As I sat, surrounded by my fellow fellows, in our affirmation circle on our last day of class, I couldn’t stop the smile from beaming across my face. For those of you who don’t know, an affirmation circle is an activity in which a group of people sit in a circle with their eyes closed and a few individuals walk around the outside of the circle, touching those on the inside when a statement is read that applies to that person such as: “touch someone who makes you laugh” or “touch someone who inspires you.” I have participated in affirmation circles before, but this time was different. This time, I received multiple touches on every statement read. I have never been very popular or have had a large group of friends. I have always valued quality over quantity and to be honest, I have had a lot of relationships that have let me down in the past. In the affirmation circle that day, some of those wounds from outside of the room were still fresh. But sitting there, with my eyes closed, feeling the warmth of so many affirmations, my heart was glowing. Not because of the quantity of touches I recieved, but because of the genuine nature I knew each touch held. When it was my turn to give, rather than receive, I remember looking with pride, out over a circle of people that all applied to each statement read; a group of people I admired, a group of people I appreciated, a group of people who shared my values and strive to make the world a better place, a group of my friends. I did not apply for the Global Social Benefit Fellowship to make friends. But what I didn’t realize about the fellowship, and what I didn’t realize about social entrepreneurship or development work in general, is that it is fundamentally a team effort. If you want to climb the corporate ladder, look out only for yourself, and do whatever it takes to get ahead, this is the wrong field for you. As someone who has always been turned off by competition (in a professional sense only, I will take anyone down in game setting), this fellowship provided a beacon of hope for my future career goals. Of course, my closest team member was my research partner Amanda. I could genuinely write a novel about what an incredible human being Amanda is, everything she has taught me, and how thankful I am for her. This fellowship was an amazing opportunity and worth it for so many reasons with Amanda’s friendship being at the top of the list. What I love most about my friendship with Amanda are the conversations we have had since the fellowship began that wrestle with our most complex internal questions. The two of us share most of the same fundamental beliefs about the world and have similar passions and goals in life. Amanda is the one person that truly “gets it” in every conversation we have. As I mentioned before, the rest of the cohort had brought me immense joy and learning as well. Being surrounded by a group of people from a variety of hometowns across the country and from a variety of academic disciplines brought so many unique perspectives to this fellowship. It was so uplifting and empowering to see what everyone brought to the fellowship and to have so many of my peers as invigorated by and committed to social change as I am. I am so thankful to have met or have gotten to know better each person in this cohort and to have grown with and learned from them. Not only did I gain friends through the fellowship, I gained mentors as well. I have always had good relationships with professors and bosses in the past, but have never felt as though I could go to those people with any pressing issue on my mind and seek their genuine advice in all aspects of my life. With Keith, Thane, Stephen, and Spencer, I know that they have my best interests in heart and genuinely care for me and will do whatever they can to help me achieve my future goals. These mentors have crafted a fellowship that is one of the most intentional programs I have ever been apart of. There are so many buzzwords associated with the fellowship but “value exchange” is truly what it all boils down to. Our mentors have worked hard to ensure that everyone benefits equally from the fellowship; that we as fellows commit to diligent and consistent effort supporting and addressing the needs of our host social enterprises and that we are equipped with all of the tools and training to do so while gaining a meaningful experience that will guide our future vocational discernment. These mentors have not only given me the opportunity of this fellowship but have also taken the time to really get to know me and understand what is important to me. They are the sounding board for my millions of scattered ideas about the future and they serve as my mirror, showing me back what I am projecting into the world and helping me identify and name what drives me forward. Hopefully it has been made clear that I had a pretty great team at Miller Center and in my cohort. But the other half of my team, my Tanzanian team, were equally as important to my fellowship experience. The Country Manager of Solar Sister in Tanzania, Fatma, is one of the most badass women I have ever met. Fatma isn’t a girl boss, she is THE boss: the core, essential backbone of Solar Sister’s operations in Tanzania. Beyond being an exceptional leader, she is an incredible friend and caretaker. Amanda and I arrived in Tanzania with a research plan containing lots of end goals with no path to reach them. Despite the million other priorities on Fatma’s to-do list, she made sure all of our plans were hammered out and put into motion. She was always checking in on us, looking out for us, and striving to make us feel at home. She even invited us into her home and arranged for us to explore Arusha, helping us feel welcomed and become acclimated to the city. With Fatma as our guiding light, Amanda and I gained two other incredible coworkers and close friends in Vitalis and Lumba, our driver and translator on our 17 day road trip visiting partners. Vitalis is one of the most interesting men I have ever met. I will admit, it took me a few days to start to figure him out and I’m not sure I ever fully did. He served as a father figure for Amanda and I during our journey with no shortage of dad jokes and antics. I think Vitalis found Amanda and I just as amusing as we found him and over the course of our trip we developed a great rapport and banter. Lumba on the other hand, was like our older, cooler, sister. Lumba was our go-to for any and all questions on our minds, especially the controversial ones. We knew she would always give us an honest and heartfelt answer. We discussed everything from being a woman in Tanzanian culture, marriage and relationship expectations, race in Tanzania and America, the dichotomy between the developed and developing world, education, entrepreneurship and social change, and more. I don’t have any older siblings (or any siblings at all) so having Lumba as a close and trusted friend that I looked up to was irreplaceable in a place so foreign to me. More than just our translator, Lumba became our third research partner and her help and insights into our research were invaluable. Lastly, I want to highlight and thank every Solar Sister employee, microentrepreneur, and partner that we had the opportunity to meet and work with. There were so many more people important to our eight weeks of field work then I can mention here. But I especially want to thank Agness, for welcoming Amanda and I into her home and for taking us on adventures with her family; Grace, for taking us to our first Sisterhood meeting and for introducing us to BDA work; Caroline, for her leadership and support in our research needs; Stella for helping us get settled and for looking out for us along the way, and all of the Sisters who hosted us, prayed with us, and shared their community with us. If it