ONE YEAR in Tanzania

The true level of mental, physical and emotional work which would be required in our first year of life in a new country came as a complete shock to us.  We knew transition would be difficult, but man-oh-man did we underestimate the energy required.  We had no way to understand the reduced functional capacity we would experience while exerting this kind of energy.  We didn’t do the math on just how many factors would impact new learning opportunities.  There is just no way to be prepared for what cultural learning ACTUALLY requires.   

For example:   

We didn’t just learn to drive on the other side of the road.  We learned to drive on the other side of the road, while watching out for cows crossing and noticing pedestrians and motorcycles to dodge WHILE being conscientious of the road signs which a policeman might pull you over for not following OR might wave you through and implore you to ignore.   

We did not just learn to hang our laundry to dry, we learned to dry clothes inside during rainy season, coax the washing machine along by filling it from the garden hose when the water pressure was low, and restart loads 103957654392048567 times when the power goes out mid-cycle. Oh, and explain to someone else working in our home how to do all of the above. 

We didn’t just learn to eat new foods.  We learned to go to the grocery store, taking a different path each time because of road work and arrive there only to adapt the meal plan because the thing that has always been there no longer exists or has tripled in price.   And should we adventure out to a restaurant, we learned to not expect the place to have the foods it offers on the menu, to not be able to go to any restaurant quickly, and to not speak aloud the restaurants which may bring tears (C-F-A).  

We didn’t just begin to learn the language of our country- Swahili- we learned a bit about the appropriate times to use our new knowledge and when to claim ignorance, to apologize kindly when you create a big mess of a misunderstanding with the little bits that you do know, and how to always greet well even when you don’t feel nzuri (fine).  

PLUS, maybe even with more difficulty, we learned to communicate with English speaking friends who either use very different English words (I’m looking at you “football match on the pitch” and “sorting the details”) or interpret what we are saying completely differently that we mean it (my “yes” meant you should do that thing.  It did not mean that I agreed with you that “yes, you should NOT do that thing”). 

We didn’t just learn to adventure to new places, we learned to expect delays for inspections, travel HOURS doing your best to avoid a toilet stop and to squat when one couldn’t be avoided, make the most out of traffic jams by having books, podcasts and snacks always available and ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS choose a narrative of “adventure,” even when expectations of what you were hoping to find on the other side are sorely disappointed. 

We learned to translate time. Swahili time begins at 6 am (7= hour 1) and a given start or arrival time is often just an approximation (sometime within the given hour).  And we learned to adjust time across the globe for facetime with friends and family in other parts of the world.  

We did not just learn how to ask for help, we learned who to ask and when to not ask because the person who affirms their ability to provide help may really have no idea what to do.  Out of kindness and a desire to help, you may just end up with a smashed van window when you lock your keys in the car.  Or thanks to directions from someone who doesn’t actually know the way, you may just end up places you have zero business being.

As we celebrated being in TZ one year together as a family, we laughed together about the many things we’ve learned and which we do so differently (brushing your teeth with clean water and remembering to turn on the hot water heater 10 minutes before you shower).   

We learned to save small bills (no one ever has change), check the luku account (electricity), go to the duka for drinking water and top up Mpesa (mobile money) on our phones.  We know now it is possible to buy icecream, tables, pillows and a fishtank while sitting in traffic (sadly, we passed up the latter).

I’m a “stay-near-home MOM” for the first time in my history of motherhood and RRL is actually already in his second vastly different role.  The kids now learn in a totally different kind of school. And we are involved in a different church than the one that has been central to our family for more than 15 years.   

Many other adjustments happened subtly in our hearts as we were far away for births of babies we’d prayed for and deaths of friends we can’t imagine the earth without, or as we saw social media posts about favorite events we were missing.  There is quite a learning required to hold people closely who are so geographically far away. 

The miracle, through all of those lessons:  

1) We all still like each other.  We have had a TON of FUN together this year even in the middle of some really rough spots. 

 and  

2) We are still very certain of the reasons we came.  We have experienced the joy of confidence as we do the very things we were called to do.  Despite barriers, obstacles and stressors the mission is still very clear: 

We came to level the playing field for the 9 of us.  This is a time, clearly defined by the ocean we crossed, in which there was ALWAYS NINE.  Our adventures (Kenya, Zanzibar, Iringa.  Beaches, running, hiking) are not just about fun together, they are about unification for HIS GLORY. 

We also came to learn more about teenagers, especially as they work together multiculturally.  Students have SO much to contribute and from which we can learn.  We must have ears and hearts to hear them as we coach sports teams, facilitate mentor groups and lead the school.   

Finally, we came so that we might return as better supporters.  We are more convinced than ever that this role of supporter is vital to helping those who were called to be “here” (wherever “here” is) be able to stay. 

There are many things about the way we speak, the places we go, the foods we eat, the people we interact with, the tasks which fill our days which are unimaginably different than they were only ONE YEAR ago.  In the midst of change, true consistency shines all the more brightly.  Our God continues to prove Himself unimaginably consistent in His faithfulness. 

We will continue to sing His praises… 

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art 

Only now, sometimes we will sing in Swahili… 

Roho yangu na ikuimbie
Jinsi Wewe ulivyo Mkuu,
Roho yangu na ikuimbie     
Jinsi Wewe ulivyo Mkuu. 

ABL 

If you want to hear more about our journey this first year, and follow along for year 2… please sign up for our newsletter: click here to subscribe.