A Life So Different

One of the hardest things about leaving Tanzania will be saying good bye to treasured people who have become a special part of our lives. One of those people is Jane:

Jane has been working faithfully for us since we arrived in Tanzania in 2009. Loyal, honest, hard-working and with a humility which inspires me, it will difficult to say farewell to her. When Jane has a problem or difficulty in her life, she expresses a simple faith- God is with us, she says. God is good. God will help me. Her conviction never wavers, despite the problems she encounters. It gives her strength to carry on through and come out the other side. Her steady, calm faith challenges me when I get flustered with worry about so many things!

Jane's faith is all the more inspiring when I consider the problems she has faced. Life is not easy for many women in Tanzania. They face challenges I had not dreamed of with my western cultural background. Chatting to me the other day, she reminded me, "Mama, we, African women, our lives are different to yours. We don't expect our men to be there for us. It is hard for us. Men do what they want in our culture". This was spoken from her own experience, as she related her life's story me: what an eye-opening conversation. Her life is so different from mine.

Jane was born in 1959 in a village in the remote, hilly region of Tanzania called Songea, in the far south of Tanzania. She was seventh of 9 children, 3 of whom are still alive. Two siblings died before she was born and 2 more died while she was a child. Two others died in early adulthood. Tragically, one was an older sister who had just got married.

Jane and her younger sister went to school and received a basic education. She was telling me just last week how pleased she is that she had the opportunity to learn to read and write, which has helped her to get work. Many people in Tanzania are not so fortunate, despite government policies to get children into education. Families often cannot afford the books, stationery and shoes necessary for a child to attend school.

At 17, Jane fell pregnant. After an uncomfortable pregnancy she gave birth to a son, Edison. I have been told that, for certain men in Tanzania, it is important for a woman to prove that she is fertile enough to bear children before she will be considered for marriage. It seemed that Jane had proved her worth. Accordingly, at 18, she was married to the father of her son. She says that village life was hard and there were few opportunities, so a few years later, in 1980, she and her husband and young son moved to Dodoma. In 1973, the government had announced that Dodoma would be the nation's capital city, so Dodoma held promise as a place to earn a living. Jane sought work opportunities, selling peanuts or cooking certain foods as a small business venture to gain income.

However, Dodoma did not appear to hold enough opportunity for Jane's husband. In 1989, he left Jane and Edison and moved to Mwanza in the north of the country to seek work. He got a job as a hotel receptionist. We often meet friends and colleagues in Tanzania whose families live apart, with the husband getting work far away from his wife and family. Sometimes it is an economic necessity of family life in a country where jobs may be few and far between. For others it is just the way things are done and it seems that, for the unscrupulous man, it is a chance to live freely, without the watchful eye of his wife close by! The latter seemed to be the case for Jane's husband.

The next news that Jane heard was that her husband had married another woman in Mwanza! He made a new life for himself, going on to have 3 children with his new wife, although technically he was still married to Jane. "Mama, niliteseka", said Jane- "I suffered". It was a horrible time for her. Jane tried to explain to me that this is not unusual in many Tanzanian marriages. The man may be married, but he feels he can still do what he wants, whereas the woman is expected to carry on providing for the family, raising the children and keeping the home. Polygamy in Tanzania is not restricted to the Muslim community- it seems it still happens, irrespective of religious beliefs. She quoted other examples to me of people I had met at one of her family parties, where the man had 2 wives. I had been oblivious.

 Back in Dodoma, Jane's older brother had seen how her husband ran around after other women, so he took Edison and Jane under his wing. She speaks with fondness of the way he looked after them. They lived in his house with him. Looking back, Jane is so grateful for his protection and grieved deeply when he died a few years ago.

Edison's father did send money from time to time, but Jane worked herself to help pay their way and to put Edison through school. In 1987 she had started work as a house-help for employers from overseas, which provided consistent income.

One day, a letter arrived from her husband saying that he wanted his 1st wife and son to come to Mwanza, but Jane's brother put his foot down on their behalf and refused, saying that Edison must complete his education in Dodoma before they travelled.

When Edison had turned 17 and was finishing school, Jane began to look into taking Edison to Mwanza, but before she could take their son on the long bus journey from Dodoma in 1994, Jane got a message to tell her that her husband had died! Apparently, word had reached Mwanza that Jane was on her way. This news angered a third woman who was now living as the husband's "mistress", in addition to the second wife! This third woman was outraged to discover that Jane was coming, along with a son, to claim the attentions of "her" man. In fact, she was so angry that put poison in his chai (tea). Unwittingly, he drank it. It was a fatal cup of tea.
"He was poisoned?" I asked Jane, incredulous.
"Yes, Mama, that woman killed him".

