Goat is Good for the Soul

With only two days to go of In Service Training, the best word to describe my experience is: spent. Meetings begin at 8am everyday and last until 4-6pm each evening. Everything is discussed in English, Swahili, and many variations of Swahinglish. The topics, some interesting, some repulsive range from creating income generation projects for orphans, the relationship between TB and HIV, and the gag-worthy consequences of STI's and irresponsible sex. Needless to say, there has been a barrage of information and it is not unlikely that quite a bit has been lost in translation. Each volunteer has been joined by one Tanzanian from our village and selected as our counterpart, whether temporary or for the duration of our service.

My counterpart is amaaazing. He is the Baptist pastor in Mhaji but is also one of two leaders in the People Living With HIV/AIDS group I now work with. Tanzania is an extremely religious country, and for a pastor to advocate equality and support for all living with HIV, it is nothing short of very special. Although I only plan on working with him for projects regarding AIDS, I couldn't have chosen a more reliable, kind-spirited, and supportive counterpart. He's also REALLY tiny. I hope this information makes you smile as much as it does me: Everyday, no matter the outfit, Milton wears a red belt. This belt is so large that he has to tuck it into every belt hole in his pants until it reaches the middle of his back. He also is an very enthusiastic clapper.

Yesterday, as everyone in the entire world knows, was Obama's innaugaration. As you can imagine, it was a most unusual occasion to observe in Africa. About half of our group decided to watch it at a local Tanzanian bar that serves up some amazing goat. I sat at the main bar for awhile, chatting with people, watching the TV and drinking a cold Tanzanian beer. As Obama began to speak, I pushed myself through the crowd and into a small side room with a TV. At first, I sat on the floor, eyes glued. A barmaid immediately stood up and pushed me into her seat. As I fell in the wooden chair with tattered cushion and no seat cover, against the wall and at an extremely awkward view of the tv inside an iron cage suspended from the ceiling, Tanzania fell away.

Ok, I lied, Tanzania never really falls away. The man next to me persistently slurped his goat soup, barmaids screamed across the room at eachother, and a lone cockroach meandered up and down the wall, only inches from my face. Beyond that, however, I was lost in the moment. As Barak Obama promised to put science to it's proper use and harness natural energy, as he acknowledged those sitting in villages waiting for change to come, I was overwhelmed. I was proud. I was excited. This is a man who made me cry, not from embarassment or shame, but for instilling hope and possibility. The room was spellbound and the night electric. KARIBU SANA BARAKA OBAMA, RAIS WETU MMPYA (A huge welcome to Barak Obama, our new president).

There is one idea I'd like to share with everyone that came from a cross-cultural session we had this morning. We were split into groups: Tanzanians and Americans. We were given a scenario of a post-apocalyptic situation in which 11 people remained to propegate the species. The only remaining safe haven had space enough for 5 people. After receiving small biographies of each person, it was then our duty to kill the other 6. We quickly killed anyone past child-bearing age, of extreme religious persuasion, and let the prostitute, single mother, and teenage boy who believed in abortion to survive. Among those not so fortunate were a 6month-old healthy baby, a middle-aged priest, and 71 year-old doctor, and the 37 year-old wife of a professor we let live. Not a shocking conclusion for young, liberal Americans. Prostitutes can have big hearts and single mothers are survivors!

Who did the Tanzanians keep? The pastor, the married couple and their 6 month-old child, and a teenage boy. How will the species continue? The priest can't have sex, the mother has 2, maybe 3 years of fertility left, and one day in about 15 years the little girl can make babies with the one remaining boy that is not her FATHER. OY VEY. The Tanzanians that decided this are not stupid, in fact, they're extremely intelligent and among the most respected citizens in their village. They were simply trying to form the most reputable group of people to continue the human race. The prostitute, although she had nurses training, was of ill-character and must not reflect the future. The priest, 56-year old and unable to procreate was valued highest as a spiritual necessity. And naturally, the family cannot be spared.

These decisions sparked a bit of fierce debate among the Americans and our counterparts. The take-home story, 'everyone is right and it's a matter of how you were raised blah blah' is not the moral here. What I noticed is that Tanzanians firmly, stead-fastly believe in their choices. And not just in this silly game. There is a single way to do everything and deviating from the point is excruciating.

While this may provoke discomfort or confusion, I really believe that as Americans we will be able to empathize (if not agreeing with) our Tanzanian communities, more than they are willing or capable of empathizing with us. Granted, this skill is a luxury derived from media, moderate wealth in comparison, and American schooling, it has become apparent in my daily activities. Two-years is not long enough to change behavior on a large scale. But behavior change is probably the most imporant facet of my contribution in Peace Corps. If I can teach people why it's important to brush your teeth twice and day and people actually follow through, or if using condoms is mandatory every time, and maybe 1 prostitute listens, well that's going to be a bigger victory than throwing money at the problem or simply getting frustrated and moving on to something else.

I have 3 minutes left on internet so here's a round-up on my social life: DISCO, DISCO, DISCO, goat, beer, DISCO, goat, friends, beer, goat, friends.

Lots of love!

Kate