wasn’t clear already, this summer I learned the invaluable nature of teamwork, community, and collaboration. In the past, I don’t know if I would have considered myself a team player. I used to resent group projects and struggled working with others; I had a very self-centered and individualistic mindset towards approaching most of my goals. After this summer and this fellowship I am confident in the importance and necessity of teamwork, especially in the field of social entrepreneurship or any field that values impact over profits. Participating in this fellowship has shown me that I care more about working for an organization I am proud of and that shares my values, than one that I think will get me ahead in life of benefit myself most personally. Of course, I still recognize the importance of my individual gifts, talents, and skills, and passions and aim to find work in which I can utilize these to the best of my ability while serving a greater purpose focused on helping people and the planet. Through the fellowship, I was also able to put my propensity towards creativity and problem solving into action in an intentional and fulfilling way. One of the aspects of the fellowship that makes it so unique is the level of independence it gives to the fellows. During the application process, we preferenced the social enterprises and corresponding projects that we wanted to work for most and these preferences were taken into account when selecting us. I knew I wanted to work for Solar Sister from the beginning because of the organization’s dual commitment to promoting women’s agency through economic empowerment and improving lives and communities through clean energy that protects the planet. I knew I wanted to work on a project was focused on higher level strategy - exploring the company's internal and external operations to understand strengths and weaknesses, and providing recommendations for scaling and increasing impact through partnerships. Our mentors like to call us junior consultants and I can attest that that is exactly what we were. Nine months ago I didn’t even know what consulting was (or what social entrepreneurship was for that matter) and now I can say I spent eight weeks consulting for a social enterprise and developed two deliverables based upon my work and research. My favorite part about consulting and action research was the independence Amanda and I had to follow the trails that interested us. We were given the framework, but we made up the day-to-day activities and chose the paths we suspected would lead us to the information we sought. I would often joke with Amanda that I felt like a detective, uncovering pieces of a mystery puzzle and finding how they all fit together. This type of dynamic and self-directed work invigorated me and making up our “to-do” list as we went along was freeing. While at times the freedom translated to ambiguity and self-doubts, trusting my gut (and Amandas), following the logical path we developed together, and recognizing our own shortcomings and mistakes, lead us to creating deliverables we are incredibly proud of and confident in. Just as the fellowship gave me the opportunity to address the need of my social enterprise in the way I saw fit (and not through predetermined methods) social entrepreneurship itself seeks to address the needs of communities in new and innovative ways. One phrase we heard again and again in our spring class leading up to our field work was that social enterprises “disrupt the equilibrium.” I saw this disruption in action at Solar Sister in Tanzania and in many more enterprises at the Accelerator program upon our return. This commitment to innovation was exciting to see being committed to the communities that need it most. As someone who is always striving for improvement, in both my personal and professional life, I valued working for an organization that is as committed to improvement as I am. The entire reason Amanda and I were able to go to Tanzania and work for Solar Sister is because their CEO Katherine Lucey, recognized the need for improvement in the enterprise and sought out help. I am so thankful for Katherine’s commitment to drawing out even more impact from Solar Sister. As I explore my post-grad options, it is of utmost importance for me to look opportunities that will allow me to not simply do work that checks off an organization’s to-do list, but that welcomes my efforts to improve the organization in whatever way I can. I believe that with our deliverables, we are leaving Solar Sister better than we found it, providing the enterprise with tools and resources of real value and I aim to do the same for the future organizations. I know that I may be limited in the improvements I can make and recognize that I will not be able to solve every problem I encounter. However, I will be most fulfilled putting my efforts into working towards improving the world and disrupting the equilibrium in any way I can, no matter how “small” the scale. As much as impact numbers matter, I also know the impact that one person, one conversation, one gesture can have. I am not leaving this fellowship as a drastically different person then I entered it. However, I am leaving with (somehow) with both increased clarity into what I want to do and significantly more questions about the future. Going into the fellowship I had no idea what social entrepreneurship was and I (naively) assumed that any business that wasn’t a nonprofit was evil. I had never been to the developing world or considered working in international development. I thought I didn’t want to pursue any career that wasn’t directly focused on reducing the impacts of climate change and protecting the planet. This fellowship has expanded my mind in so many ways and introduced me to a new field I didn’t know existed. While I am unsure if social entrepreneurship is the only field for me, I now have it as an option in my back pocket and the wide range of possibilities it holds. I felt drawn and indebted to the communities I met in Tanzania. Learning about the impacts of colonialism, war, and geographic differences in the classroom is no comparison for uncovering the importance of place and positionality. I am still struggling with making sense of what I saw and learned in Tanzania and how it made me feel; of what my role in the world is, what my debt is to others, and what I can do to help, rather than harm. While we as a cohort had many conversations about the pitfalls of white saviorism and how to avoid it, there is an inherent complicated nature of working in a community that is not your own, whether it is in the next neighborhood over or across the world. This complexity is heightened by the way in which environmental degradation social issues are inextricably linked. I don’t think I realized the full extent to which protecting the environment is protecting people until this fellowship. If there is one thing I am most confident on moving forward from the fellowship, it is my commitment to and trust in myself. I may not know exactly what my future holds, but I know I will find a meaningful path. I have proven to myself that I am capable, hardworking, passionate, driven, and thoughtful. I have strong values that do not waver and I surround myself with people who support and share my values and who guide me in the right direction. I have accomplished a lot and have much to be proud of. At the same time, I have much to be grateful for, and I recognize that so many have contributed to my journey of self-discovery and vocational discernment and there will be many more in the future. While I am admittedly sad to be leaving behind the most impactful experience of my college career, I will always hold this fellowship close to my heart and am thrilled by the opportunities I am yet unaware of that my future will hold.
