It was time to go
back to Dodoma. People who were from distant place woke up so early and got
ready to leave. Interestingly, there was no group bus for taking us to Dodoma. Since it
was Friday, many people would scatter over Dar es Salaam, somewhere in Morogoro,
or any other good place to spend wonderful weekend. Denice and Lidya were not
seen; I remembered that Denice would visit Lidya’s home in Morogoro. For me, I
just wanted to go back. Edwin, Michael and I took motorbikes to get
to the Morogoro bus station. It was a little over 8:00 am, but the earliest bus for Dodoma was at 10:00 am. Then, I faced a dilemma.
I study public health, and I somewhat feel awkward to understand what
‘public’ means. Obviously, it has a good meaning, grand ambition to serve
people in least developed countries, so to speak, publicly. But how much
‘public’? I mean, how much this public health should be opened to all people, and
how much should I open myself publicly? Should studying public health be for my
own good, or for a person’s benefit? If for a person’s behoof, how deep should I
commit myself to a life of poverty? How would I make sacrifices for public
health so that I can feel that ‘Yes, I am satisfied myself’? Should I just keep
quiet and secretly performed good deeds all my life? Or bluffing what I am
doing in Africa by writing on the blog? Many times, I have a sense of shame
that blogging seems to be a window dressing, boasting myself that I am
experiencing diverse and colorful life in Africa. Actually, my life here is not
special; rather, it is more or less inconvenient, and sometimes, frustrating. I
have lived my life too easily, without worrying about money trouble. All I did
was only study in the good, as people say, place. I have been always thinking
that what on earth I can do, what I want to do, and what is worth doing.
Maybe, I need to be placed in an extreme situation to feel finally that ‘Oh,
now I feel like I am doing something’? Should I provide humanitarian aid in the
war zone? Should I have stayed and been an Ebola dead body burier in Sierra
Leone? Should I live with isolated mountain villager to understand the
uncivilized realities of life? Everything was relaxed and easy during the whole
week, ate my bellyful, laughed so loudly, and worked on my reports absenting
from retreat sessions. And I do not know why even myself have
discussed the merits and demerits of the name value of school, and I have been
so much preoccupied with reading and long for partial credits in class. What
were all these for? For my sake or for people’s health?
Life in Africa is unique and sometimes exciting, but on the one hand, it is
tedious and slow. I would not figure out the real local situation within a
short period of time, and moreover, I have no idea what is really going on
Sierra Leone because I am so far away from there now. What about here in
Tanzania? My learning of Swahili makes little progress in spite of people’s constant
Swahili greetings, and I was busy with escaping embarrassing moment by saying
in English, Yes, No, and Thank you. Whenever I tried to learn Swahili, my
thought about leaving soon blocks me from concentrating effort to know the most
basic one, local language.
The scenery of a bus station in Morogoro was certainly refreshing. While I
was sitting one hour and a half to wait for a bus, what I could do was to look
around and see what merchants were selling. They brought to my company and me
to sell snack, charger, headphone, bread, and miscellaneous stuff. On the far
side of the street, Selina was also sitting on the chair to wait for a bus. We
said silent hi each other. I took my cellphone out to take picture of her
without thinking seriously. Just then, 2 males sprang out at me and quibbled
over my behavior. They continued poling and shouted at me in anger, “Did you take a picture?” I was full of
trepidation and had no chance to explain myself. People gathered around us and
started heated controversy in Swahili for a long time. I wished I could do
self-justification, but I could not even butt in their conversation. It was so long,
awkward and shameful moment that I could not avoid being a deaf and dumb, just
standing with immobile posture. But at least I knew why they were upset. Just
like I feel uncomfortable when they stare at me up and down, take a backward
glance, say Chee-na! Ni hao!, they might be insulted when they are
involuntarily photographed. I did not mean to take a picture of them… It was my
fault that I carelessly holding my cellphone too long, and they might misunderstand
my intention.
I confront a dilemma. I thought I have given it a lot of thought, but it
might be only in my own way, not even their way. I do self-censorship what
contents I say and what picture I upload, but I do not know yet which is perfectly
fine for them. Maybe, I could be never helpful, only burden to them. I muse the
question once more, what is public? It is a thorny question to answer. Drawing
a distinct line between public and private matters is real hard than I expected.
I took a bus, and 3 hours later, I arrived in Dodoma. Since I was in Africa, I
have had indigestion all the time. Trying to understand local people’s food
culture by eating the same food may be another dilemma. How can I be integrated
into their lives naturally so that nobody think I am alien? I only have one
more month in Tanzania. I am just afraid that I have no enough time to overcome
those dilemmas.
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