Wanawake (women) of AFRICA

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.