The Eads to Tanzania

Road Closed, Cultural Lessons Opened

While in town today, we were driving up the hill toward the hospital and took a side street to go pick up Grace and Silas. They have been going every so often to a nursery school when we run our weekly errands. As we came over the hill, we saw a Caterpillar backhoe loader and a large pile of dirt that is stretched across the whole road. As we get closer, we realized that between the time that we had dropped the kids off (9 am) and the time that we were now returning to pick them up (11 am), a city work crew had dug a 3' deep trench across the road in order to replace a water main. There was no way that we were going to be able to pass.

There was no sign to say that work was taking place, that there was a detour, or that the road was now completely impassible. There was no problem parking in the middle of the road. I wasn't going to be in anyone's way . . . because there was no way.

So I got out of the car, exchanged greetings with the three workers, then I said, "We are trying to pass by in order pick up our kids from nursery school. Is there another way to get around?"

The supervisor of the crew looked at me with a somewhat startled look. "You want to get by? (His facial expression betrayed that this was the first time that he had thought about the problem of an impassible road.) Well, if you wait, we will be filling the hole in soon and then you can pass." He made this last comment as though he was saying, "It's your problem, not mine."

I playfully jested, "I wanted to pick up my kids today, not tomorrow." The driver of the backhoe burst out laughing. The supervisor joined him. The smirk on his face let me knew that he realized I was teasing. I thanked them and went back to the car.

Jana went by foot to get the kids while I stayed with the car. As I leaned against the front end, waiting for their return, I realized that I had a visible illustration of a clash of cultural values.

Coming from a preventative culture, I had been accustomed to expect that road work would be marked some distance before it is approached, that there would be a detour route to follow, or that the road would simply be marked as closed. Road workers should be identified by their bright orange apparel. Someone should have thought about the solution before the problem arose.

Yet, things are different here. Many of these same expectations are not present, but in their place, another set of expectations lie. A greater level of patience is expected when things don't go as planned. Solutions to problems are to be considered when the problem arises, not much before.

It feels like life here is less predictable, less consistent, less dependable. You feel less in control, like you have less choices. You feel like you have to make decisions based on less information than you would want. 

So in a world like that, why plan to prevent things that will probably never happen? If the array of preventatives become more complicated than the problem they are designed to prevent, then much of the prevention seems to be a waste of time. 

(Isn't that the reason that you will readily set aside the owner's manual for some new electronic gadget and try to figure it out yourself, instead of reading it from cover to cover. Admittedly, it is easier to wait until a problem arises, instead of investing all of the time in trying to bypass it.)

You can easily spend eight hours planning for an event here that, because a turn of events, will never happen. I have. But, over time, you learn to build in room for adjustment, make room for planning on-the-go. You learn to not overplan.

So, as I stood leaning against our car, looking at the deepening trench, I was reminded of just one more way my two worlds are different.

27 Aug 2009

I got back to Mwanza from Nyakaliro on Monday morning. I woke up at 4:15 am to catch a 5:30 am bus. I was home by 10:00 am. Not bad. The week was very profitable. I filled half of a notebook with my scribbles, pictures, and arrows, as I learned more about the traditional religions and local government. I now have a lot more to write about. My rough draft for the paper now has 21 pages, single-spaced. I imagine that it will be near 100 pages by the time that I am finished in December. 

This week I have been dividing my time between writing, interviewing, and getting the solar electricity systems purchased and prepared for our new houses at the Tumaini property. We will be living off of the power grid, and there is a learning curve with all of the terminology, conversion ratios, etc. But the work should be well worth it. We are excited that it should mean more reliable electricity (I am typing this during a power outage in the dark.).

Dan in Nyakaliro

This is Jana.

If you follow the Howell's blog, you may have noticed here that Dan left for Nyakaliro early Tuesday morning and will get back next Monday. We are all missing him here, but he has already called once and told us that is is having a VERY profitable time. Please join us in praying for safety, health, and a productive time for him there.

New Friends

These three boys are Issac, Elisha, and Eliya. They will be our neighbors on the Tumaini property soon . They are Pastor Samson’s boys.

 

Family Structure and Storage Structure

This week, about half of my time has been in my office writing my ethnography, and the other half has been out talking with friends to confirm what I am writing is true. I have been developing my sections in the paper on family structure, African Traditional religions, agriculture, food, etc. The paper is still in its rough draft, but every week it is taking shape more and more.

Also, Rob had a couple of updates here and here on the construction of the garage at Tumaini. I will be trying to post photos of developments there in coming days. In fact, I would like to be giving a picture tour of the property soon.

Power Out, Daddy! Power Out!

There has been a pattern that I have seen develop over the last few months with our two kids, and today when I was thinking about it, it made me laugh to myself. I thought that I would share it.

"The power is out!" is a very common phrase in our house. Unlike when we lived in the States, we will often remark to one another here about how surprised we are that the power stayed on so that we could finish some task. "Isn't that great that the power stayed on long enough for me to charge my computer battery?" "Oh, the power went out just as I finished cooking dinner. What a relief!" "Well, it was nice that we were able to buy some more candles today."

So, what makes me chuckle is that my three-year-old and two-year-old have come to see it as their explanation for most phenomena.

When I shut the light off in their bedroom at night, Grace will exclaim, "Hey, the power went out!"  When Jana flips on the kitchen light in the morning, I will hear Silas say, "Power on, Mommy! Power on!" When the water won't come out the of the shower head in the bathroom for some yet undiscovered reason, Grace comments, "Oh, well I guess that the power is out." If the two of them are watching a video on my laptop in the living room, and I am working in my office, I know when the FBI warning has faded away and the previews are about to begin when I hear Silas say to the black screen, "O-oh, power off, Mommy, power off!"

Something so rare as a power outage in America is something that we expect here nearly every day. We all have grown accustom to it, but especially the kids.

Jeremiah 17:9-10

This was my text for today. I was really challenged by the text . . . and the task. I am finding that I am more comfortable preaching the narrative or the history portions of Scripture than I am in other genres. I have purposefully been picking texts from different areas of the Bible (first, Paul's epistles, then a parable of Jesus, a history portion, a psalm, and now prophetic/wisdom). It has been stretching me in my vocabulary and in my presentation. I have thought that the psalm and the prophetic literature have been the most difficult to prepare so far.

I am "righteously discontent" (if I can use such a phrase) with where I am at now. I definitely see progress from one event to the next (and I am thankful for that), but I am never satisfied with it. I can't be, or I will slow down. So, each month when I preach, it gives me fresh ideas of exercises that I can do to improve my Swahili, and it leaves me determined to do better next time.