Since I last wrote, culture shock has began to set in and I have just been trying to figure out what is actually going on around me and how to approach it (the culture here, the economic conditions, and the missionaries in their approach), to which I have not only been constantly busy but have felt very illiquid to make a post about.
I have come to realize that this internship isn't set up to be like I had hoped and expected it to be (even though I keep telling myself I didn't have any expectation coming in). I came hoping simply to live among the people here and see and be part of their daily lives; to learn who they are and let them know who I am; to build relationship. I wanted to see something different, to see a different culture and maybe a different Christianity. I wanted to get outside myself.
For the most part this hasn't happened. I have been wrestling with a lot of frustrations and I fear I will sound very disgruntled and even harsh when I tell about them, but I feel I need to in order to give reality to where I am now.
One of these factors that I didn't expect is that the missionary families all live in a sort of suburb of the city of Mwanza--which is 1 million people-- and in generally nice houses, even by American standards. They work mostly with people in villages and have to drive one to 5 hours just to get to most of these villages. Bwiru, the suburbish area in which they live and I am staying isn't without difficulty I assure you (after all, This Is Africa), but generally speaking, I feel removed. when I am in their homes I feel no different than if I was in an American home (other than the power frequently and unexpectedly going off). I didn't expect that the missionaries would live in mud brick huts as those in the villages, but I didn't expect to be so guarded.
The far away villages that we drive to everyday are always new as well, so it has been hard to build relationship from repeated visits. Moreover, when we are in the villages I can't speak much of the language other than greetings, so I mostly just sit quietly listening to sermons or conversations that I can't understand and usually go completely untranslated. I also feel the American way of "doing" church and the mission "field" terminology around me and working its way into the village churches here and it keeps me up at night. That's another conversation though.
I wrote in my journal that my time in the villages has been the greatest feeling of a formal environment that I think I have ever felt. This is in part due to the language barrier so which makes me feeling unable to speak-- I am good at not making the effort to have conversation with people and keeping to myself, but I don't want that anymore. But the formal feeling has more do to with cultural customs that are much more prominent here.
The first of these which has really tended to frustrate me at times is that everywhere we go we are received as very formally honored guests. In the Sukuma language the word for "guest" comes from the same word as that of "gift", of which a guest is one of the greatest, along with the honor of being able to show hospitality to one's guest. This includes them insisting we sit in the only chairs while they are on the ground; sit in these chairs in front of everyone during worship service, and eat the choice food, while the amount and quality of food lessens the younger the family member (children just above animals in some ways). This has really been frustrating to me at times when all I want to do is talk to them and play with the kids or football with anyone, and learn about what there lives are like on a daily basis. I can't explain my frustration at times toward this formal feeling in the context of the missionaries coming on church business are honored. I was looking at the wrong way though.
I have also been frustrated in how I feel removed from everyone else (other than missionaries) who live here in Mwanza as a whole. I particularly feel this on Friday nights when I can here the party going on at the near by pub and think about who the people were that Jesus spent time with, while I am safely gated in the christian home. Or how I drive hours everyday to go to villages, when I might be playing with kids from the mud huts right behind our house. So much of the world goes through things everyday that I hardly know anything about, much less can I say I know how they feel; I don't want to feel removed anymore.
But as I have begun to get past my own frustrations and expectations for this trip (many are still there, I have just learned to get past them), I have began to really appreciate their hospitality greater than any I have experienced. They see us as a great gift and the opportunity to give the best of themselves and what they have as a gift just moreover, and I can't get my mind around that when they have so little to give and the adults, and especially their children, are severely malnourished. they farm for their food they eat and for any money it might get them to sell it, and here we are eating so much of it. I have no place to reject their gift though, I realize I am not above allowing them to love in a way I have never emptied myself to, and they don't even think twice about it. I think part of my resistance to this all (and Satan battling against me) is that I am trying to avoid thinking about this difference but rather can comfort myself in thinking about 'how selfish I wasn't' in not taking the starving people's food and gifts right then. Trying to avoid thinking about all that I'm not doing and what of my life and things I'm not really giving, but rather we think to ourselves "keep it, we don't need your gifts, we've got ourselves covered...".
