Monday, September 5, 2016

Piga Stori

It has been a LONG TIME since I've written here, wow. Instead of
taking a lot of time apologizing and explaining, let me just jump into
the post I've been dying to share with you all! enjoy :)


 In Swahili to "Piga stori" is to share time together while throwing
around stories, news and happenings of life. Teachers will invite me
during breaks to slow down and Piga stori. Friends around the
neighborhood always encourage me to Piga stori before I continue on my
way. Fellow parishioners at church will keep me, often longer than i
thought possible, to Piga stori. There are innumerable stories from
each day, and I'm blessed to be able to share them with my community
mates, fellow teachers, neighbors, students, religious Fathers,
Brothers and Sisters, as well a some people back home. I wish I could
share every story with you, but your time and mine limits us to a few
stories here and there. But for this post I want to share some
snapshots, accompanied by their stories, to Piga stori with you.


 
  Saturday mornings are the key meeting time for our parish's weekly
neighborhood prayer groups, called "jumuiya". There are dozens
jumuiyas in our church of 1000+ families, each consisting of a nook of
town. Our jumuiya consists of a section of Area C, and our patron is
St Gabriel the Archangel, so I feel especially at home considering my
home parish back in Neenah bears the same namesake. Since I went for
the first time a few weeks ago I've been warmly, if not aggressively,
welcomed back. One morning after a late night I was woken up by knocks
at our gate and, sure enough, it was a concerned neighbor wondering if
I got the news about where jumuiya would be held that morning. I
shuffled my way out of the house and did my best to join in prayers
and rosary, but I have to admit that most of what looked like deep,
contemplative prayer was actually snoozing. I was made wide awake by
the announcement about where jumuiya would take place the following
week; our house! This picture is of our jumuiya--thirty
strong!--praying on our front porch one early Saturday morning. It was
a beautiful thing to welcome our neighbors and friends, including our
pals Aloyce and Edwardi who own nearby shops. Everyone, from bibis to
watoto were there; grandmas and children alike sharing in a morning of
prayer and community.

 One evening I was doing some laundry outside when I looked across the
street and saw a beautiful golden glow on the treetops. I knew the sun
was setting so I finished hanging my clothes, grabbed my camera, and
climbed on to our roof to see if I could enjoy the view and capture a
photo. Unfortunately the trees had grown too leafy to look west (last
time I was on the roof was before the rainy season) but looking north
I got this beautiful view. Our beloved rock-hill in the distance is
about to be doused with rain and my neighborhood friend Deriki is
finishing playing before he gets soaked. Sure enough, as soon as I
climbed down from the roof the rains came in buckets, quite literally;
we try to save extra water in buckets from showering, laundry and rain
to flush the toilet. That evening our community shared a yummy dinner,
prayed with a relaxing spirituality night, and slept deeply as the
rain gushed over our tin roof.

 At school, sports is a much-needed release from the daily grind of
lessons, exams and maintaining discipline where nearly a thousand
students can easily overwhelm about 100 teachers and staff, and vice
versa. Lately I've been trying to make more time for sports with the
students; once a week I try to either join in for basketball,
slacklining or badminton. When I play basketball we usually pair up
and play winner-stays in short games. I enjoy setting up my slackline
behind the barbershop hut, utilizing the only two trees on the
compound big enough to support a slackline (the school is so new the
rest of the trees are more or less saplings!). This picture is of a
fun day of teacher-student badminton games. I joined some students in
a round of quick winner-stays games and soon other teachers wanted in
on the fun too. My teacher friend Ogola (far left) recommended we play
teacher vs student; winner stays and loser switches out for another
teacher or student. He dominated the court for a long time, calling
out "next!" as he swept the court clean of unworthy opponents from the
student side. After he lost, it was my turn so I did my best to hold
my own for a long time, bringing great cheers from the onlooking
teachers. We teachers had to catch our bus into town, but we decided a
badminton tournament would be in order for the coming weeks.

 Damien and John are tailors in town who I visit when I'd like a shirt
made from Kitenge fabric. They don't only make clothes, they create
wearable cloth masterpieces. I've visited Damien (at the sewing
machine in this piture) MANY times because I really love the culture
and process of finding a beautiful fabric at a shop in town, thinking
about how I'd like to design it, bringing it to Damien, and having him
use my measurements to create something that is super-comfortable and
very stylish (here in Tanzania, anyway). It is a spectacle to watch
Damien and John at their work; Damien carefully measures, cuts, sews
and stitches while I usually find John pressing clothes with a
charcoal iron to add a professional touch to dresses and slacks.
Watching them work reminds me how much our societies are moving away
from personal, fairly created and traded clothes. So much of this
local industry is going out of business because of the influx of
western fashion and throw-away donations from the US and Europe; these
clothes from second-hand stores and organizations are well-intentioned
but they oversaturate the market with cheap clothes, leaving those in
the textile business struggling. Because of this situation, I am not
hesitant to use a chunk of my monthly stipend to support my friends
and the industry as a whole; and it's a win-win because I walk away
from the deal with an awesome shirt!

The giraffe is the national animal of Tanzania; it shows up on
government logos, currency, and it is something of a national symbol
as well. Its gentle silence is like the country's tradition of peace.
Its strength and height is like the strong values of the country,
helping it see into the future. The giraffe is also very social like
Tanzania's cooperative efforts internally--among many tribes,
religions, and ideologies--and externally--with other nations. I am
continually amazed by this animal; I have seen them in many national
parks and even outside of reserved areas where they live freely near
highways and farms, but their graceful composure and unique patterns
never get old to me. Likewise, Tanzania's peaceful coexistence of
Christians and Muslims, all coming from 130+ tribes, never ceases to
inspire me. I see so much hurt and conflict when I catch any
international news; terrorism, angry shootings and stabbings, hateful
speeches, and so much more. All these things make me wonder "why can't
we all get along like Tanzanians do?" Of course there are arguments
and differences in creed, but here in Tanzania no one is complaining
about the Muslim's call to prayer at 5am or the Evangelical worship
that is blasted all weekend or the bells from the Catholic Cathedral
because everyone respects each others' beliefs even if they don't
agree with them. We all recognize Eid as well as Christmas, Ramadan as
well as Lent. And we celebrate these times together because we realize
that we are stronger and happier when we are together; the promises of
fear and division are shallow and short-lived. I pray that more of us
can learn to live with and love our neighbors like Tanzanians do.

 This is the view of the sunrise from the peak of Mt Meru. Mt Meru is
not far from Mt Kilimanjaro, the peak behind which the sun is rising
here. Jack, Sam, and I climbed for three days until we reached the
peak, and although the journey to this place was long, tiring, and
treacherous, beholding God's creation in this moment washed away all
the aches and pains. I really can't begin to describe the joy I felt
when we summited and looked back on the steep, rocky path we climbed
in the dark hours of the morning--we were happy to have made it and
even happier to have made it together. I love my brothers and their
adventurous spirit.

 Thanks for sharing time with me, I've enjoyed "piga stori"-ing with you!
Peace & love,
-Ryan-

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