There were so many new things to get used to: Using candles and oil lamps most nights when the power would go off. Once it was out for three months after the main transformer for our village exploded. The reason was that thieves had stolen all the oil. The oil worked as a hair straightener!
All along the main road, there were telephone poles with leftover pieces of wire dangling from the poles. People stole the wire to make “Magic bracelets.” After all: voices came through these lines!
Another novelty for me was house workers. Rosalia was my cleaning lady who did my laundry and cleaned rice, beans and vegetables. She had been working for a previous missionary who had retired. Now I was to hire her as I would be busy most of the day. Then there was a gardener, Jessica. When I arrived, I learned that we, as missionaries, should hire these people so that they would have some income to help their families.
I did not know the language, so I was using a lot of sign language and often asking Mara to translate. We usually ended up understanding one another. There were some funny moments: My mom had given me a non-stick wok. I left it for Rosalia to clean with the other dishes. When I returned home late in the afternoon, Rosalia greeted me and said: “I don’t know what you burned in your pan, but it took me most of the morning to get all the black stuff off!” I was about to cry when I saw the shiny inside of my wok. But then I just cracked up.
Another funny incident was with Jesaba. I was teaching him to compost and had two separate garbage pits—one for burning paper and one for composting. I had seeds for carrots, lettuce, etc. I had asked him to plant these, which he did. After a few weeks, I took a look and saw hundreds of papaya plants and tomatoes. So much for my carrots and lettuce! He had mixed in all the compost, which was not ready yet to be used.
In my kitchen, I had a hand-operated water pump. At least I was able to fill buckets of water from inside my home. Many women in remote villages have to walk for hours to get a bucket of water.
During that first week, I needed to get furniture made, so we went into Shinyanga town. Shinyanga was a small town with a fair size market and different shops. Mara knew the place where they made furniture, and I had a single bed made, a couch, chairs and coffee table. The retired missionary had left me a big dining room table and some chairs. (After 27 years I still enjoy this furniture!) She took me to her favourite restaurant in town: Mama Snack and tasted my first Samosa’s. Little deep-fried crispy triangles with a spicy ground beef filling. I was immediately addicted!
After being in Kolandoto for few days, I finally met the other missionaries who were working in the village. One couple, James and Jane. Jane was a nurse and taught at the school for nurses training. James worked with young unemployed youth, fixing the roads, which always washed out with the rains and doing other building projects. I learned that while working with these young boys, he disciplined them. Then there was another nurse, Mary, who taught as well at this nursing School. Mary was also teaching at the local Bible training school and was in charge of all the logistics for operating this school: Intake of students, finances, food supplies, organizing the graduations, etc. She was a single woman. Each was around 60 years old, except for Mara. These two women had been working as teachers at the nursing school for 30 years or more.
James and Jane had a C.B. radio, and once a week, we would all gather to get the latest news from our headquarters and from other missionaries working in different areas in Tanzania who also had a C.B. radio. We received information regarding the plane schedule and when to expect it to arrive with mail. We could hand in a shopping list for vegetables and supplies we were not able to get in our area (things like cheese, carrots, lettuce, cans with tuna, etc.) The C.B. was the only communication with the outside world besides the letters which we received. So, every Friday night, we would huddle around this C.B. radio to hear all the latest news.
There was another elderly missionary, Joy, who was born in Sukuma land and spoke their language fluently. She was to be my mentor in helping me to learn about the culture and adjust to my new surroundings. On her retirement day, she handed me a handbook on all the things I should have learned with her. Joy taught at the Bible school and was very much involved in student ministries and with the local women’s group. At the end of my first week, I was invited to a meal with the missionaries and encouraged to join our weekly Bible study and prayer meeting.
During my first meal with the missionaries, I found out that there were other ex-patriates in the village. One couple was from Holland and another couple from Germany. They were doctors who were out on a medical trip to other villages and would be back after two weeks. These doctors were not Christian but were quite helpful. We talked about the work in Kolandoto, and I found that they expected that I would take over all the ministries of a missionary who had just retired. I was to involve myself with women’s work, student ministries, teach in the Bible school, teach English at the Nursing school, teach Bible in primary schools and secondary schools. I would start by accompanying Mara in her work. She had set up a nursery school and was training a national as to how to teach little
children, and eventually, this woman would take over the running of this school. I explained that I had come to do children and youth ministry. After a long pause, I discovered that there are no children or youth ministries as the kids are too bad! “If you let them get close to your home, they will steal and be destructive.” Mara did not want them to come near our house. There seemed to be tension during the meal, and it made me feel like an intruder. I asked about the women’s ministry. I was to teach hand sewing and do Bible studies with them. I asked the question: “For how many years have missionaries done this ministry?” The answer was:” For over 35 years.” “What about the student ministry?” That had been going on for many years, and Joy was the Regional Coordinator for is work. I felt somewhat concerned about this conversation and hearing their expectations. I went home, feeling slightly deflated.
I said to Mara that I was thinking and praying about these ministries and if I should become involved. That made her quite upset, and she said that I was to do as assigned. I told her that I was not sure I should do all these things.
Soon I met the Dutch and German doctors. I am Dutch and speak both languages, so I had an immediate in with these people—something which brought another bit of stress to my relationship with my missionary colleagues. I did enjoy these families very much, and during my first year in Tanzania, I never lacked Dutch cheese and chocolates. (something I believed I would miss very much when I left for Tanzania.)
