Let's Talk About Culture

I went to school today, and all of the chairs were gone.  Apparently the president of Zanzibar is in town, and over the weekend all the chairs were trucked away to be used at presidential meetings.  So class is cancelled today.  Not sure when we'll start up again.  I'm learning not to be surprised by events like this.  I guess I have some free time to update the blog! 

I've had some conversations with people in the States recently about lifestyle differences between there and here.  The differences are hard to wrap my mind around; I feel so embedded in my experience here that it's hard to know what you will find surprising and what's already crystal clear.  I've been having a lot of random thoughts on different topics, so I've written a bunch of them down as little blurbs below.  With luck, some of them will be thought provoking for you.

On Tanzanian perceptions of America:
My impression is that Tanzanians get most of their ideas about America from TV and from rumors that get passed around in conversation.  Their clearest idea is that everyone in America is rich, and people balk when I try to explain the poverty that exists for some Americans.  TV images subtly present the idea that all of America looks like downtown New York City, Chicago, or LA.  I've got lots of pictures on my living room wall of rural areas in the States, and people who visit me have a hard time believing that they are pictures of America.  One picture is of my brother and me in the bone-dry Southeast of Washington, on a two lane road surrounded by brown grass and small shrubs (here on our bike blog if you're interested).  The most common first guess is that it's a picture from Tanzania.

A common rumor that people hear is that "everyone in America owns a car."  Owning a private car is a huge symbol of wealth and status here; "everyone has a car" could translate to "everyone is upper class."  I often try to put this into perspective by explaining that many Americans are in the same situation as daladala (a pickup truck used as a bus) drivers in Pemba: They need a car to have work, but after small wages, car repairs, and gas, they don't have much money left over.

On American perceptions of Africa:
I say Africa because most Americans don't know much, if anything, about Tanzania.  That's not an indictment; I didn't know anything about the country when I got my Peace Corps invitation.  I think the reason for this is because of the type of African news that sells in America.  Usually it's about dictators, disease, war, rape, poverty, or Westerners saving Africans from these problems.  Tanzania's got Mt. Kilimanjaro, the Serengeti, the Masai people, Lake Victoria, Zanzibar, and was the home of some of the earliest humans.  So why has no one heard of it?  My theory: Tanzania's problems are big, but not as big as those in a lot of other countries in Africa.  It's a safe place.  People here are proud of being from a peaceful nation.  It's not in bad enough shape to make a splash in American news.

On Community and Support:
Family and community ties are very strong here.  Extended families hang together and support each other.  If someone is sick or injured and can't afford the hospital, the money will come; everyone gives what they can afford, large or small.  If a young person is unemployed (this is very common), the family supports them; they will not go hungry or sleep on the street.  I have a friend who's father has Alzheimer's and is in deteriorating physical condition.  He needs support in all of his waking hours, and the help is there.  Family members (mostly his children, my friend included) have assigned days to care for him.

On the community level, where many building projects stall or take years to complete, Mosques are constructed quickly.  The whole community sees them as important, so if there's a shortage of money, people will inevitably step up and give more.

On Population Growth:
As illustrated above, having a big family means you have more support, especially in your elderly years.  Having lots of children is a BIG DEAL.  I'm asked very commonly if I have kids, when I will start having kids, why I haven't had any kids yet, how many kids I plan on having, and if I need a Pemban wife to help me get some kids.  People think it's very odd that Americans often have only one or two.  I'm worried that Pemba is headed for big problems with population density.  The island already has people everywhere you go.  50% of the population of Tanzania is 15 or younger.  Pemba doesn't seem to be an exception, and limited space and resources are a much bigger issue here than on the mainland.  Family planning is a foreign concept; not only are children looked at as an unquestionable positive, but also for a woman to ask her husband to use condoms is basically to imply that he's being unfaithful.

On Money and Employment:
As I mentioned, unemployment is very high here, especially among young adults.  Many feel angst over their situation the same as Americans do.  It's expected that before a man can marry, he must have a house for his new family.  A lot of the young men I know are very distressed by this; they want to move forward with their lives and build a family, but they have to wait.  The jobs that are available usually involve bad working conditions and low pay.  Recently there's been an island-wide construction project; an internet fiber optics cable is being laid from one end of the island to the other.  One branch of it actually comes to the cell phone tower next to my house.  I've watched as crews of workers (mostly Kenyans from what I hear) dig the miles of trenches where the cable will be laid.  The other volunteers and I kept wondering why the work was being done by foreigners when there are so many unemployed Pembans.  The answer: Why would you want to dig ditches from sun up until sundown in tropical heat for 4,000 shillings (about $2.50) a day?  I've heard some people accuse Tanzanians of being lazy, but I think they have a different set of priorities than Americans.  You can't build a house on $2.50 a day, nor can you start a family.  I've worked jobs for bad pay before, but often it was out of a very "American" desire to be self-sufficient.  For young men here, it makes little sense to break your back working if you're not going to be able to support a family; it makes more sense to continue taking your family's financial support while you look for something better.

