Things I Learned From The Tanzanian People

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I went to Mt. Kilimanjaro to have some sort of holy and spiritual experience. I planned to come back all enlightened and probably going by a new name or something. I did learn a lot, but nothing I expected. The following is my first travel blog.



Pole, pole (pronounced pole-ay, pole-ay)

"Pole, pole" is Swahili for "slowly, slowly". While technically referring to the speed we climb the mountain, it's also an extremely accurate metaphor for how the Tanzanian people live. The best example of this happened within my first few hours in Africa. If you can imagine: I am a young girl, traveling alone, in a foreign, third world country of which I do not speak the language and have almost no knowledge. I'm continually asked where my mother and father are. I haven't slept in 36 hours. Oh, and I'm climbing the tallest mountain on the continent the next morning. Needless to say, I'm a little on edge. As I wait in the lobby(ish) for a taxi, I keep looking at this tea table near me and thinking how delightful a cup would be. But, I remind myself, I'm waiting for a taxi. I can't very well enjoy a cup of tea when this cab might arrive any second. The horror! The minutes drag by. This is when I learn that in Africa time, a taxi coming "soon" could mean five minutes, an hour, or not at all.

I must have looked pretty awful because the hotel owner approaches me, like a mother hen, obviously noticing that I was in desperate need of some mothering, and asks me if everything is ok. I assure her I'm fine. Ten minutes later, she approaches me again. Again: I'm fine, really. Just tired. Finally, she literally takes my hand and drags me to the tea table. She gestures that I should make tea and sit down. It was not a request. Imagine Molly Weasley. I laugh off my uncomfort and reach for the hot water just as the taxi drives up. I gesticulate and mumble through painful Swahili that I guess I'll have this later because now the taxi is here. She stares at me like I have antenna growing out of my face and forcefully responds, "He will wait". So, here I am, with no other choice but to sit down and enjoy this delicious tea. Before knowing exactly why, I find myself shaking in silent sobs.

I wanted that tea so desperately, but was still thinking in America time. I don't have time for tea, I'm waiting for a taxi! And even when it did arrive, I remained convinced that I had to go, go, go. Part of me knew that stopping would mean facing my fears and probably breaking down. But when you take life "pole, pole", you allow yourself the breakdowns. You start breathing and, once you release what needs to be released, you're able to enjoy the moment. This is how the Tanzanian people operate. I was told to look for my water bottle pole pole, to pack my bag pole pole and to wait for my friends pole pole. To me, it means deliberation. Move with intention. Look for your water bottle with the slow and deliberate intention of finding it. Pack your back with conscious knowledge of each item and its place. Breathe in the air and wait for your friends, slowly.

Since returning to the States, I've tried to adopt a pole, pole modus operandi. I notice myself listening more. Not just an, "I hear you" listening, but an active, full-body listening. I spent so much time throwing my opinions on other people and making my voice known I couldn't stop to realize how desperately other people need to be heard and validated. When I started breathing and reminding myself that I had time, it changed my perspective. I started looking around. I stopped losing things. I began listening to my body. I relaxed. I shared this idea with my aunt, who called it "mindfulness". Be aware and mindful of your actions.


Hakuna Matata

I was just as surprised as you probably are to learn that this is an actual phrase used commonly among the Tanzanian people. Loosely translated, it does mean "no worries", but also "no problem" and often "fahgeddabadit" (imagine a New York cab driver saying it and it'll make sense). I am an excellent worrier. It is a skill. It takes a lot for me to make the conscious decision to let this habit go, but when I continually remind myself of all signs I got illustrating the toxicity of it, it gets easier. Just one of many examples: my Kindle battery didn't look like it could make the 17-hour trek back to the States. Anxiety. Stress. What will I do on the plane, ohmygod, I'll be so bored I can't bring myself to watch Toothfairy 2 and I can't sleep in planes maybe I'll just take drugs ohmygodohmygodohmygod. After 7 days, I voiced my distress. What's that? You have a charging system that will work with my Kindle? You can charge it to full battery the night before I leave or even here on the mountain? Wow. Thanks.

I had probably spent a total of ten hours worrying about my Kindle battery. That's ten hours of wasted energy. And, to drive the point home, three similar situations followed with the same result. I stressed about something so completely that it took me out of the beauty surrounding me and the solution came seamlessly and painlessly as soon as I decided to let it go. My worrying not only didn't help, it came very close to worsening each situation.

Furthermore, adopting this philosophy when back in the States, I realized how much the universe takes care of us. I don't like getting my hair cut. I find the interaction with the hair stylist to be very awkward and uncomfortable. I feel the need to talk incessantly and fake interest in everything. It's an experience that gives me knots of stress in my stomach and makes my time in the chair feel very much like The Chair. The day after I arrived in the states, my dead ends were getting into weedwaker zone, but instead of my usual anxiety, I reminded myself to breathe and to hakuna matata the experience. The normal smalltalk began, but I found myself sitting in the silence with ease. Without forcing conversation or any kind of connection, through the natural progression of this (albiet surface and vain) experience we were sharing, we found a common bond. Turns out, she had the travel bug, like me, and was struggling with a similar issue I was: what do you value more, a stable life, career, relationships or quenching that thirst to see the world? This connection never would have been established if I tried to force it, worried about it, or indeed, did anything other than let it progress naturally. I hakuna matata'd the whole experience and managed to make an actual friend.



Above all, the big lesson I took away from my Tanzanian experience was how to approach life without strife. Live in the moment and let the universe take care of the rest. I used to spend so much time forcing things to happen; everything from relationships to a night out--I was determined to get the most out of every experience. But when you pole pole and look around, when you hakuna matata and trust the god living inside, around and through us, you find the quiet place where true enlightenment waits. The Tanzanian people are, by and large, the happiest group of people I've ever met, which is ironic when you consider that a lot of them spend their lives hiking up a giant mountain carrying 60 pounds on their backs without adequate healthcare in a country with 55%!u(MISSING)nemployment where most people live on less than $1 a day. Yet, they still find joy. Everything is funny or amusing or calming. There is so much to laugh at and enjoy. Stop. Look around. See the world. Really take it in. Breathe. And then take each step one at a time. Pole, pole.

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