Love ❤️

 

Love! The feeling comes upon me so frequently here - when the students come running out of the school house welcoming us enthusiastically, when I see the female Tanzanian maternal health workers gently providing  villagers support, when I see barefoot villagers all banding together to push a stuck farm vehicle out of the mud, or when a young single mom with 5 children welcomes us into her dirt-floor brick shack with a smile and a welcome “karibu”. Yes, these moments also happen at home, but against the backdrop of extreme poverty in these remote rural Tanzanian villages, and the multiplicity of hardships endured by most people here, the feeling is especially poignant. 

In the afternoons, we’ve been attending mental health visits in the villages with Regina, a young Tanzanian who is finishing her Masters in sociology. Regina briefs us on the issues the mothers are facing, from illness of both themselves and their children, to husbands who visit witch doctors, drink too much chang’aa (a homemade ferment of sugar cane), or are abusive. It is often hard for me to listen -  patriarchal society here gives men most of the freedoms and decision-making power while women are saddled with huge families, and tough domestic chores (like hauling water, firewood, huge bags of corn), and the cycle of abuse of women continues, despite changing national and local laws. 

I was moved to tears yesterday when a young (22 year old) mother shared her problems with us during a visit. She had reported repeated spousal abuse to the village leaders, but she, an orphan herself with 3 young children, no money, and no place to run away to, felt hopelessly stuck. We informed her of the men’s group that Global Volunteers is hosting in an attempt to get men to learn to behave more equitably towards women, but she doubted that her husband would be willing to participate. We gave her as much hope and affirmation as we possibly could, and we all cried together. It was impossible not to. 

Despite the fact that many of our students are stunted, they come to school in tattered, dirty uniforms and worn (or no) shoes, with empty bellies, the young people here are a bright light. They always greet us enthusiastically and love to practice whatever English they might have (we hear “hello teecha” a lot when walking around Ipalamwa). We see them playing together outdoors with sticks, dirt piles, or vines that they weave together as ropes. They take care of their siblings, sing together beautifully in church, and play ball games with village neighbors wherever they can find a patch of ground. I’m reminded of the pre-computer screen days when children played together outdoors until the sun went down. 

And there are so many young people! The average age in this part of Tanzania is 17.6. Families are very large, kids are everywhere, and we don’t see many people around our age, as the average life expectancy is around 60. I’m certain that if I had been born here, I would no longer be alive. My rare cancer would likely never have been diagnosed, and even if it were, the complicated treatment I received simply isn’t available here. 

I know I will return home in a few weeks feeling so, so privileged, with so many memories of the hardships, but also of the love that I have witnessed here.

Steve helping replant the earth boxes with cabbage

Steve teaching one of our students how to say “I would like”

Typical brick Ipalamwa home - no electricity nor running water, and maybe as many as eight people living in it. A fortunate homeowner would have a small patch of land in their yard to grow corn and beans. 

The villager in the middle (with the red head wrap) is a 30-year-old mom with 8 kids. Regina and I were admiring her earth boxes and chicken coop, both made possible by Global Volunteers.