Struggles of Being a Volunteer Missionary

Since I first arrived here, I can see how much I've grown as a person, how much my attitude towards missions has changed, and how I view my life here now as opposed to when I first arrived. It hasn't always been an easy road, but it hasn't been a terrible road either.

So many things have become habits, normal, natural parts of life. Things like being water conscious and always making sure that the buckets are full. And always making sure that I'm dressed appropriately and that my knees are covered. Wearing kitenges (wrap skirts) is second nature, even around my house where I'm not required to dress "Tanzanian appropriate". Even speaking Swahili has become easier and so many of the greetings and common sayings like "pole" (sorry), "karibu" (you are welcome), "asante" (thank you), "Bwana asifiwe" (praise God), etc. are second nature. I know where to go to get my American foods, I know how to get a package from the post office, I know the routine for riding the daladalas into town, and I've even become accustomed to traveling around Tanzania using the bus system. And, as hard as it can be to be away from family and friends, there are so many ways to communicate with them. Skype isn't always the best, but it still allows us to hear each other's voices and sometimes we even get to see each other! (if the internet is working well that day)

But there are some things that you never truly get used to. There are some things that are deeper in you, some things that you can't seem to let go of. And before I continue any further, I feel the need to write some kind of disclaimer. This is still something I'm still trying to work through and understand (and maybe I'm not meant to fully understand it). Thus, some of this may not come out in the best way, but I still feel the desire to share it with you because it's a real (and rather messy) part of missionary life. Of course, if you have questions you are welcome to post comments or send me an email and I'll do my best to clarify anything. :)

For me, the hardest part of being a missionary is how people here see me; what people see when they see any "mzungu" (white person). For so many here, that's my name. They see me and they yell out "Hey mzungu!" Sometimes they just stare at me and keep staring. It's not even a polite, slightly interested stare. It's a full out, pointed stare. It hurts a lot sometimes, realizing that people here only see my white skin and nothing else. It makes me feel less than human. Often I find myself looking down because I don't want to see them staring anymore and I pretend I can't understand Swahili so that I don't have to respond to them. Maybe it's a bad habit, I'm not really sure.

I know what my white skin represents here: wealth, prosperity, health, three or four houses, ten cars, and endless bank account, everything perfect, everything beautiful, nothing wrong. And the fact of the matter is, it's not a true assumption. There is poverty in every country; there is poverty in America; there are white people in this world who are impoverished. (this is a shocking idea to most people here) My life is not perfect and not everything is beautiful. I certainly wasn't impoverished, but I was working two minimum wage jobs and living with my parents before I came here. By American standards, I was at the bottom. And then I moved here and I suddenly found myself at the top. It has been a really hard transition for me to make. I know that no matter what my self concept or situation was in the states, it was not even close to the position that so many people face here. And yet it's hard for me to accept this change in status because it doesn't match up with how I see myself. Especially when I haven't received any salary since I've gotten here and the real reason I'm able to be here is based on donations from friends, family, and church.

I try to live as simply as I can here. I was living with the pastor and his family, but now I'm renting a small, Tanzanian-style home. I don't have a car, a pikipiki (motorcycle), or even a bicycle. I've hardly bought any new clothes. So far, I've only gotten two dresses made since I've been here and I've had to buy a pair of shoes because so many of my shoes have been completely destroyed by having to walk everywhere on bad dirt roads (out of the 5 pairs of shoes I brought, only one pair is in good enough shape to make it back to the states. The others have been super glued together and sent to the shoe repair guy multiple times). I don't have a water heater (if I want hot water I've got to heat it myself by using the hot pot, or if the electricity is out, I have to heat it in a pan over the small kerosene jiko I have). I don't have air conditioning. I hand wash my clothes, I eat a lot of Tanzanian food (more than I'd ever like to sometimes), and my house is sparsely furnished. It's hard for my mind to merge this with the idea of "rich mzungu" in a way that makes sense.

So on the one hand, I feel like all people can see about me is my supposed "wealth". That's not what I'm here to try and tell or show people. Yes, Jesus can bless our lives, but He can also choose not to bless our lives. I'm not here to preach the "health and wealth gospel". And yet, on the other hand I feel like the above paragraph only points to me. It sounds self-righteous and like I'm trying to say "Hey! Look at me! Look at how much I've sacrificed!" I don't want my life or my mission here to be about that either. I want my life to point to Jesus and to His wonderful provision. I want people to see how He is the one who has carried me through the lowest points in my life and rejoiced with me in the highest points. I want people to see that all these material things we cling to and say "I can't live without ____" are not actually necessary. In our lives, our situations, our wealth, or our lack, God is what is meaningful. It is possible to live without electricity, consistent running water, air conditioning, etc. I don't want people to see a "rich white girl", but I don't want them to see someone who is self righteous either. And it's a hard balance in addition to the balance of living between two extremely opposite cultures. I'm not sure if there really is a real and defined solution to this issue.

Of course, I must add that it's not everyone who treats me like this. When things like this start to overwhelm me or get me down, I remind myself of Pastor and his family, all of my students, my fellow teachers, and the members of our church. These are the people who have gotten a chance to know me. These are the people who see me as more than just a white person. I praise and thank God for these people who have been so good to me. Who having so little, have opened their arms and given me so much. I know that we can never truly be able to understand one another. There are some things that are just so culturally different that it's just short of impossible to bridge the gap. But, I hope that I have given them something in return and that all the struggles of life here are worth it. I hope that through all the mistakes and failures, I've managed to represent God in a good and true way.

May the Lord Bless You and Keep You,
~Christine