First and current impressions

I had a long and interesting talk with one of my roommates last night. I don’t really remember the specific details since I was quite brain dead after a 12-hour work day. But I remember we were discussing about how we were adjusting to life here in Dar.

As I mentioned in another post, frankly, there wasn’t much adjusting on my side. This is way easier than how we lived in Kampala, which was my first time in any “developing” country. I still remember vividly how I felt in the first four weeks after I arrived in Kampala.

It was awful.

Don’t get me wrong, I was excited about the different culture, the intriguing sights everywhere, the interesting classes we were having, the people, the language, the nightlife…But it wasn’t easy.

Kampala is a very different city than Dar es Salaam, at least my experience of it. Kampala is less planned, less “developed”, less stable.

We stayed in a hostel that local students live in to attend Makerere University. It was right next to one of the unplanned settlements. When the rain came (and tropical rains are like nothing that I have seen before, it’s like half an hour (sometimes more) of a crazy Hong Kong typhoon without the wind), the water would rush pass our hostel like a river and accumulate in the unplanned settlement. The water would be a dark brown – who knows what is in there. When we visited an unplanned settlement a bit further away, we asked them what happened with the waste from the pit latrines that were built. “The rain takes care of it” was the answer. Flooding is no joke in Kampala; disease outbreaks are rampant and many people lose their homes.

The hostel itself was alright, minus the fact that no matter how much we cleaned, the room, especially the bathroom was still dirty. We had cold showers every day. We washed our own clothes by hand. We ate local food every day because it was prepared for us (I like the food, but it’s different). There was no internet (only very, very slow one at the university).

The city was littered with garbage, mosquitoes, and dust clouds. Trash burning was everywhere – I don’t think holding my breath when passing really helped me avoid the toxic plastic fumes. The potholes were so big on some of the roads that water would accumulate and it felt like you were going through a small pond. Constant “mzungu” (white person) calls were unavoidable, as with the hair touching and hand grabbing. Getting ripped off for taking transport was common practice. The pit latrines, when we had them during trips, were hard to get used to, especially the ones with lots of cockroaches.

And of course, there was the poverty that was so visible, yet so vast, that there’s nothing you could do but feel helpless.

I’m painting a very bad picture, aren’t I? But it’s true, those were my first impressions. And being very honest, I had about 3 weeks of a career crisis of sorts.

You have to understand, I have always felt a draw towards humanitarian work, sometimes it even feels as strong as a life mission I was born with. But here I was, in a place where I had thought I wanted to be, and all I could think about was life’s discomforts and feel guilty (well, that’s essentially what feeling helpless about poverty is about). How was I going to ever work in international development work again when I can’t even stand living a middle class life in Kampala? How was I ever supposed to help the marginalized when I can barely live in the same city as them, let alone truly experience their situation? I had major doubts, and it wasn’t pleasant.

Luckily, and surprisingly, all this almost vapourised after three weeks. All I could do at the time was remind myself that I could get through this, to not think about it too much and just concentrate on my learning. And eventually “their” way of life because “my” way of life. I stopped having a panic attack every time I had to cross a major road (those speeding cars are scary!). I took in, and enjoyed, the everyday life I saw rather than let my guilt get in the way. I saw more of the assets of this community rather than all that it was missing. (Come to think about it, it was very similar to the asset mapping exercise we did for our training in the downtown east side in Vancouver).

I’m still not very sure what happened, but I’m glad it did. I’m glad that by the end, when I went back to Kampala for 3 days after my 2 month stay in Tanzania, I actually missed it. I was so excited to buy a rolex (a chapatti and egg omelette roll that’s the most delicious thing ever)!

I’m glad to be here again. Especially without the career crisis feeling.