I am realizing how much I do need their gifts. I am humbled beyond words in their honoring me. I have been thinking even further about my own comfort and realizing how much more I still have that I will have to give before I have "emptied" myself as Jesus did.
This hospitality and kindness isn't even so much a Christian custom either, as it is just the way they are. In fact, everywhere I go people treat me with great kindness simply because it is good. almost everyone I have spent any time with are like those one or two people in Sunday school, or social club, or work, or where ever that everyone knows and who is the most out going and good at making new comers feel welcome.
This may be really long and not written well at all, but it has helped me to reflect on all that has been going on and I pray that anyone who takes the time to read it will be as blessed as I have been with what I am learning... Those of you who have skipped through don't get the prayers or the blessing; there's a lesson for you to learn. lol...
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
the above line...
Since I created this blog and the name of it, "IN TRANS[IT]LATION", I have gone throughout and ended everyday with the undeveloped concept that produced that title which goes something like this:
That everything is a translation of and in translation by the things around it and, in the same fashion, are always in transit within it's translators and in its translation of other things. To explain how I see this to apply to humans I will speak in reference to myself. I am something of a compilation, unique in original design perhaps, to begin an ever constant translating process. I am constantly translating, refering less to conscious thought but rather my very design or existence. in regards to conscious translating this might also be described as my perception, but again, this doesn't quite satisfactorially grasp my thinking; of every relationship, sound, sight, touch, taste, smell, emotion around me, my very being is a translating process. I am a sort of version of everything around me.
This then brings me to myself as a translation. As I am constantly translating so also I am an ever changing translation, in appearance, word, interests and action. In all these can be seen and are themselves the translated compilation of everything around me. Even now, the words that I write are a translation of all that has shaped me to this point, and in your reading of them you are translating me.
Consequently, As there is often gaps of thought and seemingly inexpressable concepts between different laguages, so also is the case with me. I am an incomplete translation of that around me, there are certainly gaps, but always refining, hopefully toward clearer translation which materializes in my personality, word, deed and emotion.
Naturally I am always In Transit --"naturally" meaning day-to-day physical activity. To elaborate though, this also has to do with me finding an importance in travel and exploring new translations different than my own, that I might improve my own.
Moreover, this idea of being "in transit" comes from my inability to find a rational or otherwise justifiable argument on which to build a case for any given object, territory or accomplishment as my own and thus my right. It seems to me that for everything we make use or pleasure of, there are others that have come before us in some fashion that might at least stake equal, or to be more realistic more claim, and to which the privilege or credit of such is due.
Thus I am simply a constant guest or borrower of resources and time, and therefore accept these with thanks and by grace (for the time that I can). Freely and gladly willing to share to the last, that another might find it a gift likewise when I am finished and gone.
It is only necessary at this point to make a brief mention that I also mean "in transit" in regards to my ever changing mental capacity and processes.
Finally, "In Transit" speaks of the encompassing context that I view this life in, which is a story; more specifically a narrative. I have come to view all of history and existence as a story with an advancing plot and the life that I lead as a small intrical (not sure about this spelling) role within. The constant translating and translation that I am determine how I read the story, both in finding my personal role, and who the narrator is whom I believe is telling it--whom which all of my translations have given voice to the One God of Israel.
That said, I am apt to believe that perhaps the unique design as which I might have began is a translation of the narrator himself.
As this applies to this blog, it represents a sort of front page of the most current translating efforts and translations within me throughout my travels. It takes on its title to remind both myself and the reader that I am just a rough draft, as is everything I write here, of my own efforts to understand and grasp the wiser persons and more magnificant concepts, sights and other experiences that I am the vague compilation of and may my acknowledgement always go as I try also to understand the person that I am with each new translation.
