May 22, 2008
Sitting in my courtyard with a cup of cool water, listening to the wind whispering through the dry grass and cowbells ringing, I watch the coals slowly heating up. Sometimes I find myself so secure and safe in my little village, I am completely relaxed. The yellow sun hits on the dry earth and all is good, life is at peace. Maybe it is how time freezes in the village while the rest of the world have no time to spare that makes Tanzania so attractive to me.
It is hard to imagine that some 2000 kms south of here, a killing spree against foreigners in South Africa is taking place. Millions of foreign workers, especially those from Zimbabwe, Mozambique and Nigeria are escaping the violence and rape against them and their families. The attacks have started on the 13th of May and it has not ended, violence is seeping into the rural villages. These “foreigners” have not only been working and living in South Africa, many have already established their homes and raised second generations in the country. Those South Africans who support this rage blame them for the increased unemployment rate and the rise in crime. Ok, so I backtrack a couple of months, on December 30th, 2007, a day before New Year’s eve, President Kibaki magically won the Kenyan election with hundreds of thousands of “unknown” ballots. This somewhat rigged election led to another ethnic cleansing. The opposition, Odinga’s supporters burned and thrashed the regions where Kibaki’s main supporters, the Kikuyu tribe-members lived and worshiped. Most of the people killed were children who could not escape.
I remember reading the blogs of my friends working in Kenya. Alida, a nurse working near El Doret could not return to her village and was confined to a friend’s apartment in Nairobi. Her colleagues back in El Doret were advised not to leave home. “Outside is chaos” was how they described it. No food and no way out, they were just waiting. Almost 200 thousand Kenyans were displaced. Temporary camps were set up, but living conditions were horrid and food shortage was a major issue. As the uproars calmed down, after all the peace talks, Alida and Amy, another friend working in Nairobi had visited the refugee camps. Alida took pictures. What caught my attention was not their poor living conditions, which was not lacking in any of the photos. It was something else, something strong, vital, and healthy. I did not see despair from the pictures, but hope. There was an old man who set up a shop in the midst of disarray. Children were smiling and posing, but they looked genuinely happy. It was not that they were content with their situation, but they made the best out of it. Maybe it was because they found comfort in each other, not being the only ones lost and abandonned that they rejoiced in being alive. Maybe it was the way that they were grateful for what they still have like life, a tented roof, family and friends. Or maybe it was too depressing remembering what they have lost that kept them on the positive side. I don’t know, but I wish to ask them. All I know is that human capacity is limitless when there is faith, hope and friends who walk alongside.
Pondering about the issue of wars and instability, I cannot fathom how across the border in Kenya, the Republic of Congo, Burundi and Rwanda, major uproars and ethnic cleansing has occured within a span of less than 15 years. Up North in Sudan and down South in Zimbabwe and South Africa, it is still happening. Africa is a time-bomb, no one knows when another mass killing will happen. Skin color used to be the major divide in the history of mankind. However, from most these cases, skin color has nothing to do with it. It is the tribal differences, but at the end of the day, Kenyans are killing Kenyans and Rwandans are killing Rwandans. People are killing people.
So, I thought about the “Scramble for Africa”. From the 1880s to the early 1910s, European countries raced through this new and exotic land rich in all natural resources, claiming their piece of Africa. Borders were drawn, an invisible line then divided people, tribes and families telling them where they belonged. Before, Africans roamed freely and lived in tribes, their tribes were their families and that was their country. There were many large tribes that were cut off right in the middle when the imperialists were laying their borders. Imagine visiting your uncle across the river and never allowed to go back home to your wife again. I wonder if it was this involuntary act that grouped very diverse and even enemy tribes together, forcing them to live in harmony that fueled tribal tensions. Tension was always there and people were just waiting for a chance at revenge. The hatred in Rwanda was mainly a left-behind anger against the Belgium colonialists who partnered with the Tutsi monarchy in governing the country during colonialism. It was frightful how the Hutu-dominated democratic government of 1994 advertised and encouraged mass killings of the Tutsis. Tribal tension must have existed, but government propaganda was really the cause of these mass killings.
When I spoke to villagers on this topic, they were aware of the killings through the radio but treated it as a tea-time conversation. Tanzania has been a peaceful country ever since the second World War. Living in the village, you could hardly feel insecure or fearful. One of the biggest fears for the villagers are diseases and the odd elephant that comes to their fields during harvest months. One of the reason for such tranquility is due to the first president of Tanzania, Julius Nyerere who instated a policy that united the nation. The offical language became Swahili and inter-tribe marriage was encouraged. The 60 some tribes in Tanzania gradually identified themselves as “Tanzanians”. Eventhough Tanzanians are from different tribes, they speak one language and share one land.
Coming back to my chair in the courtyard, I awake myself from all these ponderings. Sometimes I find the greatest battle is the one inside my head. At least I could be sitting here, watching the coals burning with nothing to fear. And for that, I thank God.
