Sights, Sounds and Smells of Tanzania

I realize that, in this blog, I've only been sharing events I've witnessed while in Tanzania. Yet, everyday, there are similar sights, sounds and smells that remind me I'm in Tanzania. To help give you a sense of everyday life, I'd like to share some of the impressions I regularly experience.

In the quiet, I hear the cawing of the black and white crow.
Car horns constantly honk as traffic moves through the main thuroughfare.
Music is everywhere - church choirs, radios, people singing their own songs.

Several times each day I hear the muezin calling from the mosques for prayer. I have to be honest with you, these muezins will never make it to Mecca. At 5:30 this morning, I was trying to decide whether I was hearing a mosquito buzzing or a call to prayer. I think it was a call to prayer.

I see school children in bright colored skirts, sweaters and slacks, walking briskly to school at 6:30 a.m. and returning home around 3:00 p.m.
I see women in colorful katangas (wrap around skirts) and matching head scarfs.

I hear the constant babble of voices in the market.
And the occasional voice from the vendors as Gary Langness walks by, "Hey Gary, my friend!" I think he's been here too many years.

In the market I see the bright colors of bananas, pinapple, mango, tomatos and onions. The pungent smell of fish, fresh and dried.

I hear the rain as it rolls across the green, rock covered hills around Iringa, blowing its way into town.

I see the mud covered walls of homes in the villages, the grass roofs filtering the smoke from cooking fires inside.
The red brick, long walls of churches, their shining metal roofs gleaming in the sunshine, used truck tires hanging from trees for bells.

I smell charcoal burning in little, round, hibachi-type grills, preparing to cook the daily meal.
I see the red, hard-packed roads with deep ruts and pot-holes, snaking through the countryside.

And I hear laughter, always laughter. Every conversation, whether in Swahili or English, is punctuated with generous laughter.

As one group of visitors from St. Paul was preparing to leave, they joined Don and Eunice Fultz of Bega kwa Bega for a meal and conversation about their trip. Several members of the group wept as they recalled their impressions of poverty and the simple life of the people in the villages. Compared to their wealth and comfortable lifestyle, they wondered what they could do to make a difference.

A member of the Iringa Diocese staff, when it was his turn to speak, gently asked these people not to weep for the Tanzanians. They had everything they needed. Sure, they were poor, but they were happy. Instead, weep for people who have more than they need, because wealth has a way of masking what is truly important in life.

Sights, sounds, smells - and lessons to learn.