I realize how poorly I’ve done with keeping up a blog. The fact that reliable internet is a 10 -hour round trip away does not make updating my blog very feasible. However, it’s very important to me to keep family and friends back home informed of my Tanzania experience. Therefore, my goal is to post a blog once a month. Not only am I going to try to sum up what happens each current month, but I’m also going to include last year’s journal entries for that same month…a year ago. This way you can get the background of where I’m at now. And maybe you might also see the different changes and stages I’ve gone through during my service. I look forward to sharing my Peace Corps experience with you. I hope you learn at least a small fraction of what I have discovered living here in Tanzania. Oh…and as usual, everything I state in my blog is all my opinion and my experience…not necessarily the Peace Corps. If you want to check out my photos, I have been putting all my photos on Facebook because I can upload them there easier. I’ll try to do a picture or two on my blog as well. Alrighty! I’ll be talking to you all next month then!
Kristi
Sunday, August 15, 2010
July 1, 2010
Yesterday I said my goodbyes to my family and boarded the plane for Tanzania. I had three legs in my flight: Omaha-Newark-Amsterdam-Dar es Saalam. All flights were pleasant and I enjoyed talking to the interesting people I sat next to. On the Omaha-Newark flight, I got a free flash drive and company pen from a Newark business man. From Newark to Amsterdam I sat next to two Americans, a middle aged man who works with a NGO (nonprofit government organization) and the other, a college student on her way to Italy for a one month study abroad program. The last stretch of my flight I conversed with a US government international education specialist, and she was actually on her way to my region, Mtwara. It was quite a coincidence that we sat right next to each other and had the same exact destination out of all the areas in Tanzania. I helped a little by informing her about life in Mtwara and what to expect. She promised to keep in touch and maybe down the road I might get useful education materials from her to use with my students. The entire flight back took about 34 hrs. Time actually went fast, especially since I spent most of the time sleeping or watching movies that I knew I wouldn’t have the opportunity to see later on.
It was such a different feeling landing in Tanzania for the second time. I didn’t experience the anxiety and homesickness that I did the first time I landed in Tanzania. I knew to expect the thick humidity and the unrelenting pestering of Tanzanian taxi drivers after stepping outside the airport building. Unfortunately my checked luggage got lost somewhere during my flight changes. It’s kinda funny because I just expect these unlucky incidents to happen because I’m in a third world country. I’m never too surprised whenever things get stolen, lost, or broken. Jenny Beth (a Mtwara PCV from my training group) met me at the airport and we stayed at an expats’ (a working American couple living in Tanzania…aka ex patriots) house before going to Morogoro for Community Theatre training. Thankfully my checked luggage arrived the night of July 4, right before I left Dar es Salaam. JB and I celebrated Independence Day by eating ice cream next to the ocean and watching movies all night. The couple whose house we stayed at actually wasn’t around the entire weekend, so we had the whole place to ourselves. It was a pretty big deal because they had running water, western toilets, electricity, TV, a stove and even a washer and dryer. It was nice that I could slowly adjust back to Tanzania by spending time in a semi-American home.
July 8, 2010
Community theatre training here in Morogoro is going well. We performed two skits and a choir song for a girls’ secondary school nearby. Both skits were about young girls being pressured to have relations with older males, even teachers, in order to get tuition money or material things: new clothes, cell phones, etc. It’s very common for 13-15 year old girls to become pregnant because they don’t have the confidence in themselves to say “no” to male authority figures, or men in general. Once girls become pregnant, they are banned from school. Very seldom do these girls get the chance to continue with their studies later on. Other girls choose to abort their baby, although it’s extremely risky due to poor medical practices and many girls suffer from the psychological consequences long after an abortion. So the skits and song we performed focused on resisting pressure to have sex at a young age, and instead focus on their studies in order to secure a better life by receiving an education.
