It's Beginning to look a lot like Christmas, Tanzanian Style

 “I want to live so that I am truly submitted to the Spirit’s leading on a daily basis. Christ said it is better for us that the spirit came, and I want to live like I know that is true. I don’t want to keep crawling when I have the ability to fly.” –Francis Chan, Forgotten God

I made a Christmas tree out of green construction paper, complete with a paper star, and lights. I thought this is the best I am going to get in my first African Christmas. However, Corrinne and I went to a friend’s house, and they let me have a tree to take home.

If everyone didn’t already think I was crazy when I made the paper tree, I know they do now.  The look on their faces when I brought the tree home was priceless. I could clearly see what they were thinking; it was written all over their faces, “What the heck is this crazy white girl doing? She cut down a perfectly good tree, brings it in the house, and puts it in water.” I explained it was an American Christmas tree, and they all nodded and smiled, and helped me bring it in, all the while wondering about my mental state.  Earlier in the week, before I knew we would get a real tree, we made Christmas ornaments. The kids each drew a picture on a piece of paper with their name and we taped it to the paper tree. We also made snowflakes, which the kids were very excited to do. Heck, I was excited. There is nothing like making random cuts on a folded piece of paper, and then opening it to find a unique design. 

The next day I made paper streamers (red and green) and began decorating the tree while the kids were at school. I took all of their ornaments off the paper tree and put a string through to hang on the real tree. I also made some candy canes to hang and an angel for the top.  Our African –American Christmas tree was complete. Now to wait for the approval of my Tanzanian family. 

When the kids got home and came into the house they just paused in awe. Nobody said anything for a while, they just came over and carefully examined the tree; each kid seeking out their ornament. They smiled at me with twinkles in their eyes, and said, “This, very good Christmas tree.” It is quite possibly the worst Christmas tree that I have ever seen; it’s dying already, all the ornaments are paper, its branches are all lopsided and smashed from being in the truck, and yet it is the best Christmas tree that I have ever seen. It’s my new families first, and knowing that they love it, means the world to me. Whenever we have people over they laugh, and comment on our tree, but I know that they all love it. They love the crazy white girls African-American Christmas tree. Our perfectly imperfect tree. 

This week has been full or frustrations. My first week alone, so of course I am faced with things, like management, and discipline. Trying to decide how we will do the shamba, (little money, lots of work to be done) to one of the kids keeps running off and not telling anyone where he is going. Things that I have no experience dealing with, and yet here I am, still learning and now it’s time to take it all on. I  am trying to breathe, and love, and learn, and grow, and hope that the decisions I am making are the best I can make. I feel so brand new (because I am, one month and counting) and now I have people checking in with me, asking my permission for things, wondering if we can change the menu this week, the kukus (chickens) are now laying 8 eggs a day so can we stop buying them, the kids are on break so what do we do with them all day. All things that to be quite honest I have no idea about and yet now I have to decide what needs to be done, how to delegate tasks, and who goes where when. God is reminding me, in a gentle way, that I need him. I am here because this is where he wants me, lean on him, share with him in my joy and struggles, have faith that he will show me the way. 

This week I made dinner for 15 people. We had spaghetti, with sauce that I made from scratch, and cheesy breadsticks, also made from scratch. Not to totally brag or anything, but it was amazing. I felt like a real mom, or something. I am making breakfast for the kids 4 times a week, but this had some time and effort put into it. I am also learning to master the oven. You see we have a stove where you have a fire, and so there is no temperature gage to tell you that you are now at 425 degrees so you have to pay attention. Also the first batch might cook for 10 minutes, but the next batch only needs 5 minutes. 

It’s kind of like driving here. You have to keep your eyes on the road at all times, because right now the path may be smooth, but in a minute you have to avoid holes, and dips, and chickens, or people. It forces you to be an even better driver than in the states. I mean honestly, in the states you know that the road is going to be smooth, you know that there is room for another person to pass, you know that the chances of chickens crossing the road are slim, so you can relax, and enjoy the ride. I was thinking about what I miss most from America, and besides the obvious (friends, family, pets) I miss paved roads! Never ending smooth roads, and driving on the left side of the car and road. I had a dream last night that when I got home from Tanzanian, my parents had bought me a car with the steering wheel on the right side, I was not happy. (Mom and dad, don’t buy me a car like that please, love you!)  

I am learning lots of things about the culture here from my new Tanzanian friends. I learned that there is a thing called a bride price, which means when a man wants to marry a woman; he must go to her father and ask how much. The father will then give a price and the man must pay whatever the father says. (The bride, getting none of the money) So I have been informed that for a mzungu woman (white woman) the price will be much higher. My dad could be making some serious money over here, selling me to the highest bidder and all. I told some of my Tanzanian friends that my parents will be coming in May(ish) and they can speak with him then. LOL. Maybe my parents could get their trip paid for by selling me to a Tanzanian husband. 

Even with all of the frustrations, I am happy. I have started jogging in the mornings, and it’s so peaceful. I am not a jogger but apparently the thing to do when you come to Tanzania is become one. (For the Americans) Tanzanians think we are strange for jogging around for no apparent reason, but they smile and wave as I pass. My dad asked if I was out running lions. I told him I need the practice, safety first!

I thought that when I came to Tanzania I would become more mature, and grown up, and yet I have never acted more like a child, and I love it. Dance parties, are now a daily ritual, coloring, playing games, spinning in circles till you fall down, and laughing daily all make up my life in Tanzania, and I hope it never ends.

Thank you all for your continued prayers and support.