Day Twenty Four

Yesterday I saw a little girl who couldn’t have been more than three years old going down the street on little wooden crutches, which she had to use because she either had no feet or her feet were so shriveled that she couldn’t walk on them. It’s alarming to me the degree to which I’m able to pass things like that every day and be able to shut it out of my mind. Shouldn't I burst into tears or feel a knot in the pit of my stomach or something? I’m afraid that my mind is just processing it and storing it in some deep recess of my mind, where at some point it’s going to burst forth and break me. It’s just doesn't seem possible for someone to walk past these things every day without having some kind of major breakdown at some point.

So much has happened since my last posting. I’m feeling better and more comfortable here. I think I’m allowed a bad day every once in awhile. So during the week, I was lucky enough to attend the graduation party of Mrs. Mwahija Mandara, one of the Bahá’ís here in the city. We went to the restaurant owned by Janet, the seeker who lives on the beach that we visited a week or so ago. There was local food: cassava ugali; some kind of soup that tasted like chicken & dumplings; a banana and meat dish; and various vegetables. Both Mrs. Mandara and her husband, Gideon, have enormous families so there were a great many people there. I was able to take some pictures and post them on my Flickr account, but they’re all pretty horrible because I had the setting for the photo quality on the wrong thing. As if it weren’t obvious enough, I discovered at this gathering that I really need to improve my Kiswahili. I’m using it more in greetings and very simple sorts of things, but I’ve resolved to buckle down and really begin an earnest study of it.

On Friday, Mr. Dermot McHugh came to Dar from the Ruaha Secondary School (supported by the Mona Foundation) in Iringa for the National Teaching Committee (NTC) meeting the following day. He was my primary contact before coming to Tanzania, so it was wonderful to finally be able to meet him. Now I’ll be able to go to Iringa and actually know someone at the school. As seems traditional, he stayed with the Sabets for the weekend in exchange for ice cream, juice, fruits, and other goodies that he brought. He’s originally from the U.S., but he’s been in Africa for something like over 30 years in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (yikes!), Cameroon, Madagascar, and Tanzania.

On Saturday, we had the first real NTC meeting, which turned into an all day affair. The meeting was supposed to begin at 9:30 AM. Three of the members were at an institutional conference in Kenya, so Dr. Sabet told the remaining member (besides Dermot) to be at his house at 8:30. Unfortunately, Africans are never timely. I know it’s a part of their culture and “tolerance” is the order of the day, but it has been very hard for me to adjust to the fact that saying something will happen at a certain time doesn’t mean anything at all. In fact, it’s really just a flat out lie because everyone knows they aren’t going to show up at that time. Anyway... So at 9:30 we called her to see where she was, and she told us she was in the bath! After she arrived, we all headed to the National Centre for our meeting, accompanied by Gershom Mpumbiye, an Auxiliary Board Member from Kigoma region, who was assisting us with planning the National Convention.

Even though the NTC has an official Secretary, I’ve become the actual functioning Secretary. The other Secretary is like the Queen and I’m the Prime Minister or something of the sort. Although I’ve been dealing with only filing for the past three weeks, I actually have real work to do now. The most “exciting” thing I have to do is sometime this week or next week travel to Dodoma, the official capital of the country some 7 or 8 hours away by bus, to help select a venue for the National Convention, as well as make arrangements for housing for all of the delegates and guests. There's also the prospect of being responsible for coordinating the activities of 4 or 5 year of service people coming in the next few months. I don't know how to manage people! It's going to be a nightmare.

On Saturday evening, we had guests for dinner. It was a bit of a sensitive issue regarding the External Affairs Office and the participation of the national community in an interfaith organization, so I won’t go into it too much. Everyone was tired and kind of cranky, but the meeting seemed somewhat productive. At the very least it was nice to have guests in the house and the food was good.