July 11, 2010
After one year of being in this country, it’s interesting to hear the different viewpoints from my Peace Corps peers about their role as PCVs. One of the biggest struggles Peace Corps volunteers face is finding purpose in the work we do because of the amount of time, effort, and sacrifices we make in order to live in a completely different culture and lifestyle. Often times we have to remind ourselves that two out of the three Peace Corps goals are about learning and sharing American culture with Tanzanians and Tanzanian culture with Americans. Before I left America, I remember reading somewhere in a Peace Corps article that it’s important for volunteers to keep their expectations low and their hopes high. I also heard from other volunteers that I shouldn’t be too hard on myself if I struggle to make even a dent in improving village life, or if projects don’t turn out as planned. It’s almost impossible for change to occur in a two year term when villagers have been practicing methods for decades, even centuries. Also many villagers feel they can’t afford the risk of trying a new method because they have nothing to fall back on if the new method fails. Sometimes I worry foreigners and volunteers are doing more harm than good because we expect what worked for our country to work the same in Tanzania. It’s also a poor choice when money gets handed to villagers. Often time money gets into the hands of the wrong people, or villagers don’t feel pride in what they were given if they didn’t have to contribute anything to earn it. Either way, money is often mishandled and it doesn’t go where originally designated.
A few volunteers and I spent one evening chatting about some of the challenges we faced and interesting observations about our experience so far as PCVs.
1) The happiest volunteers seem to be those who focus on making friends with the villagers and just learning and experiencing as much as possible in the village. The most stressed out volunteers are those who take on too many projects and try to force change in the village. Actually, sometimes I wonder how much “change” really is necessary to make Tanzania better. Of course poverty is not good, and a lot of problems stem from this…food shortage, lack of medical facilities, no school funding, unsanitary living conditions, etc. However, I don’t think being a highly developed country such as the USA is perfect either even though we’re so advanced. America has its own set of problems…as will any country. Tanzania has so much potential, and a lot of great resources. It just makes me sad to see how much it has changed to become more like the western world and how much of its own culture is being lost: language, customs, traditions, and art (dress, dance & music). It’s crazy to think that I might be part of the last generation to hear the Makonde people (the tribe in my region) speak their native tongue. Already a lot of languages have been lost, and little or nothing is documented on these languages.
2) We also discussed Tanzanian men. It’s hard to get over the possibility that most Tanzanian men are interested in us only because they believe we have money (which we probably do compared to them) and we’re a way for them to get into America. Just being lighter skinned makes any white woman here automatically attractive. Poverty brings people down to a pretty low level, the survival level. Therefore it’s difficult to know if we can completely trust a village man or woman here because they most likely want something out of a volunteer; especially money for clothing, school fees, medicine, etc.
3) Another big challenge living in a foreign country is failing to be completely understood by the natives, specifically my personality and who I really am. Because of the language barrier, and Tanzanians’ different outlook on life, many volunteers don’t feel like Tanzanians will ever be able to see who we are on the inside. It’s interesting because the volunteers who struggled to fit in with America’s culture, actually do really well in Tanzania. That’s because quite a few people aren’t used to feeling so accepted nor do they ever receive the amount of attention they do living here in TZ. Any foreigners, especially white people, automatically get attention because of their different appearance and the association of white skin and money. There are two things that you have to do to make Tanzanians like you. 1) Speak Swahili and local tribal language. It doesn’t really matter much about your personality. If you speak their language, and enjoy being loud and open with your thoughts and feelings, then they’ll love you. 2) Wear Tanzanian clothes and practice what the villagers do…farming, laundry by hand, cooking, etc. It baffles them that Americans can actually do manual work. Anyway, neither of those things hit the core of who I am. It’s a pretty shallow view of what Tanzanians see in me. I suppose if I stayed long enough I might be better able to express myself, but my color will always be the first thing they see and use to label me. For sure it’s definitely a good experience to feel what it’s like to be a minority. I also realize how nice it is to know I have a place where I belong, America.
Yesterday I said my goodbyes to my family and boarded the plane for Tanzania. I had three legs in my flight: Omaha-Newark-Amsterdam-Dar es Saalam. All flights were pleasant and I enjoyed talking to the interesting people I sat next to. On the Omaha-Newark flight, I got a free flash drive and company pen from a Newark business man. From Newark to Amsterdam I sat next to two Americans, a middle aged man who works with a NGO (nonprofit government organization) and the other, a college student on her way to Italy for a one month study abroad program. The last stretch of my flight I conversed with a US government international education specialist, and she was actually on her way to my region, Mtwara. It was quite a coincidence that we sat right next to each other and had the same exact destination out of all the areas in Tanzania. I helped a little by informing her about life in Mtwara and what to expect. She promised to keep in touch and maybe down the road I might get useful education materials from her to use with my students. The entire flight back took about 34 hrs. Time actually went fast, especially since I spent most of the time sleeping or watching movies that I knew I wouldn’t have the opportunity to see later on.
