Heat, Humidity and Henna

School has officially ended for the year and I have been on vacation since the end of November. As mentioned before I was signed up to take the LSAT in Dar, which I did on the 3^rd of December, then traveled to Pemba to visit a fellow volunteer.

Normally I would take the bus to Dar, but I figured since I had some extra time I would take the train. The train is about the same price as the bus, but it takes about twice as long. As far as traveling goes here the train is really not a bad set up. If you purchase a first class ticket on Tazara (combination of Tanzanian and Zambia because the train runs between the two countries), you are placed in a cabin with three other people. The cabin has beds, a table and a big window to take in some really pretty views (I saw elephants as we traveled through Sealous National Park). The first class compartments also have toilets, showers and an eating car with reasonably priced Tanzanian food. Not sure the Tazara people understand the concept of a “captive audience”. The train is overall in nice condition for Tanzania and if you are not a rigid schedule then I might recommend it.

I arrived at the train station at 1 pm for a 2pm departure. As expected the train arrived a few hours late – 4pm. Passing through the train station doors was an experience in and of itself. There are about three or four double doors to the platform, but only one is opened for about 250 to 300 people that are going to board the train. As I think I have mentioned before there is no such thing as an orderly line with reasonable personable space between people. When the Tazara worker announced the arrival of the train people sprung from their seats, strapped their kids to their backs, piled their luggage on their heads and stormed the doors to the platform. I can only describe it as a mix between black friday at Walmart and holding a third class ticket on the Titanic. I jumped in the mix and was squeezed through the doors and plopped out on the other side. After boarding the train, it waited around for a while and then we departed at around 5:30 pm. After settling in and greeting the two Zambian woman I shared a compartment with I found some dinner. Just as dark approached the train stopped because the engine was broken and we had to wait for another to rescue us from an hour and a half out. At this news, I went to sleep. The next day on the train was pretty long. Thankfully I met a Canadian volunteer who traveled from Botswana and we had a few meals and conversations together. It was interesting to hear about how different countries are in Africa even though they are so close to one another. The rest of the train ride to Dar was spend reviewing old LSAT questions and sleeping. At some point during the trip I looked down and saw light radiating from the bottom of the stainless steel of the toilet bowl and realized that when ever I used the toilet what ever I had just deposited was not sent to a holding tank under the train, but directly out on to the tracks-- Darjeeling Limited? The train finally arrived in hot, humid Dar around 9 pm.

On Friday I went to the PC office to get some more work done and meet with the new CD (country director) EB, who was very nice and seemed really excited to be heading up PC Tanzania. Andrea the outgoing CD is headed to Nepal to reopen the post there-- pretty cool. While was at the office I also met three PCVs from Mozambique who were traveling to Tanzania for vacation, but got into a bus accident. After hearing of their experience I have to applaud PC. They take great strides to make sure volunteers are safe and healthy, even if they are not in their host country. After the PC office, I realized that I did not have enough hot weather clothing to survive my trip so I went to the only shopping mall in the country. I was actually surprised to find that it looked like smaller shopping malls in America. It is complete with clothing stores, fast food, atms and a grocery store. All in all it was a very strange shopping experience, coming from the village. I actually felt a little out of place in my mshamba (farmer) kitenge dress and wide eyes.

Saturday around noon I headed to the PC office to take the LSAT. It was actually pretty nice to be the only one in the room, besides Frida my proctor. Overall all I felt pretty prepared for the test since I started studying in April. I felt a little more pressure having someone else time and watch me as I took the test, but nothing that I would not have encountered if I took the test in America. Now I am just waiting for my scores to come back around the end of the this month or the beginning of next month.

After the LSAT, I met up with Justin, another PCV who was headed back to the States for Christmas. I am not sure what we actually talked about because my brain was pretty much fried, but it was nice to see him. Afterward I had dinner with the PCVs from Mozambique. It was really interesting to hear about the PC experience in a different country. As expected there are many similarities between programs, but also many differences. For example because there is a housing shortage in Mozambique many of the volunteers live two to a house. I think living with another person, at times, would be really nice; however, I also feel it would also really change my experience and would probably interfere with my language proficiency. The education system is also different in their country. It shocked me to learn that they were required to pass 50% of their students and many students do not attend school, but just paid teachers to pass them.

Sunday morning I went into town to buy a ferry ticket to Pemba for the next morning. Not surprisingly I was told that the schedule on-line was wrong and the ferry to Pemba had actually left earlier in the morning. Making a split second decision I bought a ticket to Zanzibar (Unguja) and one to Pemba for the next morning, then rushed home to secure a hotel room on Zanzibar and pack. The ferry ride to Unguja is actually really pretty once you leave the Dar harbor. The water is a tropical blue and the air is extremely salty. On the trip to Unguja you see many of the local fishing boats or dhows. They vary greatly in size, but all look the same. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cnj1h_tM1w) When the ferry beings to approach Unguja, you get the feeling as if you've been transported back to the times of the spice trade. The smaller islands are green and some posses tall white towers. The Unguja harbor is filled with dhows, fishing vessels with Swahili phrases written on their canopies and large cargo ships. One of the first things I noticed, besides the beautiful sunset, were the beautiful historic buildings that make up Stonetown, one of the more famous towns on Unguja. They are very closely set and are usually white with beautiful lattice work balconies. After leaving the ferry and having my passport stamped by immigration I attempted to find the Flamingo hotel. Foolishly I thought it would be relatively easy to navigate Stonetown, but I was completely wrong. This was yet another time I was glad I spoke Swahili because I was so lost in the narrow alleyways that I had to ask for  directions. I arrived at the hotel a little worse for wear and was given a room with three beds for the price of a single, since all of the singles were booked. I should also mention here that on this trip I found the surface of the sun-- Unguja/Zanzibar. It was over 90 degrees and about 200% humidity-- no lie. After peeling off my sweat soaked clothing and showering, I headed to an awesome restaurant, which I am currently forgetting the name of; however, it is located right around the corner from my hotel and looks like something out of Swiss Family Robinson. Half of the restaurant is located up stairs and the other half is covered over by a vine ceiling. After sitting down by myself, I ordered a non-alcoholic mojito (Zanzibar is about 95% Muslim, so alcohol is pretty hard to find) and sweet and sour prawns with basmati rice. My meal was absolutely amazing. Maybe the best food I have had in country to date. After dinner I found my way back to the hotel.

Sign on Unguja that says ,"Don't park cars here"

Monday morning I somehow found my way back the port for my 7 am ferry to Pemba. On board I met two really nice Germans who were on vacation to escape the cold weather and get some SCUBA in. I have to say I really admired that they lived a pretty reasonable life at home in Germany so they could save up for a really nice month of traveling. They said they had been to Fiji, India, Philippines, some countries in South America and a handful of other place I forget. I guess if it was just me and my spouse I would opt for a lot of traveling too! After arriving in the Pemba port I boarded a coaster that took me three hours to Doug's site in Konde.

Notes on Pemba: Pemba is very different from Unguja because the natives are not as used to seeing foreigners who are not Muslim and as such I was forced to cover my head whenever I left the house. I should say I was not forced, but I was stared at and attracted unnecessary attention if my head/ hair was exposed.

The town of Konde is mid-sized village located on the Northern end of Pemba. Doug lives in your typical PC house complete with two bedrooms a living/kitchen area, courtyard and toilet room. His house is situated right on the road, which means many of his students and other people from the village come over to visit unexpectedly at all hours of the day. While I was at his house about 4 people a day came to say hi, sit awkwardly in silence in his house and stare at me. This occurrence is something I am actually quite used to here. Tanzanians, for some reason, like to visit each other and then just sit around not talking. After about 10 or 15 minutes they get up, say goodbye and leave. I really have no idea why they do this, maybe to save face, but it is strange none the less.