Asante Sana Solar Sister and Miller Center.
0 Comments
It has now been almost three months since I was in Tanzania, the distance between myself and the country greater than the eight weeks I spent there. No global experience has had as much of an impact on me as this fellowship has. As my first extended amount of time in the developing world most of what I discovered and gained an understanding for was related to development. In reflecting on the experience I realized that the most impactful moments didn’t come from the fieldwork directly but from thinking about the context of the work we were doing, considering our positionality, and from conversations and time spent with our coworkers and friends. From Week One to Week EightI also realized how much I grew throughout the eight weeks and how accustomed to the environment I became. Amanda was the one who pointed out this growth to me on one of our last days in Arusha. On our fourth day in country we explored downtown Arusha. My journal pages from that day highlight the stress and uneasiness I felt. The city was bustling with lots of people walking around and cars driving. I felt nervous walking along the side of the roads because most streets lacked sidewalks. There was lots of dust filling up the air that made it difficult to breathe and burned my eyes as well as car exhaust that smelled terrible and made me feel nauseous. Amanda and I had no sense of direction, no clue where to go and simply wandered aimlessly around the city trying to stay out of everyone’s way. To make matters worse our foreignness was strikingly obvious and I couldn’t pretend to fit in if I tried; our light skin shining a spotlight on us everywhere we went. I had never felt so uncomfortable or exposed just walking down the street in my life. Several people tried to talk to us, some trying to sell us things, some asking for money or haggling us, and some just wanted to know who we were and what we were doing in Tanzania. One man talked to us for a while as we stood outside a museum waiting for Mathias, our driver, to pick us up (which was stressful in and of itself because we had to verbally describe to him where we were using visual cues even though we had no idea where we were). At first I was worried that the man was trying to get us to buy something but after exchanging a few words we learned that he was actually working with another social enterprise that teaches young Masai girls to make reusable sanitary pads. We ended up having an interesting conversation but I was still on edge and only half paying attention to what he was saying and half scanning the cars circling the roundabout in front of us looking for Mathias. When Mathias finally found us and we got home, I was exhausted and I felt helpless, lost, and dumb. I was the one who had suggested we walk around downtown because I was eager to explore but I had a terrible experience and felt like I couldn’t go back. The city was too busy and I was too foreign to feel comfortable there. Fast forward to our last week and Amanda wanted to buy headphones because she had lost hers. Stella, the Solar Sister Administrator, had told us about an electronic store downtown and described how to get there. By this time, Amanda and I were accustomed to receiving verbal directions and we had been downtown enough times that we felt confident enough to find it. So we took off towards the store. The walk was probably a little over a mile each way and because the electronic store was closing soon we were walking briskly to make it in time. By this time we had driven and walked through downtown so often that I felt comfortable navigating the streets. After eight weeks of walking places on roads that lacked sidewalks I was completely used to walking on the side of the road and even felt confident stepping out in front of cars when I wanted to cross. The dust didn’t bother me anymore and I had gotten used to the exhaust so I couldn’t notice the smell. I learned to walk with purpose and to avoid eye contact with street vendors and politely decline those who tried to approach us while still moving forward. Walking around downtown was normal now and I felt just as comfortable I do walking around downtown Seattle. The city was familiar, comforting now even as I passed by our frequent stops such as our go-to bank, Afrocafe, the river, and the cellphone store. This major shift from week one to week eight wasn’t one I would have been able to pinpoint on my own if Amanda hadn’t brought it up. She asked if I remembered how nervous I had been the first time we came downtown compared to how confident I seemed now. I genuinely had to rack my brain for a while to recover the emotions of the past because they felt so long ago and so silly. I’m glad Amanda reminded me of how far I had come. It gave me assurance to remind myself that unfamiliar environments only become familiar the more time you spend in them and that fears of the unknown can easily be overcome. In addition to becoming more comfortable and confident living and working in Arusha and Tanzania in general, there were several lessons and even more questions that I have brought back with me to the US. The Last Mile really means the Last. Mile.My conception of rurality, distance, and isolation prior to the fellowship were based mostly on theoretical assumptions about what these concepts meant definitionally. The experience of visiting sisterhood groups in the Last Mile, filled these concepts with actual weight, truth, and understanding. I no longer accept someone else’s account that there are villages in Tanzania a several hour drive away from any sort of substantial development, I know this to be true because I have experienced the journey to the Last Mile myself. I have driven for hours along an unpaved, bumpy dirt “road” to reach these villages. Along this drive I came to empathize with the many we passed who were walking along the road because they had no other means of transportation. I developed an awareness of the reality in which a lengthy and challenging journey I completed once was apart of someone else’s daily routine. Even traveling by car had significant challenges as addresses and maps were not common place, government corruption significantly slowed the speed of travel due to frequent check-point stops, roads were often full of holes and at times the road condition was so unsuitable that we simply had to turn around and forgo the journey altogether. Driving down the freeway from SFO back to Santa Clara on the day we returned the the US I remember looking out the window in a state of shock. The multi-laned road on either side intersecting overpasses and underpasses in an intricate web filled with a variety of vehicles zooming past on all sides blew my mind. This used to be my normal, something I took for granted without a second thought, but now all I could think about was what was underneath, what was before. What the skeleton of the landscape was prior to all of the road development and how much time, effort, manpower, and money had to go into building such sprawling mazes of roads and signs. I remember turning my focus to a simple yet pristine highway barrier wall and thinking about what went into just that one wall. Nothing that I saw in Tanzania looked as pristine as that highway barrier wall. The