – friend – though I doubt this was his given name.

After we parted, I packed my things to leave. Aja and I walked a bit since we were still early. We found some shops and witnessed some sort of gathering of people in the water in the distance.

Then we waited for our ride back to the ferry – for nearly two hours. We just sat, with the flies, under the entrance to the hotel. In the rain. I’m starting to get a headache. Finally it comes; apparently it had broken down. We sped back through the villages (again in the rain), our lives blinking in the distances as we nearly take a rolling detour into the village buildings when a chicken crosses the road. Aren’t they taught not to swerve for animals here? (We should tell them about the law in Georgia about not letting chickens cross the road.)

Finally on the ferry I sleep away this headache. I didn’t sleep well last night. It was too cold in the hotel room. And there was no blanket. The ferry ride was very rocky with all the rain. One woman got sick on the floor and Jessica (who gets motion sickness) nearly followed the trend. Back in Dar we inched our way through traffic treacherously. But we are back safely!

My notes for today are not about Tanzanians or their society, but about Americans – or at least some of the ones I am with. Let’s begin by mentioning that I have never traveled in a group before. (Not since the post-8th grade trip to Europe, but what did I know then?) My hesitation with traveling with groups is that you are associated with that group. Don’t get me wrong – everyone in the group is overall great, but there are times that cultural naivety and outright disrespect is noticed. For one thing, volume. Americans are LOUD (and I might add obnoxious, but this is because I don’t like loudness). Despite Dr. Lewis’ warning that this would call unwanted attention to us, some people do not seem to mind.

Another point, please keep your commentary to yourself if you haven’t fully thought it out. Especially when it comes out as degrading and ignorant. “That’s the first homeless person I’ve seen in Tanzania.” Really, really?? Please rethink that statement – and please don’t yell it. And can we get over ourselves with the food already. Yes, be cautious. Yes, make sure food is cooked well and fresh. No, don’t drink the water or eat raw vegetables. But for God’s sake it is not necessary to live on Poptarts! (Haven’t they seen SATC the movie? Learn from Charlotte :) )

I just feel that if you are going to pick and choose what you want to experience and dismiss the rest with a laugh and whisper, it is condescending. I feel like a few people are completely missing the perspective part of this trip by not stepping out of their comfort zones. A few don’t even try to speak the language. That just seems rude. Please at least try. And can we respect others’ ways of life? Can we try to understand that people are living their best lives as best they can? Can we imagine their struggles? Please don’t act like they are simply dirty and unworthy of your good graces. Please don’t act like you are somehow better than they are. Please.

If you really look at people, you see that they aren’t any different than anyone else. The woman who saw Jessica throw her new scarf around her neck smiled, looked back down the stairs and playfully did the same with her own; the people on the bus giving us the ‘thumbs up;’ the children smiling at us and running beside our bus; the people sharing meals with us at Juba (our hotel in Dar). They aren’t so different. Not at all. Let’s all grow up.

P.S. I survived my personal cycle without much pain or disgust – this was my only worry with this trip.