So...You Don't Speak Swahili?

“How does a man who looks like us, not speak Swahili?” laughed Headmaster Luanadala. It was such as great introduction to my welcoming to Kwala Secondary School in Kwala, Africa. Kwala is a small rural village about two hours away from Dar es Salaam. The population is probably not more than 3000 – 4000 people. There you will find a great community of people who are shop owners, nurses, teachers, Masai (sp) guardians, mothers, fathers, grandparents, and children who have may appear to have meager existences yet have the hearts of kings and queens.

Many of the homes are made of clay, grasses, wood, and possibly cement. Floors are dirt for the most part. Most homes are not equipped with electricity or working plumbing. Water is quite precious in the area. People use the water they lug from central water tank to cook, wash clothes, clean, and themselves, and take care of basic house hold needs. It is not drinkable. Can you imagine what would happen if they experienced a drought?

As you walk through town, you discover that there is a tremendous sense of community. “Jambo” of “Mambo” greets you as you pass thru town. There are many little shops along the main road that sell everyday items of fruit, meat, shoes, household items, and more. During many parts of the day, people convene in small saloons to watch a movie—many National Geographic film or other documentaries and sip on a nice cold soda.

In Kwala, the people were absolutely warm and friendly and loving. They would give their last to ensure that we were comfortable and satisfied in their homes and schools.

The food—OMG—was delicious. We were presented with rice, beans, cabbage, and a meat and lunch and dinner. When I woke up, I was presented with a “breakfast snack” of eggs, coffee, tea, and a smile. Keep in mind that we would have “real breakfast” at about ten. That was porridge, eggs, bread, tea or coffee, and another smile. I was teased about being such a big man with such a little appetite. Smile!!! A 12:30 lunch was again—rice, beans, cabbage, another vegetable, and yes…a smile. Our host families are such adorable people who I feel went out of their way to make us feel at home. We slept in their childrens' beds—which were quite comfortable. They prepared showers for us out of their household water. And shared with us—so many stories about their lives. It made me realize how blessed we are here, in America.