Henna Artist

After downing about 2 liters of water, or the amount I had sweated out since 7 am, Doug took me over to the house of one of his students where a Henna artist was waiting. Thinking I would just have a nice small design drawn on my hand I sat down on a mat on the floor surround by about 20 people all curious to see how the henna would look like on white skin. After about a minute I realized I would not be getting the small intricate design I longed for, but I would be getting the real thing. The artist covered both of my arms up to my shoulders and both of my legs. After she was finished two girls filled in the paces with an orange dye and I was left to hold out both of my arms until the henna dried. It was a pretty tiring process. After about 2 hours, a few tubes of henna, some laughs from the onlookers I looked like I had just stepped out of the tv show Miami Ink. Doug and I thanked the mamas and the artist and said good night to everyone. I bolted right for the shower to rinse off the encrusted ink on my skin and to see the final project. To be honest I would have never opted for the full works, but I said to myself, when in Rome.

Trying to not get the dye on my clothes

The next morning we found some coffee in his village and I was hit on/ proposed to by every single man in the village. Apparently in training they forgot to mention that henna is a huge turn on to Muslim men. I was also asked by a rude man at the coffee stand why I did not have my head covered. I simply said that I did not feel I needed to cover my head because I am not Muslim and that if I was a Christian then that would be reason alone to not cover my head. I am not sure he really understood my response and from then on to avoid anymore comments I put a scarf over my head. That night in the village I was also proposed to by a man at the fish table. On the mainland men will ask white women to marry them, but after they are told no once or twice they usually drop it. The Pembans are different. This man would not let it go. He insisted on marrying me. He took it so far that Doug got involved/ really upset. This incident is just one of the few things I have learned to shake off here. The culture is so different sometimes that you cannot get upset, you just have to deal. After our coffee trip, we checked out the new secondary school that was built buy a Chinese construction company, but backed by some Germans. The school is really beautiful and looks like schools you would find in Southern California. The rooms are connected, but the walkways in between are open. All of the classrooms have three fans, outlets and nice blackboards. The school is also equipped with three nice labs and teachers' offices. Needless to say any volunteer who laid eyes on this school would probably start to salivate.

On my last full day in Pemba, Doug took me to the beach to go snorkeling. The road to the beach runs through a really cool forest with monkey and tropical trees. The first beach we went to was absolutely beautiful, but because of the wind and the rain from the day before the water was a little cloudy to snorkel, so we headed over to a place called Swahili Divers. The reef right off of the resort is small, but filled with colorful fish, sea urchins, coral and seaweed. The water was aqua blue, bath water warm and really salty. I have to say that snorkeling in the Indian Ocean has to be one of the coolest things I have done during my service, as far as traveling goes. After returning home we both passed out from being exhausted and later had dinner at a neighbors house. There are two American families with 7 kids between them that live with in a few minutes of Doug. At Sandy and Reed's house we had red snapper for dinner and played some board games until the power went out and the heat was pretty unbearable without a fan. I have to admit he is very lucky to have them around, especially because he lives in such a different community then most of us on the mainland.

Beach in Konde (Northern Pemba/ Indian Ocean)

In the morning I woke to a monsoon outside and the unpleasant thought that I would have to be traveling. After trying to find the bus to the port I was told that it had already left and that I would need to take the slower dala back down the island. This was not great news because if the boat left on time I would definitely not be on it. After swearing like a sailor and realizing my pants were now see-thru because of the rain I got on the dala in hopes I would make my boat. Amazingly five minutes down the road Doug called my phone and said he had found a car that could take me to the port... another sanity saving moment in this country. In the end I made it on the ferry with my ticket in plenty of time. Although he may not agree I had a really great time visiting Pemba and Doug! Thanks again!

The ferry back to Unguja was a little stressful because I realized that my preferred method of transportation home, the train, was completely booked. So I called up my trusty taxi driver Stella who found me the last ticket on a bus home for the next day! I arrived, sweaty again, in Unguja, fended off my suitors, found a ticket on the ferry to Dar and waiting the hottest, most uncomfortable line ever. To make matters worse we had to wait around for another 20 minutes in the hot weather because the ferry had been over booked. We arrived back in Dar at 7pm, where my plan to take a taxi to the hotel was quickly abandoned when I realized there were no taxis available. Left with no other options I set off to find the hotel on foot, in the Dar, by myself without a map. I eventually ran into three women who out of the kindness of their hearts escorted me to the hotel. Later I met up with some volunteers for Indian food and a chance to catch up. In the morning I headed out on the bus, which was actually air conditioned and had reasonable leg room and arrived home around dark.

Overall I had an amazing trip. At times I felt like the Brave Little Toaster (great movie) traveling and dealing with unexpected events by myself (for the most part) and at other times I felt like a tourist-- lost and frustrated. This trip made me realized how much I like the area in which I live. It is not too hot, but sometimes too cold. The people are also friendly and more accustomed to people from other cultures or religious backgrounds. I thought the Zanzibar islands were absolutely beautiful and that the Indian Ocean, around the equator, should be seen by everyone at least once in their lifetime. Traveling by myself also gave me a new sense of confidence and “can do” attitude. I think there are many times during a volunteer's service when they start to think they are incompetent or that the experience as a whole lacks adventure and excitement. My remedy for either of these situations is travel. I have never felt so proud of myself in this country as I did on this trip. There were many times where I could have just thrown in the towel and headed home because things did not go the way I had planned. Save for one time, when I missed the bus and was practically crying and screaming, I kept my stuff together. I have said it before and I'll say it again after this whole PC experience I will never complain about traveling again in the US. Hell, I may even be the first person to be smiling while being interviewed on TV because I snowed in at an airport at Christmas saying, “not as bad as the time I lived in Tanzania”. The lesson here is people appreciate that you can book your Amtrak ticket online, that your cell phone alerts you that your flight is delayed before you leave your house and that if something says it is going to depart or arrive at a certain time, it does.

Well I have a few more things to add, but I feel this post has gone on long enough. Hope everyone at home is doing well. Miss you all!!!

All my love from TZ.  

Konde

Thanksgiving, man. Not a good day to be my pants. - Kevin James

Not too much to report since my last blog. School is officially closing on Friday, but our exams ended today. After grading 288 exams and proctoring three exams for a total of 10 hours I am done with schoolwork and ready for Thanksgiving!!! Thanksgiving will, of course, be spent this year in country again. However, not to worry the volunteers in my region have collaborated and put together a stellar menu for Saturday (we are delaying because tomorrow is not a holiday here!). I am on pumpkin pie duty, Kat is making mac and cheese, Rebecca is on mashed potatoes, I think someone is getting chicken or turkey? (currently going the veggie route due to the last bout of salmonella), Jess is on cake for TJ’s and Anna’s birthdays. I think I will probably chip in with a veggie dish and possibly another dessert. Going to make the pie from scratch, even the filling. I will let you all know how it turns out.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving I wanted to give my top 10 list of things I am thankful for, in no particular order (save #1),

1. a. Life!

     b. My family and friends!!!  (Miss you all sooo much, it is not even funny)

2. Being a PCV.  I know I complain about the bad times, but really I am thankful for every experience – bad or good.

3. Care packages… seriously anyone who has sent me a package in the last year; you have no idea how much they mean to me. I am not quite sure where I would be without Velveeta, candy and magazines.

4. Electricity—enough said.

5. Apples and Diet Coke (luxuries here)

6. The waterspout outside my house

7. The fact that I have (knock on wood) not contracted malaria—yet.

8. My students, even if some are as sharp as marbles.

9. Support from everyone at home! I do not think you all know how much I value your well wishes and encouragement. It has not been an easy road, but knowing people are keeping tabs on me back at home is comforting.

10. The fact that I am doing what I love to do and that I feel like I am making a difference, even if it is small.

Everything else is going well. Next Wednesday I will be heading to Dar to take the LSAT, then I am headed to Pemba to visit a fellow PCV for some sun and some R and R. After that I am probably going to be returning home to decorate for Christmas and to start prepping applications for law school. I hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving. Eat lots of food, watch lots of football and take a long nap on the couch. Like last year, if you plan on going to Walmart on Black Friday, my advice to you is to wear a suit made of chain metal and a helmet, so you are not trampled to death!

