Duality Bites

One lesson I’ve taken from my time in Tanzania is how to take the good with the bad. Examples are abundant: the social openness of my neighbors (good) coupled with a severe lack of privacy (bad); my ability to solicit funding in attempts to ease the burdens of life here (good) contrasting with people viewing me only as a dollar sign (bad). I could go on. Over the last week or so, I’ve had yet another opportunity to see this dualistic nature of life and people. Ever the optimist, let me start with the good.

My previous week was fantastic. Peace Corps arranged a seminar for my training group, a chance for those of us who stuck it out to meet one last time in order to exchange stories, ideas, and advice. The seminar was ostensibly to serve as a preparation for our inevitable return to the (relatively) fast-moving and chaotic life awaiting us back in the States, but this facet was eclipsed by our joy in seeing one another one last time. One last hurrah for the battered veterans of two years’ struggle in a foreign land. As a parting gift, the seminar was held in a picturesque lodge at the base of Mt. Meru, Tanzania’s second highest peak. Each day, we were rewarded with stunning views of both Meru and Mt. Kilimanjaro that would have made a National Geographic photographer green with envy. As hard as it was to know that we would shortly leave one another to pursue our individual dreams, those few days of the seminar were blissful in the company we shared. The last day culminated with a slide show of pictures aggregated from so many cameras, a visual record of the group’s two years in Africa. For the last time, we laughed and reminisced as one.

I won’t say it was easy to return to bucolic Bukoba after this brief interlude of camaraderie, but the work awaiting me necessitated my focus that I couldn’t dwell on the solitude. After a short time, I was gregarious, happy Masanja again. Talking with my brother a few days ago, I vehemently argued against the Buddhist ideal that all life is suffering; there is too much beauty in the world for it to be so, I said. I only mention this as a glimpse into the outlook I was maintaining at the time. Simply put, it was that life is inherently good. Now as I mentioned, the duality of the world doesn’t tend to accept such a polarity without producing a counterpoint: joy and sorrow; pain and pleasure (although to some…); electron and positron. Enter the bad.

Whether it was disrupted plans, a work overload, or a smelly dead rat that my cat left under my bed, nothing seemed to ruffle my feathers. Even now, I’m in that mental state of tranquility, but it is becoming harder to maintain. Let me explain: for the last six or eight months, a local boy has been coming over to my house to hang out. At the risk of sounding vain, let me say that I thought of him as a protégé of sorts. I tried teaching him as much as I could, from Pokemon (Jodi still can’t believe that one) to cooking Asian food to world history and classical music. I enjoyed the time this boy spent with me, for his focus was phenomenal. Here, I thought, was a Tanzanian unencumbered by a lack of attention span or an absent desire for edification. The boy would study my physics books and ask me pertinent questions; he would read about America in magazines and look to correct his false impressions. For over half a year, we continued this relationship, mentor and pupil. He was a sponge that absorbed all the knowledge and ideas that I immersed him in.

However, during this time, my personal belongings began to go missing. First it was a box of Aplets & Cotlets that I was saving for a guest, vanished silently from my kitchen. Then a small amount of money I had set aside as a gift for a friend joined the ranks. Over time, the list swelled, reaching an apex when my cellular phone disappeared (ironically, the phone was defunct and I had stopped using it). I won’t go into the details, but suffice it to say that this same boy managed to convince me that it was my house help who was responsible. To my credit, the circumstances were overwhelming that it was she who had been slowly, cautiously relieving me of my material possessions. One day, I sat her down and told her my suspicions, and asked her to return my missing phone or hit the road. What followed were several hours of her in overdramatic throes, violently protesting that God would clear her name and strike down those who had cast this fate upon her; I decided not to fire her. In retrospect, it was an honest mistake to first suspect her and a fortuitous decision to then believe in her innocence. The question remained: who could be stealing from me? Perhaps it seems obvious to you reading this, but understand I trusted this boy implicitly. Until this last week, that is.

In Tanzania, electronics are still a luxury and therefore are sold at a premium. Any informed thief would not settle for a bicycle or basketball, but would search out an mp3 player or thumb drive. As an American, I am a gadgeteer. We all have them- our ipods, blackberrys, and cell phones. Over the months this boy visited me, he had the privilege of being taught how to use a digital recorder, an mp3 player, and even a laptop (to some degree). When I returned from the seminar at Mt. Meru, in my blithe mindset I failed to notice some things were missing. Expensive, electronic things. Things that only he and I know how to use. Worse, he came to my house recently wearing a new coat, new jeans, and toting a new CD player. As a boy from the village, those are not easily affordable commodities. When I came to the realization that my electronics were missing, and the pieces started to click, I found myself face-to-face with the ugly, vile side of life.

Even without my having any appreciable attachment to material possessions, this hurt, bad. It threatened my calm, realizing how I’d been deceived and used for such a long period of time. Here comes the bad, hunting me and my bliss, seeking to claw, rend, and drag me from this exultant state back down to reality. I’m trying not to let it, but I can’t help continuing to reflect on the time we spent together, everything that was invested in that relationship, and the now-apparent falsehood of it all. In my wool-covered eyes, it had been great, something to take pride in. Now I’m left facing a betrayal, and I hate it. Why does the bad have to bring itself to bear on the times when life is good? Is life suffering for that reason? Is that the result of what is referred to as original sin?

Everyone has his/her own answer to these questions. Georg Hegel claimed that any thesis must naturally have an antithesis, the two opposites somehow integrating to form a whole. Paraphrasing, he said by understanding and accepting these dialectic aspects, we gain a more real view of the world around us. That was his answer, what’s yours?