Feel at home
"Feel at home" is one of the phrases my Tanzanian friends use often when groups from Shepherd of the Valley visit them. Hospitality is truly one of the riches of Tanzanian culture. So now that they are here spending time in my home, I find myself saying it and wondering how I can help them feel more at home.
There are small 'tells' as when Mama wants to help clear the dishes after dinner. My first impulse is to take the dishes from her and treat her like the honored guest she is, and then I realize it is good to do this simple thing together. [There's that bega kwa bega -- shoulder to shoulder --thing again.]
I realized tonight that Mchungaji Naftal must be feeling a little more at home because we are both forgetting the camera and the impulse to take a picture of him with each person who greets him.
Naftal and Anjelina have been with us now a week, and it hardly seems to have been more than a few days.
When I travel to their country, especially with people seeing Tanzania for the first time, I have noticed that our groups spend the first part of the journey noticing all the differences in our cultures, our habits, our values, our environment. Americans in Tanzania notice the houses, the manner of dress, the food, the market, the beds, the plumbing, and they compare all these things with their experiences and expectations at home. But after warming up a bit, they start to notice our common ground, our experiences in church and school and in our families and communities. We begin to realize that what separates us is not as important as the many things that draw us together.
Early in their visit, Naftal and Anjelina would describe their impressions of American life: your houses are so sturdy, your cars are good, the roads are not crowded, and no one is walking except for exercise.
Now I'm hearing a shift in the comments of our guests. We're talking about family life, about where we grew up and went to school, about how many siblings we have. We have conversations about how we met our spouses, and despite many cultural differences and traditions that vary, we see things that cross cultures.
This afternoon we did some laundry. Anjelina and I sorted the pile, I showed her how I arrange the clothing in the washing machine, add the detergent, set the controls and start the machine. As I started to step away, she stayed back, watching the machine. "We'll come back when it's finished," I told her, and as she realized that was all there was to it, she began to laugh. Upstairs, she told the whole episode to Naftal in Swahili. He repeated her words in English as a question to me, "Is it? You sort, you put, you add, and that is it? She thought she would have to stay there for some time, but, is it?" Yep, it really is that easy. They laughed some more. It made me think that the next time I am in Tanzania, instead of paying the lodge staff to do my laundry, I would like to ask Mama to take me to the river to do it together.
The other day, my guests made a comment that I have made many times in Tungamalenga. "There is so much food and we are eating all the time." Offering the hospitality of food, our holiday meals, abundant blessings, is one of our common cultural traditions, I guess. What would I rather be, the honored guest, or the one who feels at home?
There are small 'tells' as when Mama wants to help clear the dishes after dinner. My first impulse is to take the dishes from her and treat her like the honored guest she is, and then I realize it is good to do this simple thing together. [There's that bega kwa bega -- shoulder to shoulder --thing again.]
I realized tonight that Mchungaji Naftal must be feeling a little more at home because we are both forgetting the camera and the impulse to take a picture of him with each person who greets him.
Naftal and Anjelina have been with us now a week, and it hardly seems to have been more than a few days.
When I travel to their country, especially with people seeing Tanzania for the first time, I have noticed that our groups spend the first part of the journey noticing all the differences in our cultures, our habits, our values, our environment. Americans in Tanzania notice the houses, the manner of dress, the food, the market, the beds, the plumbing, and they compare all these things with their experiences and expectations at home. But after warming up a bit, they start to notice our common ground, our experiences in church and school and in our families and communities. We begin to realize that what separates us is not as important as the many things that draw us together.
Early in their visit, Naftal and Anjelina would describe their impressions of American life: your houses are so sturdy, your cars are good, the roads are not crowded, and no one is walking except for exercise.
Now I'm hearing a shift in the comments of our guests. We're talking about family life, about where we grew up and went to school, about how many siblings we have. We have conversations about how we met our spouses, and despite many cultural differences and traditions that vary, we see things that cross cultures.
This afternoon we did some laundry. Anjelina and I sorted the pile, I showed her how I arrange the clothing in the washing machine, add the detergent, set the controls and start the machine. As I started to step away, she stayed back, watching the machine. "We'll come back when it's finished," I told her, and as she realized that was all there was to it, she began to laugh. Upstairs, she told the whole episode to Naftal in Swahili. He repeated her words in English as a question to me, "Is it? You sort, you put, you add, and that is it? She thought she would have to stay there for some time, but, is it?" Yep, it really is that easy. They laughed some more. It made me think that the next time I am in Tanzania, instead of paying the lodge staff to do my laundry, I would like to ask Mama to take me to the river to do it together.
The other day, my guests made a comment that I have made many times in Tungamalenga. "There is so much food and we are eating all the time." Offering the hospitality of food, our holiday meals, abundant blessings, is one of our common cultural traditions, I guess. What would I rather be, the honored guest, or the one who feels at home?
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