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. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.