Honesty

Last week, as I was walking into the gate of my school/home, the askari (security guard) asked me if I had been eating a lot.  When I attempted to clarify in my terribly small amount of Swahili what he meant, he made a hand motion that made it abundantly clear- he was telling me I had gained weight.  Actually, he was the third person to tell me something of that nature since I had returned from vacationing in South Africa.  The first was the cleaner at my school who literally said "You got fat" in her limited English.  The second was another teacher who told me she could tell I had a good time from my cheaks (as she pinched them).  Now, let me be clear.  This is not the first time my weight has been the topic of conversation.  Once in a while, when I put some effort and wear something flattering to school, the local teachers have a debate when one typically announces "You've lost weight" and someone else jumps in quickly, "No she hasn't."  See, losing weight here is typically seen as a bad thing.  It means you can't afford food or that you're possibly sick.  Having some meat on your bones is a sign of wealth and health.
Now, coming from a culture that is obsessed with losing weight, I have a mixed reaction whenever this comes up.  I know that they are trying to be complimentary and polite (which is considered very important in this culture) when, in fact, it is the opposite of polite in my own culture.  After much though about these comments that come up once in a while, I have decided to enjoy them instead of feeling insulted (which is how my western peers tend to feel).  The fact is, I, as an American, feel a certain way about weight loss and weight gain because of socially imposed messages and standards.  I can choose to separate myself from that and enjoy the fact that people here are trying to be nice and make me feel good.

On a different perspective on honesty, I was told  a few days ago from a woman who has lived here for 30 years about a basic difference in westernized culture and Tanzanian culture.  This difference came up when I was discussing a local who has been teaching for many years and and still needs to be reminded not to leave the children unattended.  The amount of reminders and honesty she is asking people to have with her on a DAILY BASIS is astounding in my point of view.  But the very basic difference of cultures is that my westernized American culture is a guilt culture and Tanzanian culture is a shame culture.  While I would be guilty leaving the children unattended, and thus choose not to do that, she does not feel there is anything wrong with what she's doing unless she is caught.  That's the difference.  Americans have much more of an internal compass and Tanzanians tend to have more of an external compass of "right" and "wrong."  Also, an interesting dynamic is created with this shame culture.  When interacting with Tanzanians, as an outside, I must be careful in certain interactions, such as bargaining.  If I am too loud or forceful, I could potentially shame a vendor.  This is still a dynamic I am exploring  How do I get what I believe is a fair price (or even figure out what's fair) without dishonoring the person I am dealing with?  What am I able to say in public and when is it necessary to give simple criticism (like, "You spelled that wrong") in private?  

South Africa... Not really Africa.

I am finding that it is easiest to write about my travels in a certain country after I have left that particular place.  It helps with perspective, I guess.  Spending my December vacation (it’s summer here) for three weeks in South Africa was…. relieving.  It gave me a break from the sticking-out, the harassment, the smells and the chaos. 

I was travelling with my friend Linda.  She was a great travel partner- we have opposite Travel Handicaps.  I joked that neither of us would have made it through this vacation without the other.  Where I had the memory, she had the sense of direction.  Where I was organized and could find where we put things, she made all of the plans for our lodgings… but couldn’t always find where she put information.  Where I was the driver, she was the map reader. 

South Africa, particularly the Western Cape, was the most civilized, polite country I have ever visited.  Even on the road, there are unspoken rules about passing politely, where the Passer puts on their flashers to thank the Passee and the Passee flashes their lights to say “you’re welcome.”  Well, that couldn’t be accurate.  In South Africa, they rarely say “you’re welcome”- they say “It’s a pleasure.”  How pleasing is that to hear?  Waiters, taxi drivers, the guy who holds the door for you.  They all say it.  It is such a pleasant response to “thank you,” I’m thinking of bringing it back to the states and starting an It’s A Pleasure Revolution.

I was also impressed with the state that South Africa is in with regards to how they take care of their poor.  In some towns, they were neon-vested men who would help you park.  They were energetic and tried to be as helpful as possible, even when no help was needed.  Then, when you returned to your car, they’d show you how they watched over your car to make sure no one scratched it or hurt it in any way.  Then, we learned, the expectation was to tip them the equivalent of 12 to 50 cents.  This is how these towns help to feed and employ the poor.  Linda and I fondly named these guys our Parking Angels.

In general, Linda and I spend our vacation leisurely driving from one end of the Western Cape to the other.  We saw breathtaking landscapes, little shanty towns on the side of the road (they euphemistically call “informal settlements”), meeting friendly locals that didn’t judge us for being American, being disappointed from some hostels and absolutely enchanted by some of the small town guest houses.  We stocked up on wine from our wine tour and drank it each night before dinner.

One activity that Linda and I were looking forward to was the Cape Town Minstrel Carnival.  It is, essentially, a tradition that has been carried on since slavery, when the blacks were only given one day off:  January 2.  It is, essentially, a huge parade that is put on by different communities in and around Cape Town.  Linda and I were blown away at how many people came out to see this, but when we looked closer, we realized that the only other white people there were also tourists.  The crowds were so thick surrounding the streets, Lind and I had to search hard to find a peep hole.  Each act consistently started with small children with a lot of spunk and energy.  These kids weren’t shy.  Then a big band full of horns and drums followed with spirited dancing and mind blowing face paint.  Apparently this goes from about noon to 10 PM, or later (said some).  Each group wore matching outfits with brilliant colors and umbrellas to match.  It was really interesting being at such a large event put on by and for the community.

Shortly after watching that event, Linda and I flew "home"- back to Arusha.  Arriving back at 2 AM, and having an hour drive back to campus, I reflected on my experience for the past 3 weeks and how it felt to be back.  I have to admit, it felt good to have something familiar to return to.  There was a mild sense of "home" that I felt on the drive from the air port.  There was also a sense of anticipation of the harassment, chaos, funky smells and how I am going to truly make this rough-around-the-edges place, truly, my home for two years.

Side note:

If you are reading this, I would LOVE it if you would comment!  Knowing that people are reading, and enjoying, my blogs will help me to write more often.  When you don't say anything, it feels like no one is reading.  It would brighten up my day to hear your thoughts and reactions!