Here are some T-giving quotes to leave you with…

“The thing I'm most thankful for right now is elastic waistbands.”- unknown, but brilliant

“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them. “ -John Fitzgerald Kennedy

“Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare.  They are consumed in twelve minutes.  Half-times take twelve minutes.  This is not coincidence.”

  ~Erma Bombeck

“A lot of Thanksgiving days have been ruined by not carving the turkey in the kitchen.” - Kin Hubbard 

All my love from TZ

Wedding Crasher

This weekend I finally put the lumber in my backyard to good use and completed about 2/3 of a fence before I ran out of nails. Once I have it finished I will no longer have to worry about people watching me while I wash my laundry or dishes. I may also have a place where I can sit outside and enjoy the sun—in shorts!

2/3 of my fence...

Saturday afternoon I decided to get my butt off of my couch while taking a study break and walk into the village to get a soda and attempt to be social. Along the way I ran into a fellow teacher who had a soda with me and then suggested we “crash” the wedding celebration that was happening near by. I should note that in Tanzania you are usually given an invitation to an event and you RSVP by sending in a small donation and bringing the invitation to the event. However, because of the culture randos usually show up and you have to accommodate them as well, so as not to offend anyone. I figured this could be a unique experience, so we set off. Along the way we made a pit stop at the local pastor’s house for another soda and some conversation about the potato harvest—stimulating. Eventually we made it to the celebration, which was taking place outdoors. About 200 people from my village were gathered around the bride, groom, maid of honor and best man, who were standing in front of a home made stage decorated with brightly, albeit not matching, fabric and balloons. When we arrived people were presenting their gifts to the new couple and the emcee was blaring really loud Tanzo music.

I should explain that the presentation of the gifts is probably as far as you can get from the way it is done in the States. At home a couple (the bride) signs up a William Sonoma or Crate and Barrel for the place settings, silverware and expensive cheese board. The gifts are then selected by wedding guests online, or in the store and conveniently wrapped and sent to the couple’s residence or brought to the reception and left on a table. The whole process is decidedly very discrete. In Tanzania, the people presenting the gift or gifts buy what they think a new couple would want and gather in a group to pitch in money for said gift. At the reception the gifting group dances holding up their unwrapped gift to the bride and groom. While hollering, blowing whistles and bouncing up and down.

During the twenty minutes I spent at the reception the bride and groom received, plastic plates, glasses, bed sheets, a mattress, a suitcase, buckets, basins, rice, potatoes, blankets and my personal favorite—firewood. Not quite the Margaretville blender or the KitchenAid mixer, but necessities nonetheless. Also during the brief time I was there I noticed that the bride looked absolutely miserable, almost on the verge of tears and I honestly have no idea why. I mean I could probably guess and say that she was shy and did not like people, the marriage was arranged or she registered for the Fiestaware and the plastic plates were just not cutting it. All I know was that she did not look like she was thrilled to be married or even at the reception. After about 20 minutes, the emcee finally spotted me amongst the guests (not too hard) and announced, in Swahili, that a white person was present. At this I looked around for the white person when I quickly realized he was talking about me, I blushed and two minutes later made a timely exit. Actually being singled out was uncomfortable because I consider myself a part of the community, but also interesting for the same reason; most of the people present knew I was there long before he said anything, but did not make a big deal about it because they see me everyday. I either teach them or their kids or buy things from their store or produce stand. It was really only a big deal to the emcee, who probably came from Mbeya. I guess in the end I was comforted by the fact that no one was really surprised.

Saturday night, while I was washing dishes on my back porch, a baby kitten made her way on to my back porch. After looking around for her mom or owner I took her inside and gave her some milk, made her a bed and a litter box. The next day I asked my mkuu if he knew of anyone missing a cat, to which he said, “If you found a cat, you should keep it”. So, long story short I now own a cat, her name is Patagonia and she is the 4^th animal to live in my house here. Hopefully I will not have to put her down, bury her or give her away – like her predecessors.

Neighborhood Girls

Everything else has been going well here. I am still in the middle of studying for the LSAT, as well as writing a grant for a school library! I am actually really excited about this secondary project because our school is in desperate need of a library and one thing I really miss about home strangely enough is a quite environment to sit and read that is not my house. The mkuu and I went over a list of things we would like to see in the library to which I added couches and chairs. At first he thought this was absurd, but after I explained that a welcoming atmosphere would make the students want to sit, stay and read. He seemed to understand where I was coming from and so when our library is finished it will have a reading corner! It will also, hopefully, have a mural drawn by a student. The other teachers and I decided that we should have a mural contest and the student with the best idea/ skills will have the privilege of decorating one of the walls of the library. As an aside, it is amazing to me that some of these students are wonderful artists, but the teachers or the school system here do not foster any creativity in them. Maybe by initiating a mural contest at school some of the students will realize that they do posses a valuable skill besides memorization of random facts.

Also while I am on the topic of secondary projects, I am still looking for a group to adopt my basketball court project. The group would raise money and then come to Tanzania to help build the court at my school for a week. If you are reading this and know of any groups who may be interested please tell them to contact me for more details!!!!!

Well I have to finish up writing this grant so I can send it to PC for revision, we will see how many times this takes… I have heard horror stories. Hope all is well at home and that everyone has his or her power back! Miss you all!

All my love from TZ

Emotional Roller Coaster

Last weekend, Sarah, another PCV, and I had an interesting conversation about emotions. We both came to the conclusion that emotional states here, for some reason, are extremely magnified. Things that would make you relatively happy at home can just about make your month here. For example, getting NYT crossword puzzles and a few magazines in the mail will make me smile all day long, combine that with a few packets of tuna and crystal light and I may as well have won the damn lottery. Conversely, the smallest disappointment can make you feel like you are stuck at the bottom of a 30-foot well with no one around to hear your screams. Every day here I feel like I am on an emotional roller coaster and just wondering when I am going to hit the highest point of the day or the lowest. Granted some days the average of my emotional state tends to be higher, but today has not been one of those days.

This story really began yesterday, so that is where I will start. I was listening to the news on VOA and realized that there were some terrorist acts that took place in Nairobi as a result of Kenyan forces entering into Somalia. I called up Peace Corps because I was concerned they would not let me travel to Nairobi to take the LSAT in about a month. As suspected, I am not allowed to travel to Kenya and in all honesty do not really want to be anywhere near people and hand grenades. I then contacted the people who give the test and explained my situation. Unfortunately, they are going to make me pay the extra money (a lot of extra money) to have the test moved to Dar. I could have done this earlier, but was going to take it in Nairobi to save money. On the upside they are going to let me take it in Dar, which I guess they did not have to agree to. Anyway, this coupled with the fact that Sunday morning I woke up with another lovely case of food poisoning set my week off to a really horrendous start.

Moving on, this morning when I was going to teach my first period class and realized the majority of my students were not in the classroom, but being punished for arriving to school late, I went and rounded them up in front of the teacher on duty without permission. Looking back, it was a poor decision not to ask first, but they were using my class time to punish students.  I admittedly did what I did out not out frustration and because I wanted to teach my students for a full period, but because I needed an emotional pick me up. My latter intention completely backfired in my face (Yes, Judy, if you are reading, I may have asked for this one). After class I felt guilty about what I had done and went to apologize to the teacher, whom I had wronged. [I should mention that culturally Tanzanians will not tell you if they are angry with you unless they are extremely angry with you.] Being less than thrilled to see me, he told me he was angry. I apologized to him and tried to explain that I know I live here and am expected to follow Tanzanian culture and in America what I did would not have been looked favorably upon either. I also tried to justify my actions by explaining that it is not easy for me to follow another culture 24 hours a day 7 days a week and as a result my behavior sometimes breaks down. After my explanation he seemed to understand my position, but still insisted I stole my students so they would not be hit because I do not approve of corporal punishment. I agree with him that I do not approve of it, but stated that I knew there was nothing I could do about it and was more upset that he was taking up my class time.  After all was said and done I called up and vented to Kat, who was really gracious and listened to me even though she experiences the same situation daily at her school, then made a cup of coffee.