disparity was deeply unsettling and I felt overwhelmed by the expansive development I had grown up in and was so used to. I found it interesting that this disparity didn’t strike me when I arrived in Tanzania, but when I arrived back in California. Looking out the window I was reminded of a conversation I had one afternoon with Amanda, Lumba, and Vitalis sitting outside the pool of our hotel in Morogoro. What Does it Mean to be Tanzanian? I don’t remember how the conversation started but somehow we arrived on the topic of development and Tanzania’s lack thereof. I expected Lumba and Vitalis to blame colonialism for the country’s current difficulties and reject white saviors so I was shocked to hear their much more nuanced opinions which demonstrated to me the complexity of the issue. To my surprise, they held up South Africa as the best country in Africa because of its colonizers. Lumba told us that because the British stayed in South Africa longer than any of their other colonies, they were able to support the country and build it up. The common narrative about South Africa in the United States that I have heard is much more negative, highlighting the deeply rooted racial tensions and injustice in the country. Hearing Lumba and Vitalis’ perspective however gave me a new lens through which to view South Africa and African’s in general. South Africa is the most developed country on the continent and although the white population in South Africa reaps most of the benefits of this development, the African population’s standard of living is still much higher than in many other countries. In spite of the complex circumstances and the way in which South Africa has gotten to its current position, the positive outcomes were what stood out most to these two Tanzanians. I thought of how easy it is to criticize colonialism from our American perspective but in doing so, we are also victimizing Africans. This victimization is dangerous because it furthers the mindset that the colonized are helpless and in need of support. The mindset has deeply rooted consequences that become internalized in many Tanzanians and creates a lack of confidence and trust in themselves. As we continued to talk, Lumba brought the effects of this internalized distrust to life. “Africa is rich and Tanzania has a wealth of natural resources, but look at our number of imports compared to our number of exports. We import everything. We rely too heavily on other countries and believe we are dependent on them” she told us. She went on to explain how much harder it is for Tanzanians to start businesses and make investments than it is for foreigners. This difficulty stems from a distrust of other Tanzanians. “If you and I go to a bank,” Lumba explained, “and we each had the same credentials and sum of money to invest, the bank will choose you over me simply because they think you are more loyal and trustworthy then a Tanzanian.” It broke my heart to hear the deeply rooted distrust that has been cultivated between Tanzanians. They will assume the only way a Tanzanian could get money would be through stealing, cheating, or lying and that they couldn’t obtain the money in an honest way, she explained. Lumba continued to express how important it is for smart and talented Tanzanians to stay in the country and help to build it up. Most people who are highly educated and who have the opportunity to leave the country do so. But if the country’s brightest minds continue to move away, they will leave behind a country that deeply needs them. “I understand why people want to leave” she confessed. “Vitalis would go back to Canada if it wasn’t for his children” she added. We looked over the Vitalis who had fallen quiet as the discussion had intensified and he nodded his head in agreement, telling us he planned to move back as soon as his children were grown. “I just couldn’t do that” Lumba told us, “I have to stay here and use my knowledge to improve Tanzania.” Lumba’s passion for her country was inspiring and her tenacity was unwavering. I agreed with her wholeheartedly. Tanzania is not deficient in people like Lumba and Vitalis who are incredibly smart, motivated, and hardworking. They are deficient in opportunities for these people to build the country up from within. Colonialism has imposed a static mindset in many Tanzanians that has falsely made them believe their greatness is dependent on others which has significantly limited their potential. What Does it Mean to be American? To be Catholic?Thankfully, this negative mindset can be changed and organizations like Solar Sister are making a significant impact in revealing to rural Tanzanian women the powerful agency they have always possessed within themselves. While the founder and CEO of Solar Sister, Katherine Lucey, is an American women, I am grateful for her commitment to putting the leadership of Solar Sister in Tanzanian hands. All of the Solar Sister employees in Tanzania from the BDAs all the way up to Fatma, the Country Manager, are Tanzanian and are passionate about investing in local communities. Thinking about development in Tanzania lead me to reflect on development in the US. It begged the question, if a system, structure, or country begins in a terrible and unjust way, can it bring good in the future or does its corrupt start make it inherently and irreversibly damaged? The United States was founded by European colonizers who killed and displaced Native Americans and the country was built and grown by slaves and immigrants who were excluded from many of the benefits of living here. But the US has also given so many people economic opportunity, it has become a safe haven for many immigrants and refugees, it is a diverse melting pot of cultures and is much more open and accepting than many other places in the world. Are all of these positives discounted because of how our country was founded? Or is it impossible to definitely say one way or another if the bad outweighs the good or vice versa because of how complex and layered these issues are? My journal pages from the days following this conversation are filled with question after question that I don’t know if I’ll ever find the answers too. These questions intensified the more time we spent with various Catholic congregations. When I entered into these spaces I instantly felt comfortable and at ease because these women and I shared a faith tradition. But what did it take to create of feeling of familiarity for me in East Africa? Catholicism was brought to Tanzania, it is not a native religion, its presence in Tanzania is a product of European influence, imposed on Tanzanians by colonizers. But all of the wonderfully amazing Sisters I met and spent time with wouldn’t have been Sisters or have provided services like schools, disability centers, farmers coops, and women’s support groups had Catholicism not been brought to Tanzania. And there would be no Catholic spaces for me to feel safe and comfortable in. What then does that say about the impact of Catholicism in Tanzania? Throughout our time in Tanzania I also realized how misunderstood the US is. Just as most American’s hold the misconception that all Africans are poor and starving, many Tanzanians assumed all Americans were wealthy and successful. When I tried to explain wealth inequality in