LEAVING THE LAND OF OPPORTUNITY TO A LAND OF HAPPINESS

By: Casana Siebert, KU Medical Center

For someone my age, I consider myself pretty well traveled. I enjoy going new places because I always learn more than I expected, but when I set off for Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, this past summer, I was embarking on a new kind of adventure. In the past, I had only traveled to places like Italy and Australia, which are very similar to the United States. When dreaming of going to Africa, I expected what many people call "culture shock," but when I lived in Tanzania for a month, I found "culture captivation."

Before I left for Tanzania, I had a definite picture in my mind of what to expect. I was leaving the land of opportunity for a land of suffering and sadness. My purpose for the trip was some research on the way that the African traditional healers treat HIV, and my friend and travel partner was looking into problems with access to healthcare and education on HIV. I was well aware of the statistics on the epidemic knowing that in sub-Saharan Africa prevalence rates of HIV can spike as high as 25 percent of the population. I also knew that the only thing worse than AIDS there is the fact that the majority of the people live well below the poverty line and can barely afford food. I had studied Africa; I had watched the Discovery channel; I have read National Geographic and looked at the pictures. I was ready.

My first day in Tanzania was the first day in my life that I was well aware of my white skin and my blonde hair. I felt like I was emitting light as I walked down the street and that people could see my light coming blocks ahead of me. Everyone on the streets spotted me long before I spotted them. The attention was on me. Although I had been warned that people might be somewhat hostile towards us since we were so obviously American, I am happy to report that I experienced no hostility the entire time I was there. Instead, as I walked down the street that first day and every single day thereafter, almost every person on the street said "Jambo" or "hello" and "Karibu" or "welcome." There were wide smiles on everyone's faces that proved that their "welcomes" were sincere and not forced. The kindness was not restricted to us because we were guests of the country, but all around me people were smiling and greeting one another as they wove in and out of each other's lives.

Now, as I walk down the street here in the United States, I long for that sense of community. Instead, people here don't make eye contact, but stare straight past me. It is not a malicious action by any means, but more of an apathetic one. I don't feel welcome here, I simply feel like I exist here in my own little world amongst thousands of other people that exist in their own little world. We walk down the streets careful to not let our worlds collide.

The people there are not only welcoming, but also giving. In a place where most people have so little, they give so much. Not only do Tanzanians feel like a guest should receive a gift simply for their presence, but they give themselves in a way that I have never witnessed in Americans.

Our research project had been designed for rural Zimbabwe and at the last minute we had had to change it to urban Tanzania. Therefore we were not prepared when we arrived in the country, and we had accepted that we were going to have to "wing" it and hope that things worked out for us. I am pretty good at making things work for myself, but being in a new country where I didn't speak the native language was definitely setting me back. I needed help and I can honestly say that my research was completed not because of my hard work, but because so many people there were willing to give their time and efforts to helping two complete strangers for absolutely nothing in return. One of the doctors who helped us every day with our research alsolent us her 18-year-old daughter as a translator. The girl traveled around the city with us talking to countless people for our research. Also, we needed to interview the healers, but they don't have offices with addresses. Finding a healer is by word of mouth only. Random people on the streets would stop and help us find the healers, and we even followed a 12-year-old boy through the slums and on a crowded bus ride to find one of the healers. Then we needed to travel outside of the city a few times, and every time we left someone that we had met in the city would contact a friend or relative that resided in our destination and we would have a free place to stay with enormous amounts of food and gifts waiting for us. Although we would only spend a couple of days in these places, we had made instant friends that would do anything for us.

I was impressed with how helpful people were to us. I am not saying that Americans are not helpful. I agree that most people I stop on the streets will willingly give me directions to whatever place I choose, but we stop after that simple obligation. We would never take an hour out of our day to show someone how to get to their destination, and we wouldn't take a whole day off of work to pick up two strange kids that are from another country and barely speak our language to bring them to our house to sleep in a bed we had to clear children out of and then feed them a meal bigger than a Thanksgiving dinner. Most Tanzanians do not have a lot, but they have their compassion and their kindness and they never stop giving.

One other thing that fascinated me about this country was the work ethic. I am in my second year of medical school and I thought I knew how to work hard, but I feel like my life is a vacation compared to the work that the people in this country do every day. In the mornings the people go out into the countryside to pick various fruits and vegetables that are then loaded into a cart that a horse should be pulling. Instead of a horse, a man pulls the cart into the city through some of the most dizzying traffic I have ever seen only to sell the fruit for about a dime a piece. The women carry anything from fruit to jugs of water to boxes on their heads with a child strapped to their backs and navigate the streets and the sidewalks with the balance of an acrobat. Let me just mention, that I tripped on the unkempt sidewalks without any load on my head at least a few times every day. The loads that the women would carry were so heavy that it would take two people just to lift the load onto the woman's head, yet she gracefully looked like she was only carrying pillows. The people there had the strong, muscular bodies of only the most dedicated fitness buff here in the States because they worked and not because they had the extra time to work out.

I had expected sufferingand sadness when I left for Tanzania, but I had found true happiness, not just in myself, but in the people there as a whole. Don't get me wrong, there is suffering and I am sure that it takes its toll on the people, but overall they seemed to possess a happiness that Americans just don't have. The only way that I could explain this is that Tanzanians live to survive while Americans live to succeed. We live the way we walk down the streets. We look ahead. We are on a path and we need to get to our goal. That goal is usually success that is usually money. Most of us forget to live in the moment and appreciate what life is giving us today because we are so concerned with tomorrow. But all of the suffering and poverty that exists in Tanzania forces them to appreciate today. They walk down the street with their eyes wide open and they are not afraid to stop and smile. And help. And be there for one another.

We consider ourselves so much more advanced than third world countries like Tanzania, but I think our advancement has cost us. We have forgotten what is important. Tanzania taught me what is important. Smile. Help other people. Work hard. When I left Tanzania, I left the land of happiness and came back to the land of opportunity. Only now I realize that the opportunity to succeed means nothing if I cannot find happiness outside of the success and within myself.