Mwanga and AIDS, Tuesday, January 24

Today, we visited a hydroelectric power plant, which provides a lot of the power for this area. It is called “Nyumba ya Mungu” (“House of God”), named after a sacred place that was flooded when the dam was built in the late 1960’s. The drought during the last 5-10 years has been so severe that the reservoir approximately 7 meters low – a colossal water shortage. Only one of the two turbines can be used at the power station because they can’t let any more water out than they currently allow with one generator. Soon, it is expected that even that one generator will need to be shut down periodically to conserve water.

We next visited a group of orphans (AIDS orphans, I think) at a school near the reservoir. We trekked across very barren, dusty, dry land to approach the school. It was difficult to see the orphans and know the toll that AIDS has taken on this village and all of Africa. Afterwards, we had an unplanned meal. Clearly, these people did not have nearly as many resources as those who come from the mountains (or wetter areas), but their hospitality was second to none.

After visiting the well at Mforo that a church in Pella, Iowa is building in conjuction with a church in Mwanga, we returned to Mwanga for a welcome program. I love to hear the rich tone in African choirs, as well as the obvious emotional connection to the music. During one piece they sang, they had very somber faces; I was told that the song was about crying for AIDS victims. Some of the singers were clearly emotional, wiping tears from their eyes.

The AIDS problem was further illustrated by a powerful and emotional drama, which showed a working man cheating on his wife, contracting AIDS, infecting his wife, and dying. After his wife dies, their son is left alone. The acting was good, and humor was used more than I would have expected when dealing with this subject. I was very surprised and shocked at how many people were smiling and laughing about this very serious issue. I suppose the tragedy is so great and widespread that this sort of humor is therapeutic for the people. There were some people, however, who were clearly more disturbed and for whom AIDS has surely been all too real.

I constantly scanned the room, watching people’s reactions to the play. It was fascinating to see the laughter and smiles on many faces, yet pain and sorrow were buried under each smile. On others, a painful, introspective, mournful look was evident. People were also watching me. I would frequently look around the room and make eye contact with others. I wondered what they were thinking, what their stories were, and what pain they felt, but also what they thought of me – whether they could read the pain in my eyes as I watched the AIDS drama unfold. I suppose they thought, “He can’t possibly understand…,” and they’re right. I can’t understand their pain. I can’t even imagine their pain, but I try. I hope they sensed that I try to feel their pain.

Often, tonight, I was numb. These experiences have overwhelmed my emotions and taxed my mind. During the last part of the night, I bought some baskets from some of the women. I didn’t realize until I got home just how much money I had spent. I spent $15.50 on 5 baskets. Considering the average annual income in Tanzania is ~$200, $15 is about one month’s salary! This figure is staggering and makes me realize the dire situation of many of these people.

Tomorrow we go to Hedaru for the first time. We are nervous and excited, but ready to meet our companions.