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Reflections of Tanzania
How does Africa feel? Or at least this piece of a vast continent? We arrived into the pervasive hazy aroma of charcoal and wood smoke; a sub-note in a whole medley of sensations. Diesel, noise and the buffeting of warm air through the window of the 4x4. More noise, more diesel and the vibrant colours of tin shaking buses hurtle past at white knuckle speeds.
In such ways Tanzania finds its way to you, through your nose, eyes and ears, obliterating all logic.
The next day a warm classroom rhythmically hums with a somewhat fishy note. Here there is a rhythm to everything. So when we teach, we have to listen with our whole heart, to catch that rhythm and match the beat.
In another place a clock ticks a different beat to another piece of music, whilst in Tanzania, the sun burns the rhythm from sunrise to sunset, forging its own symphony. In response, the land breathes dust, a crescendo from dawn to dusk that never falls to complete silence even as night ends and day breaks.
Nothing is distinct or separate. The clapping of hymns follows a fluid harmony which folds people into each other and into their land. The lake is distinct from the land, but its margins make no separation, giving man a beast alike a richness of life.
Howling dogs, dogs only just tame, add a ringing song to early morning prayers at the leaders meeting. Two different songs, as one.
Time has passed. The smell of wood smoke we knew so well only a few days ago is a stranger now. It has become a part of us. The children likewise, have folded themselves to us. Their experience is ours and ours theirs. As one, but distinct. We breathe them in. They are part of us and we them.
Breathe deeply. Breathe deeper still. Catch their rhythm. Fold all into yourself.
Bethany: 2º 27’ 24” S, 33º 31’ 3” E, a tiny speck in a glorious vastness, doing Gods work.
JT
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