the US and how homeless and poverty were huge problems, many people had trouble believing me. One Sister that we spoke with at the St. Francis convent in Arusha couldn’t believe her ears when I told her that there were people in the US who lived on the streets. She had never imagined that Americans could be poor or that our country could be unjust. At first I was shocked but the more I thought about it, it made sense why these views were so misconstrued. The majority of the Americans that come to Tanzania are wealthy; they would have to be to afford international travel, especially those who come here for vacation. If all of the American’s most Tanzanians interact with are wealthy tourists it makes sense that they would project that view onto the rest of the country. Even so, I was frustrated to learn that Tanzanians have it just as wrong as we do. I wondered how to increase awareness and understanding across cultures and continents especially going from Tanzania to the US because much fewer people have the opportunity to travel and bring back their experiences. I want Tanzanians to understand that most Americans aren’t rich not because I don’t want to be put into a privilege box but because I want them to realize that our country isn’t perfect and shouldn’t be touted as such. We have to stop putting each other into categories and ranking one country and people as better or more successful than another. Both Tanzania and the US are flawed. Both countries struggle with corruption. Both countries have poverty and injustice. Both countries have lots of room to grow. My Friend MateoWhile this reflection is filled with many more questions than answers about what I took away from the fellowship, I want to close by sharing a story that I refrained from sharing in my earlier posts. This story is about a man I met named Mateo and how through him I was confronted with my privilege in the most direct way. Matteo was the guardsman at the airbnb we stayed in during our first two weeks in Arusha. I remember the first day we pulled up to the apartment, a small group of men were sitting outside of the apartment and Matteo sprung up from among them to open the gate and let us inside. He had a huge grin on his face and was eager to help us with our heavy bags, carrying them up the stairs into the apartment. I am ashamed to admit that the first couple of days that we stayed at the apartment, I didn’t think much about Mateo. Him and the guardsmen for the other houses in the community would sit outside the gates everyday in a group, waiting for people to come and go. One morning I watched them from my window as they lifted pipes and concrete blocks for a workout. Every time we left for the office in the morning and came back in the afternoon he rushed to the gate to greet us with a huge smile and habari za asubuhi or habari mchana. Even though his English was as limited as my Swahili, I always felt incredibly welcomed by Mateo and I could tell his concern for our wellbeing was genuine. I began to think about Mateo more and started to try to strike up conversations with him. One of the first things I learned was his name. Then his age: he was 29 years old. It was very difficult to converse and I relied heavily on Google Translate to get back key words and phrases across but I was committed to making an effort. For a couple evenings in a row I smelled smoke from my bedroom window. At first I was concerned but after inspecting the area below my window I saw there was a small fire lit. I wasn’t sure what it was for but I didn’t mind or question it. One night, I was walking down the steps from the roof where I would often do yoga. I had gone out later this evening and the sun had fully set by the time I finished. As I walked down the steps towards my apartment, I noticed the smoke curling up and peered over the railing to see Mateo boiling water over a small fire. Next to the fire were two small tomatoes and a potato. The image immediately raised a red flag in my mind. Why was Mateo cooking dinner outside? Is that all he is eating? Why isn’t he home? Does he have a home? Where is his home? These questions burned inside me and I knew I couldn’t go back inside yet. I walked down to the ground level and found Mateo near the fire next to the shed. He greeted me with a huge smile like always. I smiled back and said hello, then I started typing into Google Translate: “Are you cooking dinner?” He nodded his head. He pointed to the pot and told me he was making ugali and vegetables. Next question, “Where do you live?” He gestured down: here. Okay, I needed to be more specific. I changed one word, “where do you sleep?” His eyes widened and he brought into an understanding smile as he gestured me over to the shed. The shed was an open gazebo-like structure with a roof held up by pillars and no walls. It was right near the gate and we walked past it everyday but I had never paid it much attention. Mateo pulled me into the shed and reached for a rolled up sheet of cardboard that was leaning up again the wall. He started unrolling it and within was a thing foam pad and a blanket. My stomach dropped. Mateo was eager to show me his bed but I didn’t want to see anymore. Discovering where Mateo slept filled me with guilt. Amanda, our professor Leslie and I were sharing a large apartment and we each had a room to ourselves. Every night that I had gone to bed in my comfy queen bed in my large room with a private bathroom, Mateo had gone to bed one story below me on a thin foam and cardboard bed outside. Below us was Margaret, the owners home, where she lived alone with her daughter. There was even a second apartment behind the house that Margaret also rented out and I knew there was no one currently staying there. I was appalled that Margaret would let Mateo sleep outside at all, especially when the apartment was empty. I couldn’t justify why he should ever have to sleep in the shed when there had to be a free bed or couch somewhere on the property. We met Margaret when we first moved in and she seemed wonderfully kind and accommodating. We even learned that Margaret’s daughter had a developmental disability and had started a school for disabled children because of her daughter. How could a kindhearted woman like that let her guardsman sleep outside? How could I continue to sleep in my comfortable bed knowing Mateo was outside below me? I didn’t know what to do. We couldn’t leave the airbnb and I didn’t think complaining to Margaret would have had any effect except maybe getting Mateo into trouble. I thought about all of the cash we had stashed under Amanda’s bed. We had been going to the atm everyday to take out cash to pay our driver for our upcoming road trip. It would cost over $5000 USD. The weight of all that money stashed under our bed weighed even heavier as I came to understand Mateo’s reality. I felt an urge to run upstairs and give it all to him but I knew I couldn’t do that either. Feeling helpless, I did the only thing I thought I could. I kept talking to Mateo, I tried to learn more about him, to understand and get to know him despite our language barriers. I thought that even though I couldn’t improve his situation, maybe I could improve his day and we could talk and he would see that I genuinely cared about and was interested in his life.