Lesson learned from this situation: (maybe more like hypothesis reconfirmed) emotions are extremely amplified here and I think whenever I enter into a charged situation I need to keep a better charge of my emotional state and account for huge fluctuation. All in all, sometimes, as my father says, you have to eat a little crow.

All my love from TZ. 

Tanzanian Jack-o'-lantern

It is mid-October, which means fall is in full swing at home and spring is here! This means I no longer have to wear legging underneath my skirts, sleep in a sweatsedo, worry about heating my bath water or the electricity being off for 23 hours a day. I am proud to say that I have finished the syllabi for math and physics and my classes are currently in review mode—lord knows we need it. Sadly, I believe some of my students have the retention of a [insert animal with poor memory here]. Alas, I am attempting to combat that with plenty of interactive review before exam week (mid November) and the end of the school year (Friday, November, 25^th).

Everything else seems to be moving along here. Last week the form four students all across Tanzania took the national exam (NECTA). This meant that we had about five visiting teachers sent to our school to invigilate (proctor) and two policemen with guns to guard the tests. [Seriously, these guys don’t have better things to be doing?] Hard to believe, but we said good-bye to Andrew (a volunteer in the Education class before me) this week. He is finished with his two years of service at the end of the month. His leaving got me thinking of how much time I have left here and how much time has already past. Strange to think that I will have lived at my school for a whole year at the end of November! New health and environment volunteers arrived this past week as well and we will hopefully receive some new people in early December, right around the time I will be traveling to Nairobi to take the LSAT.

This past week I embarked on a new adventure in the spirit of fall in New England, I bought two pumpkins. One I used to make pumpkin cookies, pumpkin bread and pumpkin curry and the other I had a bear of a time carving into an African Jack o’ lantern. The food actually came out really well, but I was disappointed that the left over pumpkin I had spoiled before I could use it to make ravioli.  Speaking of cooking I am actually amazed how far my ability has come over the past year, I am no Julia Child, but I can now make noodles from scratch, grill steaks and make a mean curry. Hopefully after service I will continue to cook from scratch, but will all of the convinces that are available at home and that have been unavailable in the past year I am not sure how true that statement will prove.

So seeing as there is never a dull moment here, this morning was no exception. On my way to teach my first period of the day I was followed by a boy about 10 years old who was dressed in tattered clothes, carrying homemade toys and wearing two broken sandals. At first I did not think much of the situation because kids follow me around here a lot, however when he walked into my classroom, I was a little scared. All 80 of my students started to laugh when he continued to walk further into my classroom and closer to me. At this point all of the students looked at me and seeing the panic on my face because the kid was giving me the hairy eyeball, got up and chased him out of the room.  After they came back in the room we all had a good laugh. Apparently he is a mentally handicapped kid who lives in the village and escapes from home every once in a while, which would explain why I have never seen him before. This morning I was also visited by James from Peace Corps because he was doing new education volunteer site visits in the region. I was surprised when he asked me if I was going to Tanga for the new health and environment volunteer training and I said I wasn’t. About a month back I applied to be a facilitator and teach a session on the Tanzanian education system and teaching in Tanzania. Apparently the staff liked the idea, but never contacted me about it? Not quite sure, but I would have really liked to do the session…

Miss you all! Good luck next weekend to people racing in the Head of the Charles. Wish I could be there!

All my love from TZ. 

"That’s been one of my mantras — focus and simplicity. Simple can be harder than complex: You have to work hard to get your thinking clean to make it simple. But it’s worth it in the end because once you get there, you can move mountains.”

Living in Tanzania when it is down pouring outside and no electricity would probably leave anyone with a lot of time to think and I am no exception. Yesterday morning when I turned on my MacBook Pro to check my email and the news, as I do every morning, I was shocked and saddened to learn that Steve Jobs had passed away. As the day wore on most of my friends on Facebook had posted some sort of tribute to him, which got me thinking about how much I admired him not only because he helped to develop half of the technology that is sitting on my coffee table, but because he liked to keep things simple.

After having lived in Tanzania for almost 13 months now, I appreciate simplicity more than ever. I see where Steve Jobs was coming from when he wanted his products, and possibly life, to be simple and streamlined. He appeared to live a very modest life, considering that his net worth was more than the GDP of most countries, and to be in love with his job. Living here has taught me that simple is good and that less is definitely more. After this adventure is over and I return to the land where life can be complicated by luxuries that are taken for granted, I hope that my life is simpler and more streamlined than it was before I left. Does this mean I will be giving up running water, hot showers, a dishwasher, car and eating processed food, no probably not, but I will hopefully have a more stripped down and simplified view of life; I hope that I continue to find the joy in the small things. Here I get excited about Nacho night, being able to watch “When Harry Met Sally” on a Saturday night with a bowl of popcorn or talk to my parents on the phone. I also hope to enjoy my work at home as much as I enjoy my work here.

To look at a bigger picture, I think the ideologies of Steve Jobs and the Peace Corps can be considered one in the same. Change the world, but keep it simple.  As a Peace Corps volunteer I am aware that what I am hopefully doing is initiating change on a small scale, but small is simple and affective. I like to think of the ideas I share with my students as a small rocks thrown into a placid lake. I think one could say the same thing for Steve Jobs contributions, although his ideas were more like simple boulders. I am not sure change could manifest itself in a more simple way than the ripple effect.

So thank you, Steve, for my all of my computers and iPods (without them I have already expired here due to boredom) and for showing the world that no matter how advanced we become we can still keep it simple.

Everything else is going well here. Yesterday it rained from 1 pm to about 12am and I thought that the rain was going to wash out my garden, but it is still standing as of this morning. On the bright side, I will not have to boil drinking water for the next week and tonight is nacho night in Tukuyu!

All my love from TZ

*Title quote from Steve Jobs

Graduation, A meat feast, A win, A loss and Perhaps a fractured finger

Woo! Yesterday was the 1 year mark of our arrival in Tanzania! It really does not feel like I have lived here for a year. It is funny, but life just seems like life here. Occasionally I have the “woah, I live in Tanzania” moment, but mostly I just feel like I am at home because I have a routine, friends near by and a sense of community at my school.

A couple of Thursdays ago my school put on a graduation ceremony for our Form IV students. Graduation usually takes place before their national exams, which seems a little backward to me, but then again most things here seem that way. The school took the whole day before hand to prepare by building a little shaded area for the guest of honor and the graduates. The next day I got up, put on a dress, put Tanzo earrings in (which means I was getting dressed up) and left to be absolutely bored out of my mind. I was informed the day before by my head of school that the graduation would start at 10am and go until 3:30pm and would be all in Swahili. Awesome. I arrived at school and soon realized that I would be cooking all day with the rest of the female teachers and the village mamas. One would think that I would be as equally upset to be cooking all day, but I was able to wear pants, taste-test the food and was not expected to sit through the ceremony. I was given the all-important task of grating carrots, peeling onions and stirring in the rice. After most of the food was cooked I skipped out of the kitchen to catch some of the graduation ceremony, which, in true Tanzanian fashion, began two hours late. The bit I did catch, however, was the part where the students demonstrate scientific experiments for the audience. To sum up the experience, graduation ceremonies in Tanzania are a lot different from ones in America.

Last weekend after graduation, a few other volunteers from my region and I travelled to Songea to meet up with a bunch of other volunteers. Songea is about 8 hours on a bus from Mbeya and is located to the southeast. We arrived on Friday afternoon and had lunch and dinner with a bunch of other volunteers. Saturday was sports day, 3 on 3 basketball and volleyball. I got roped into playing basketball with two other male volunteers. It was actually a lot of fun considering our second place prize was Lifesavers, beef jerky and a sprained/potentially fractured middle finger, for me. That afternoon/night some of the volunteers who live in Songea asked a Brazilian ex-pat to host a BBQ. It was amazing! We each paid around 10,000/=  or $6.25 for roasted pork, fresh bread, salad, potato salad and three beers. The meat was so tasty because it had been marinated for 24+ hours in a mixture of garlic, parsley, brine and some other mystery spices. He cooked up 25 kilos or 55lbs of meat for around 30 people. By the end of the BBQ we were taking “meat shots”, everyone had to take a piece of meat no matter how full they were. After our meat fest we held a “talent show” at a near by bar, which was followed by a lot of dancing on full stomachs and the smell of meat burps. I ate so much meat I was still full the next morning when I woke up to catch a bus back to Mbeya. The first half of the return trip to Mbeya was smooth until we reached a place called Makambako. From there our group got a little split up and some of us ended up on a really crowded bus, sitting in the aisle jump seats complete with chicken, bus sick Tanzanians, very limited leg space and no fresh air for about three hours. The quintessential developing country bus trip and one I wish I could do more justice, but it is one of those things in life that no description will do and you need to experience for yourself.

