Last week I had another trip to the Malila language area,
this time to the town of Ilembo. At least, a ‘town’ is what people there would
call it, as it is a relatively large settlement for the area, with a number of
shops, a primary and a secondary school, lots of churches and a large weekly
market, which certainly makes it sound like a town by any standard, but in size
it feels more like a village. But who decides what is a village and what is a
town? I naturally compare everything to England, as that is my home country,
but does that make England the ‘norm’ and anything that’s different ‘odd’?!
On this trip I realised there were a number of things that I
have come to consider ‘normal’, but which to a visiting English person might
seem distinctly odd! But of course, what’s ‘normal’ and what is ‘odd’ is all a
matter of perspective and of what you are used to. So, in case you ever come to
visit and join me for a trip, here are some normal things to expect. (By the
way, it was a trip to teach in a tiny Baptist Bible College, where I enjoyed
the group of nine students and the chance to teach an overview of the Bible and
how all Scripture points to Christ, while my local colleague led them in
practising reading the Malila language).
Each morning at the college we were served chai (tea) and
mandazi (a deep fried dough, something like a doughnut). This was exactly what
I had expected, including the tea being very sweet, though unexpectedly they
had added something to it that gave it a pleasant kick (like ginger, but
apparently it wasn’t ginger). Thankfully, knowing that such a breakfast was
normal here, I had come prepared with my own breakfast – homemade cereal bars
and bananas, as I usually avoid wheat. Unfortunately, from Wednesday onwards they
also put milk in the tea, so I couldn’t drink it any more (as I need to avoid
lactose too). Oh, I guess that’s something else that might seem odd to you…maybe
you are thinking why they couldn’t just have served the milk separately. But
that’s just not normal here. You boil the tea in a big pot and everything goes
in, including the milk, which is a good thing as this means the unpasteurised milk
gets boiled, thereby making it safe to drink.
On the first day there I asked them to point out the toilet
to me. I could see what I thought was the toilet, but I just wanted to be sure!
As expected, it was the little red brick building, with a piece of sackcloth
hanging over the entrance in place of a door. The flooring was wooden, with a
hole in the middle, beneath which was a very deep pit. No toilet paper, though
a few leaves in the corner indicated what they would use if they needed something.
I was prepared, with toilet paper in my pocket, as it is the exception rather
than the rule to find toilet paper provided anywhere. A long-drop may not be
normal in England, but I have grown to prefer it in many contexts here, as it
is more hygienic when only your shoes touch what others have touched, and they
don’t need water. A flush toilet with no running water available is not
pleasant.
Lunch was usually ugali (a lump of white stuff made from
maize flour and water that you roll into balls with your hand and use to scoop
up whatever accompanies it) with beans. I rather like ugali, so I was pretty
happy about that. As is normal, we didn’t eat with the students. Anyone of status
(whether or not I like to think of myself that way is beside the point, for
here a teacher, pastor or guest naturally has status and is treated with
honour) eats separately. So I knew not to head out to join the students for
lunch, but rather we found our lunch set out on the desk in the office. An
empty bowl with a jug of water sat next to it. Oh, I forgot to say, because it’s
just normal to me now, that there is no place to wash your hands after going to
the toilet. Rather your left hand is considered ‘dirty’ and not used in any
transaction with other people. So, when it comes to mealtimes, you always start
by washing your hands, which is what the jug of water was for. Someone pours
water over your hands into the bowl, so you can wash them. Often they will have
heated the hand-washing water up, which was particularly nice there, as the
weather was really chilly so my cold fingers welcomed the warm water.
Through the week, various things popped up that required us
to make adjustments to when we would teach. While changes in plans are
completely normal here, this is not something I have come to get used to. I
still find it frustrating, though thankfully the teaching I had prepared was
something that could be stretched or reduced according to how things went. 
The more I think about the trip, the more I notice things that
are different here that I hadn’t even thought to mention when I started to
write, as they have become so normal to me. Like the wooden benches that the
students sat on but the plastic chairs that the teachers were given, or the
principal of the college turning up on his motorbike as that is the primary
form of transport here for anyone that can afford it, or the ladies cleaning
the floors with a wet cloth, bending from the waist down to work at it (no mop)
or that the floors are plain cement.
Then there was the guest house, with the socket hanging off
the wall, one window lacking a pane of glass, a bathroom door that wouldn’t
shut and paint peeling off the walls. Having visited this guest house before, I
knew what to expect, but I would add that this isn’t necessarily normal – I
have stayed in some very nice guest houses in other areas. What is normal
though, is to not have hot water available. So when you want to have a shower,
you ask the guest house staff to prepare you a bucket of hot water, so that you
can have a bucket bath. And there isn’t a special bathing area, rather you
bathe in the little toilet room, and the water runs into the toilet. So you
often find a pair of flip-flops in your room for you to use to go into the
bathroom as the floor is often wet.
I’ve just realised that this blog could be endless! Maybe
you’ll come to visit one day and then you’ll get to enjoy for yourself all the
weird and wonderful ‘normal’ aspects of life here. Writing this blog has given
me a chance to look at my home through fresh eyes again – what a privilege it
is to live in and learn from another culture, even if at times that can be
challenging. I am so thankful for the gracious people I meet who accept and
welcome me despite how odd I must seem to them!