That everything is a translation of and in translation by the things around it and, in the same fashion, are always in transit within it's translators and in its translation of other things. To explain how I see this to apply to humans I will speak in reference to myself. I am something of a compilation, unique in original design perhaps, to begin an ever constant translating process. I am constantly translating, refering less to conscious thought but rather my very design or existence. in regards to conscious translating this might also be described as my perception, but again, this doesn't quite satisfactorially grasp my thinking; of every relationship, sound, sight, touch, taste, smell, emotion around me, my very being is a translating process. I am a sort of version of everything around me.
This then brings me to myself as a translation. As I am constantly translating so also I am an ever changing translation, in appearance, word, interests and action. In all these can be seen and are themselves the translated compilation of everything around me. Even now, the words that I write are a translation of all that has shaped me to this point, and in your reading of them you are translating me.
Consequently, As there is often gaps of thought and seemingly inexpressable concepts between different laguages, so also is the case with me. I am an incomplete translation of that around me, there are certainly gaps, but always refining, hopefully toward clearer translation which materializes in my personality, word, deed and emotion.
Naturally I am always In Transit --"naturally" meaning day-to-day physical activity. To elaborate though, this also has to do with me finding an importance in travel and exploring new translations different than my own, that I might improve my own.
Moreover, this idea of being "in transit" comes from my inability to find a rational or otherwise justifiable argument on which to build a case for any given object, territory or accomplishment as my own and thus my right. It seems to me that for everything we make use or pleasure of, there are others that have come before us in some fashion that might at least stake equal, or to be more realistic more claim, and to which the privilege or credit of such is due.
Thus I am simply a constant guest or borrower of resources and time, and therefore accept these with thanks and by grace (for the time that I can). Freely and gladly willing to share to the last, that another might find it a gift likewise when I am finished and gone.
It is only necessary at this point to make a brief mention that I also mean "in transit" in regards to my ever changing mental capacity and processes.
Finally, "In Transit" speaks of the encompassing context that I view this life in, which is a story; more specifically a narrative. I have come to view all of history and existence as a story with an advancing plot and the life that I lead as a small intrical (not sure about this spelling) role within. The constant translating and translation that I am determine how I read the story, both in finding my personal role, and who the narrator is whom I believe is telling it--whom which all of my translations have given voice to the One God of Israel.
That said, I am apt to believe that perhaps the unique design as which I might have began is a translation of the narrator himself.
As this applies to this blog, it represents a sort of front page of the most current translating efforts and translations within me throughout my travels. It takes on its title to remind both myself and the reader that I am just a rough draft, as is everything I write here, of my own efforts to understand and grasp the wiser persons and more magnificant concepts, sights and other experiences that I am the vague compilation of and may my acknowledgement always go as I try also to understand the person that I am with each new translation.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
out of the country... a few times over.
This is my first opportunity to write and it is really long and I am still jet lagged so you may want to skip down, to where there is a line gap and says "Tanzania:"
I've just finished my second full day here in Mwanza Tanzania, but let me back track a little first, to my first out of the country/Europe experience.
I will worn you now that I am likely to romanticize these stories a little, but that is part of the hearing about my experience aye? That it is through my eyes and my words.
I had one day in London so I took the train from the airport to Peddington station--honestly, I didn't know where I was going and it was probably obvious to most but I think I fooled some that I belonged though. I walked out the nearest way I could find and found myself in Westminster Little Venice for the day, which is exactly what it sounds like. I think my favorite part of it though was where a little alley led between apartment buildings to a little square that was made into a green house and organic market of sorts. There were beautiful plants everywhere, a very classy indoor/outdoor organic cafe' and a quaint little wood shed with a grass roof with fresh bread, jams, spices, cheeses, and wines. It was terrific to say the least, and right in the middle of the city. I fell in love with that quaint little piece of town and thought about how great it would have been to live in one of those apartments over looking the garden on one side and town and the little Venice river on the other, then I remembered that this was just a very little piece of London, much less Europe, and I need to keep my whits about me.
