…more from my guest author…

Sepuka was straight out of the Lion King.  I even scampered around the boulders that dot the flat landscape.  I felt like a gecko running, weaving, and jumping my way through the gigantic rocks.  The rocks I tackled by myself for low and I wasn’t able to climb to the highest points like I had imagined.  One of the evenings Alli took me up the “real Pride Rock which dwarfed the little mounds I was running on the previous afternoon and we watched the sun set.  It was absolutely gorgeous.  We descended and went back to the house and sat in the courtyard and watched the stars, seeing the stars without any light pollution is something that doesn’t happen all that often.  Even in rural Kansas you can still see a large city at 40 or 50 miles away.  The stars in the Tanzanian interior were without peer.

Day to day activities during our time in Sepuka were always different and never boring.  There was constantly something to do.  One morning we spent painting the flowers off the concrete walls of Alli’s courtyard.  Another afternoon was spent watching a soccer match and playing basketball with Alli’s counterpart Msukuya and his friends.  Alli provided me with a grand tour, stopping at the small sit-downs and shops along the way.  We went into the homes of Alli’s coworkers that work at the health clinic and the primary school.

I even went out and played volleyball with young men who are involved with Alli’s after work program.  She set up a daily/nightly volleyball match to keep some of the younger men out of trouble and from frittering away their money.  It was pretty awesome to see a handmade net and had chiseled dirt court and play a game (with mostly correct rules) with a group of a dozen young men.  It was even more fascinating and impressive that none of them had played the game before and this routine didn’t exist until Alli implemented the game into the town.  She created something entirely positive that was nonexistent before her arrival.  I was really proud of her and she should be proud of herself.  I attempted a “Piga Smash!” also know as a spike, but failed miserably and had the guys laughing after my whiff.

We were invited to a Muslim wedding and walked a few kilometers to the married couple’s house where we posed for photos on the bed (which sounds weirder than it was…).  I asked Alli why the bride to be didn’t look to be enjoying herself – she had say on the bed dressed to the nines and looked down at her feet with a frown for the entirety of the time we were there.  Alli explained that it is customary for the bride to show no emotion on her wedding day before joy or excitement would be interpreted as expressing her eagerness to have sex with her husband.  We ate dinner with them and some of the other guests and then went on our way.

The last night in Sepuka the doctor and nurses threw a party for me across the street from Alli’s house.  We spent the evening eating and drinking and dancing.  They set up a PA system and had the audio turned up to level “11” for the entirety of the evening.  The musical selection was a bit slim and being an American I think they busted out the Shania Twain cassette especially for me.  I was thrilled.  All joking aside though, a night of dancing was a great stress reliever and I completely dropped my inhibitions.  Anyone that knows me understands that I’ll occasionally get out on the dance floor, but it’s fair from one of my favorite past times.  However, on this evening I danced my little heart out until my feet hurt and my brow was covered in sweat.  There was a dance circle where we took turns strutting our stuff and at one point the doctor cleared the floor and implored Alli and I to show them how we dance in the states.  So there we were surrounded by Tanzanians as we spun about and stepped in out of beat time for a few Shania tracks – definitely not a situation that will soon be forgotten!

                 

The following day we loaded up and went back to Dar for the evening to meet up with Alli’s friends for cocktails on the roof of the Holiday Inn in downtown before catching a ferry for the island of Zanzibar.

Zanzibar was awesome.  We snuck through security upon arrival with Alli saying something in Swahili and me attempting to hide from customs behind a post.  Somehow it worked and they were satisfied that both of us for citizens of Tanzania and I didn’t need to pay the fee for a visa.  I promptly bought a pair of impeccably crafted knock off Ray Bans and went to find our resort.  The first few days and nights we spent in relative seclusion on a self-contained resort that butted up against the Indian Ocean.  Much time was killed by the pool and chasing sand crabs (well I chased sand crabs while Alli drank margaritas by the pool…) .  We happened upon an outfit from South Africa shooting the final episode of a reality television show called “Charlie’s Cake Angels.”  Supposedly the show is supposed to be the next best thing and documents a group of women who create extravagant cakes.  Who knows, maybe we’re in the background in some of the scenes, but I can’t find any information online confirming the show even exists.  We had dinner on the beach one evening and more or less tuned out and did nothing for a few days.  It was a welcome relaxation from the hectic travel schedule.

