It has been about a month since I went back to Tanzania to visit the grave of my sister. As the pharmacy resident, I am not granted much time off during the year, I was unsure of the possibility of returning until after residency but thankfully my supervisor granted me 10 days off to go, as ~3 days were travel days, I had seven days in Tanzania.
In 2008 I saw Memu's unfinished house in Maji ya Chai and she told me the things she had hoped for; of having a home to herself, now becoming a reality, and how much she wanted a baby. "Like Mama Gladness," she told me of her sister who had raised two sons by herself without accepting a man in her life. Returning in 2010 to see all these dreams become a reality, speeding up the hill on a piki piki to see her again, I hardly even recognized the house. It was beautiful. It was surrounded by a fence and garden and saw her coming down the road her hair in braids followed by her boyfriend. Not long after I left she told me
Nakupenda dada yangu nakumiss the nest time you came you see my baby
Images now came to mind of returning this third time after her death and seeing the garden overgrown as well as wondering what would happen to her baby, who is not even a year old.
The day before I came, her American boyfriend told me that he was leaving for Dar to try to get a visa for the baby. I knew that already I was burdening Mama Gladness by staying with her and now I would not get to see Memu's baby, I had my doubts about going.
I took a cab from the airport in Kilimanjaro to Tengeru, where Mama lives. I loved the stillness of everything, driving down the highway at night, seeing familiar sights of jungle and shambas, or farms. Past Maji ya Chai, past Usa and we arrived at Mama's house. I collapsed into Mama's arms and finally allowed myself to cry for the first time this trip.
I allowed Mama to spoil me. We took tea together in the mornings and always ate supper together, talking as long as we could stay awake. It rained most mornings until about noon which made for a good excuse to sleep in and take tea for extended hours.
The second evening I was there she asked me if I would like to see Lema's grave, her eldest son who was killed in a car accident March 20, four days before Memu.
I couldn't without anything to offer. I made a point of buying flowers in Arusha the next day. Lema is buried behind Mama's house, I spent a moment over his grave. I was not particularly close to Lema despite living with him for four months in 2008. He was only 4 years older than I am. I was never very sure if he liked me while I was living with him, but I remembered the last time I saw him I was walking with Memu down the highway and we saw him.
So you have come back to buy a house on the hill?
Maybe next time I told him. It is a little too easy to fall in love with Tanzania. I had always pictured myself someday living in a home near Memu on the hill in Maji ya Chai.
Even when he was little he liked cars, Mama Gladness told me. She told me that when he was six years old he stole a car to drive to the field at Patandi College to go play.
I was disappointed that I could not go that same day to see Memu, but Mama and I went together the next day. We took a bus from the market in Tengeru packed so full of people that I was halfway out of the dalla dalla, or bus, for most of the ride. The air was sticky from the rain and hot.
We then walked past a school and down a hill that was spotted with grave sites. Mama finally stopped at one and laid her flowers down at the base of a cross at it's head. I cried out and dropped down, as soon as I did it felt like a lightning bolt ripped through my skull. My tears stopped and I knelt on the ground next to my sister as my head pounded and Mama stood clutching the cross and wailing in Swahili telling Memu of her sorrows. Her grave was covered with flowers, now blackened and dead and what now stood out more than the flowers were their cellophane wrappers.
When Mama was finished she went around the grave pulling weeds as if their presence itself was an insult aimed directly at her. I placed my flowers at the head of the grave, pink and purple roses on a bed of blackened flowers. We stood a moment in silence then began the walk back arm in arm in a daze. We walked all the way back to Tengeru. We talked the whole way back but only of good things.
My flight from Tanzania was set for Thursday evening. That morning, I went to Maji ya Chai to see Memu's home. I had planned to see the hospital where she had died, to try to understand the cause of death, to wonder if I could have changed anything if I had been there, but when I finally got to Tanzania, it somehow didn't seem as important.
I had pictured the house to be in decline. I remembered this walk in better times. Maji ya Chai seemed unaware of the great tragedy that had befallen it, healthy stocks of corn grew in shambas, trees towered over head, I remember the day as being very clear out. Flowers grew along the drainage ditch and the creek for which Maji ya Chai, meaning "tea water" was named was flooded with the clear brown water that had become its namesake.
