Call to Prayer

My first morning in Africa I awoke to the call to prayer. A nearby mosque floated the morning song into my room and through my mosquito net. It was exotic and beautiful, a stark contrast to the uncomfortable silence which hovered over our coaster as we hurried through the darkness towards our conference center the night before.
During my first few months in Tanzania everything was foreign and exciting. A dala ride was an adventure, and the language was a mystery. I was enamored by the beauty, and captivated by the life and rhythm that my host family taught me.
At some point I began to listen. Underneath the laughter of my teenage host sister’s friends was the whine of their babies; across the courtyard the crying of my neighbor whose twin infants were near death with malaria washed out the morning call to prayer. It was awakening; however, there was a language barrier, and I hadn’t fully allowed myself to take in the reality of the world I was discovering.
Then I moved to my own village--far from the warmth of my host family, and from the morning song I’d begun to love. The first few months at site I was mesmerized by the beauty surrounding my village, and charmed by the people who welcomed me. It didn’t take long for the village to become my home, but it has taken some time for me to begin to really understand its problems. It’s difficult to be in love with something and know, at least in part, what it’s up against.
I try to focus on the light—the eagerness of the children’s smiles; the few empowered women who own their own businesses; the strong uncorrupt village government who are dedicated to moving forward (a rarity in TZ); and the families who plant fruit trees so that they not only have a bowl of ugali today, but something better tomorrow. Most of all I see hope in the kids—some sick, some hungry, most barefoot, and all fast with a smile and easy with their laughter.
Their problems are many, and it’s difficult not dwell on them. Instead, at the end of a hard day I try to focus on those smiles, wonder at the brightness of the stars in the dark night, and look forward to the song of the school kids on their way to class in the morning—a new call to prayer.