After Songea, a few other volunteers decided to go to Matema beach/ Lake Malawi because most of us are currently on school midterm break. On Monday we travelled to Matema, which took a little bit longer than usual because we took public transportation the whole way and had to wait for the bus to completely fill before we could depart. Just as we were approaching Matema the bus stopped at a checkpoint, which they recently established to charge entrance into the village. The check point is clearly a way to get more money out of the white people visiting the lake, even though the sign says that non-Matema residents also have to pay the fee, but the people at the booth would never know unless a Tanzanian came forward and said they did not reside in the town. At the checkpoint a village official boarded the bus and asked us each for 5,000/=, which is a lot considering our living allowances. By this point I was hot, tired and not in the mood to be pushed around by this guy. I promptly took out my laminated copy of my work permit, visa and passport to prove to the guy that I did actually live in the country and was not the ordinary white traveler. The official, after seeing documentation, still would not give us the citizen price of 2,000/= and the Tanzanians on the bus, who we patiently waited for while they loaded all of their goods on to the bus earlier in the day, were getting angry with us. At that point another volunteer and I got off the bus with 2,000/= for every person traveling with us and went to the village office. We finally got the correct entrance price after a mix of help from our bus driver, decent Swahili and my temper because I was tired and hungry. I have to admit after the whole ordeal was over I was pretty impressed that we successfully argued and got our way in Swahili. If someone told me a year ago I would be able to do that I would have never believed them. I should also mention here that we picked up an addition to our party in Songea, Scott, a guy from the states who is backpacking East Africa for a while before he applies to jobs. It is funny how you have an immediate bond with people from home, whom you have never met. I have to give him some credit; he ended up adjusting to the PC way of life pretty quickly, living on the cheap and wearing the same outfit three days in a row. 

Following our rough start the rest of our time at Matema was awesome. We eat simple meals in the village, 1,000/= for rice and beans ($0.62) and made bon fires both of the nights we were there. The only low point of the trip was when my Kindle slipped off my lap without me noticing and I left it on the bus thinking it was in my backpack. I attempted to track it down, but was unable to get it back, probably because someone took it and was going to try to sell it. Good luck, sans charger. Thankfully it was partially insured, but it is still a bummer to lose something that you use all the time and that is a pain to replace. All in all it was a great way to spend the first part of my week off, hanging out with friends, swimming in the lake and soaking up some sun!

Two days ago a couple of volunteers in the area and I hiked Ngozi crater. It was a nice to spend most of the day outside getting some exercise. I am actually really glad that I live so close because anytime any volunteers want to hike they usually call me up and I am able to meet PCVs from all over the country. The people in my village are also happy because they charge a 5,000/= fee per person to hike. (I get to hike for free because I teach at the school!)

Okay time for a slightly funny/ creepy story. On my way into Mbeya this week two different Tanzanian men confessed their love for me and proposed to me. As any sane person would do I politely declined their offer, but the second man would not take no for an answer. As I was explaining why I would not accept him/ walking away, he grabbed his crotch and told me he did not have AIDS. I was not sure whether to laugh or run away, so I did both. Sorry buddy, but the reason I do not want to marry you has a lot more to do with you as a person and not whether you do or do not have AIDS.

Everything else here has been moving forward. It has started raining again here (first time since probably May), so I started to plant my garden. So far I have snow peas, regular peas, zinnias, basil and pumpkins in the ground. Now let’s hope I don’t end up killing them. Hoping that watching my garden grow will pass the time here for the next two months until school break after Thanksgiving time. Speaking of which, since coming to Tanzania and not really experiencing the seasons as we know them I think fall may be my favorite season. I know most people dread it because it means the start of a new school year and the end of summer, but when you go a whole year without seeing the leaves change color, pumpkin pie, pumpkin iced coffee from DD, hot apple cider, apple pie, apples in general, cool fall nights and mornings, sweater/jean outfits, the Head of the Charles, and most importantly Halloween candy ( I <3 you, candy corn!), you think about how much you took those things for granted when you had them.

Hope everyone at home is doing well, adjusting to the cooler fall temperatures and eating all the Halloween candy you can get your hands on! (Almost forgot about jack-o'-lantern Peeps and mini Reese's Peanut butter Cups! )

All my love from TZ

 Practicing for Graduation 

Drummin'

Dar and the dentist, round 2... Ding! Ding!

Excited to blog after these past few weeks!  A few weeks ago at school, what seemed like any other day, I was walking back to my house during our chai break to make some coffee (Dunkin’ cinnamon coffee always makes my day here… remember it is the small things!) when I saw a group of students and teachers standing around a female student lying on the ground. She had fainted, which is something I have seen before at school and done on a few occasions myself. We got her some soda and elevated her feet. Once she seemed to be coming around I continued to my house, made some coffee and came back to school. I sat outside with the rest of the teachers when I heard people screaming/chanting. I looked around the corner of the office building and the girl, who had fainted, was again lying on the ground, but this time two teachers were pinning her arms and legs down and chanting over her. According to the other teachers the girl was “sick from the devil” and needed to be healed by the power of Jesus. This continued for about another 10 minutes, while I laughed uncomfortably and other teachers and I discussed why I did not go to church here or really believe in any religion.  I was actually laughed at by one of the internship teachers, then I got angry defending myself and told him that I respected that he had his own beliefs and I deserved the same respect – he laughed, I wanted to knock some sense into him—literally.  And so, after 11 months in country, I experienced my first demonic possession and subsequent exorcism—wicked bizarre.

I know many of my blog posts include stories or comments around religion and I just thought I would take sometime now to write about how my views towards religion have changed here. Before coming to Tanzania I was perfectly fine with religion. Being born and raised Roman Catholic, going to church was not a problem for me, although I would not have considered myself, “practicing”. I enjoy some of the Bible’s messages; ones that say you should be kind to others, give to those who are less fortunate, etc. I think that they should and do form the basis of ethical thoughts and behavior. Upon arriving in Tanzania, as I have written about before, we were told that it would not be unusual for people to ask us, our names, if we were married, had children and what our religion was. As much as I think Peace Corps prepared us for the religious differences, I think they could have given us more direction on how to deal with not going to church or associating with a religion. Their main advice was to confront it in a way that made us feel comfortable. I cannot tell you how many times I have been laughed at or chastised because I do not go to church and told that I “must believe”. This has really made me believe that missionaries did not do people here any service and that religion has the ability to make people very close-minded, when I feel religion is supposed to be about acceptance. I have stopped trying to explain to people that I have different religious beliefs and have moved on to explaining that some people have different views on religion (not every one is Christian or Muslim) and that people are entitled to believe what they want and that should be respected. I really hate to say it, but I am starting to believe less and less that religion does more good than bad. I feel the people here have been imposed upon and were unknowingly not given a choice. If a Tanzanian does not follow the religion of their parents it is seen, culturally, as very disrespectful. Just another reason why I feel so fortunate to live in America where religious beliefs do not necessarily have to be passed from generation to generation and we are allowed to believe what we want, presumably, without feeling judged.