It was such a different feeling landing in Tanzania for the second time. I didn’t experience the anxiety and homesickness that I did the first time I landed in Tanzania. I knew to expect the thick humidity and the unrelenting pestering of Tanzanian taxi drivers after stepping outside the airport building. Unfortunately my checked luggage got lost somewhere during my flight changes. It’s kinda funny because I just expect these unlucky incidents to happen because I’m in a third world country. I’m never too surprised whenever things get stolen, lost, or broken. Jenny Beth (a Mtwara PCV from my training group) met me at the airport and we stayed at an expats’ (a working American couple living in Tanzania…aka ex patriots) house before going to Morogoro for Community Theatre training. Thankfully my checked luggage arrived the night of July 4, right before I left Dar es Salaam. JB and I celebrated Independence Day by eating ice cream next to the ocean and watching movies all night. The couple whose house we stayed at actually wasn’t around the entire weekend, so we had the whole place to ourselves. It was a pretty big deal because they had running water, western toilets, electricity, TV, a stove and even a washer and dryer. It was nice that I could slowly adjust back to Tanzania by spending time in a semi-American home.
July 8, 2010
Community theatre training here in Morogoro is going well. We performed two skits and a choir song for a girls’ secondary school nearby. Both skits were about young girls being pressured to have relations with older males, even teachers, in order to get tuition money or material things: new clothes, cell phones, etc. It’s very common for 13-15 year old girls to become pregnant because they don’t have the confidence in themselves to say “no” to male authority figures, or men in general. Once girls become pregnant, they are banned from school. Very seldom do these girls get the chance to continue with their studies later on. Other girls choose to abort their baby, although it’s extremely risky due to poor medical practices and many girls suffer from the psychological consequences long after an abortion. So the skits and song we performed focused on resisting pressure to have sex at a young age, and instead focus on their studies in order to secure a better life by receiving an education.
July 11, 2010
After one year of being in this country, it’s interesting to hear the different viewpoints from my Peace Corps peers about their role as PCVs. One of the biggest struggles Peace Corps volunteers face is finding purpose in the work we do because of the amount of time, effort, and sacrifices we make in order to live in a completely different culture and lifestyle. Often times we have to remind ourselves that two out of the three Peace Corps goals are about learning and sharing American culture with Tanzanians and Tanzanian culture with Americans. Before I left America, I remember reading somewhere in a Peace Corps article that it’s important for volunteers to keep their expectations low and their hopes high. I also heard from other volunteers that I shouldn’t be too hard on myself if I struggle to make even a dent in improving village life, or if projects don’t turn out as planned. It’s almost impossible for change to occur in a two year term when villagers have been practicing methods for decades, even centuries. Also many villagers feel they can’t afford the risk of trying a new method because they have nothing to fall back on if the new method fails. Sometimes I worry foreigners and volunteers are doing more harm than good because we expect what worked for our country to work the same in Tanzania. It’s also a poor choice when money gets handed to villagers. Often time money gets into the hands of the wrong people, or villagers don’t feel pride in what they were given if they didn’t have to contribute anything to earn it. Either way, money is often mishandled and it doesn’t go where originally designated.
A few volunteers and I spent one evening chatting about some of the challenges we faced and interesting observations about our experience so far as PCVs.
1) The happiest volunteers seem to be those who focus on making friends with the villagers and just learning and experiencing as much as possible in the village. The most stressed out volunteers are those who take on too many projects and try to force change in the village. Actually, sometimes I wonder how much “change” really is necessary to make Tanzania better. Of course poverty is not good, and a lot of problems stem from this…food shortage, lack of medical facilities, no school funding, unsanitary living conditions, etc. However, I don’t think being a highly developed country such as the USA is perfect either even though we’re so advanced. America has its own set of problems…as will any country. Tanzania has so much potential, and a lot of great resources. It just makes me sad to see how much it has changed to become more like the western world and how much of its own culture is being lost: language, customs, traditions, and art (dress, dance & music). It’s crazy to think that I might be part of the last generation to hear the Makonde people (the tribe in my region) speak their native tongue. Already a lot of languages have been lost, and little or nothing is documented on these languages.