I stayed outside with Mateo for a while and, with technological help, we were able to have a fruitful conversation. I learned that Mateo is Masai from the Kilimanjaro region where he grew up. In his previous job he used to make Masai blankets. I was impressed and I told him that the red checkered Masai blanket he wore everyday was very beautiful. Mateo was the first born in his family, out of how many siblings I am unsure, and he came to work for Margaret a few years ago. Just getting this basic information took a while with our mixture of reading google translate and gestures. I could tell Mateo was excited to talk to me and wanted to keep trying to understand me despite many confusing exchanges. I wondered what the details were of his story, how he met Margaret and if he has seen his family since he left them. I wondered if he is happy and if he misses his village. After talking for a while, I wanted to be conscientious of his time and didn’t want to keep him from his dinner so I said goodnight and walked up the steps back to the spacious apartment. Each step felt like a punch to Mateo. Flustered, I rambled to Amanda and Leslie about Mateo and how unfair it was that he slept outside. They were empathetic but Leslie told me that she wasn’t surprised. She told me she was sure all of the guardsman here have a similar situation and said that it was just the norm here. But considering the fact there were more guardsman sleeping outside tonight didn’t make me feel any better. How was that treatment just? Especially in the wealthy neighborhood we were staying in, it wasn’t like the homeowners couldn’t afford to put their guardsman up in a room. These men are so helpful and kind and what do they get in return? A foam and cardboard mattress and a small amount of ugali and vegetables. I struggled to piece together my thoughts and wrestled with the uncomfortability of my privilege. It made me feel even worse when I considered that learning about Mateo’s living conditions was sending me into a state of torment yet I was the one who would never have to sleep outside. Who would never understand the depth of his life and what conditions brought him here. Maybe working for Margaret was the best opportunity he had been given. If that was the case, how could I ever feel anything but immense gratitude for the opportunities I have been given, especially for the chance to participate in this fellowship. Was I even deserving of it all? I couldn’t see a difference between myself and Mateo, we had been born and grew up on opposite sides of the world but we were just two young people trying to make the most out of the cards we have been dealt and make a better life for ourselves. I have thought about Mateo many times since I met him and every time I am reminded of his overwhelmingly radiant positivity and joy. Even though I never took a picture of him, his grinning face is plastered in my mind and whenever I think of him it brings a smile. Mateo reminds me to value every person in my life, no matter how small or fleeting their role, and to never take the opportunities I have been given for granted. He also brought up many questions for me and forced me to wrestle with my privilege in a necessary and critical way. Mateo reinforced my commitment to serving the less fortunate and supporting the dignity of every person. I wish I had more time to spend getting to know him and hearing more of his story but I am so thankful for the short time we did have and the lasting impact he had on me. It is impossible to write about my field experience in a way that ties every moment together and provides closure on the fellowship. I discovered a whole new world and culture over the course of eight weeks but I went through immense personal growth and raised many questions for myself. The more I think and reflect on Tanzania, the more I realize new perspectives and deeper understandings. I don’t know if the learning or questions will ever end and I don’t want them to. Today I don’t have one story, I have four. There have been so many special moments over the past two weeks, each one independent of the next. I don’t know how to connect them into one cohesive narrative and I don’t want to. Instead, I want to share them as they were, fleeting emotions, conversations, and experiences that have added so much color to the fellowship. With only one week left in Tanzania, its small moments like these I hope to hold on to. Parallel livesLast Thursday, Amanda and I traveled to Moshi to visit another Solar Sister partner, Global Bike, in the field. When we first pulled up to the bike shop, two Tanzanian Global Bike employees got out of the car in front of us, followed by a young white girl. I was not expecting to see another muzungu and Amanda and I were equally intrigued. We learned that she was an American intern working with Global Bike for the summer. She told us that she went to school in Tennessee but didn’t specify where. After our initial meeting, I whispered to Amanda, “what are the chances she goes to Sewanee?” Amanda and I recently shared our long, complicated, and harrowing college application process stories with each other on one of our long car rides. Long story short, Sewanee was one of the four schools I had gotten into and was deciding between. It was the first school I wrote off however because of its location in rural Tennessee, very small size (less than 2000 students), and conservative history. I had never visited the school (or travelled to any part of the south for that matter) and only applied on a whim. However, I received a substantial scholarship to attend and always felt guilty for turning it down in favor of Santa Clara. This guilt was easy to ignore because I thought I knew with almost complete certainty how different my life would have been had I attended Sewanee and I assumed I would not have liked it in the slightest. As we were wrapping up our observations of Global Bike, the intern and I started talking. She was working to help digitize Global Bike’s data system and interviewing beneficiaries on the impact Global Bike has on their lives. I was intrigued to hear how similar her work was to ours. I also learned she was a senior majoring in International Development and minoring in Women and Gender Studies. I knew it was a shot in the dark but I asked, “where in Tennessee do you go to school?” “It’s called Sewanee, it’s a really small school, you’ve probably never heard of it” she responded. I was shocked. This girl standing in front of me in a rural village in Tanzania who was also working for a social enterprise goes to the school I thought was the complete opposite of Santa Clara. I couldn’t help but start running the “what could have beens” in my mind. In a parallel universe, we would be classmates. Furthermore, in a school with less than 2000 students with similar academic interests, we probably would have been friends. I smiled at her, “I actually do know that school, how do you like it?” I asked. “I love it” she replied, grinning. I couldn’t believe how wrong my negative assumptions about Sewanee had been. I always assumed my life and college experience would have been completely different at that school, but instead I learned that maybe it wouldn’t have been as stifling as I thought. Maybe I could have had similar experiences and opportunities to those at Santa Clara, and found people who shared my interests. And maybe I would have loved it too. Why a Tanzanian Man is Wearing Your Old College T-shirtOn Saturday, we visited the Sisters of the Precious Blood in Arusha. The two Sisters who greeted us, Sister Hendrika and Sister