                 

Zanzibar’s Stone Town district is heavily slanted toward tourism, but was really awesome.  The streets are like a labyrinth, very narrow and winding.  Many of the doors are hand chiseled and have very ornate patterns and decorations on the entire surface.  We purchased gifts for me to bring back to the states and explored.  We drank can juice and ate the catch of the day in the wharf area and watched the local island boys run and jump off the pier and dive into the bay as the sun went descended past the horizon.

We visited a local watering hole called “Freddy’s.”  This wouldn’t be notable except the namesake of the bar was none other than Freddy Mercury!  The bar was decked out with photographs of the singer and it was awesome in the most ridiculous way possible.  My only regret is that I didn’t purchase a shirt as a keepsake.  We had a wonderful dinner at an Indian restaurant our last night on the island and the last night of the trip.  We sat in the upper level of the open air restaurant and took our time eating, filling the off time with conversation.  We must have been in there for 3 hours and it went by in an instant.  I feel like in the states we often rush our meals and look at dinner as a means to an end, but it was nice to just sit about and take everything in and enjoy eachother’s company.

All in all it was a wonderful trip and I would encourage anyone considering traveling abroad to consider the often overlooked continent of Africa.  I can’t speak for the other countries seeing as I only visited one, but Tanzania was beautiful, cheap, and at trip I won’t ever forgot.  I’m owe a lot to Alli for her hospitality and assistance in making this trip happen.

(for more pictures check out this album Alli posted on facebook….)

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.199545316761116.48473.100001169467484&l=fcc19b86c7&type=1

...and now a word from a guest author...

Anyone reading this blog post has more than likely already discovered that I went to Tanzania to visit Alli for two weeks. She’s asked me to write a guest blog post here for any followers to read. I’m fairly certain the only reason she asked me is because she knew I would say yes and she obviously isn’t doing much updating. The trip to Dar was a pain. I’m never scheduling another trip that has more layovers and changes than actual time in flight. I don’t care how “cheap” of a flight I book. I brought a wheelchair for Jemsi, a little boy with cerebral palsy whom lives next door to Alli. American Airlines and South African Aitrways were amazing in dealing with the chair through the checked luggage. I wasn't charged at all for the wheel chair and it was very oversized and not collapsible. We all constantly hear stories about airlines overcharging and being sticklers about checked luggage so I was a bit concerned that getting the chair onto the plane might be difficult. It turned out to be easier and cheaper than checking luggage. Maybe the fat cats do have a heart. However, once I arrived it was all worthwhile. I had forgotten to bring US paper currency for my visa when I arrived which forced me to wait in for almost everyone aboard my plane to be processed and then I was allowed to outside (escorted by an armed guard) to the ATM machine and currency exchange booth. That’s where I was first able to see Alli. I was drained from the flights, but in a pretty good mood – just a bit out of my element. I hardly remember the conversation we had, I’m sure it was based on getting my money and then my visa. We were able to exchange a kiss and a hug which was both amazing and awkward. I’d waited 12 months to plant one on her and yet, I wasn’t too sure that public displays of affection were allowed or commonplace in Tanzania. For a moment though, I didn’t really give a shit. Later, Alli would explain that things are much more laidback in Dar than in the rest of the country in regards to relationships and displays of affection. Fortunately I’ve never been really clingy or physical in public anyway, so this was a pretty easy social norm for me to abide by.

We made it to the hostel called the “Econo Lodge” that was situated in downtown Dar, about a 30 minute bus ride at night (without traffic) from the airport. We made it to the hostel rather easily and with little fanfare. Alli is convinced the Econo Lodge is actually the same as the U.S. chain, but I’m absolutely sure it is not. The only thing the Tanzanian Econo Lodge and the chain of “real” Econ Lodge hotels have in common are guests, cleaning ladies, beds, toilets, and showers. The last two items were reason enough for me to celebrate at the time. I had anticipated the hostel would be some sort of roach haven without any basic amenities, but those were baseless assumptions that I had crafted from my ignorance of Dar. Obviously, we weren’t staying in the Ritz, but I had no problems with our temporary digs or any other place we rested for the night throughout the remainder of the trip.