2) We also discussed Tanzanian men. It’s hard to get over the possibility that most Tanzanian men are interested in us only because they believe we have money (which we probably do compared to them) and we’re a way for them to get into America. Just being lighter skinned makes any white woman here automatically attractive. Poverty brings people down to a pretty low level, the survival level. Therefore it’s difficult to know if we can completely trust a village man or woman here because they most likely want something out of a volunteer; especially money for clothing, school fees, medicine, etc.
3) Another big challenge living in a foreign country is failing to be completely understood by the natives, specifically my personality and who I really am. Because of the language barrier, and Tanzanians’ different outlook on life, many volunteers don’t feel like Tanzanians will ever be able to see who we are on the inside. It’s interesting because the volunteers who struggled to fit in with America’s culture, actually do really well in Tanzania. That’s because quite a few people aren’t used to feeling so accepted nor do they ever receive the amount of attention they do living here in TZ. Any foreigners, especially white people, automatically get attention because of their different appearance and the association of white skin and money. There are two things that you have to do to make Tanzanians like you. 1) Speak Swahili and local tribal language. It doesn’t really matter much about your personality. If you speak their language, and enjoy being loud and open with your thoughts and feelings, then they’ll love you. 2) Wear Tanzanian clothes and practice what the villagers do…farming, laundry by hand, cooking, etc. It baffles them that Americans can actually do manual work. Anyway, neither of those things hit the core of who I am. It’s a pretty shallow view of what Tanzanians see in me. I suppose if I stayed long enough I might be better able to express myself, but my color will always be the first thing they see and use to label me. For sure it’s definitely a good experience to feel what it’s like to be a minority. I also realize how nice it is to know I have a place where I belong, America.
Peace Corps Tanzania
June 13, 2009
Today was hopefully the hardest part of Peace Corps – saying goodbye. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to part from my family and the world I knew. I couldn’t even say the word ‘goodbye’ to Teddy (family dog) without getting all choked up. I was running on very little sleep since I spent the entire night packing, paying off credit card bills, and other last minute errands. Time went so fast from when I found out I was accepted into Peace Corps (end of April) to boarding the plane June 13th. I had very little time to really think about what I was getting into. I just busied myself with putting music and photos together and ordering shoes, bags, and solar items online. It was probably a good thing I didn’t have the time to psych myself out about living in a third world country for two years with rough living conditions and a completely unfamiliar culture and language. I had been putting off the thought of saying goodbye to loved ones because I knew it would be painful. So reality hit hard when I stood at the security entrance of the Omaha airport seeing my family lined up and knowing they couldn’t go with me any further. A lot of tears, hugs, and last minute goodbyes and I was off. I’m sure I had people in the airport and on the plane wondering what sort of tragedy happened to me because I looked like an emotional mess; bright red, swollen eyes and lots of loud sniffling. On top of these emotions, I was also nervous about flying by myself for the first time. I felt some relief when I found my second flight in Chicago airport with no problem. I then landed in Philadelphia and hopped onto a shuttle to take me to the Holiday Inn for my two day orientation with 36 of my cohorts. On the way to the hotel one man in the front seat of the hotel van became extremely interested in my role as a Peace Corps volunteer and asked what sort of projects I had in mind. He suggested looking into solar energy such as solar ovens and then he slipped me his card as he got off at his hotel. I was amazed I was already getting offers from Americans to help me with my projects even before I left the country, and this man happened to be the vice-president of Greyhound’s Safety and Security.
It was late by the time I reached the hotel and I just collapsed on my bed. After calling mom to reassure her I made it to Philadelphia alive, I took a long hot shower knowing it could be my very last real luxurious shower I’d have in two years. Just as I was about to go to bed, my roommate walked in after coming back from eating with a group of volunteers who arrived a day early as well. She introduced herself as Allison and right away I felt relief knowing I finally met another person who had the same kind of questions and uncertainty about the journey ahead of us. After we finished talking, I went to bed wondering what tomorrow would bring as my first day as a Peace Corp trainee.