 I was thoroughly shocked to hear that Jane's husband had been poisoned. However, Jane gave me a wry smile and said, "It happens here." I asked her whether the woman who had committed this crime had been caught and convicted. "I think so," she replied, but she did not seem too sure about what had happened next. I tried to imagine a similar scenario in England. Such a story would make headline news, especially 20 years ago when all this took place. There would be court cases, publicity and news, but Jane seems incredibly vague about the whole process following the crime, shrugging with a simple acceptance. It seems to me that she is resigned to such happenings- that's just life. Her husband lived far away. Her husband had other women. One of them was a bad woman. It happened and she must carry on with life.

When I spoke to a German neighbour who has lived and worked in East Africa for almost 20 years, she also smiled at my shock. "Liz, it does happen. If you looked into it, you would find that poisoning is, sadly, a relatively common occurrence." I still have so much to learn. I was told that some local church leaders, friends of my neighbour, are reluctant to eat or drink when attending an event hosted by people of a different religious group as they fear being poisoned!

Fortunately for us, Jane is completely trustworthy, so I do not have to worry about her putting poison in our food, which is a huge relief, seeing as she is a fantastic cook! For over 20 years, Jane has been working as a houselady for families from South America, Italy, Rwanda, Holland and England. When she started working for us, she brought with her a wealth of culinary expertise, having been taught to cook by previous employers. We enjoy her amazing bread, cinnamon rolls, torillas, chilli con carne, lasgne, pizza... and more! I think it's pretty obvious who taught her what! In turn, she has taught me about cooking, since I landed in this country without ever having baked bread! I had never attempted baking anything as delicious as a cinnamon rolls and had never made a pizza from scratch...it's been fun to learn while developing my Swahili vocabulary.

Jane also brings us gifts fruit or corn, which, like many Tanzanians, she grows on a small patch of land near her house as a means of additional income. Esther, Ben and Joel love peeling the layers off the fresh corn:

Since becoming a widow, Jane has stayed in Dodoma. Without her job as a house-lady, she could not survive. The income is crucial to her. Now her son is grown up, he in turn helps her- a system of family assistance which is so important in the social structure of this country. Edison has a good job repairing motorbikes in a place called Kondoa, a bumpy bus-ride 3 hours away from Dodoma. Jane's son, her daughter-in-law and 3 grand-children are her pride and joy;: she loves to keep me up to date with their news and cherishes their visits. Edison takes great care of his mum and although he lives with his family in Kondoa, Jane lives in this house that he built on the outskirts of Dodoma:

Over time, the family have gradually added a tap with running water and soon they hope to have electricity for lights. The kitchen is a dirt floor with a dip where a fire is laid for cooking, as the luxury of an electric stove is not a possibility. Jane's son sometimes arranges for lodgers to come and live with Jane, to provide extra income.

Jane gives testimony to other tough times when her faith has helped her through the years. One of these was when she became seriously ill a few years ago. She needed an major operation and had no alternative but to go to the dreaded local Dodoma hospital: "General Hospital". The horror stories I have heard of people who have been to "General" remind me of stories we read in history books at school- of filthy Victorian hospitals, where "doctors" charged exorbitant rates for very poor service and you were lucky to come out alive! To be fair, I have never looked around the inside of the hospital, so I could not say how bad it is, but the stories I hear of poorly qualified doctors demanding bribes to treat patients and of the lack of hygiene are enough to frighten me! Jane related how her employer of the time threatened the doctors on duty, saying if they neglected to care for her, he would report them for negligence!

Jane survived, was well cared for and says she's so thankful for God's protection and for providing for her through employers (who no doubt had to pay a large sum for the treatment- no NHS here!) and to the international MAF community, many of whom gave blood, as she needed lots of blood donations to survive. I asked her if she had been afraid, but she shrugged and said, if it had been her time to die, it would have been her time to die. A peaceful acceptance that I know I would not have, with my western upbringing. Rather, I would expect good treatment and good results, yet Jane told me yesterday that people here do not expect to survive major operations. The lady in the bed next to her who'd also been operated on died while Jane was recovering and so did the man in the bed across from her. This makes her all the more thankful that she survived.

As I start to look ahead to leaving Tanzania early next year, I worry about what will become of Jane. Will she get a new job? I'll certainly be giving her a very good reference, but at 55 years old, it is harder for her to compete against the younger, fitter ladies who are also seeking house-work. Bouts of ill health and a life of hard labour have taken their toll on her physically, meaning that she is slower at tasks than other ladies. Meanwhile, prices continue to go up and the cost of living is ever higher. Her son will do what he can, but he has 3 children and a wife to provide for too.
When we told Jane we had to leave next year, there was a long period of silence in my often chatty kitchen. I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes, but was determined not to upset Jane by making an emotional scene.Finally, Jane spoke. "Mama, it will be hard without this job. It will be hard. We will remember you. But we will pray. God will help. He is here."

I will carry inspiration from Jane's faith as we move on. It will be hard. Tanzania is not a country which provides unemployment or good retirement benefits. But without belief in God's help for the future, there would be such little hope. So pray we must. One day I hope we will hear how Jane's faith continues to be rewarded. For now, I am grateful for the chance I have to know Jane and to learn lessons from a life so different from my own.