21.07.2011 Grass is an Extravagance.

21.07.2011 Grass is an Extravagance.

            Today a large group of us volunteers went to TGT to eat dinner and enjoy a few drinks.  We fit eight people into the tax, two in front and five in back. Driving without a seat belt, at past-capacity doesn’t seem as dangerous here, even though the roads aren’t paved and the driver’s are crazy.  Instead of feeling dangerous, it just feels normal.  There are no seat belts, even if I wanted to wear one. 

            TGT is a very high-security, mzungu hotel and restaurant.  There was a rugby field with grass.  This was the first time I had seen grass since arriving.  The grass made me feel selfish.  I was thinking, “I shouldn’t be here when my kids at school are probably trying to fall asleep right now, some on nothing more than a concrete or dirt and rock floor.”  Why should I enjoy such a luxury when nobody else can?  I found myself judging the tourists even harder than I was judging myself.  They are here, with three gates and dozens of security guards protecting them from Arusha’s dangers and shadows.  They have a surplus of clean (not to mention warm if so desired) water and running electricity.  They are here for safaris or to climb Mount Kilimanjaro.  They are not going to experience the true culture of Tanzania.  They are not going to hold the children or exchange broken Swahili words with the men and women.  They may see the poverty as they are driven through town, but they will protect themselves from the overcoming feeling of sadness and inability to make a difference by separating themselves from the environment and people within.  Why feel remorse for these people when you won’t take the initiative to help them?  That would lead to guilt.  At this point I realized how much of an ass I sounded like to myself.  Who am I to judge these people!?  I vacation!  I came here to TGT, even though it is a bit expensive, to enjoy a luxurious pizza. I work hard for my money, and so do these people who are here to vacation.  The currency they spend in Tanzania helps to keep this economy going and puts food on so many Tanzanian tables.  Where is the line of balance in which I can feel comfortable?  How much do I keep for myself and how much do I give away?  This line is different for everyone, but I think it is equally difficult to find for each person.  It reminds me of how I feel when I am in Kmart and the cashier asks me for a dollar for one cause of another.  What’s a dollar to me compared to what it will do for this particular cause of the month?  Here, 10,000 shillings is a really delicious, mouthwatering pizza in the enjoyable company of others, or porridge for my kids for two weeks.  Should I judge myself for choosing the pizza?  Yes, my children have porridge now but what if they don’t after I leave?  Going home is going to be hard.  I have a feeling I’m going to be comparing what I have to what the people here do quite a lot.