thankful.

Thanksgiving is never easy when you’re far from home. Especially when that home includes Annie’s famous thanksgiving potluck get together or Grama Sue’s long dining room table lined with my crazy family members and food that anyone who knows anything would travel far and wide to taste.

My second thanksgiving in Tanzania was no easier than the first. Knowing everyone back home is together celebrating (and drinking heavily no doubt) can be a little tough to stomach, especially when all I want is some damn turkey. But, if I can’t be at Annie’s or at Grama Sue’s, where else would I want to be other than Sepuka.


This year my site-mate, Kiki, and I decided to throw a Thanksgiving bash in our village (she lives about 2 kilometers away from me). We sent out word to other volunteers that we were having a shin-dig and that everyone was welcome. The response was record breaking – 15 volunteers showed up to the ‘pook to see what we had cookin’ for thanksgiving. Most traveled at least a day to get here; some traveled two days. And we did not disappoint.

With our master chef, Alana, in the kitchen (and trust me, it was her kitchen), DJ Fo on the speakers, and Rama slaughtering 4 chickens out back, it was shaping up to be an unforgettable day. Although we weren’t allowed in the kitchen for fear of getting our paws slapped, everyone pitched in to help with preparation and manning the three charcoal stoves we had going. A crate of beer, a slack line, 5 bottles of wine, hours of tunes, and four buckets of charcoal later we were more than ready to eat. The menu was as follows:
-fruit salad
-honey bread
-banana bread
-stuffing
-candied sweet potatoes
-mashed potatoes
-Shepard’s pie
-green beans
-deviled eggs
-homemade macaroni and cheese
-cranberries
-stuffed green bell peppers
-4 perfectly cooked chickens (2 types)
-pumpkin pie and;
-Alana twist yellow cake
Wow.

Our dinner guests included Mama Menga, her brother-in-law, and her son Rama. All who helped with chicken preparation that we were all too chicken to take part in. Sharing one of my favorite holidays with people from my village was my favorite part of the whole day. They ate food they’ve never dreamed of, and got to watch us run around like the fools we are, giddy with the excitement of being with friends and feasting, and got to learn more about a culture that is so foreign to them. As we went around in a circle introducing ourselves to our guests, I looked around at my friends, some new some old, and felt so completely thankful; thankful for all people who traveled to be with us, thankful for the resources and means to prepare such an amazing meal, and thankful for the opportunity to share a little America with our Tanzanian friends.


A viewing of my new favorite comedy, Bridesmaids, an after dinner treat of the best deviled eggs this side of the Serengeti, and another crate of beer were ridiculous yet oh so necessary. With mattresses borrowed from the girls hostel at the secondary school and Kiki’s 4 bedroom, 2 bathroom mansion, everyone (well, most everyone…) crashed comfortably.

Post-turkey/chicken day activities included a grand tour of Sepuka. If you’re ever in need of a little entertainment, just take a group of 15 Peace Corps volunteers around your sleepy village. We took a chai break in the village center, wandered over to my house, and then up to the primary school to check out the world map. I couldn’t tell if people were terrified or excited. Tiny heads poked out from behind their mama’s legs, village elders stared in disbelief (probably that it appeared I had so many friends), and we rambled on across farms and through houses laughing, telling stories, and greeting everyone in sight.

It was a thanksgiving celebration for the books thanks to everyone who made it possible, tasty, and thoroughly entertaining. I’m sure we’ll be the talk of the town until at least next rainy season.

the best trip ever. part two.

Our safari was over and we still had two whole weeks left together. Great news. And the even better news was that things were about to get real.

The bus ride from Arusha to Singida is not exactly something you sign up to do for fun on a Saturday, but there we were – eating breakfast snacks we wrapped up from the hotel before getting on the bus (I had forgotten such a thing even existed, cinnamon rolls, muffins, and croissants, oh my!), eyeing a man who looked absolutely identical to Morgan Freeman and guessing as to what kind of character study he was doing undercover research for, and loving the view of the rolling hills, road construction and oncoming traffic (in which we all held our breath momentarily until a head on collision was avoided). My dad took over the demanding task of opening our bus window just as we were all about to pass out from stifling heat exhaustion and closing it as buses or huge lorries kicked up clouds of gritty red dust through our window and into our teeth. We picked up a passenger along the way who was eager to meet jeff and kath, and a few hours later we pulled into Singida for a night on the town with a gaggle of Peace Corps volunteers.

