KiswaFrEnglichi

Whoever told me that classes are easy during a semester abroad should stop spreading such lies. Every week is not syllabus week here. To make things even harder, the people in my group are some of the brightest students in African politics. A couple of them live in a parallel universe where it is normal for college students to wake up unnecessarily early to study… (yes, I’m talking about you, Stanley… and I know you’re reading this, too!). So I apologize for not updating sooner… my classes are to blame.

Things are beginning to settle down here in Arusha. My days are more structured, making time pass uncommonly quickly. A day feels like an hour, a week seems like a day.

One of the most unexpected obstacles that I’ve faced thus far is the language barrier. No, not between English and Kiswahili… but between French and Kiswahili. After years of French class, apparently my brain has been trained to think in French whenever I hear a foreign language. This can make things awkward. I think I’ve confused a couple street vendors by subconsciously responding with French greetings. When I’m trying to translate a sentence from English to Kiswahili, I find myself filling in the holes with French words. Mais franchement! Although it is sometimes confusing, my French has come in handy at the ICTR and African Court, where it is the primary language of International Law. Perhaps there was a part of me that knew I wanted to pursue International Relations on that fateful pre-sixth grade day when I chose to take French instead of Spanish.

It’s humbling, awkward, overwhelming, and thrilling to live in a country with which I don’t share the language. Although I love French, I have never been in a position where I really needed to know it to get by. Many Tanzanians speak English, but we’ve learned that it is much more appreciated if we speak (or at least try to speak) in Kiswahili instead. Therefore, my roommates and I have turned our apartment into a real-life Rosetta Stone. Doors, windows, bathroom, toothbrush, table, phone, light, shoes, toilet paper, kettle, plates—everything is artfully labeled with a colorful post-it note bearing its Kiswahili name. I have never been more motivated to learn a foreign language! Naturally, the first full sentence that I formed was “I like to eat bread”…(Ninapenda kula mkate). That’s pretty much all I need in order to get by.

It’s always fascinating to make friends in a foreign country because it seems so perfectly random. The four Americans that we met at Via Via on Thursday invited us to church with them on Sunday. While almost everyone was still in bed, Hannah and I decided to wake up early Sunday morning to check it out. The service was held at PePe’s Italian and Indian Restaurant, about a 15-minute walk from our apartment. Our American friends (Andrew, Karissa, Jenna, and Adam) welcomed us and we took a seat outside under a pavilion for the service. I looked around and saw an interesting mix of locals and muzungus (westerners). The service attracts muzungus because it’s relatively contemporary and completely in English. To be honest, there wasn’t much difference between this Vineyard service and a service at Oxford Bible Fellowship (except Kevin rocking out on the bass, of course). The biggest difference was the context. The pastor delivered a sermon on Biblical Stewardship that was striking similar to Pastor Jeremy’s stewardship message last year. The message took on a whole new meaning now that I was living in one of Africa’s poorest nations. It’s always challenging and refreshing to re-think the way I spend the money that I have been given. It’s easy to talk about charitable giving, but living in Arusha has given me a unique opportunity to give both my time and my money in ways that live out Matthew 6:21. What a joy, what a responsibility! Later in the week I attended a small Bible study with Jenna, Andrew, and Karissa.

Another fascinating friend that we’ve made in Arusha is Lalahe, the absurd Maasai dancer/warrior. A perk of being friends with Lalahe is that you always feel safe when he’s around because he carries a stick in one hand and a machete around his waist. We weren’t bothered once when a couple of us went on a walk with Lalahe on Tuesday. I quickly lost track of how far we’d gone because I was so fascinated by his comments. We got into a discussion that compared western weddings to Maasai weddings, and he was astonished when we told him that you are only allowed to have one wife in the United States (“You can have three wives where you are from, yes?”… “No, Lalahe, only one.”… “So, three?”… “…no, just… one” …long pause… “oh!”). We even tried to breach the controversial topic of gay marriage, but that was so far beyond him that we should’ve saved it for another day. The best part of the conversation was when he invited all of us to his friend’s wedding in the beginning of March. Lalahe said that it is his friend’s first wife, so the wedding will be huge… “lots of dancing,” he said. Apparently it’s acceptable to invite strangers to a Maasai wedding because Lalahe assured us several times that it would be okay if we came with him. Details are hard to get from Lalahe, especially since he always approximates dates and numbers. Hopefully all the details will fall into place so that we can go to his village for the wedding… who knows, maybe I’ll earn a spot among them for battling one of their own…