We had street food for dinner. I was hesitant to eat anything too risky because of the lack of any decent meal the prior 2 days I spent in transit. South African Airlines is a great airline – I have no gripes with them at all, but airplane food is airplane food. I ended up choosing some form of chicken wings that tasted fine, but I stared at whatever Alli ordered (some rice dish) and wished that I would have went that route. Prior to receiving our meal we were brought a basin and pitcher for us to wash our hands. I found it peculiar that one would was their hands with unclean water before eating, it seemed unnecessary. I must say the ritual of hand washing was alluring though; it didn’t matter if my hands weren’t clean by Western standards because I was in another culture experiencing the way they do things, which is a large portion of why I decided to make the trip. And seriously, how many of us wash our hands before we eat anyway?



Most of our time in Dar was spent relaxing, shopping, and eating. I was able to visit the Peace Corps headquarters/offices which was a pretty cool experience. It was here that I pieced together the wheelchair without the assistance of any hand tools which were confiscated in South Africa. I met a few ladies on the administrative staff and attempted to design a flyer for an upcoming event. Alli an her crew took me down to a shopping area that offered all sorts of amazing (presumably) handmade goods. Hopping in and out of the open air marketplace booths looking for gifts to purchase was great…for a little while. Eventually, Ben (a volunteer and friend of Alli's) and I ended up sitting on a bench waiting for the ladies to conclude their shopping adventure: Hardly any different than the cliché in the states. We ate dinner and lunch at a few sit down joints that weren't terrible but not memorable either as I can't remember what I ate or the names of the establishments. It was Alli had the 50th Anniversary of the Peace Corps banquet to attend which was a pretty important event for her and the other volunteers involved. During the time I spent alone I read a bit, journaled, and ventured a few blocks out of the Econo Lodge to try and buy cigarettes. I found myself lost rather quickly, overpaid for my smokes and had to ask about 5 different people how to get back to the hostel. The remainder of the evening I watched Al Jazeera in the lobby with some locals and relaxed in the room.



Dar was mysterious. I think that is the only way I can describe it. As a complete outsider with absolutely no Kiswahili to speak, I found the city to be a big surreal playground. I was overwhelmed the first morning after eating breakfast and wandering into the streets, but the anxiety dissipated and I was eager to explore. Fortunately Alli and her friends were there to babysit me for the entirety of my stay in Dar, otherwise I think my “exploring” would have been rather expensive and my understanding of the citizens minimized. There has to be a conduit to breakthrough the language barrier. Not only so that I don’t get ripped off on a pack of smokes, but also so I could begin to understand the Tanzanians that call Dar home. What are they doing today? What are you peddling over there? How much are those knock off Ray Bans? Where are you from? Why are you here? Is our interaction normal? What do you think of me? What are you notions of where I come from? None of those answers could be answered without the interpretation from Alli. It was great to have a tour guide that was skilled enough to help me maximize my stay. If I had gone to Tanzania without knowing the language or being accompanied by someone who knew the language then I would have done the “touristy” tour of Kilimanjaro, a safari, all the while staying in the comfort of a Holiday Inn or an overpriced all inclusive resort. These were the thoughts that were starting to form in my head as we made out way out or Dar and toward Singida, then onto the village Alli calls home. I would soon learn how completely lost I would have been without her and gained a smidgen of understanding about how difficult it must have been to try and transition into life in the interior of Tanzania alone.