I was surprised to see someone working in the garden when I arrived at the house. I explained who I was and he invited me in. In 2010, Memu and I worked to plant beans together behind the house. She had had a small garden with some vegetables, now her yard was now bursting with corn and a variety of other vegetables. The house was locked and gated but exactly as I had remembered it.
The day I left in 2010, I left my towel and shower shoes with Memu for the next time I came to stay with her. My shower shoes were now neatly placed at the back door exactly where I had left them a year and a half before; I felt that maybe if I had waited long enough, Memu would walk through the gate and we would start to prepare dinner together. A planter had been built in the behind the house, the top of the rock wall covered in cement with the words
In memory of MEMU 24MAR2012
Before leaving for this trip, all I could do was cry and feel a terrible heaviness every time that I thought of her. I sat in the garden of her home that had represented everything she had hoped and worked for, her independence. I thought of all the wonderful times we had together and I smiled.
 |
| Memu's home in 2008 |
Nakupenda dada yangu nakumiss the nest time you came you see my baby
Images now came to mind of returning this third time after her death and seeing the garden overgrown as well as wondering what would happen to her baby, who is not even a year old.
The day before I came, her American boyfriend told me that he was leaving for Dar to try to get a visa for the baby. I knew that already I was burdening Mama Gladness by staying with her and now I would not get to see Memu's baby, I had my doubts about going.
I took a cab from the airport in Kilimanjaro to Tengeru, where Mama lives. I loved the stillness of everything, driving down the highway at night, seeing familiar sights of jungle and shambas, or farms. Past Maji ya Chai, past Usa and we arrived at Mama's house. I collapsed into Mama's arms and finally allowed myself to cry for the first time this trip.
I allowed Mama to spoil me. We took tea together in the mornings and always ate supper together, talking as long as we could stay awake. It rained most mornings until about noon which made for a good excuse to sleep in and take tea for extended hours.
The second evening I was there she asked me if I would like to see Lema's grave, her eldest son who was killed in a car accident March 20, four days before Memu.
 |
| Tengeru, Mt Meru hidden behind clouds |
So you have come back to buy a house on the hill?
Maybe next time I told him. It is a little too easy to fall in love with Tanzania. I had always pictured myself someday living in a home near Memu on the hill in Maji ya Chai.
Even when he was little he liked cars, Mama Gladness told me. She told me that when he was six years old he stole a car to drive to the field at Patandi College to go play.
I was disappointed that I could not go that same day to see Memu, but Mama and I went together the next day. We took a bus from the market in Tengeru packed so full of people that I was halfway out of the dalla dalla, or bus, for most of the ride. The air was sticky from the rain and hot.
We then walked past a school and down a hill that was spotted with grave sites. Mama finally stopped at one and laid her flowers down at the base of a cross at it's head. I cried out and dropped down, as soon as I did it felt like a lightning bolt ripped through my skull. My tears stopped and I knelt on the ground next to my sister as my head pounded and Mama stood clutching the cross and wailing in Swahili telling Memu of her sorrows. Her grave was covered with flowers, now blackened and dead and what now stood out more than the flowers were their cellophane wrappers.
My flight from Tanzania was set for Thursday evening. That morning, I went to Maji ya Chai to see Memu's home. I had planned to see the hospital where she had died, to try to understand the cause of death, to wonder if I could have changed anything if I had been there, but when I finally got to Tanzania, it somehow didn't seem as important.
I had pictured the house to be in decline. I remembered this walk in better times. Maji ya Chai seemed unaware of the great tragedy that had befallen it, healthy stocks of corn grew in shambas, trees towered over head, I remember the day as being very clear out. Flowers grew along the drainage ditch and the creek for which Maji ya Chai, meaning "tea water" was named was flooded with the clear brown water that had become its namesake.
I was surprised to see someone working in the garden when I arrived at the house. I explained who I was and he invited me in. In 2010, Memu and I worked to plant beans together behind the house. She had had a small garden with some vegetables, now her yard was now bursting with corn and a variety of other vegetables. The house was locked and gated but exactly as I had remembered it.
 |
| Memu 2008 |
In memory of MEMU 24MAR2012
Before leaving for this trip, all I could do was cry and feel a terrible heaviness every time that I thought of her. I sat in the garden of her home that had represented everything she had hoped and worked for, her independence. I thought of all the wonderful times we had together and I smiled.
No comments:
Post a Comment