Blogging in Two Languages

I started blogging in 2008, prompted by my two friends, Freddy Macha and Jeff Msangi. I run a blog in Swahili and another in English.

I did not quite know what I was getting into, when I started. Now I know. I have been learning a great deal through blogging, not only about blogging, but also about myself. Along the way, I have benefitted from the wisdom of more experienced bloggers, such as Subi Nukta and Michuzi.

I realize, for example, that blogging in two languages means dealing with two audiences. When I write in Swahili, I feel I am addressing fellow Tanzanians. I am comfortable writing about Tanzanian issues, often in a polemical style, because I am passionate about the issues.

When I write in English, I feel I am addressing the world. I don't even know what that means, but something tells me I am writing for the world, not just for Tanzanians. Still I want my blog to be as personal as possible, reflecting my interests, and accessible to a broad, global audience.

I will be thinking more about all this, and will write more reflections, as I do on my Swahili blog. I wonder, however, how things would be if I could blog in Matengo, my mother tongue. Alas, like most languages, Matengo is not a written language.

Litembo, A Memorable Place

Litembo is a lovely place. I was born here. As a young boy, I walked its paths countless times, visiting homes, going to school and, on Sundays, to church. No matter where I am in the world, my heart is here.

Litembo made me who I am: the way I talk, feel and see the world.

Litembo is well known, in Southern Tanzania and beyond, because of its church and its hospital. For decades, people from far and near have flocked to Litembo Hospital, where the legendary Doctor Weyer worked, from 1961 to 1996, when she retired and returned to her native Germany. A model of devotion to serving others, she was loved by all and will always be remembered.

Several years ago, people of Litembo built a monument on a nearby mountain side, in remembrance of their ancestors killed there during an uprising against German rule. With this bit of history as an added attraction, Litembo beckons visitors, even those traveling the road between Mbinga and Mbamba Bay.

Litembo harbours cultural treasures, such as traditional Matengo ceremonies, dances, songs, games, and artifacts.

This is where, in the seventies, I recorded Matengo Folktales, an open window into the soul of the people who live here.

These tales express the experiences of the Matengo, their sentiments and outlook on life, revealing their thoughts, speculations, and questions about their environment, about themselves, about their relationships, and about the human condition in general. These tales are an important index and repertory of the Matengo artistic heritage.




Several miles from Litembo mission, as we call it, there is the awe-inspiring Mmbuji Rock, the subject of legends and other folklore. Ibuuta, Matengo fairies, live on this rock. People who live nearby report seeing unusual sights on the rock at night. The Matengo behold this rock with awe and reverence.




I recommend a hike up the surrounding mountains. The trails wind through coffee farms, fields of maize, wheat, and beans. Along the way, there are brick houses with corrugated iron roofs. As one pushes higher and higher, the houses vanish, to be replaced by both fields and uncultivated patches, the abode of colourful butterflies and birds of various kinds. Isolated trees and rocks of different shapes and sizes define the landscape.

It is cold up there, and windy. On the rocks, ancient little trees with stunted trunks and gnarled branches defy the cold winds, their roots wedged deep into the rock crevices. From that height, you can see distant places, where the horizon merges with the sky. This is not a place to spend the day, however, because of the cold winds, but it is a great place to enjoy a panoramic view of this beautiful region in Southern Tanzania.

(Litembo photo at the top of the page is from Peramiho Abbey).

The Monster in the Rice Field

On the fifth floor of the St. Olaf College Library, there is a statue titled "The Purple Dragon." It was made by Joanna Newell. I do not remember the first time I saw this statue, but in recent days I have been paying special attention to it. It reminds me of "The Monster in the Rice Field," one of the tales in my Matengo Folktales. This is a tale about a monster that takes away members of a family as they take turns watching over the rice in their field. No one knows what the monster in the tale looked like, and the Matengo tradition offers not a clue. I guess that is why I like the dragon in the St. Olaf Library. About seven foot high, this seems to me the kind of monster the Matengo tale describes. Of course, in creating this monster, the artist was not thinking about the Matengo tale.
Perhaps she was thinking about a monster in a different tale, but the monster she created works for the Matengo tale quite well. It is amazing what the human imagination can do to bridge cultures. There are monster tales in all human societies, and they seem to have been there from the dawn of story telling. We never tire of the stories, scary as they might be.

Folktales inspire the imagination of audiences everywhere. After reading the tales in Matengo Folktales, students at Colorado College decided to perform them. As their professor told me, "One group did the Monster in the Rice Field complete with puppets they had made to represent the children and parents and which made it all too vivid how people just kept disappearing." Art is a universal language, and the monster is part of that language. To paraphrase Carl Jung, the monster, just like the bogeyman, is a product and manifestation of our psychic experiences. We encounter monsters, typically, in our dreams. No wonder stories of monsters have such a hold on us.