On Functionality:
Standards are different here when judging the quality of all sorts of things.  People aren't big on presentation (unless it's quality of clothes; people always look their best. Items, on the other hand, do not need to look their best).  The word safi in Kiswahili translates directly as clean, but it gets used to mean clear, high quality, or to say that something works well.  I bought a mountain bike last year that is safi sana (very clean/nice).  I found that the front disc brake was rubbing on the brake pads, so I took it back to the shop and asked for help fixing it.  The shop workers seemed rather dubious; I could see in their eyes they were thinking, "the bike goes, right?  You can pedal and you can stop, right?  What's the problem?"  I felt a little awkward.  From their perspective, I had bought something really nice from them, and then I was coming back to complain about something frivolous.

In another instance, one of my local friends and I borrowed a hoe from a neighbor to turn the soil in my garden.  While trying to dig out a reluctant root, the wooden head that the hoe blade was wedged onto broke.  I felt bad, and tried to tell my friend that I would buy a new handle for the hoe.  He was adamantly opposed, and by using some spare nails and screws as wedges he was able to reattach the blade to the handle.  It was surprisingly secure and worked well, but didn't look very good.  I was still nervous to return the hoe in this condition.  "No," my friend said, "it's safi sana."  It works.

On The Cleanliness of Food:
Food is similar to the functionality discussion.  I buy street food in places that once would have made me very nervous, but I've learned that the standard to measure things by is not how many flies are buzzing around the food, not how greasy the surfaces are, not how dusty the surroundings are, but just "was it cooked recently?" I distrust cold food unless it's fresh fruit or veggies, or baked.  When you get street coffee or juice, the cups are rinsed in water between uses (the same water, without soap, all day).  This makes some foreign visitors cringe.  But I drink coffee and juice almost every day.  Fish and beef are caught/slaughtered, and then sit out in the warm day, flies humming around, waiting for people to come buy them.  People here are just less germaphobic than we're used to being in the States, and they follow what makes sense: cook your meat all the way through and you won't get sick.  It may not be as pretty as meat packed under plastic in a supermarket, but it works.

On Heat, Humidity, and Air Conditioning:
When I talk to people at home, they always want to know how hot it is here.  I'm never quite sure; I haven't seen any public thermostats, but I can get a rough estimate by looking up the weather in Stonetown, the capital of Zanzibar on the bigger island of Unguja.  Apparently today it's 82 degrees Fahrenheit and 76% humidity, and it's overcast and rainy.  It feels a lot hotter when the sun is shining.  I sweat when I go out for a walk.  I sweat a lot when I eat heated food, day or night.  Pretty much I'm sweating all the time.  I'm sweating as I write this!  Funny thing is that I don't notice much anymore.  I think what makes us complain about heat is the contrast with air conditioning.  I was much more uncomfortable in Fresno or Davis, CA in the summer, when I was constantly going between indoor areas set at 65 degrees and the 100 degree outdoors.  Without that constant contrast, you adapt (or should I say submit?) to the heat and humidity.  It's usually not on my mind.  Makes me wonder if air conditioning is really a luxury or just something that makes us want to avoid the outdoors.


Hmmmm.  Seems that when I get going I write a lot.  And I haven't even started talking about Islamic culture!  I think I'll save that for a post of its own; this post has gotten long enough (and I should probably do some lesson planning).  But before I go, I'll add the regular dose of pictures!  On Easter a bunch of us went to Misali Island (I wrote a post in November about my first visit to Misali).  This was my first time going at low tide, and the coral there is amazing!  Acres of it in ankle deep water!  It was just as colorful as any Easter Egg hunt.  We were also a walking advertisement for English as an international language: our group of 7 represented America, England, The Philippines, and The Netherlands.  Lots of fun accents!

On the boat to Misali.  I love this pic of Juanito!

Coral everywhere!

Nemo!

Starfish!  It was so big and colorful, it almost didn't look real.

This one too!  Then it squirted water on Fredrik, so we knew it wasn't fake.

Purty fish, and giant sea urchins!

Giant clams were all over the place!

Old coral formations at low tide

An Easter kanga!  A gift from Lizabeth (far right) and Fredrik (3rd from right) to Juanito.  Quote in Swahili translated as "The lamb of the lord shall overcome."  Also I am tall.