Today, I went for devotions at the National Centre; Dr. Sabet went for an LSA meeting; and Mrs. Sabet went for an External Affairs meeting with Peter Kabisa. Peter Kabisa is worth mentioning because he once dated Rigmor Mereness of the Russellville community when they were in school in the United Kingdom. She told me to keep an eye out for him while I was here, but it seemed unlikely that I’d actually see him. He’s going to help Mrs. Sabet with contacting government officials regarding the latest guidance from the Universal House of Justice on the steadily worsening situation of the Bahá’ís in Iran. It was gotten quite bad for them in the past few months, which I’m sure the National Spiritual Assembly of the U.S. will be informing the friends of shortly.

After devotions, we came back home for lunch and then went to the Dar es Salaam Yacht Club at the invitation of one of Dr. Sabet’s colleagues, Colin. He took us out on his sailboat, which was quite an experience! We sailed to one of the many islands off the coast of Dar (Bongoyo or something like that) and swam around a bit in the ocean. We saw the biggest, nastiest, ugliest jelly fish I’ve ever seen in my life (not that I've seen a lot)! The trip to the island was relatively calm and easy, but on the way back the wind had picked up, so we made it in about half the time it took us to get there. There were also a lot of wind gusts, which tipped the sailboat sideways (at a 35 degree angle at one point!). Mrs. Sabet and May were not amused by that, but Dr. Sabet and I were enjoying ourselves a lot.

When we arrived back at our designated moor, Colin asked Mrs. Sabet to tie these buoy type things onto the side of the boat. They're sort of like big foam cyllinders that keep others boats from slamming into the side of the sailboat when you're boarding or disembarking. We'd already lost one at the island, and then all of the sudden there was this big commotion when Mrs. Sabet dropped another one into the water as she was trying to tie it. With the wind and the current, it was quickly swept away from the boat and out of our reach. So I dove over the side of the boat and swam out to get it. That thing was really moving! I almost couldn't swim fast enough to catch it, but I did. Once I got it, I immediately regretted going after it. It's hard enough to swim in the ocean without a giant, awkward, floating cyllinder in your hand. I managed to make it back to the boat but I was exhausted! Dr. Sabet seemed amazed for the rest of the afternoon that I'd done that. Although in retrospect I guess it might seem out of character for me. I doubt many people can visualize me diving off the side of a sailboat into the ocean to retrieve something.

Dr. Sabet is in the process of applying to become a member of the Club and possibly purchasing a boat, so I imagine we’ll be fortunate enough to spend more time there. But something that bothered me was the segregated atmosphere. I have to admit that I’m definitely living the “mzungu lifestyle,” so I don’t have much room to talk. I live with wealthy foreigners in a guarded compound. Dr. Sabet mentioned that the Club seemed like some kind of distant world from what was right outside the walls, and Mrs. Sabet called it “Tanzanian apartheid.” There wasn’t a single African in that Club that wasn’t working. In fact, the Sabets were the darkest people there. There are some Indian and Asian members, but an African is almost unheard of.

I don’t mean to criticize, but despite recognizing all of that, my hosts still want to be members. May is excited at the prospect of the social status that it will confer on her, since most people in her school at members. How do we as Bahá’ís figure into this? The fact that white people can come into this Club and lounge around while Africans outside the walls engage in back-breaking labor for fewer wages in a month than the white people spend on booze at the Club in a day doesn’t seem quite fair, nor does it seem like something that we should be supporting with our participation. But then again Bahá’u’lláh does not urge us to abandon the things that our hard-earned money can purchase us, including (I guess) membership in a Club where we can enjoy ourselves.

The disparity in this country is really becoming apparent to me. It sticks in the back of my mind when I sit down at the dinner table and our African cook, who makes $80 per month, is bringing the food out to place before us. I recall it when I pass a woman with a child on her back, two massive bottles of water in her hands, and an enormous bag balanced on top of her head while I’m in the luxury climate-controlled car. It’s inescapably obvious when I reflect on the fact that I live a more comfortable life in the fourth poorest country in the world than I did in the wealthiest country on Earth. This hardly seems like Justice; and, yet, what is one to do?