Up and down the streets of Singida we strolled, buying last minute gifts for neighbors and stocking up on fruits and veggies for the week ahead. The week ahead in my village, Sepuka.

From day one I was pumped about having my parents come visit me in Tanzania. But having them eat breakfast in my house, walk the paths between the clinic and the school and village center, climb the boulders behind my house to watch the red summer sun set, fetch bucket after bucket of water from the well, and meet and love my Tanzanian friends and family in another language was beyond words. We spent time with my counterpart’s family, toured the health clinic, checked out the World Map at the primary school, and still had time to love on my amazing site mate, Kiki, as they got a little glimpse of what my day to day looks like up close and personal. They met village government officials, my friend’s new baby, Samaki the little black kitten, my neighbors and extended family, and the countless others who greeted us as we moseyed around. We cooked dinners on my charcoal stove, and my dad fixed me up a nice stone path in my courtyard. Lazy days filled with translating ‘wow you look just like your mother!’ turned into cool nights as we cleaned rice, washed clothes and dishes, and told stories until the candles burned out. After over a year of hearing about my joys and my pains, the laughter and the tears, and the incredible moments that make my life as a peace corps volunteer worth waking up for every morning, they were finally able to live and breathe it, and begin to understand.









We hopped on a village bus passing by Sepuka and headed into Singida, spending the night in town before the last leg of our epic journey. My dad and I laughed as my mom lost the soap down the latrine hole in the bathroom. We ate ‘pizza’ at the Stanley, Singida’s classiest dining experience, and tucked under fleece blankets with puppies and ‘romantic lover dogs’ printed smack dap in the center. The next day we loaded on the bus headed to Dar es Salaam, despite the limited leg room. Looking to break the trip up a bit, we stopped in Morogoro to visit a friend who had recently started his Masters degree in environmental studies at a University there. We had lunch and told stories, answered questions and massaged our swollen feet before Humphrey escorted us back to the bus stand to catch a bus into the loud, dirty, and noisy booming city of Dar.


The rains came and went as our ferry crossed the open waters between Dar and Zanzibar. It was early morning and we were looking forward to linin’ up those chairs poolside and taking walks down one of the island’s most beautiful beaches. We arrived at Matemwe Beach mid-morning and didn’t take much time to lose the travel gear, slap on some sunscreen (thanks to our own personal cream master), and take a quick tour around the beach villas before settling into a few chairs at the pool with a great view of the white sand beach and the Indian Ocean.



We couldn’t have timed our arrival better. The full moon rose over the dark waters and lit up the beach like it was midday. Pre-dinner snacks and cocktails rang in the new moon and we made friends (of course, we’re joneses) with others visiting the Tanzanian island from all over the world. That dinner, and every other meal we had at Matemwe, was absolutely incredible. Tomato risotto, beef filets, and caramel crème dessert just to name a few, my dad and I partook in evening jogs down the beach so we could indulge in an equally exquisite meal the following day. We took walks down the wide beach as men returned from long days of fishing and women pulled in the last of their seaweed collections for the day. A dhow sailboat ride inside the reef was just what I needed. We zig-zagged into the wind and set a downwind tack for our ‘go-home’ route. Another amazing dinner and deep sleep in an air-conditioned room were just what I needed as I counted down the hours until Duncan would show up to spend the last few days with us on the island.