Alouisa, were warm rays of sunshine. They were bubbly, constantly giggling, and wore a smile throughout our entire visit. Their energy was infectious and I found myself giggling with them at the smallest things. After interviewing the Sisters, they gave us a tour of their property. We walked outside and around to the back of the main building. A small but beautiful garden with a statue of Mary lead a path to the convent’s church. I could hear music coming from inside and we opened the doors to find three of the novice sisters playing drums and singing worship music. We continued on past the kitchen and laundry buildings and rounded a corner to another garden. This garden was sprawling and lush. It was beautifully designed with dozens of hedges, trees, and flowers. I was taken aback with how well-maintained and expansive it was that I couldn’t stop flooding the Sisters with compliments to which they, of course, responded with gracious giggles. After our tour the Sisters invited us to take lunch with them and we filled up our plates with rice, sauce, veggies, salad, and chips before touring their secondary all-girls school which reminded me Holy Names and brought fond memories of high school. While we were interviewing the Sisters about their work, we learned how American actions directly affects lives in Tanzania. Over the past six weeks, Amanda and I have noticed many Tanzanians wearing clothes from America ranging from US college sports teams jackets to tee shirts from chain restaurants to hoodies with sorority letters. We knew that no one was buying these items new from the store and have seen many street vendors selling a variety of second-hand clothing. In discussing the phenomenon, Amanda and I assumed that the clothing had somehow been donated internationally and ended up being resold. In further researching the issue, our suspicions were confirmed. According to the Council of Textile Recycling, only 20% of donated clothing actually gets resold in the store. The other 80% either goes to a landfill (which because textiles aren’t biodegradable means they pile up for hundreds of years) or is sold to textile merchants who export them overseas. They then end up second-hand markets like the many we’ve seen and ultimately are purchased by locals for a very cheap price. While this may seem like a good deal, the consequence is that locally made clothing cannot compete with such low prices and textile workers suffer. The Sisters of the Precious Blood have struggled to adapt in the face of this market challenge. We learned from Sister Alouisa that the Sisters run a vocational training center for girls who do not pass form four in school or whose parents cannot afford to send them to secondary school. The vocational center offers two forms of training: cooking and sewing. However, because the second-hand clothing industry has become so prominent, the girls who were trained in sewing have difficulty selling their garments. No one is willing to buy locally made clothing when they can buy second-hand clothing for a fraction of the price. In order to adapt, the sewing students now receive training in making school uniforms, bags, earrings, bracelets, and other handicrafts in order to diversify their skills. However, these skills are not as profitable as sewing was and they have seen a decline in the number of sewing students. I was intrigued and saddened to learn about an unintended consequence of the seemingly altruistic action of donating used clothing that I myself have participated in. However, fast fashion is the real culprit and this new knowledge gave me yet another reason to reject the industry. I encourage you to do so as well. If you buy a new wardrobe every season and feel good about yourself for donating last seasons clothing, think again. Instead of buying into whatever fashion trend is happening right now (and will be over in the blink of an eye) opt to shop at consignment and thrift stores instead or even better, refrain from buying new clothes unless absolutely necessary. Modern Day Masai LifeOn Monday we went into the field with one of the Arusha BDAs, Selengei, to test out a new protocol for recording the locations of SSEs at another sisterhood meeting in a Masai village called Esilalei. We drove past Masai herders and their cattle frequently on our many long drives into the field but had never spent extended time in a Masai village. As we got out of the car, a dozen children ran over to see who we were and gathered around, peering at us curiously. Selengei told us that the women were coming from another meeting in another village so we needed to wait for them. While we waited, we learned that this village was one big family. The village leader had eight wives and 96 children. Apparently, he had so many children that he built a school for them to attend. He was a very rich man (which is why he was able to afford so many wives) and he owned over 4000 cows. For the Masai, wealth is measured by the number of cows you own. Living in a culture where having multiple wives is so completely foreign to me it was difficult to process. A culture in which your worth as a woman is determined by how many children you can churn out to a husband who has other wives to fulfill him if you cannot. I couldn’t help but be shocked, upset, and frustrated with the Masai way of life and how clearly I felt it oppressed women. However, when Selengei asked if we wanted to meet the village leader, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I needed to see the man who every person in this village came from. We were lead over to a large tree under which the village leader sat. In front of him, three other elders sat on a mat and we were instructed to bow to them so they could touch our heads. Next, we approached the village leader. He was 105 years old and sat in a plastic lawn chair, donning a wide brimmed hat and holding a fly swatter made of cow hair. His second wife sat on the ground below him. We bowed to them and they touched our heads. I smiled awkwardly and mumbled “jambo, habari” (hello, how are you), unsure of what else to do. He responded with a toothless grin and some welcome greetings in Swahili. The man was so old that being alive seemed like a feat itself. He seemed so harmless sitting in his chair, swatting flies that it was hard to imagine that this was the man who started it all. He was clearly at the end of his life and soon his prideful reputation and wealth in cows and wives would all be a memory. I wondered what his wives would do after he was gone. Would they be sad or relieved? Would they talk to each other about it or did they despise each other? What was his relationship like with each wife? Did he love them? Did they love him? Did love even exist in this culture? The leader asked us if we had any questions for him. I asked, “Has he met all of his descendants?” The reply: “Yes, he knows each child, grandchild, and great grandchild by name.” Sisters Stand UpBecause our trip to Same two weeks ago went differently than expected (see my last blog post for more details) we went back last week in order to accompany the Sisters on one of their village visits. The visit was successful and we were able to interview Sister Marietta, one of the convent’s social workers, and the two community groups she formed and provides training to. After our interviews, we were invited by the local parish priest into his home for lunch. As we were finishing our meal with some sweet oranges, a debate broke out between the priest and Sister Marietta. I was not paying attention to what sparked the conversation but it became clear that the