Fussing a Bit

Because, in general, life here in Tanzania is relatively easy compared to other places I have lived in Africa, I feel as if I have no cause to complain about much of anything.  Yet, I have to admit that sometimes I become annoyed, frustrated and/or discouraged by events and circumstances.  And, perhaps it was because nothing very unusual or exciting happened this week that I had empty time for some inner fussing.

One of the biggest inconveniences I have here is the complete lack of anything resembling a department store or a vendor such as Fred Meyer’s.  There are thousands upon thousands of tiny little shops (dukas), which generally focus on one type of commodity, be it cement, backpacks, second hand shoes, or stationery, but even such shops have very limited inventory.  Ever since we arrived in January, I have been hunting for a funnel so that we wouldn’t waste water when we pour it from the big 10-liter jugs into our personal water bottles.  I have no doubt that somewhere in the deep center of one of the big markets, someone is selling funnels, but since I can’t navigate the narrow and uneven mud paths and crowds inside the markets, I have been limited to searching at shops which offer plastic ware or household items.  And, so far, I’ve had no luck at all.  Finally, today I asked our taxi driver and friend, Ray, if he thought he could find a funnel for us.  He said he could, and I think it will probably come from a shop that sells small items for cars.  Funnels for filling bottles with gas!  I would have never thought of that myself.

Then there’s the seeming contradiction between how warm and friendly most Tanzanians are and their total disregard of anything we would recognize as customer service. In the more expensive cafes which cater to many tourists most of the wait staff is very prompt and courteous, but in any other venue, clerks or shopkeepers will just stand or sit and do nothing to help a customer unless one makes a very direct request.  Even then, the response usually sounds lackadaisical, and the clerk will make no move to help. This afternoon, I went to a shop where they will cut my kind of mzungu hair.  The shop is in a high-end complex, and four young adults were inside; two young women were behind the front counter, and two young men, whom I thought were hairdressers, were draped across the chairs usually used by waiting customers. I approached the counter stated that I wanted to have my hair cut.  Without moving or even making eye contact, one of the young women told me that wouldn’t be possible.  So, I asked if I needed to wait—sometimes people are off at tea—and she said no because the hairdresser wasn’t in today, and in fact hadn’t been in most of the week.  When, I asked if/when he would be in, she said she didn’t know.  So, finally I asked if there was a phone number I could call next week to check on whether I could make an appointment.  She looked at me for a long time and finally said yes.  So, I asked her to please give me that number, and she finally did.  John was standing behind me in the doorway throughout this entire conversation, and as we left he commented to me that I had been treated as if I had rudely interrupted a private party.  Unfortunately, while this particular situation was more extreme than usual, a lack of active customer service is fairly uniform in Arusha.

And, while I’m venting, I will mention that we are often run about trying to access simple services.  So, yesterday, John spent much of his afternoon trying to wire money to Dar es Salaam to make down payments on some services for next month. He got part way done with the transaction only to find that he needed another number to complete the transfer.  He kept texting his contact in Dar as we tried to complete some other errands, and finally after he received the requisite number, he had to return to the office where he had begun the process to finish the transfer.  Then there are the shops which proudly advertise services they cannot provide.  After my failed attempt to get my hair cut, John went to a nearby shop which advertised that it provided photocopying, and prepared advertisement brochures, booklets, signs, etc. so it seemed that this would be closest thing we could find to a full service Kinkos.  John needed a color for the border on the certificates he wanted printed (He brought his own paper).  But, unbelievably this shop could not do color printing.  Ray then took John to another shop which advertised color printing, and there they got as far as loading the paper in the copier before discovering that the ink cartridge was empty, and they had no idea when they would have a new one.  Finally, John decided to walk to a nearby grocery shop which has a copier, and there of all places, he got what he wanted.  As John noted, no one who hasn’t lived here would ever understand how buying bottled water and getting a dozen certificates printed could take up a whole afternoon.

However, it isn’t just Tanzanians or local services which can be taxing, our young Americans are also surprising in some unexpected ways.  One of the biggest headaches that John and Megan face is the lack of attention the students pay to what they are told and their failure to read email messages.  I stand on the side of the academic aspects of this program, but I have seen the careful syllabi, calendar, and descriptions of assignments.  I have heard the repeated clarifications and reiterations of specific details for what is expected for each project and paper.  Yet, many of the students continue to act as if they have no idea what was/is expected of them, and whine and wheedle for extensions on assignments that could have easily been finished on time if they had chosen to manage their time better.  Even the more responsible ones often fail to read the email messages they are sent and then plead ignorance of what is expected of them. Believe me, they have been repeatedly told to read their email regularly! I realize that I may sound like an old grouch here, but I don’t blame the students for this behavior as much as I do those who should have been helping them to mature into responsible young adults.  More and more, I am convinced that in trying so hard to provide a warm, welcoming, and supportive environment for its students, Whitworth has failed to recognize the concurrent necessity of providing a balance with a clear expectation that students need to accept more personal responsibility for their lives.  Student evaluations, which frankly are blatant popularity polls, make it more difficult for professors to hold lines with students or to let the consequences for irresponsibility happen.  There should be grace and mercy at times, but not license to avoid any personal responsibility.  Quite frankly, I would not have shown the “flexibility” that John and Megan have with this group.  The fact that a small number of the students do follow though and have accomplished their assignments on time demonstrates that the work can be done if one chooses to do it.

[Note:  I wrote the above paragraphs last night and want to report that it was a pleasant to find three students here on the Kundayo terrace this morning.  They had come to spend the day on the internet working on their assignments.  The fact that these three are some of the most mature and responsible ones in the group was no surprise at all.]

Still, as much as I can feel momentarily peeved, I love being here and feel very fortunate to have this amazing opportunity to see and experience so much that is new and unexpected. We still have six more weeks left in Tanzania, and that gives plenty of time for the students to do more self-reflection and gain a better awareness of who they are. They are all doing remarkably well in their internships, and as in 2012, supervisors have mentioned that our students are far superior to what they had expected given their stereotypes of young Americans. So, a few bumps and jolts along the way in no way make the journey too onerous to enjoy.