I have to admit that I was a bit skeptical of what village life would be like. When I decided to make the trip and up until I arrived in Tanzania part of me thought that staying in hotels and resorts might be more comfortable or a better way to spend a vacations. I thought that maybe the trip should like a traditional R&R vacation. I was unsure how I would handle no electricity or running water and being in an unfamiliar and remote location. Those small worries of the unknown dissipated a day or two into the trip when we were in Dar. I became more eager to visit Alli's site and get out of the city. From the moment we arrived in Singida and then moved onto Sepuka I felt 100% comfortable. Every person I was introduced to in Sepuka seemed genuinely excited to meet me and great me and I have to say I shared the same enthusiasm. Alli had mentioned that the cultural norms in Tanzania were quite different than in the states when dealing with public social settings. Tanzanians are rarely outright rude or express any emotion other than happiness when greeting and making small talk. I assume a portion of the reason that I felt welcome in her village and didn't feel like and outsider was due to that, but I'm certain that the greetings and enthusiasm I encountered should be credited more so to the villagers being excited to meet someone new and to have an opportunity to share their country with me.



I suppose my assumptions and notions about village life in Tanzania were just the typical and ignorant type that most people who have no connection to a country in Africa have. I pictured hungry children with stomachs sticking out and extreme poverty. What I found wasn’t to the extreme that I anticipated. Obviously the majority of people I met in Sepuka were far from wealthy and life there doesn’t compare to what we take for granted here in the states. But, I as surprised to find far more infrastructure than I anticipated and many more smiling faces. I guess I thought it was going to be a really depressing place, but in actuality it wasn’t depressing at all. Life there is just different than what I consider normal and people make due with what they have. The juxtaposition of my life compared to their life resonated with me and put a lot of things into the proper perspective. I take many things for granted and after visiting I’ve been more aware and tried not stress of insignificant little things...



...check back next week for part 2 from ben's trip to tanzania...

pasaka in the ‘pook

As I pulled on my fanciest Tanzanian dress early yesterday morning, I tried to mentally prepare myself for what was undoubtedly going to be one of the longest days I’ve faced yet…Easter Sunday in the village. I had promised this mama that I’ve become friends with that I’d go to church with her on Easter Sunday, and since my absence had been prayed for at church the week before I thought it would be good to make an appearance. I had also convinced Carol (my devoted site-mate and sanity who teaches at the secondary school in my village about 3 km away) to come with, as I figured these things are usually better in pairs.

We met at the mama’s house at 9am. Learning on the way there that it was going to be impossible to  successfully ride my bike in my flowing dress without flashing unsuspecting Tanzanians along the way, we decided to walk to 5km to the neighboring village where the Easter service was being held. We set out on the path leaving Sepuka, mama in her Sunday best, and Carol in her swearing-in outfit, and me carrying the essentials in my bag- water, granola bars, sunglasses, sunscreen, and my offering. Now, Singida gets a crap for not necessarily being the most breathtaking place in Tanzania (as we’re situated in a desert where it rains twice a week for 6 weeks out of the year,) but I guess it takes a certain appreciation of this place to really see its bush-like beauty. I for one, have grown to accept the scarce terrain, sand, dust, and thorny bushes as a unique kind of lovely, and this hike to church was all of the above. I had to stop almost every 10 feet to shake thorns out of my sandals as we crossed dried up river beds, passed fields of sunflowers, and slightly rolling hills, as the path led us into the neighboring village of Msungua. With the ‘rainy’ season just ending, the area is actually quite green with fields of tall grass and leaves on the trees, but carol warned that this was about as green as it gets, and I braced myself for the coming drought.

About an hour later we arrived at the substantial German-built Lutheran church where all the neighboring Lutheran churches were gathering to celebrate ‘Pasaka’, or Easter. It was a packed house, with bikes lining the outside wall and kids chasing each other. I longed to be one of them, lucky to be young enough to have the excuse to escape from what we all knew was going to be a long service. But fortunately for us, my friend Samueli saved us seats right up in the front with the choir meaning an escape was going to be very difficult. Our seats really could have been a lot worse, we were right next to the window and could lean back against the wall behind us, so I couldn’t complain too much.

