Sunday, July 22, 2012

'Pole,' Ujamaa, and a New Lens


On our first day of Swahili lessons at the beginning of the summer we learned the use of the term 'Pole' (pronounced: poh-lay.) It translates in English to mean 'Sorry' but is used in slightly different situations, most commonly at the end of the day when someone finishes work. It is appropriate to say 'pole' to elders, coworkers, friends, and in passing someone on the street. At first I could not come out from behind my Western lens to understand this term, instead I found it slightly insulting! Having just come from a society that values work and individualism I reasoned that saying 'pole' to someone after a day's work implied that the job was not satisfying to them. Afterall, isn't is a Western ideal to value work? Western societies encourage people to love their work, if not because it is fulfilling but at least because it is an income source, so why should someone say sorry when working is good? I could not understand why this was a normal thing to say. Still, I obliged to saying 'pole' whenever appropriate, despite my resentment towards it.

Over these weeks I have continued thinking about this term, trying to understand the culture values that reinforces it. Today as I walked home from work it finally clicked. The day has been a long one; after teaching, constructing a plant nursery, and passing out certificates we were came back to the office later than usual. Upon return we gathered materials for next week and met with our supervisor for our weekly reports. Halfway through our meeting the other volunteers returned from a village they had worked at all week and we proceeded to exchange greetings and share stories. After our meeting I stayed longer with the supervisor to discuss other matters. It was around 5:00pm when I was finished at the office and well past lunchtime. Dinner would be in four hours and I debated whether it would be worth picking up something. I debated this as I walked downtown to check my host-family's post office box, only to find the post office had closed already. Mentally and physically fatigued, I thought it best to begin the thirty minute walk home. Taking a daladala is always an option, but I find the walk to be refreshing and therapeutic, even when exhausted

There were many people I passed as I walked my usual path, many faces who probably know mine better than I do theirs, being one of the few mzungu that pass by everyday. There was the occasional friendly greeting equivalent to a “Hello” or “How are you?”and I offered my own greeting in return. My long strides carried me past several people including one woman who also appeared to be exhausted from the day's work. She wore a beautiful red patterned dress, gold earrings and a white scarf over her head, her face had begun to wrinkle from years spent working. She called to me the more formal greeting of “Hujambo?” to which I replied “Sijambo.” Instead of ending with this as most greetings do, she continued with “Pole, Mama!” (Mama is named to anyone who appears older than 18). I blushed in embarrassment at first thinking that my exhaustion was so visible for another to see it and offer sympathy. Then I realized that saying 'pole' to another is not the same as offering a consolation for having to work. It is another behavior that reflects the ideal of Ujamaa, or familyhood, that the first President Nyerere instilled in Tanzanian society. In TZ, saying 'pole' to someone creates a bond of compassion that connects the two as family members. For Western societies saying sorry (and really meaning it) is usually reserved for close friends and one's biological family, and would rarely be offered as a sincere greeting for a stranger.

Perhaps it was my fatigue that was affecting my perspective, but something about the way she said this made everything click and I could have hugged her for saying 'Pole' to me. With the Western lens removed and a new perspective of 'pole,' I gained a much clearer view of Tanzanian culture and the influence of Ujamaa. This mama knew nothing about my day, where I came from, or why I am here, but she still offered the expression of compassion that unites Tanzanians in a familyhood.

In reply I said the customary thanks and returned the compassion with “pole na wewe” (sorry and to you). She smiled, said thank-you, and my stride continued to carry me away from her. Just like that, we lived out the Ujamaa philosophy that continues to thrive in Tanzanians, almost forty years since Nyerere's presidency.

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