So as some of you already know, this week I had to make another trip to Dar because my filling fell out—fun, right? I was not too excited about this trip mainly because of the experience I had the last time at the dentist here. My trip got off to a rough start when my bus was running over 2 hours late. When the bus arrived at my village it was not the bus I thought I was going to take, but a really crappy bus. I should have known it was going to be a long ride when there was no space between my seat and the one in front of me for my knees. About two hours into the trip our bus slowed down through a village when I heard a sound that was mix between fireworks and gunshots. I looked out the window to see a lot of smoke and more than 50 people sprinting off into the bush. I am not kidding. Women were running with infants strapped to their backs and men and children were sprinting. Everyone on my bus closed the windows and ducked down. I am still not sure what was going on, but no one was hurt and our bus kept rolling right through. I was pretty scared, but eventually everyone’s panic turned into laughter, especially at me for being white and scared. Seriously, when you see 50+ people sprinting in the opposite direction you are headed and you hear what you believe to be gun shots, it is a wonder I did not piss my pants. The whole experience was summed up pretty well by the man sitting behind me when he said, “Well…welcome to Tanzania”. Yes, thank you buddy. This place really never ceases to amaze me.

A few more hours into the trip, the back of the bus started to smell really bad. All of the people, myself included, covered their noses with their shirts as we attempted to locate the source of the foul smell. It turns out it was actually a “fowl” smell. A live chicken, which is not an unusual thing to see on a bus because people buy them on their way home for dinner, sitting in a plastic bed in the overhead bin, had pooped and the poop was now dripping out of the bag onto the head and head rest of the woman next to me. Laughing hysterically, I offered her my apologies and some napkins.

When we arrived at the half way point about 3 hours behind schedule, I decided that I should prepare myself for arriving in Dar at around 10 pm, late, but not awful. Then at about 4:30 or 5 pm, after passing over a speed bump our bus blew a tire. At this point, I was thankful our bus did not roll over and I really, really had to go pee. I usually try not to drink anything on the bus ride, but the Diet Pepsi in my bag was just too tempting. So I took the time to get off the bus and relieve myself in the bush. Apparently hiding behind a pile of sand was not enough because I think I mooned a few people on a bus passing in the opposite direction. Oh well. At that point I was just glad to stretch my legs and empty my bladder.

About another 2 hours into the trip our bus blew another tire and we hopped off the bus again. At this point it was dark out and I estimated our arrival in Dar to be around 11 pm or 12 am. We climbed back on the bus and arrived in Morogoro, which is about 3 hours from Dar at about 8:30 pm. At this point we picked up some more passengers, who were stuffed into the aisles, leaving the rest of us with peoples butts in our faces, elbows resting on our heads and no legroom. One guy who was standing next to me, tried to talk to me in really broken English. At this point my patience had been shot and I tried to ignore him until he started speaking about me in Swahili. At that I got a little rude and told him not to talk about me and that I didn’t talk to him in English because I, frankly, was not in the mood to talk.  Then, he asked for some of the food I was eating and I told him, “No”, but offered some to the woman sitting next to me. Culturally very rude, but I was tired and extremely annoyed.

At about 1:30 am, we still had not reached Dar when our bus stopped again because the driver thought something was wrong with the breaks. At this point people started going crazy and getting very upset. I even stood up and openly admitted in English that I was going to lose my stuff if we did not start moving soon. At that point I had been on an awful bus for about 16 1/2 hours. I was tired, dirty and frustrated. Thankfully after about another 20 minutes our bus started rolling again. When arrived at the bus stand a little worse for the wear it was about 2 am and I may have elbowed a few people in the rush to get off of the bus.

The next morning I had a 10am appointment at the dentist’s office, which went surprisingly well. I think the gods felt they had punished me enough because I ended up seeing a really nice Indian woman, who wore surgical gloves and didn’t make me cry. She was really understanding and I almost wanted to hug her after she finished my filling. Afterwards, I hung out with a few other volunteers who happened to be in the area and had some real food. That night I had dinner with a woman who was taking over for the ex-pats I normally stay with. We had fresh calamari, which was awesome, and a really nice conversation about Tanzania and the Peace Corps.

The next morning I boarded the nicer bus back home. Everything seemed to be going well and we were on schedule to make it back to Mbeya by around 6:30pm. About 2 or so hours into the trip I heard the girl talking to her brother behind me and realized he had thrown up from being bus sick and that it had traveled under my seat and made it to my backpack which was lying on the ground. I was so angry and so grossed out. I felt bad for the boy, it is really irresponsible of a parent to stick their four children on a bus, by themselves when all of them are under the age of 10., but I was really mad. I would not have been as upset if they had simply told me to pick up my stuff before it got vomit on it, but they didn’t and I made the bus conductor take my back pack and stuff in the overhead bin because I was so mad. [Lesson: always carry hand sanitizer when traveling, you never know when someone is going to blow chunks] Other than the puke incident, the ride home was much faster than my ride to Dar and I was back at my site by around 7 pm.

So here is to hoping I do not have to travel back to Dar any time soon. As awful as the trip was I cannot help but think that I voluntarily signed up for this and how many people get to write a blog post like this one, right? I figure that if I didn’t have experience like this the good experiences would not mean, as much and I would never have anything to blog about. So here’s to the chicken poop, bombs or fireworks and the bus-sick boy…thanks for keeping life here interesting.

I also should mention that my kitten Pebbles has passed away. For those of you keeping track this is my second dead pet and third pet overall in 11 months. She was really tiny, but did not seem sick as she was eating and acting normally. Last Thursday I woke up to find her stone dead in her box. It was really sad, but I had to bury her in the back yard. I have since sworn that she will be my last pet in country. Cannot risk anymore going to the place in the sky under my supervision.

I hope everyone is getting into back to school mode.  I was honestly not too sorry to hear about the loss of power to people on the East coast because of Irene. You all got a little taste of Peace Corps life!! (Now just ad a small kerosene stove and a 10L bucket bath to that).

We are entering our home stretch here with mid term exams and Form IV graduation approaching soon. Today and tomorrow are actually Muslim holidays, so we do not have school and we have a week break from September10^th till the 18^th!

All my love from TZ.

  

The Endless Summer and a Few Bad Eggs

The other night I sat down to watch one of my favorite movies of all time, The Endless Summer. For those of you who have yet to experience this work of genius let me give you a brief run down. Basically in the 1960’s this guy Bruce Brown took a camera, and followed two young surfers, Robert August and Michael Hynson, around for a year and filmed them following warm weather and surfing in different locations. Regarded as mother to all modern day surf films. The Endless Summer is probably the most well-known real surf documentary—Blue Crush is not. The first stop on Mike and Roberts journey is Senegal, West Africa.

Having seen this movie more times than I know or would even like to admit, I was totally taken a back when I watched after having actually lived on the continent of Africa for almost 11 months now. At one point Mike and Robert walk down to a beach—where local people are trading goods and fishing—to go surfing. I was amazed to find that even though it is 2011, the local people were still wearing the same clothes and using the same goods they use today. The women were all dressed in brightly colored vitenge outfits and the men were wearing pants and shorts that were clearly second hand from a developed country. The women still had their children strapped to their backs and carried goods on their heads. The fishermen used the same dugout wooden canoes I have seen in use on Lake Nyasa/ Lake Malawi, as well as the same hand woven fishing nets. Even the big bowls and platters in the movie are ones I can buy at the market. Okay, so this may not seem that strange to some of you…. so what things looked the same in Africa over 50 years ago as they do today. Well, now ask yourself this; do things look the same in America as they did 50 years ago. How many of us are still wearing the same style of clothing that people wore in the 1960’s? How many of us are still using the same technology? People here seem to make due with things that have been in use for some time and have not felt the need to change. On the flip side, many of the countries in Africa are behind the developed world. Two areas where I notice this on a daily basis are in education and technology. Text books that are outdated, corporal punishment, number of students who go to college, walkmans, outdated lab apparatuses, typewriters, carbon paper for making copies… (the list goes on). Before living in Tanzania I would have had a hard time imagining how it would be to live behind the rest of the world. So, after watching this movie again I feel even more grateful to live in a developed country that is constantly moving forward.