The service started with each of the choirs from neighboring churches dancing and singing, our group from Sepuka being my clear favorite. The service went on with singing and dancing, announcements, praying, and more singing and dancing. At one point the pastor made a point to recognize each tribe that was present at the service, Carol and I being no exception. Then he made a quick comment that he wanted each tribe to sing their own Easter-esque song at the end of the service. We looked at each other and laughing I hid my head in the large woman’s back who was sitting in front of me. The pastor quickly moved on, I however did not. I looked at Carol and said ‘seriously?"’ she said she’d heard of Peace Corps volunteers having to do this before and didn’t seem quite as phased as me. I decided that he’d forget about it, that we wouldn’t have to do it, but in between my little naps during his sermon we brainstormed songs from church camp as kids and came up with some pretty hysterical ideas. Trying to remember the words to ‘this little light of mine', ‘he’s got the whole world in his hand's’, and a few others kept us entertained for most of the service. I purposely didn’t wear a watch for fear it would make the service feel even longer, but as I checked Carols watch and learned it had been 4 hours since the service started, I was beginning to get a little antsy. Approaching the 5th hour and assuming it had to be over soon, I though we were in the clear and had avoided our duet. I was wrong. Before I knew it we were standing in front of 300 people singing ‘Our God is an Awesome God’ and performing the appropriate signs we learned in Sunday School. We finished our second round of the chorus, which was actually the only part we knew, I gave a quick curtsy, and the crowd went wild. We took our seats, laughing, and I played the moment over and over in my head, and couldn’t wait to tell my mom and dad. I knew they’d be proud.

I lasted about 30 more minutes, my granola bars had long since been devoured, and it was just time to be done. When the choirs switched we made our escape. We stopped at a milk co-op near the church and had chai and a quick snack. Had I not been completely starving, the chunky, fat saturated hot milk would have bothered me a bit more, but desperate times call for desperate measures and I downed the cup before the trek home. We got back to Sepuka around 5 in the evening, replaying the days events in my head I sat down in my favorite café and enjoyed my Easter feast of rice, beans, and orange Fanta.

my counterpart Samson getting’ down with the choir

our easter monday easter egg hunt. thanks for the eggs amy:)

alli goes to the mall.

Earlier this week one volunteer representative, deemed '”warden", from each region here in Tanzania gathered in Dar es Salaam for a two day training on the safety and security plan. Little did they know that when they selected Alli, Rebecca, Sarah, Cameron, and Duncan to represent our hoods, it can get a little crazy…

It was Monday night and a bunch of us decided to go out to the mall in Dar for a little dinner and a movie. This place is incredible, and looks like it was plucked straight from suburban America, complete with a fast food restaurant called Marrybrown’s (a wannabe Wendy’s). After a fine meal of chicken sandwiches, french fries and FOUNTAIN SODA with ice cubes, I was standing in line waiting to get a brownie when it happened. Now I should mention, two people had gone to the bathroom, abandoned their belongings with me so I was not only carrying my bag, but Natalie’s purse on my shoulder, Dan’s huge backpack on my back, and his cowboy hat sideways on my head. As I was waiting in line, I noticed two fine young gentlemen sitting at a small café-type table. One was wearing a hot pink satin shirt that was unbuttoned very low with pants so white they glowed. The other was wearing a polo shirt with his collar popped and skinny jeans or something. They were both drinking oversized cappuccinos from white mugs. Now this might sound a little funny, but mind you, people that look like this don’t exist in my life. Dirty village children and saggy grandmas are all I know, and I guess I’ve been in the village for too many moons…Anyways, I guess I spent just a little too long ‘admiring’ them and how ridiculous and out of place they looked (when in reality I’m the one that looks ridiculous at this point) because when I came out of my trance and I looked up through the glass wall that separated us from the rest of the mall, Sarah and Cameron were standing outside watching me…watch them. They had long since lost it and were laughing hysterically at me, and I soon followed. As soon as I looked up and saw them laughing at me, I realized how ridiculous I probably looked, like a dirty bag lady who is in the big city for the first time and in shock at people who look like this. I started laughing and couldn’t stop, I had to remove myself from the brownie line, exit the restaurant and proceeded to squat down to keep it in until I could gather myself and stop laughing….instead, I completely peed in my pants laughing so hard. Now this isn’t the first time uncontrollable laugher has led to peeing in my pants, especially not in this country, but this time was one for the books…

peace

uhuru.