For someone who has been talking about going to Zanzibar since the moment we all set foot in this country, Duncan’s time at the beach was well worth the wait. Monday morning we all suited up and headed out on a small boat to a nearby island for some snorkeling. Now, my parents and I weren’t going to say anything, but I don’t think any of us expected much during this day trip. We couldn’t have been more wrong. The dinghy neared the island and one of the guides spotted a pod of dolphins surfacing to get more air just a short ways away from us. They told us to strap on those masks and get in the water as they pulled up right at the spot we had just seen these dolphins. Within seconds we had entered their underwater world, all sounds were drowned out by the absolute stillness of watching a baby dolphin nurse from its mother as she devoured a fish just below me. Soon they were swimming back up for air, around and in-between us. At one point the dolphin within 5 feet of me and I stared at it in awe, like I was intruding and watching something I shouldn’t be watching. The dolphins continued on their way, and we giddily made our way over to the reef for our scheduled snorkel tour. The fish on both sides of the island were beyond all of our wildest dreams. Blues, oranges, stripes, and polka dots flooded the spaces between the surface and the sand; the coral swayed and flowed with the current as we hovered above. We eagerly pointed out sea snakes and eels, new coral and Grama Sue’s favorite fish as we floated in our wet suits above a world we couldn’t even begin to understand the depth of. It started to get cold and the sprinkling rain wouldn’t let up so we all flipped ourselves back into the dinghy and set off back towards shore.





Dinners were a memorable time for all of us during those last few nights at the beach. Not only did we eat more delicious food as we drank bottles of red wine, but it gave Duncan and I a chance to pretend, if only for an evening, that we were just regular people on vacation, chatting and sharing embarrassing stories with my parents like normal people get to do all the time. For a short time we weren’t Peace Corps volunteers living amongst absurd poverty, we were normal people (I was even in a dress that stopped above my knee) out to dinner with my parents and it meant more than either one of us could express.


On the second to last day of our trip we left the resort and headed into Stone Town, the main city of Zanzibar located on the west coast of the island. The town center boasts the culture and heritage of both the old slave trade and the internationally renowned spice trade. Mazes and narrow alleys make up the heart of Stone Town, it’s shops, old carved wood doors, mosques, bazaars, and late night street food at the waterfront make this old city a hotspot for tourists while taking pride in the unique culture and history of Zanzibar.






The goodbye seemed to get harder the more days there were after the time we watched them walk through security at the airport. My dad put it best, ‘I didn’t realized how much I missed you until I saw you.’ Thanks mom and dad, for your unconditional love and support of whatever adventure I seem to find myself on. I wouldn’t be who I am today if you weren’t there with my every step of the way. I love you.

trip of a lifetime. part one.

10:00 on the dot. I’ve been waiting for this moment for the past year and a half. My loyal taxi driver, Peter, met me at the bar to take me to the airport. Peter has taken me to and from the airport to meet guests a few other times, he knows I like to be early and sit in the humid mosquito infested waiting area and pace back and forth like I used to do in the hall outside my bedroom on Christmas morning. I think he was a little tired of this scene so he pulled over at a bar and said simply, ‘I buy beer now.’ We had a drink and chatted, I eagerly checked my phone every 30 seconds to see how much more time we had. I was counting down the minutes, squirming in my chair trying to finish my beer as fast as I could so I could get him back in the car and back on the road.

Finally at the airport, I stood in front of the automatic doors, teased with the open close open close open close. Each time they opened I stood a little taller on my toes, willing them to be close to the exit. Just when I couldn’t stretch any further, I finally saw him zipping up his bag. My daddy. And then close behind, my mom. High pitched sounds and tears came out of me and I rushed forward to meet them at the gate. It was exactly like I had imagined it a million times, seeing my parents for the first time in a year and a half.

Our trip started out right with a birthday-treat-stay for Rebecca and Sarah in the ritzy (not joking, this place is fancy) Holiday Inn. Cameron was able to join us too and we celebrated in style on the rooftop bar with late night appetizers. Having all my best girlfriends and my parents together on such a gorgeous night was the perfect beginning to the incredible adventures we were about to have.

The first day was spent in Dar es Salaam, catching up on some sleep, wandering around, and going to a soccer match between Tanzania’s two national teams, Simba and Yanga. We were escorted to the game by Peter’s friend, who I’m pretty sure enjoyed the backward running-holding hands picture with my dad on our way out of the stadium more than he enjoyed the game itself.

