Iringa

Picture of Iringa in dry season and the beautiful blue sky.

The Jacaranda trees in full bloom.

Betty's blue house

Our open-air classroom where we spend most our days in Iringa.

Betty and meMe, Joe and Sacha studying hard in Kiswahili

October 08, 2007

Receiving all your emails and comments on my blog has been an encouragement. I am very happy to hear from you, though my replies may be slow, I will try my best to respond. It is also exciting to know what is going on in Canada, in China, in the US and other parts of the world (Tobago and France?).

Three weeks have passed like a flash of lighting since I have first arrived. Each day, however, has been filled with exciting and new experiences beyond my imagination. I have accumulated so many stories to tell and hope to recount them as accurate as possible.

Iringa Days

It is dry season now in Iringa and it is a full desert here. However, it is not quite all sand and dry heat, but numerous trees, cacti, flowers still in bloom. The purple flowers of the Jacaranda trees are in their prime, filling the streets of Iringa with their beauty and fragrance. The nights and mornings are breezy that a long-sleeve is worn. Mid-day gets to a hot 25C-30C with the naked sun baking our backs. To my amazement, Tanzanians sometimes wear a full-fledged down jacket out in the sun.

Every weekday morning at 8:00 for the first month, the interns have Swahili lessons at our teacher, Betty’s house about 25 minutes walk from home. The morning in Iringa makes our walk very enjoyable. Picking up our backpacks and walking to school reminds me of my elementary school days. All the students are also making their way to school. As our route passes many primary schools and kindergardens, first the 4 year olds in their blue sweaters and gray pants or skirts squirming past us, then the older primary school children, the secondary school students and young people playing basketball. As we (foreigners) are still a rare sight in Iringa, some children would slow down or come our way on purpose just to catch a funny Tanzanian greeting from us. They would smile and wave even when we were meters away and laugh happily. There are, at least I haven’t met any yet, no ugly Tanzanian children. They are all good looking, cute and full of energy with their bright eyes and even wider smiles. Apart from some greetings when our eyes meet a Tanzanian coming our direction, children has been the most unabashed, unafraid, bold ones greeting us with all their English. When we greet in Swahili, many are shocked that we can speak the same language, that sometimes we get no reply but a shocked, shy face staring back.

As we neared our teacher’s blue house, the primary school next door welcomes our presence with their morning drumming and singing that is sounding our ears. Our classroom, a wooden, windy hut in the teacher’s backyard has become a place close to us in our time here. We have 4 hours of lessons in the morning and about an hour of homework each night. Our teacher, Betty is from Moshi, a city near mount Kilimanjaro (the highest mountain in Africa) and is an open-minded person who can share with us the details about her culture and share long laughs as we learned together. I love my teacher, she has taught us much, not only of the language, but about life in Africa. Thank God for having her in our lives. Every morning, we each take turn to do devotion, an explanation of a Bible verse and a hymn all in Swahili. Then, we are off to the lessons.

Thank God that in two weeks of intense Swahili lessons, we can slowly communicate with Tanzanians. Some days, we understand and speak better than others. We try our best to be exposed to more Swahili by speaking to the staff in our houses, and the people we meet in the street. Tanzanians are very welcoming and graceful with our poor speaking skills that they’d listen and reply, repeating themselves many times.

The main attraction in Iringa is the immense, bustling market place. The market stretches for about ten blocks selling from tourist gifts, to vegetables and meat, to hardware, cement, textiles and second hand clothes. As we frequented the market, we have formed friends there like Richard, the shoeshinner by the post office or Mr. Mango, Miriam’s friend who sells us salt, toilet paper and oranges. The market is always a place where you bump into friends and become amazed by the variety of goods they sell. There are always discoveries to be made any day. As foreigners it is evident that we would have double the price to start with. However, bargaining is still allowed. I remember our first time buying a soda, we had to pay double because we didn’t know the market price. Now, we know better, yet still experiencing higher prices than locals. (I always laugh at this fact since in China, the price is higher for foreigners and being Chinese, I had a fair price…. Now it is my turn to be swindled.) At the market, there are also some street kids who beg for money or food. They know the names of practically every mzungu (white person) and call us as we pass by. Some days, we have food to give, but some days, we have to say “pole, hapana leo” (sorry, not today) that always gives me a negative feeling.

On Tuesdays, we have a Bible study with other expats (foreigners) at Miriam and Andrew’s place. We are studying the book of Jonah, Amos and Joel. Twice a month, there is an English service on Sundays put on by the Iringa Christian Fellowship for the expat community. It is good to share with other mzungus about life in Tanzania and help each other out. On other Sundays, we have been attending Anglican church services in different parishes. The first Sunday, we attended service in Epigoro, a small town nearby. The second Sunday, we went to the big diocese cathedral in Iringa. Both times, we had to introduce ourselves in Swahili. What I enjoyed the most about Swahili services is their singing. Everyone in Tanzania can sing. They have voices that touch hearts. As soon as a song starts, the congregation automatically separates into sopranos, altos and bass. It is like a heavenly choir every single service or prayer meeting. God has blessed Africans with an amazing voice. At the end of each service, there is singing and a procession out of the church where everyone greets each other. It’s a real warm way to wrap up on Sundays.

There is much to write, but I will save those for other days. Thank you for taking part with me. I wish you can be here physically and feel, hear, taste, see Tanzania.