eating mangoes with cessie while watching mama cessie get braided

my neighborhood boys made me this motorbike and radio out of the clay in their fields, I also am the proud owner of a clay land rover as well.

my other half. or halves. this family keeps me together:) above, elli shells rice they collected from the farm, elli and cessie study my world map, cessie gets back from the farm with jemsi on her back, mama cessie and cessie looking very sassy, on the rocks with elli and fabi, the love of my life maria me and jemsi, and mama cessie cooks vegatables

Just returned from a two-day training in Dar es Salaam as new safety and security wardens in our regions, but still had time for a dance party (as usual), fast food in the mall in Dar, and chocolate ice cream all over cameron – followed by well deserved naps on the way home.

evening with the boys

One of my favorite days in Sepuka during these first few weeks is the one where my (only) friends discovered I had a camera and took me on an incredible adventure, in my back yard. I should mention that this particular group of friends consist entirely of 13-16 year old boys….

I had just gotten back from a trip to town with Elli, my 16 year old neighbor (above, in the red shirt), when all of his friends show up at my house. Elli learned I had a camera earlier in the day when I had to charge the battery in town, and he couldn’t wait to show his friends. I taught Elli how to use it and he started teaching the others how to use it. After a series of mugshots taken in my courtyard against the bright blue wall, they asked if we could go to ____ and take pictures of the ____. Neither of these words were in my kiswahili vocabulary at this point so I really had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I was intrigued so I agreed.

We walked out of our courtyard and around the side of the house, down a path through a cornfield. With visions of Children of the Corn starting to go through my head, the path opened up just in time to cut through a group of enormous boulders. I looked up at the 3 story high rocks, and then glanced behind me at Fabi, Elli’s younger brother, who just nodded his head and said, ‘yup, we’re going up there.’

The boys started running up the side of the first boulder, but Fabi (orange shirt) stayed behind to show me the easier path. There were trees growing on the side, and together with smaller rocks that lined the side getting to the top was no big deal. After stepping over the last crevice, I stood up and did a 360. The view was absolutely breathtaking. The area is mostly flat with gentle, rolling hills and during the (not-so) ‘rainy’ season, corn grew in rows that traced the curve of the land and grass poked out of dusty mounds. From the top I couldn’t believe how far I could see, a man walked along a path in between two farms that seemed miles away, and women lifted buckets on their heads, walking in a single line from the well to the path that connects to the next village. As I kept turning around and around, taking in all views, the boys had started their photo shoot. They were posing on rocks, with the soccer ball, in fighting poses they could have only learned from the generator-powered movie show each night played in the village, there were solo shots and group shots, and even a shot that will make me smile for the rest of my life…

It’s kind of small, but the boy in the far back has one of his arms out of his shirt with a stone cold look on his face, pointing at the ball, the smallest boy is just holding the ball with an equally serious look on his face, and the one in the front looks like he just got to the end of a runway wearing my khanga like this seasons hottest trend.

The boys said there were more, so we climbed down this one, and up the next, one of them lagging behind each time to show me the easy way up. We through around the ball, took pictures, and they were teaching me some new kiswahili words as the hours passed of climbing up and down the boulders. I was on a serious mjusi (these red and blue lizzards that live around the rocks) when I looked up and caught them in this great moment…they were completely silent, perched on this flat space watching the sunset…

I was sitting behind them as the sun set, and tried to imagine being in their shoes; only 3 of them are in school, the others spend their days herding cattle and goats or working on the family farm, one earns money by delivering water jugs to houses using his prized bicycle. They love Manchester United and Jackie Chan, they’ve learned jerry-rig things you couldn’t imagine, and at the end of the day this moment and this laughter keeps carries us all through ‘til tomorrow.

peace.

epic update

Well as usual when I get around to posting, I have more to say than I can articulate. This time is no different…

