As I sit here typing this post from a hotel in Zanzibar, I feel as if I have already left Tanzania. The last two weeks have gone so fast. Getting everything finished for the project has taken up most of my waking hours this week and going to bed last night I felt a burden was lifted and I could rest easily. This morning we traveled to Dar by dalla-dalla (mini bus) and then hopped on a ferry across the short stretch of Indian Ocean separating Tanzania from Zanzibar. I haven’t really even left the country, but where I am now is so different from where I’ve come from.
When I first set foot in Tanzania 10 weeks ago, I was overwhelmed by it. The heat just pounded on me, the noises of cars honking, and the hustle and bustle of Dar made me question whether I was really supposed to be in Tanzania or if I should have gotten on a plane back to the US. Though I was hesitant at the start, I am so happy I decided to come here. Spending the time to get to know Bagamoyo was more than I could have hoped for. I feel that I really understand it. I know how life works here. I think the research I’ve been doing has helped immensely in this process. Sitting and listening to mothers talk about their lives, communities, and children has opened my eyes. Life here is hard. Mothers have to work on farms, take care of their kids, walk hours to fetch water, and be everything to their family. When health issues crop up, there is no one there to help and it is almost impossible for them to take the time to travel to the doctor. This past week, I went along with a friend of mine who is a Swiss doctor into the Hospital in Bagamoyo and got to see firsthand how this really affects people. I saw this mother, likely in her 40s, who had walked several miles to the hospital because of an abscess on her foot. This wasn’t just a small abscess, this wound had eaten away the entire top of her foot exposing all of the bones. And she walked miles to the hospital on that foot.
I also really got into the routine of life in Bagamoyo. I knew which dukas (shops kind of like a ticket window) had which things. I could tell you the best place to go to get lunch or show you where and when everyone goes to play soccer. I could tell you what my favorite Tanzanian drinks are and take you to the best beach. I had a place here. I would occasionally see a group of tourists walking by and think that I am different from them. I was in Bagamoyo for a purpose. Locals respected me because of what I was doing. I wasn’t just someone there for the beach view and historic ruins, I was there because I wanted to learn about life there.
Zanzibar has been so different from that motive and goal. I feel like a tourist. Looking around it sometimes seems like there are more wazungu (white people) than Africans. Everyone is a tourist here and that’s how the locals think of them. Suddenly I no longer have a place here. I’m back in my stereotype – a rich American. At dinner tonight, our waiter told us that he was very lucky tonight because he had 3 tables of people (including us) who tried to speak with him in Swahili. The majority of the wazungu do not care enough or take enough time to truly appreciate and respect the culture. I feel like I have lost all the progress I made in Bagamoyo. I’m back to being an American Tourist.
More than anything, I think my frustration comes from the feeling that I don’t fit in with the average American. I think I have really been changed by my time here this summer. I have different goals than the majority of the people I’m running into here. I’m not here to spend huge amounts of money, I’m here to enjoy and experience life in Zanzibar, just as I did in Bagamoyo, even though I don’t have much time here. Instead, I am finding that I have landed in a different world, one much too far from the simple life in Bagamoyo that I have come to know and love. All I really feel now is that I don’t belong here; I belong in Bagamoyo doing the things I’ve been doing for the past 10 weeks: talking to mothers, listening to the community, and seeking to understand how life can be improved for them. I’m enjoying my time on Zanzibar, but I’m also not ready to leave the place that has become home for me here. All things must come to an end, and that end has come and gone. I’m sure it will be difficult to board that plane on Wednesday, but this time on Zanzibar is proving to be a good step towards reintegration into American culture. When I set foot back in the US I know the easiest thing for me to do will be to completely reintegrate and forget the time I have spent here, but that is the one thing that I must avoid. This work in Bagamoyo is what I belong doing. What I need to focus on, is how to get back here to continue it.
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