Honestly this wasn't my first memorable London experience though, that would have been when the flight attendant offered me wine on the jet and i declined it thinking she didn't realize I wasn't 21... I shouldn't flatter myself. that only happened once though...
my first memorable land experience was losing my ipod on the bus that shuttled us from the jet to the airport. quick huh? I am open to the idea that maybe that was God didn't want me to be distracted as I can be and to experience things in Europe and Tanzania in full thought and able to hear him around me.
Tanzania:
When I arrived in Dar es Salaam, I found that my flight to Mwanza wasn't changed from the original date I was suppose to leave, on the 27th. I arrive at 7am and the soonest flight I could catch was 6pm. A guy at the airport that helps tourist out with planning trips and showing them around also helped me realize my problem and took me into down town Dar to a market. In short it was a good experience to see the city but mostly to have that time with David (which is what he told me his name is, but I think his Tanzanian name is something like Duidu). We talked about family and American business vs. Tanzanian business and I even had a conversation with our Muslim taxi driver through him, apparently about why we don't live 900 years and such anymore like early Old Testament stories. From what I understand, he said it was because everything we eat and drink and breath is so processed now that our bodies aren't as healthy; I think he also connected it with sin at some point, but the translation was hazy. At any rate, I agreed with the general principle, but I wasn't so sure if that was quite why we don't live 900 years anymore. I don't know why though.
Yesterday in Mwanza I was able to begin studying language, Swahili and Sukuma, Swahili more for in Mwanza and Sukuma is more what most of the villages use. I really like the languages, but it has definitely been difficult to keep up, especially without and note book so far. I was was able to play soccer with a bunch of guys here which which was brilliant! they welcomed pretty easily and asked me to come back every night; yeah! they play every night. lots of'em! I'm stoked! I also heard I missed the Africa qualifying match for the world championship or some other between Tanzania and another country which was held in Mwanza (and nothing like that ever comes to Mwanza), so...
A few things off the bat that have been new experiences for me are that there are people everywhere! Everywhere people because people walk everywhere and thus, with all of that foot traffic there are markets and things set of outside everywhere. I don't have anything profound to say about that just yet really; we've almost hit a few in the land cruiser, but I've really enjoyed always having someone to wave at while driving by, especially around the villages, and I am already feeling that I will be very lonely in my car back in America.
Today we went to the village Edonda though, which was surreal and so very real. on the way we stopped by the home of a man named Charles showed us the grave of his 4 month old girl and then hosted a meal of sweet potatoes. Charles has 17 kids I think, by two wives, one of which he took to care for after his brother died. Unfortunately, even though Charles is a leader in the Church by his way of life, it won't officially acknowledge him since he has two wives.
from there we continued to the village where they also insisted on us eating with them a meal of beans and rice with Chi and milk (we actually ate right before we left town). Then we watched and listened to many of the kids sing and dance for us, both before and after A missionary, Calvin gave a lesson. being there to listen and watch those kids, and see how 10s of them chased our car and were so excited about us being there, it was an experience I didn't know what to do with but to smile and express any return thanks and excitement that I knew how.
Sorry it's so long, but I felt the need to catch everyone up, and also just to get it all out of my system. Hopefully they will be shorter from this point... mostly.
I've just finished my second full day here in Mwanza Tanzania, but let me back track a little first, to my first out of the country/Europe experience.
I will worn you now that I am likely to romanticize these stories a little, but that is part of the hearing about my experience aye? That it is through my eyes and my words.