As for the past couple weeks things have been moving forward. The New Ed volunteers received their site last week. We will be getting three new girls to the Mbeya region, which leaves just TJ and Eric … and 9 (?) girls. Poor boys… This past week I also had shadowers, who sat in on one of my classes and lived at my house for most of the week. It was nice to have some other people around for a change. Last Saturday I also procured pet #3.  Her name is Pebbles; she is a tiny gray kitten. As any of you know I have had a pretty bad track record here, as far as pets go, hopefully this one will last longer than a week. I also hope she grows a lot more so she will be bigger than the rats she is supposed to kill.

Add one more thing to the list of medical issues I have had in country…. Two nights ago I had food poisoning. I woke up in the middle of the night with stomach cramps and a small fever. In the morning, I was in no shape to go to school, so I tried to call my mkuu and a counterpart. I ended up getting sick… won’t really share the details, but it involved a bucket and my choo -- simultaneously. I ended up sleeping most of the day. Around 4 I attempted to walk to the duka near my house to get some soda and crackers, but only made it about half way before I came really close to fainting. Thankfully a student went to the store for me as I barely made it back home to my couch. Add to all of this that I had a meowing kitten, who kept trying to butt her head into the bathroom, and I ran out of water to flush my toilet. Thankfully this morning I woke up feeling much better and my 101.9 degree fever had disappeared.

Most days I really do not notice that I live in a different country/ culture because I have pretty much adjusted to things here. The times I notice things are really different is when I am sick. There are very few convinces here that we are used to at home such as ginger ale, saltines, Saved By The Bell reruns and an actual toilet bowl. These may seem like trifles, but when you are sick they can make a world of different. Also, as much as I appreciate my counterparts they do not seem to understand that when a person is sick it is not necessarily malaria, you cannot take medicine for every aliment and you may only be sick for 24 hours.

So lesson learned this week… make sure eggs are fresh and cooked thoroughly (refrigeration also wouldn’t hurt)

I hope the last few weeks of summer are treating everyone well. We are getting the tail end of “winter” here, so hopefully sometime soon it will start to warm up! Also hoping it starts to rain again…really tired of living on the surface of the moon (there is so much dust that it puffs up when you walk, like moon dust).

All my love from TZ. 

Waterfalls, Love notes and Too many socks

It has been a pretty quiet month in Mchangane. Besides teaching, studying and reading all of the books in the Hunger Games series (which I think were really good, but it could be that I was just really bored) I have not been up to too much. Two weeks ago I acquired a nice cold, which is still lingering and which I will add the list of things I have gotten in Africa.

Friday, after teaching, I met up with a few volunteers and friends in the area and we all went to Kaporogwe Falls. The falls are actually relatively close to my site, but the road to get there is unpaved and thus it takes about an hour to get there. Although it took a good chunk of time out of the day it was well worth the trip. Behind the falls is , what I believe to be, half natural, half man made outcropping cave-ish ledge that you can walk along. The mist from the falls was actually pretty refreshing along with view of the valley in the background. Honestly right now I am lacking the creativity to paint you a wonderful verbal picture, so I will add a picture I took!

After the trip to the falls I decided to decline an invitation to Nacho Night and took a late coaster back to site. On the way home, as sometimes happens, I became the entertainment for the other passengers on the coaster. The entertainment started when the conductor told me he “liked” me (Umependeza) and asked if I was married. I figured I would have some fun and told them my “husband” was back in the states, but would be coming to Tanzania soon. [If some of you think this is strange… many volunteers make up fake fiancées or spouses to avoid awkward situations, in fact Peace Corps taught us, in so many words, make up “white lies” to avoid situations] The conversation slowly changed to be between my seat neighbor and myself on the topic of where I was from and what I was doing here. I think I may have turned some heads when he asked me, “Mungu yupo?” [Is God present?] to which I responded Hiyupo [absent]. Turns out that the man was a pastor, but respected the fact that I do not go to church and do not really practice a religion. He may be the first Tanzanian who has not tried to convert me or laughed in my face. Hallelujah!

Yesterday was cleaning day. I swept out all of the rat poop in my house and washed all my laundry because my large woven basket was overflowing with clothes. Normally I am on top of my laundry, but when you have to let it sit overnight in a bucket (which requires some forethought) or scrub by hand, then rise and dry outside; one tends to avoid doing laundry like the plague. [I would like to admit here that Febreeze will save you a couple of washes on things like blankets, couch covers and jackets—ala college] After what would probably equate to two loads of laundry in the states and 12 pairs of dirty socks I pledged to separate my laundry when I get back to the states, use dryer sheets and clean out the lint filter in exchange for never having to wash clothes by hand again.

Classroom entertainment this week: I intercepted my first love note. I was giving a quiz in my Form 1A math class when I saw one of my male students attempting to pass a folded up piece of paper in his hand to a girl next to him.  I asked him to give it to me and I unfolded it and found a beautifully drawn red rose. I started to laugh out loud because that was the last thing I expected to find. Then, I thought back to high school and how I would have felt if one of my teachers caught me with such a note. I decided not to embarrass him, folded the note back up and gave it back to him after class.  I also thought that this could potentially dissolve any trust the student or other students has in me. Thinking back on it, I probably made the right decision, but I am still interested in what a Tanzo love not is actually comprised of…. I guess I may never know.

Well I hope all is well at home, that the temperatures have cooled down a bit and that everyone is enjoying their summer! Hard to believe it is almost August! Happy Early Birthday, Dad!!!

All my love from TZ

Pathway/  ledge behind the falls

Behind the falls

Valley

Update on life and the effectiveness of dyer sheets on rats

Well the first week back at site has gone pretty well. I took some time to set up the printer and laptop that was donated to our school by Kent School. I honestly cannot thank them enough for their generosity. The printer and computer will allow us to print our own exams for a reduced cost (to print one page is 700 tsh in town, while to copy is only 50 tsh…. explain that one to me). It will also, hopefully, allow my fellow teachers to learn to type. I selfishly want this because it will mean I won’t have to “help” type the 29 exams come midterm. So far the second reason for accruing the printer and laptop has backfired. Last week I ended up typing all of the A-level midterm exams (about 6 of them) because the other teachers “can’t type with speed”. After lecturing them about being self sufficient and reading them their Miranda rights of typing, I caved.  So, right here and right now, I swear that I will not type any more exams that are not mine. My fellow teachers really need to learn to type and also to not rely on me.  I am also really tired of typing an exam and then being told that I spelt a word wrong or missed a question when in actuality I didn’t, the person who wrote the exam just made a mistake. Also, if I have to type another convoluted or meaningless sentence I might drink water straight from the tap without boiling it.

As I mentioned in my previous post, my site has turned into the North Pole. Okay, well not really, but it is cold enough to see my breath at night. It is also the “dry season” here, so the electricity comes and goes as it pleases because Tanesco (the people with the electricity monopoly in Tanzania, seriously there is only one electric company in the country, ala CL&P) needs to ration the power.  BS. It is backwards that the power goes out around 6:45 pm, right when people are cooking dinner and the sun is going down and does not come back on until probably 3 am or so. Hence every dinner since I have been back has been candlelit. I guess things could be worse, like I could be out of water too and then I would be really screwed, no?

As for some fun news, I will be getting shadowers the second week in August. Part of PST (pre-service training) along with living with and being force fed by complete strangers for two months is to visit an actual PCV, live with them for the week and teach at their school. So I will get one, two, possibly three PCTs for the week of August 7^th- 14^th. They will hang out with me and teach at my school. Hopefully they can put up with the rats that live in my house, but I am pretty sure they will just be happy to not be treated like a 13 year old with a curfew and chores for a week.

Speaking of the rat(s)…..what usually takes place is one of two things: 1. I don’t hear the rat running around in my room and sleep through the night or 2. It wakes me up and I either get out of bed to chase it out of my room or I just ignore it. A few days ago the latter took place. I had a stand off with one the other day at 4 in the morning. The rat woke me up because it ran along the headboard of my bed. (Thankfully, I sleep with a mosquito net, not for the mosquitoes, but so the rats don’t run on me when I am sleeping… yes that has happened before.) The rat proceeded to climb along the window and on to the opposite side of the screen. It was making way too much noise, so I got out of bed with a sneaker and proceeded to hit it through the screen. Eventually the rat jumped out at me, I screamed, and then ran out under the door and I went back to bed.  Mom, thank you for the dryer sheets… I have found since this incident that it takes at least 3 in one area to ward off any rodents. African rats must have built in resistance….