We spent one night in Moshi, one of my favorite towns in Tanzania, before climbing in one of the most rundown-are-we-really-going-to-make-it-there taxi’s we could find for the ‘quicker, easier’ ride to Arusha. We finally made it to Arusha to start our safari after multiple police checkpoints that we barely squeaked past, my dad eating exhaust fumes coming up from the floorboards in front of him, and 5 phone calls to our Safari driver apologizing and convincing him that ‘we’re almost there, I promise!’ We met Gordon who was waiting oh so patiently for us, and after a quick stop at the enormous shoprite to get some snacks, we were on our way.

First stop. Crater forest tented lodge just outside the rim of the Ngorongoro Crater. The drive there was beautiful, we stopped at a viewpoint for Lake Manyara, and climbed higher and higher into the wall of the Rift Valley until we descended again to reach the outside of the crater. The camp was breathtaking. We took in the view from our front porch for a while before heading out on a hike through a nearby coffee plantation with a local guide. He took us by rows and rows of organic, locally grown coffee plants and into factory where the little white beans get dried, shelled, and separated by grade with a machine that is owned and operated by villagers the local Catholic mission. Dinner was amazing, 4 courses accompanied by red wine and a bon fire afterward.

The next morning we headed into the Ngorongoro crater to start our safari. The crater is beautiful with a unique ecosystem, it was formed when a giant volcano exploded and collapsed on itself 2 or 3 million years ago. Within the first few hours we saw wildebeest, zebra, elephants, hyenas, ostrich, vultures attacking a wildebeest carcass, a wildebeest get stuck in a marsh, and a ‘black rhino’ from afar (Gordon our driver said it was a black rhino, which are very rare, but I’m not totally convinced…). We took a lunch break at the lunch break spot where we could get out of the car and stretch, and eat our boxed lunches. We disregarded the warning Gordon gave us about the huge swooping crow-vultures that will attack you if you eat outside, and proceeded to eat outside…until I got attack swooped by a crow-vulture and ran screaming back into the safety of the safari car. I could hear Gordon laughing a mile away.

We pulled out of the crater after lunch and headed northwest towards the Serengeti. Less than a half hour outside the crater we saw two giraffes stretching to eat off a tree near the side of the road. Soon after that, we passed a herd of camels that looked very out of place. Gordon said they were an import animal. A few more hours of driving over volcanic ash and rock and we arrived at the Olduvai Museum, which boasts the origin of mankind and gives an introduction to the fossils, tools, and footprints that were found at the site verifying the existence of humans in East Africa 3 million years ago. Back in the car and on the incredibly bumpy, rocky, dusty road into the Serengeti. It was a long drive in, but we managed to get through the gate in time to see a mama and baby elephant, two lions perched on a boulder, and a cheetah (or a leopard I’m still not sure which is which). We made it to Kati-Kati Camp in time for one of the most spectacular sunsets I have seen thus far in Tanzania.

The next few days of safari did not disappoint. A few highlights: heading out after breakfast for a game drive and spotting three giraffes silhouetted against the morning horizon; the hyena eating a wildebeest tail while cooling off in a mud puddle; hippos playing in a pond; beautifully crooked, tall, twisted, or flat Acacia trees; a huge elephant family coming up from a marsh and slowly meandering across a field and passing between the safari cars; the dark thunderstorm we watched crawl across the plains kicking up dust in front of it as it soaked the fields and flooded the roads; white wine and laughing.

We soon moved on to Lake Natron at the foot of the Ol Doinyo Lengai Volcano, about an 8 hour drive from our camp in the Serengeti. But the scenery on the way was well worth the hours, changing from dry flat plains with small bushes, to lush forest and grassy hills about every 5 kilometers.

The Lake Natron area is in the heart of Masaai land. The Masaai are a pastoral tribe who live simply and take pride in their heritage and unique culture. A serene, quiet place, I felt like we were in bubble, so far removed from the crazy, loud, dirty world I wasn’t in a hurry to return to. I learned how to light a fire without matches, and we hiked back into a canyon covered in volcanic rock to a group of waterfalls coming out of the rock above. The hike was short but pretty challenging and our Masaai friend had to give my mom and I a hand up and over a few places. We swam for a bit, and started back down towards the camp and out of our tranquil camp and back to the real world.