Pictures and Narratives

It's getting warm again. The Dar es Salaam heat is coming as summer looms and the short rains are slowly arriving, adding humidity to the mix. I write with the same feeling one might have before a snowstorm, wondering whether or not a snow day is in the mix for tomorrow. Only today, the decision won't be based on snow, but rather the moon. If the moon is positioned correctly Eid ul-Fitr will commence tomorrow, the Muslim feast celebrating the end of Ramadaan. Otherwise, we return to school tomorrow and we will have Thursday and Friday off.

As we are nearing the completion of the first year we recently held our year-end retreat - Re-O/Dis-O - up in Moshi. As Kate was dis-orienting, Caroline and I were re-orienting for the year, asking what the experience has been thus far and where it might go in the time ahead. As we were waiting to board the bus to return home, a line of women were sitting at the bus station selling vegetables and fruits. The collections of green peppers, bananas, pineapples, oranges, carrots, and coconuts provided what Kate and I considered to be a beautiful foreground to what we have come to appreciate as a Tanzanian scene. I asked the women if it would be all right if I took their picture and was asked for money in return. Unwilling to pay, the women began lambasting me for having asked and then refusing to pay. Looking back on the moment, I asked aloud what would have happened if I had simply taken the photo without asking? Would they have minded? Would it have been okay or an invasion of their privacy?

In thinking about these questions, I began to realize once again how difficult it is to capture an experience such as this. The picture would have only conveyed a small part of the reality of that street scene. It wouldn't have captured the smells or the ever-present noise. Then how to capture what I am learning and seeing and feeling everyday? As I continue through the experience, I am amazed more and more by the importance of storytelling, both for me and for them. The women at the bus station could not have had their stories told with my picture. No, I think the picture would have only been the first step, or perhaps the last. In order for the people with whom I share this experience to be carried home with me, listening is necessary. To share the experience with others, it cannot be through pictures alone or only recounting the events. It needs to be done through narrative, which might help bridge the gap in understanding between where I am and where I come from, thereby connecting the two experiences.