Many Types of Independence...

Happy Independence Day to those of you back home in the States! Another gorgeous day in Mwanza...more time with the grandmothers, and a nice lunch next to the pool at Mary Martin's hotel. Now, I'm back at the Treehouse for a little "alone-time", something I really need when the world is too much with me. Maddie is swimming, MM is visiting a Hindu temple, and I'm posting this blog in the peace and quiet of our room here, as the breeze blows through the whole house, goats bleat on the hillside, and windchimes sound on the veranda.

So, let me tell you about Devote, one of the Tanzanian grandmothers, or "bibis". One of the first things I noticed about her is the weight she seems to be carrying, though she has only one grandchild in her care and the others have so many more. But in the past couple of days, as we've heard her story, that burden has been more clearly defined- and my heart has broken for her over and over again.

Devote was educated though the tenth grade (second form here), and longed to become a nurse so that she could help the sick and less fortunate, as her greatest joy comes in helping people. "And," she added, "I liked the uniforms." She had to drop out of school to help at home, so further education was not possible. She married and over the course of years, gave birth to 10 children... and here the story of her sorrow begins. Five of those children died in the first couple of days of life and, subsequently, three more died in childhood of high fevers of short duration (most likely malaria). So this lovely, intelligent woman had only 2 children grow to adulthood, a son and a daughter. It was only after she had been widowed that she began her small baking business to support herself and her children.

Then, a couple of years ago, her daughter died at age 18 of AIDS, leaving behind a new baby, Susanna. And now, Devote is caring for that lovely child, taking the business skills training offered by the Tanzania Home Economics Association in cooperation with the Nyanya Project, in the hope of growing her business and increasing her profits, in this way giving Susanna a better life. In fact, her fondest hope is that Susanna will become a nurse. We were graciously invited into her home where she shared the hospitality of her story and her donuts with us, as we all fell in love with Susanna. How can one possibly hear such a story of ongoing and prolonged suffering and not be touched to the very core? I have suffered the death of one child; I simply cannot imagine losing eight! No wonder Devote told us that at times, when all of this was happening, she felt like she was going crazy. And so, all of you dear ones back in the States, I give you just a small taste of why I am coming to love these courageous, determined women, with their incredible patience and endurance.

I also love the sound of the Swahili language! Some of the words and expressions fall so beautifully on my ears: "wanawake"- the word for women;

"umoja nguvu"- unity is strength; "lala salama"- good night; and "Jina wajuku tisa"- I have nine grandchildren. (remember to pronounce every syllable and virtually every letter; A is ah, E is aye, I is ee, O is aw, and U is ooh.) As I prepare to sit outdoors on the veranda for the next hour to read and think and process, I say to you KWAHERINI- good-bye to all of you...from Tanzania with love.

Getting to Know You...

First full day here (and I mean FULL!) Visited an amazing women's cooperative here in Nairobi called Amani Yaa Juu, where Kenyan women, as well as refugee women from a number of surrounding countries, come to learn a variety of handcrafts which are then sold in the lovely shop. I could have spent many $$$$, but restrained myself and bought only a few items I absolutely loved.

Then we met with three grandmothers: Magdalene, Beatrice, and Margaret. Magdalene works with TNP, a liason between grandmothers and projects; Beatrice is one of the grandmothers working at the pre-school center; and Margaret is the sister of one of our grandmothers who recently died (or as they say here, "passed away". The word in Swahili for "died" is considered rather harsh, meaning that the death was painful and difficult, and is reserved for accidental or unexected death.) The direct cause of Juliana's passing was cholera, which causes severe, unrelenting diarrhea. As she was HIV positive and had been on ARVs (anti-retroviral drugs) for a number of years, her immune system was quite depleted and she was unable to cope with the assault on her body. Cholera...a bit hard to get one's mind around in this day and age, isn't it? Seems to belong in Medieval days...but here it is, in 2010.

Margaret, at age 37, has two children of her own, is caring for four other orphans in her home, and will now be responsible for the four granddaughters of Juliana (with the help of Beatrice, who was Juliana's best friend)- and she is also HIV-positive. It boggles the mind! We were able to give her a small finanacial gift, for which she was most grateful, thanking both us and God profusely. But school uniforms, fees, and supplies come to about $350 per year and at least seven of the children in her care are school-age. All I could think of as I heard her story is how much complaining we in the U.S. have been doing during the ecnomic downturn about our finances...oh, my...I think I will be ashamed to ever complain about money again. And Margaret's story is only one of so, so, so many here in Africa.

Our driver/translator is Julius and what we'd do without him I am not at all sure. Driving here in Nairobi is an absolute fright! Red lights seem to be "suggestions", if anyone notices them at all, as vehicles zig and zag everywhere, cutting in and out of traffic. I am certain that the word "merge" is not part of the driving vocabulary, either...in fact the predominate driving mentality seems to be of the kamikaze sort. Can't begin to say how many times I expected to hear the squeal of brakes and the crunching of fenders but with Julius at the wheel, we got everywhere quite safely, though I wonder if my white hair isn't a bit whiter! or at least standing up on end- though with my spiy hairdo, who could tell?

Maddie, the Wake Forest student who has been interning with Mary Martin throughout this past semester, has been having an amazing experience here, living with several families out in the countryside, and learning about life first-hand. She and I have decided that, based on some of the research she has been doing, we will eschew a couple of the pricier hotels which were tentatively booked, and instead stay at two hostel-type places, one in Mwanza, Tanzania, the other in Kigali, Rwanda. Makes me quite happy to do this, both in terms of saving money and in living nearer the people I hope to get to know a bit better.

Funny thing...though my last trip to this continent was ten years ago, it has felt a bit like coming home for me...odd, isn't it, since my "home" is so very far away...and yet something here draws my heart in a way I cannot yet explain but can only feel. 'Til next time...