I hope everyone is doing well at home. Things finally feel back to normal, except when a cold fog rolls in off the mountain. If I take a deep breath I could almost swear I am standing on the beach in the late afternoon when the fog rolls in.

All my love from TZ. 

There And Back Again

*The first half of this blog post was written on my way to the states for a two week visit and the second half was in segments on different days on the way back to site and at site

Crazy, but true…I can’t believe I am blogging on my back from Bongo land. In some ways it seems like I have been gone for longer than 9 months and in other ways it seems like I never left. The flight from Dar to London was about 10 hours, which after traveling more than 14 hours on a bus with one bathroom break/ stop for food was a drop in the bucket. I enjoyed a movie, a real cup of coffee, glass of wine and unlimited access to the bathroom. Upon arriving in Heathrow, I realized that I hadn’t navigated an elevator, moving sidewalk or escalator in almost a year. I had about an hour to change terminals and get to my gate. I opted to hit up the duty free shop for a bottle of Pimms rather than going to a Starbucks or even the bathroom. After almost running over an elderly couple on the moving sidewalk the guy at the gate attempted to flirt with me, casually asking for my bottle of Pimms. I attempted to come up with a witty response, but I was too tired and he was too short to make me really want to try to reciprocate. I made my flight back to Boston and will hopefully be staying up the whole way…might be a little hard because When I land in Boston it will be about 3:45am in Tanzania.

Alright, so update on the flight. The flight attendant just gave me a cup of coffee to which I responded, “Hiya. Asante”…. Woah, talk about a gut reaction. I think it is officially time to switch gears. I also need to pump the caffeine because it is going to be wicked late (for me) when I get into Boston. 

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So kids, I am on my way back to Tanzania. It is honestly surprising how fast time goes. I was listening to the radio the other day and cannot remember exactly what the man was talking about, but he alluded to the fact that time is constant, yes, but also it moves relatively as fast as you want it to.  Time seemed to move so slowly in the weeks leading up to my visit home and at home it seemed to move extraordinarily fast. I won’t bore you with all the details of home quite frankly for two reasons: 1. Most of you reading this blog entry are probably from the states or a developed country and would rather not read about how my mind was blown by how fat I thought my dog was and how during the 4^th of July fireworks I could only think how many school tuitions were being blown for 10 minutes of visual stimulation or how I went into Stop&Shop like I had never seen a grocery store in my life and walked out with…. apples and Diet Coke. 2. I am still very much in the transition process from home to ‘home’. Do not get me wrong I LOVED being back in the states for 2 weeks, but I still have unfinished business and as we all know I deal with homesickness, but not thinking about home when I do not have to.  But, I will say that I had a really relaxing time. I was able to spend time with the family, sit on the beach, get a pretty decent tan, see my friends and my extended family (you know who you are), celebrate America’s birthday with some drag queen karaoke, eat a ton of cheese, drink way more American beers than I thought I ever could (thanks 500ml Kilis), get hooked on the Bachelorette (yo, people do not judge), surf, visit law schools, fish, go to a grocery store and (almost best of all) run in and wear shorts!

Some of you may be wondering if the reverse culture shock was as bad as they say it can be or if I experienced any at all. After 9 months I can say that very small things seemed to strike me as weird and because I keep up on the news nothing seemed too new. I did however have one brief ‘freak out’ instance in Boston while visiting  and hanging out for they day with my mom. Honestly not sure if she even noticed (might have been talking on the phone with my brothers), but I was sitting on a bench and started to cry, not sure if it was the amount of white people in one area or just everything hitting me at once. Anyway, that moment was pretty much the extent of any real or major reverse culture shock.

As for my trip back to country or “home”… it was a long one to say the least. After saying goodbye to my family (honestly think part of my brain shuts off when I have to do that. I go into protection mode, like a circuit breaker in my brain gets tripped or something) I boarded a 6 hour flight to Heathrow then entertained and slept my way through an 8 hour layover. At one point I found an empty gate with seats to lie down and take a nap. Not really sure how long I was asleep for, but when I awoke, drooling, I was surrounded by people boarding a plane for Warsaw. Naturally I received a couple strange looks (… it’s an airport, people!), gathered my bags and went to find a better place to rest my head. After a 10 hour flight to TZ, I met Stella the best taxi driver in all of Dar—she also happens to be female, which is rare—and she took me to bus station, helped find my sorry ass a last minute bus to Iringa and helped carry all of my bags (75L pack, tote, duffel and printer). After an absurd 9 hours on a bus to Iringa (it should take around 6, but we left late and they were doing construction on the one paved road between Dar and Iringa) I arrived checked in to the guesti and attempted to sleep. The next morning I found a bus to Mbeya and arrived at a decent hour at site after another 6 or 7 hours of travel. All tolled I left the states at 6 am on Saturday (Tanzanian time) and arrived Monday at 3 pm, so somewhere around 57 hours of travel time. So now I am at home, alone in my house, without electricity, but with lots of goodies from America, such as balsamic vinaigrette, olive oil, drink mixes, splenda, creamer, COFFEE, Velveeta, more warm clothing and slippers—amongst other things.  

Alright, I would like to talk about something that I usually sweep under the rug, especially in my blog posts — homesickness. The last few nights I have been extremely homesick and jetlagged. I am pretty sure it is a combination of both of the aforementioned, but last night I woke up at 2 am. I had no electricity so started to read a book written by a PCV who served in TZ in the early 2000s. It seemed to be cheering me up because his point of view is very similar to mine as well as many of his experiences. After two hours when I still could not sleep I broke down for about a half an hour. I am not talking about the soft tear that rolls down your cheek; I am talking about sobbing, complete with the body shakes, deep breaths and runny nose. At the time I blamed it mainly on the fact that I was still jetlagged not able to sleep and that crying would help to me to sleep, but I would only be fooling myself if I truly believed that. It is seriously difficult to go from being on mental cruise control content with living by yourself and only talking to your family and friends on Skype or the phone, to seeing them in person for the first time in 9 months, to seeing them everyday for two weeks, to living by yourself again (with no electricity or heat in 50 degree weather).  At this point I really need to start taking my own advice. I have found a lot of comfort reading the first couple of entries in my first journal at the start of this whole adventure. I promised myself that I would take it day by day. I would ride the roller coaster of emotion (I think I hit rock bottom last night).  Sounds funny, but one reason why I decided to sign up for the Peace Corps was because in the future if I ever have children I did not want them to ask me why I did not go. If the time ever comes I know that I will tell them some times you have to do things that scare the shit out of you and things that seem hard because they make you grow as a person. Last summer I did not have a good reason not to go and I know I would have regretted my decision if I let the opportunity pass me by.

This morning I started teaching and helped my mkuu set up the new computer and printer copier that was donated by Kent, my high school. (Cannot thank them enough!). Everyone was so happy and I knew that without me it would have been extremely difficult to obtain these pieces of technology. I did nothing more than write a letter and take two phone calls, but I am glad I could help in anyway possible. I was also surprised how excited my students were to see me. The biggest high of the day was at the end of my Form 1A Math class when I told my students nimefurahi kuwaona tena (I am happy to see you all again) and my class replied they were also happy to see me again. Then, one boy stood up and started to speak in English, which has never really happened in my class before because the Form 1 students are just beginning to learn English, “Madam, we are all very happy to see you again and we really want to speak and learn more English”.  Honestly that boy will probably never know what he did for me, but he made me smile, changed my entire mood and reminded my why I am here. I will be the first to admit there have been (excuse my French) shitty times and there will be plenty more, but if my time here is sprinkled with moments like the one today this whole thing will have been completely worth it.

All my love from TZ.