(DISCLAIMER- I haven’t historically done a whole bunch of shopping before Christmas, nor do I believe all US
Yeah, none of that, which was to be expected because of the cultural differences, but in addition, a very unfortunate event took place just a few days before Christmas this year in Dar es Salaam that made the holidays even more sobering. A flood swept our area (we were on retreat in Tanga with the other 7 Jesuit Volunteers who are stationed in two other Tanzanian communities, so we were not in the area during the worst of it), and it left an enormous amount of damage in its wake. A river runs through Mabibo, and it flooded pretty badly, damaging houses and stripping many families of most of their possessions. One of the families who invited us for a meal within the first week of my arrival also invited us over for a visit on Christmas. They are a beautifully kind family, with many children (the youngest attends Gonzaga school), but live in a level of poverty that I had not been exposed to until visiting their house in early December. A few-room house, dirt floors, very simple and sparse furniture, open to the elements, and unfortunately located on very low ground. About 4.5 feet of water swept into their house during the days of the flood, and while the family all made it out safely, most of their few possessions did not. When five of us visited on Christmas, the water marks on the walls were still visible and the floor still soft and muddy. Damp clothes were hanging around the interior, and apart from a few wooden frames that we sat on during the visit, mostly everything else was gone, including all of the children’s school supplies. But the visit was still so pleasant and warm. The family laughed and offered us each a few chunks of duck, an enormous gesture. We found out shortly thereafter that Gonzaga Primary School was also hit with about 4-5 feet of water and lost everything on the first floor, including its two computers, all of the food stored up for the term, books, and files*. The walk to the school itself was difficult with all of the mud, overflowing water, and debris cluttering the area. For two days after Christmas, we spent our time hand-wash hundreds of mud-caked uniform pieces for the upcoming year, scheduled to begin on January 9th. Growing up with a washing machine makes you a terrible hand-washer, no matter WHAT sorts of skills you may have, and I seriously lack the proper skills anyway. My knuckles were bleeding after shirt number 10, and I still have scabs. Clearly my technique wasn’t the best, but washing the uniforms was a definite change of pace from most of my past post-Christmas activities, which usually include trying out whatever new things I receive as gifts. When we went to Christmas mass, which was all in Swahili, the priest reiterated the main point of his homily in English so that we could understand- The flood was very damaging, but there were few casualties, we have our health for the holidays, and we are able to celebrate as a community… how fortunate that makes us. It was pretty crazy to hear but also really amazing and powerful (especially since it was the first thing in an hour or so that I was able to understand… the Swahili is still going very slowly). I’m beginning to miss home and am already frustrated with some of the cultural differences that I am encountering, but moments like the ones I experienced on Christmas make me realize how ridiculous a lot of my frustrations are. I felt like I was in who-ville. People kept on singing.
After Christmas, the 11 volunteers went to Moshi to see Mt.
*If you are interested in helping Gonzaga Primary School
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