I remember that during my first month in Kolandoto, I slept a lot. Probably due to the change in climate and listening all day long to Kisukuma and Kiswahili. I had learned the Kiswahili words: Jambo – sijambo (How are you? – I am fine!). However, in the village, most spoke their tribal language, which was Kisukuma. Their greeting was: “Ng’wangaluka” in the morning, followed by” Mleem mholla?” Meaning: “Good morning, and How are you?” It took me forever to pronounce this correctly. Several questions always followed this greeting, such as: How is your day? How are things at home? How are you feeling today? How is your work? Etc. At least the Kisukuma answers were easy. It was usually “Mholla.”
I did run into trouble once when I was not feeling well during my first bout of Malaria. I went outside and answered them with “Mholla” which meant that I was okay. When some found out that I was sick, they came and asked me why I had told them I was okay? I had not been honest with them, and they felt a bit deceived—the next time I did let them know when I was not feeling well. The problem with telling people when you are not feeling well or had if you had to stay in bed, was that you had an ongoing stream of people who wanted to pray for you and make sure you drank the porridge they brought. All I wanted was to be quiet and sleep! That is the custom in Tanzania, and it was difficult for people to understand that I couldn’t eat anything when I was sick.
Mara was heartbroken. She was so gifted, and I wished I could speak Kiswahili like her. She seemed so comfortable with the people and would joke with them and make everyone laugh. She would play her guitar and sing the local songs with kids and students. She made many people happy. Her nursery school was one of the first to be set up in the region, and the hospital staff who sent their kids there were so pleased with watching their kids develop and learn their ABCs, basic math, English and God’s Word. However, Mara would be different when we were at home. Her joy disappeared, and often she became angry for no known reason. Mara told me that other missionaries made her feel that setting up nursery schools was not mission work, and she should be doing other ministries. She let me know that she was afraid of teaching teenagers and adults. Mara also had become somewhat dependent on one of the missionaries with whom she was sharing the duplex. She felt slightly lost without her support. Mara left six months later, never to return to Kolandoto.
I had my new roof two weeks later. Still, there was no money to do anything about the rough floor in the living room, and the termites were quite happy to continue to build their little hills underneath the table and building tracks along the walls in the hope of reaching the timber that was holding up my new roof. Every day we swept the floor and the walls, but they never gave up!
My days became busier. In the morning Mara and I would go to the nursery school. Soon I was asked to teach religious education at the Nurses’ training school. In my first class, I introduced myself and gave a bit of my history. Then one of the students asked,” How many children do you have?” I decided to answer by saying, “I am not married.” There was a pause, and then they started laughing and chatting between them in Kiswahili that I didn’t understand their question. They repeated the question louder and slower, articulating every word with exaggeration: “HOW MANY CHILDREN DO YOU HAVE?” I repeated my answer…. More laughter and remarks about me, not understanding. That is when I told them I had come to teach the Bible and asked them, “What does the Bible tell us about having sex and not being married?” They all became quiet, and many of the girls bowed their heads. Most of these girls already had one or more children.
In my beginning years, I realized that life in Tanzania for young women is very challenging. Sex education doesn’t exist. Sex is never discussed at home. The fear of not getting a husband is so great that many young girls will give in to any boy who promises marriage. The churches condemn promiscuity, but preaching about this topic is usually just geared towards the “bad” girls who get pregnant. The reality for the women is that if you don’t get married, you are not seen and respected as an adult. However, not having children is worse. If you are not a mother, you are nothing and looked down on by other women. Women with children organize women’s groups. (Wakina mama) If you are not a mama, you don’t belong! That brings a lot of pressure and fear for these young girls and women. At 42, I was seen as a young girl and not as a real woman as I was single and did not have children. I had some respect for having white skin, for having higher education and for speaking English.
The students were great, and many wanted to be friends. Two of the girls were lovely and befriended me. They came to take me to their church service at their Lutheran church and translated the sermon for me. These two girls are the only students who befriended me for who I was and never asked me for a handout. A couple of weeks later, Jane’s husband came by to tell that those girls were his wife’s girls, and I should not take them away from her. (The girls and I remained friends for many years.)
Giving handouts was the expectation of many local people—mainly from church leaders like pastors and evangelists. I had “inherited” many of these people who would come just to greet me. “You must be a new missionary. I am so pleased to meet you! I am…” Then I was to invite them for tea, and the conversation would be about the weather, their family and other polite conversation. Then the following words: “Na sasa” (Well Now) “Nina shida” (I have a problem) The common issues were: Lack of money, needing to buy a plot of land, needing Bibles, radio’s, seeds, medical care, etc. I found that most of the time, missionaries would give them money or other things. I prayed about this and felt I was making people dependent on me. I desperately needed to improve my Kiswahili language skills to discuss these problems with these people in the right manner. I remember crying several times over the frustrations I felt not knowing the language to understand it and use it correctly so I would be appreciated.
In February 1993, I went to a language school in Musoma, in the North of Tanzania. I arrived with another 20 students—men and women of all ages. Many came to serve with the Roman Catholic churches and others with missions. It was a beautiful place, and I never saw such a fantastic variety of butterflies. We each had our room, and classes started the next morning. Each day we were given words and short stories to memorize and to present the next day. We had to say something each day using the new words that we learned. It was exhausting, but we made progress. On the weekends we had barbeques or my favourite samosas with soda. I had already discovered that, in Tanzania, sodas were a treat for everyone. However, they always served a lot of alcoholic drinks, and once the drinking started, it would not stop until all the alcohol was gone. My missionary friends and I usually left after the meal.