Jill arrived just in time for Christmas, as she was delayed for about a week due to the storms in london or something. She got in late on christmas eve and was the best christmas present ever. We spend christmas in dar, then headed south to stay in my village for a while. It was so amazing having someone from home experience a piece of my life here with me, and showing her my village was so fun. We spent the majority of the days running a makeshift daycare, and between the soccer ball she brought me and the coloring book I found in dar, we were quite the entertainers. Only a few days had passed when we were caught in a ‘safety and security’ issue. After a few days in Songea with the lovely ms. veronica, we left for dar to sort out some details. Jill was able to continue on her trip, and a few days later she left for Malawi to visit another Peace Corps friend, then on to Zimbabwe and South Africa. She left in the one bus line she had heard interesting things about, but (eventually) made it safely:) I remained in Dar while peace corps continued to check on the situation in my village. On January 4th I was informed that I had two options – to take an interrupted service and return to America, or transfer to a different village, returning to my village was not an option. I was absolutely heartbroken. I had dug my heels in there, formed amazing relationships and started projects with motivated people who wanted to improve their lives and the lives of others. I remained in denial for a good amount of time and tried time and time again to convince peace corps that it was fine and I needed to go back. Being the incredible staff that they are, they provided continuous support to me, communicated with my villagers, and listened to everything I had to say. In the end they stood their ground. I asked if it would be okay for me to visit the new site before making a decision and I soon left for a short visit to get more information. The village was Sepuka, about 35 km outside of the town of Singida in central-ish Tanzania. I traveled with Cessie, another volunteer headed back to her site, also right outside of Singida. On the bus headed to Singida she mentioned that it looks a lot like something straight out of The Lion King. She was absolutely right. Huge boulders spot the dry, flat landscape, as grass peeks out of the dirt during the present ‘rainy’ season. Another great friend, Duncan, met me in Singida determined to keep me in Tanzania. We took a bus out to Sepuka the next day and after getting dropped off at the health clinic where I’d live, we spent a good part of the afternoon trying to figure out where the ‘village’ actually was. We eventually found the village center, got lunch and tried meeting some people to get a feel about how it would be. The people weren’t hostile by any means, but they were less welcoming than I would have liked. The area was also so remote, with houses spread in between farms and fields. It couldn’t have been more different that Ngadinda. I left there a little disheartened but after many pep talks from my incredible friends here, and the support of my friends and family back home, I decided to make the move to Sepuka. Still very much in denial about the fact that I was having to leave Ngadinda, and realizing traveling back to my village to pack my things and say goodbye in the 3 hour time frame I was given was going to be too much for me. Enters Sarah. She met me in dar, and endured the long ride down to Songea with me. She held my hand, laughed with me and cried with me as I had to break the news to my Mama, Baba, and closest friends in the village. The dreaded day went as well as it could have, my family, neighbors and friends reassuring me that I’d come to love my new village just as much, had a few laughs, and told me that I better come visit. With my return trip planned for April, we piled in the car and pulled out.

With the events of the past 4 weeks still swirling in my head, and feeling fairly emotionally exhausted, I arrived in Sepuka the following monday, January 24th to start all over again. I moved into a duplex shared by a nurse, her 4 kids, and her house girl. The house is much smaller than my old place, and I have virtually no privacy, which I’m learning I really don’t mind so much. I’m trying not to fall in love with Maria, my neighbor’s house girl, the 5 year old boy with cerebral palsy she takes care of, or the 3 other children - a losing battle I’ve all but surrendered to. I’ve always loved being around people and in this particular situation I’m not keen on hanging out by myself all the time. My new family consists of a 20 year old house girl, Maria, and the four neighbor kids she looks after, Elias (16), Fabia (13), Cesie (8), and Jemsi (5). We all make up a pretty hilarious clan. I’ve wandered around the village a few afternoons, meeting people and getting used to the surroundings, and am still undecided about how I feel about starting work all over again. It seems like an overwhelming task to have all those meetings again, and ask all those questions again, but having done it once and with much better kiswahili skills this time, I’m hoping the process is sped up a bit.

Well that’s quite the update. Be rest assured (grama and grampa) that I’m safe and that peace corps did a great job of responding to the situation and taking care of me and listening to my needs. I’ll post pictures of the new village soon, but in the mean time, here’s my family portrait of me with my mama and baba from Ngadinda. I maybe miss them more that my real mom and dad…

Until next time,

peace