I refuse to give up hope

Sometimes this country frustrates me so much. First of all, Dar es Salaam is a dirty, disgusting, sketchy city with nothing to do. I walked all around city center over the last few days, and while there are a few (expensive) good restaurants, the city is basically just hectic and dirty, without sidewalks or anything interesting to see. Even the harbor and waterfront is dirty and smelly and somehow ugly (I’ve never known that the oceanfront can actually be so awful).

Granted, there are also plenty of good, nice people, which help cheer things up, and I really do love those conversations and interactions which really mean a lot but they're mixed in with not so fun interactions as well. Many men see me as a ticket to America, an inferior woman, so I have to shake those creepers off before I punch them in the face (just kidding). I ended up spending a lot of my time in Dar in my hotel room, and then a PCV friend also came and we watched some movies. I felt so lazy and terrible for lying around not exploring the city, but I'd had enough of that after two days. So I'll be excited to get out of here and back to my village and my town of Iringa nearby, so clean and nice and friendly and easy to get around (by comparison).

Then there was this morning, waiting at the bus stop and then getting on a daladala to try to get to the Peace Corps office. I'd done this a few times last week, but today was extra terrible.

We waited forever for the right bus at this awful huge bus stop, getting blatantly stared at from everyone who passed (the white skin and blonde hair kinda sticks out around here). I've mostly gotten used to the stares, but it still seems disrespectful to me for someone to stare for so long at another person, like I'm an alien from another world. And even when I greet them or smile, they don't respond; they just continue staring, stopped in their tracks. But oh well, I shook it off and got ready to get on my bus.

When the right bus came, I moved towards it along with a mass of people and we waited, chewing at the bit, while the conductor of the bus struggled to hold us back and let the current passengers off first. As the last woman was descending the stairs, the first guy in line broke through the conductor and ran up the steps, triggering a violent gnashing and crushing of the herd behind him to enter the bus. The woman trying to get off the bus got squeezed against the door and cried out in objection and pain, but her cries went unheard amongst the turmoil. As I shoved my way aboard, as politely forceful as possible (my PCV friend braced himself against the door to help me through), someone stepped on my foot hard. I almost lost my shoe as I was pushed onto the bus backwards, carried by the crowd. Luckily, I managed to get a seat and feel a tiny breeze through the window ahead on my way through the hot, sticky city before I arrived at the oh-so-gloriously peaceful (and air-conditioned) Peace Corps compound.

Apart from the sheer stress of such a situation, I wondered why this sort of thing bothers me so much. My PCV friend and I discussed it along the way, and we concluded that we’re just so frustrated with the chaos of this country and the impossibility of changing it. In our lives, we have both always been people to identify a problem, brainstorm the best solution, and believe in the possibility of implementing the solution to change the world (however small and seemingly insignificant that change may seem). Never before have we been presented with problems for which a solution is impossible.

There’s no way that the bus situation described above will ever be fixed because that’s just not how this country works. No matter how much everyone hates that system (or lack thereof), no one will take a step to change it and no one will pay attention to an attempt to change. The person who stands up to try to change will change nothing but his/her own opportunity to board that bus. People simply care more about getting on the bus and trying to get a seat to take them 5 blocks away than they do about the safety of those people or having an easy efficient way of boarding and de-boarding a bus.

And I see this impossibility in faces everywhere. People are always telling me how impossible things in this country are. As much as I want to inspire change here and motivate people to believe in the possibility of change, I, too, get bogged down with despair. How will these things ever change? How can they change?

In the US, most people have the mindset to believe in possibilities, and we have an environment in which change is possible. We constantly look for ways to improve on the current system, to make life better and easier and more efficient, to make more money, to be “happier.” And even though the stress and overwork that results from such an attitude exists, I do think we’re happier. We at least have the opportunity to be happier by choosing not to work too hard and overstress ourselves, while enjoying the beauty of such a small silly thing as a potato peeler (another blog on that later).

But here in Tanzania, there is no system, there’s nothing to understand no matter how hard I try to “figure it out.” Instead, there is chaos and the stress and frustration that goes along with it. How can anyone live at peace with that?

Maybe I’m simply frustrated today and it will pass with time. Maybe I need to find more hope and inspiration within myself and my support network so I can continue working to create that environment of “It’s possible.” Maybe it is possible, but I just can’t see a way right now and I need to keep looking and trying to get through, over, or just beyond the huge mountain looming over me.

I won’t give up on it. I refuse to give up hope. I refuse to stop trying.