I had one day in London so I took the train from the airport to Peddington station--honestly, I didn't know where I was going and it was probably obvious to most but I think I fooled some that I belonged though. I walked out the nearest way I could find and found myself in Westminster Little Venice for the day, which is exactly what it sounds like. I think my favorite part of it though was where a little alley led between apartment buildings to a little square that was made into a green house and organic market of sorts. There were beautiful plants everywhere, a very classy indoor/outdoor organic cafe' and a quaint little wood shed with a grass roof with fresh bread, jams, spices, cheeses, and wines. It was terrific to say the least, and right in the middle of the city. I fell in love with that quaint little piece of town and thought about how great it would have been to live in one of those apartments over looking the garden on one side and town and the little Venice river on the other, then I remembered that this was just a very little piece of London, much less Europe, and I need to keep my whits about me.
Honestly this wasn't my first memorable London experience though, that would have been when the flight attendant offered me wine on the jet and i declined it thinking she didn't realize I wasn't 21... I shouldn't flatter myself. that only happened once though...
my first memorable land experience was losing my ipod on the bus that shuttled us from the jet to the airport. quick huh? I am open to the idea that maybe that was God didn't want me to be distracted as I can be and to experience things in Europe and Tanzania in full thought and able to hear him around me.
Tanzania:
When I arrived in Dar es Salaam, I found that my flight to Mwanza wasn't changed from the original date I was suppose to leave, on the 27th. I arrive at 7am and the soonest flight I could catch was 6pm. A guy at the airport that helps tourist out with planning trips and showing them around also helped me realize my problem and took me into down town Dar to a market. In short it was a good experience to see the city but mostly to have that time with David (which is what he told me his name is, but I think his Tanzanian name is something like Duidu). We talked about family and American business vs. Tanzanian business and I even had a conversation with our Muslim taxi driver through him, apparently about why we don't live 900 years and such anymore like early Old Testament stories. From what I understand, he said it was because everything we eat and drink and breath is so processed now that our bodies aren't as healthy; I think he also connected it with sin at some point, but the translation was hazy. At any rate, I agreed with the general principle, but I wasn't so sure if that was quite why we don't live 900 years anymore. I don't know why though.
Yesterday in Mwanza I was able to begin studying language, Swahili and Sukuma, Swahili more for in Mwanza and Sukuma is more what most of the villages use. I really like the languages, but it has definitely been difficult to keep up, especially without and note book so far. I was was able to play soccer with a bunch of guys here which which was brilliant! they welcomed pretty easily and asked me to come back every night; yeah! they play every night. lots of'em! I'm stoked! I also heard I missed the Africa qualifying match for the world championship or some other between Tanzania and another country which was held in Mwanza (and nothing like that ever comes to Mwanza), so...
A few things off the bat that have been new experiences for me are that there are people everywhere! Everywhere people because people walk everywhere and thus, with all of that foot traffic there are markets and things set of outside everywhere. I don't have anything profound to say about that just yet really; we've almost hit a few in the land cruiser, but I've really enjoyed always having someone to wave at while driving by, especially around the villages, and I am already feeling that I will be very lonely in my car back in America.
Today we went to the village Edonda though, which was surreal and so very real. on the way we stopped by the home of a man named Charles showed us the grave of his 4 month old girl and then hosted a meal of sweet potatoes. Charles has 17 kids I think, by two wives, one of which he took to care for after his brother died. Unfortunately, even though Charles is a leader in the Church by his way of life, it won't officially acknowledge him since he has two wives.
from there we continued to the village where they also insisted on us eating with them a meal of beans and rice with Chi and milk (we actually ate right before we left town). Then we watched and listened to many of the kids sing and dance for us, both before and after A missionary, Calvin gave a lesson. being there to listen and watch those kids, and see how 10s of them chased our car and were so excited about us being there, it was an experience I didn't know what to do with but to smile and express any return thanks and excitement that I knew how.
Sorry it's so long, but I felt the need to catch everyone up, and also just to get it all out of my system. Hopefully they will be shorter from this point... mostly.
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