two were arguing about having specific programs to support women. Sister Marietta was saying that women are oppressed and need extra help and support in order to raise up their quality of life. To my surprise, the priest expressed the opposite opinion. He declared that the oppression of women was a thing of the past, an issue that occurred decades ago but had since been solved. “The graph has flipped” he kept repeating, referring to some graph I personally have never seen, which apparently demonstrates that women now have more power and rights than men. “Now, men are the ones who are suffering,” he insisted. When programs put women first, he asserted, men feel that they are not important or valued and this causes psychological damage to them. I was shocked that these were real words coming out of someone’s mouth, especially a Catholic priest! I knew that people held such views but had never been confronted with them so directly and by someone I normally have so much trust and faith in. To my further surprise, Sister Marietta shook her head in disagreement and Sister Agatha and Lumba joined the fight. “Women have been oppressed since the beginning of time,” Sister Agatha shot back, “We have started to get a little more power in the last few decades and you are afraid. Why are you men so scared?” “Men are not responsible, that is the problem” Lumba added. The debate continued and soon our male driver joined in, taking the priests side. There was so much I wanted to say but for the most part, I just sat back and observed. I wanted to watch how it all would play out and what positions would be taken. I couldn’t believe that I was witnessing a priest vs. nun showdown on the issue of gender. I was especially impressed by how unrelenting the Sisters were, despite the priest’s position of power over them. The debate raged for several minutes and grew in intensity. Suddenly, the priest cut the conversation short and suggested that we say a closing prayer before heading down the mountain. When he said this, all of the tension in the room seemed to melt away as every bowed their heads in prayer despite practically shouting at each other just seconds ago. The humility in the room was impressive to say the least and even though I too was riled up from listening to the debate, I took a few deep breaths and let the man who had just challenged all of my fundamental beliefs, say a prayer over us. I thought about how much self-restraint it much take for both sides to put their disagreements aside to come together, united in a commitment to faith and the church. The polarized politicians in the US could take a lesson from this group. We all left the priest’s house and piled into the van. The priest asked for a ride down the mountain as well and, with all the same players, the debate picked up again. This time I got to witness one of the most iconic moments of my life. The priest was sitting shotgun and Lumba, Sister Agatha, and I were sitting in far back. The priest started rambling on again about the ridiculous graph and Sister Agatha shouted up to him “Men are selfish!” I laughed, impressed again by her boldness and as the priest started responding with more of the same excuses, Sister Agatha rolled her eyes dramatically. A nun rolling her eyes at a priest was a sight I never thought I’d see and it was incredible. The driver came to the priests defense by asserting that women are disqualified to lead arguing “at a funeral, the women cry and the men are strong. Women are emotional and men are rational, that is why men are in charge.” Ohhh great, I thought, toxic masculinity at its finest. “What is wrong with showing your emotions?” Lumba retorted, “both women and men have emotions and it is not bad to show them.” The debate continued on along the entire drive down and Sister Marietta even pulled out her sociology knowledge and shared facts about gendered land ownership laws in Tanzania that restrict women’s rights and make it difficult for them to be financially independent of men. Amanda started throwing in her two cents as well and the car was full of voices.
There were many things I wanted to say, but I didn’t. Even though women’s rights are one of my biggest passions, I knew nothing I could say would change these two men’s minds. Not only did they think women were unfit to lead but they thought that women had more power than men and were oppressing them. All of it was complete nonsense to me and it felt like a pointless argument, just like how it is pointless to convince climate change deniers who reject science and facts that climate change is happening. I also recently listened to a TED Radio Hour podcast on dialogue and debate in which I learned about how difficult it is to convince someone else to agree with you based on your set of morals. Instead, it is more effective to approach the issue from their moral position and appeal to their beliefs which requires you to advocate for your side in a completely different way. The podcast gave me a lot to think about and I planned to test out the tips soon but I wasn’t sure a debate on gender with Tanzanian priests and nuns was the best opportunity to start. Instead, I continued to observe, only adding a few finger snaps and affirmative “mmhmms” to points I agreed with. Soon we reached the main road again and the priest left the van. He grinned largely at us and waved goodbye, thanking us for visiting and wishing us a safe trip home. I smiled and waved back. Once he was gone I squeezed Sister Agatha’s hand and whispered to her, “Thank you so much for saying what you did, I agreed with everything you said.” She squeezed me back and smiled, knowingly. The Sister’s tenacity reminded me of the I Stand With the Sisters march that occurred in Seattle in 2012. I didn’t attend the march (I don’t remember why, I think I was busy that weekend) but my aunt and mom did and were very active in the movement. The march was protesting the fact that the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) was being reprimanded by the Holy See and US Catholic Bishops for being too out of line with “the teachings and disciplines of the Catholic church.” Essentially, the Sisters were being disciplined for using their judgement to serve those most in need, and got in trouble for being open and accepting to women using birth control or who had abortions and members of the LGBTQ community because this was not aligned with Vatican requirements. In addition, the church was trying to quiet their speech calling for changes in the Catholic Church, including the ordination of women. I remember how passionate my family was about going to the march and supporting the Sisters and was proud that my mom was standing up for what she believed in, despite restrictive church oversight. Looking back, I wish I went to the march and demonstrated my support as well. As I have gotten older I have increasingly struggled to accept the limitations placed on women in the Catholic Church. In my opinion, there is no valid argument defending why women are disqualified to serve as priests. However, the Church is my home and I cannot imagine leaving it because of this issue. Instead, I am committed to following other strong women in the Church like my family members who marched and the Franciscan Sisters of Same who stood up to a sexist priest, and fight the patriarchy from within. |
AuthorI am a senior Environmental Studies major at Santa Clara University from Seattle, WA. To learn more about me check out the "About Me" page! To contact me you can email me at [email protected] or connect on LinkedIn. Archives
November 2019
Categories |