More than a Name
Rounding out the Swahili words I was familiar with prior to Tanzania is the simple word "rafiki." Rafiki means more than just the name of the wise, prophetic monkey in the Disney movie. It means "friend."
Like in Ghana, Tanzania was a remarkably friendly country, with well-intentioned strangers everywhere, ready to lend a hand or help where possible. Relationships in Tanzania are born first from conversations and lengthy greetings, then by common interests and purposes. In Tanzania, I made a number of great friends that will not soon escape my memory. But, as tends to be typical of me, my most memorable friends were those I played soccer with: Jakob and Castro.
Castro
When my small plane landed in Mwanza, my backpack and I skipped the baggage-claim hassles and went straight to the streets, where a taxi-driver asked if I needed a lift. He introduced himself as 'Castro' (maybe not a typical Swahili name), and proceeded to drive me to my hotel on Lake Victoria. Along the way, we talked soccer, and arranged to meet later in the day to go out to the soccer fields by the airport. I wanted to watch some good soccer in northern Tanzania. Castro had other plans for me.
After I arrived, Castro handed me his cleats, and showed me his ankle. "Swollen, see? Injured last week." While he hobbled around as the referee, I put his cleats to use and played striker on his team. Through soccer - which remains the one global language that transcends verbiage or grammar patterns - Castro welcomed me into his group of friends. No longer seen solely as a 'Mzungu', I was now a rafiki. And I was invited to return the next day to take part in a more official match.
Jakob
How's this for a random act of kindness: walk a wandering stranger through your village for 20 minutes to get back to the main road. Show him your home. Ensure his safety. Translate for him when necessary. Jakob - my 15 year old impromptu tour guide in Mwanza - did all of these things for me, the lost, aimlessly wandering white guy who stumbled upon his village. On the walk, he showed me his home, introduced me to his brothers, and made sure my valuables were out of sight when we walked through the crowded part of his neighborhood. Through some Swahinglish, we exchanged life stories over a Coke once we returned to the main road. His showcased his soccer skills for us, juggling a soccer ball made from plastic bags, a rock in the middle, and fishing-wire.
