The "P" Word

(I wrote this awhile back, but thought it'd be good to share this now as I prepare to return!!!)

I had a running joke with a friend in the Land of Tanz about “that P word.”  “P word?” you might be asking.  No, not popcorn.  Definitely not pop (it’s called soda!).  And most assuredly not perseverance, although that one has enough problems of its own.  The other one.  That one that’s supposed to be a virtue, and one of the fruits of the Spirit.  If it’s a fruit, it certainly was never very ripe.  At least not for me.  Because even though elementary teachers are supposed to have infinite amounts of patience available at every given moment (and people often mention their amazement at my abilities!), it never ceased to amaze me at how little of this I had when it came to important moments in Tanzanian culture.

Take getting a ride home from training.  We had worked out a deal (supposedly) with a driver who would come to pick us up from the hotel after training our first few weeks in Tanzania so we could go home to sleep before the next day.  Except, we didn’t quite understand the concept of saving face, and that Tanzanians can’t say “no” outright to someone.  It’s better to say “yes, I’m coming” and then just not show up.  Hmm.  You can imagine we spent quite a few hours standing outside the hotel in a dark parking lot waiting for our no-show not-so-friendly driver.  While I got to know my roommate much better through this time, I also have distinct memories of uncomfortable conversations with the guard of the hotel, and another time when Marie glanced up and mentioned there was a massive rat in the tree above my head.  Yuck!

Or, perhaps, you’d like to go get groceries.  Easy enough to say, less so to do.  When we didn’t have our own transportation, we would take the bus to Mwenge and then walk about a half mile to the store from there.  It doesn’t sound that bad, right?  I do like walking.  Except, enter hot, sweaty, blazing sun with humidity at 90%, dusty roads, 4 lanes of traffic on either side, and skirts that are either trying to blow in the breeze or too heavy and causing you to feel faint from the heat.  By the time we arrived at the shopping centre, we were more than ready for a long nap and a cold drink.  Then it was time to face the crowds and the half-hour long check-out line that stood ready to accept anyone who wanted to push their way in front of you.  (No orderly lines here!)

Or take the example my friend posted on FB.

How to install a light bulb in Musoma:

~First, ascertain whether the fixture takes bulbs that screw in or that pop into place with pins. (Rats! These need the screw type. I hope they don't break apart in my hands this time...)
~Second, rummage through the two dozen bulbs in the closet to find the proper type and size. The house takes at least 4-5 different kinds of bulbs, so you always have to keep a large collection.
~Third, attempt to insert bulb into holder A. When you meet with resistance early on, proceed with caution (due to the fear mentioned above).
~Fourth, when holder A proves too difficult, attempt holder B. (Maybe filling all 3 spaces is over-ambitious?) When you meet with resistance, hope that the bulb is in far enough and test light.
~Fifth, when light test fails, try to remember if the bulb is indeed good. (It worked in a different fixture the other day... not that that guarantees anything...) Try to get bulb to either screw in farther or come back out.
~Finally, when the bulb refuses to budge either way, call it a day. If you don't drop the problem now, your increasing frustration is sure to cause worse damage somehow. Maybe tomorrow...

So you might come to imagine how the “P” word (patience, if you haven’t caught on yet) was something of a “bad” word in our vocabulary while living in Tanzania.  My housemate and I had both learned years before never to pray for such a thing (because then, of course, God gives you opportunities for you to practice!).  Yet this lack of prayer never seemed to stop Him.  We even tried addressing it in a round-about way – looking up the Swahili version of it.  But that only aided our guards and language helper in laughing at us in our frustration of our lack of patience, and reminding us we should practice this skill.  Not. very. helpful. 

So, maybe as I prepare to head back to the Land of, um, patience, you can be praying that things go smoothly.  Or at the very least, that I don’t get frustrated along the way.  However, on no account should you EVER pray that I grow in patience… you may as well just cut off all my supplies in that case and watch me wither away and die.  Because if I don’t already have enough opportunities for learning that dreaded P word as a classroom teacher, missionary, and single female then I don’t see any reason to tempt God to give me more!