June 14, 2009
The two day training in Philadelphia was mainly to clear up our fears and concerns, review Peace Corps goals, and get to know our Peace Corps family of two years. The first thing we did as Peace Corps trainees was hand in all the paperwork we had been holding onto for months and even years for some. I was one of the lucky volunteers because I sent in my essays, recommendations, references, country preferences, and overall application in October 2008 and was nominated right away. However, I didn’t find out until April 2009, just a few weeks before graduating from UNK, that I had been accepted as a Peace Corps Trainee in Tanzania, Africa. The time in between Oct 08 - April 09 was filled with medical, dental, and legal appointments. Fortunately my health and legal background was clean, so paperwork went through a lot faster. On average, it takes one year to finish the application process. While waiting in line in front of our conference room, I eagerly began introducing myself and learning new names and memorizing faces. I was glad to meet a bunch of young, enthusiastic people with similar feelings of anxiety, concern, adventure, and excitement. Everyone seemed to be flexible, laid back, and had a good sense of humor. There were 36 of us volunteers all together. Our group consisted of two extensions: Health and Environment. I was in the environment extension mainly because of my experience working on the farm. Most of the people in my group were single and in their 20’s-30’s, with the exception of an older Colorado couple and a young Wisconsin couple, and a few mid 30-40s volunteers and one older man in his 60s. Later on, after almost a month of language training, I found out that the young married guy was actually a distant cousin on my dad’s side. About a month later, I got news from my Grandma that I had yet another family member in Tanzania, Sister Andrea, a nun who has lived in Tanzania for 50 years! Talk about a small world! Knowing I had real family in such an unfamiliar and foreign country was very comforting and I felt like it was a sign from above that I was in the right place.
June 15, 2009
After the two orientation days in Philadelphia, it was time to board the bus and make our way to the JFK airport in New York City. Before I left Philadelphia, I made a quick trip to visit the Liberty Bell. Unfortunately I didn’t have the appetite to taste my first real Philly cheese steak sandwich, although I did take advantage of savoring my last cup of Starbucks coffee before I left.
Time seemed to really blur during our several day journey to Tanzania. On the bus to NYC, it was eerily quiet. I remember studying the faces of the other PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) around me wondering whether they were thinking forward to what lay ahead or if they were replaying their goodbyes and memories from home. I could almost imagine what soldiers must feel when they go off to fight/work in a foreign country. The sense of leaving so much at home and not knowing what lies ahead is an incredibly scary yet somewhat exciting leap of facing the complete unknown. At least I knew I would never have to pick up a gun and kill anyone. All I was nervous about was the adjustment to the culture, language, and living on my own for two years. Just the drive to New York was new and fascinating to me. I had never been to the northeast, so being able to zip through several states in a short time span baffled me. I couldn’t get over the fast pace of New York and the size of the towering skyscrapers. I began to understand why so many of my fellow PCTs were surprised that a small town Nebraska girl somehow made her way into Peace Corps. I was already experiencing culture shock before I left the states, thanks to New York!
The wait at the JFK airport was uncomfortable for many of us. Several of us worried about whether we packed over the luggage weight limit and we gravely waited to hear we had to rid our bags of several heavy items or pay an additional fee. One of the girls, Megan, was told her ticket had been refunded and there wasn’t a seat left on the plane for her. After an hour, Megan’s ticket crisis was solved, our luggage all went through, and we anxiously waited to board the plane. This was the last time we could call our loved ones at home and say goodbye. A few volunteers had brought their American cell phones with them for this purpose. The volunteers who had boyfriends or girlfriends at home seemed to take the final phone goodbye the hardest. I was relieved I didn’t have to deal with that extra stress. A group of volunteers immediately found a bar in order to cheer up one of the women in my group who took parting from America pretty hard.
After boarding the plane, we soon realized we were missing another volunteer. Announcements in the plane and airport were made, but there was no sign of the volunteer. Apparently he got cold feet and decided the last minute not to join the Peace Corps. The plane was delayed two hours because this volunteer’s luggage had to be taken off and then we had to wait in a long line of departing planes to take off.
The KML British Airline flights were LONG but not too uncomfortable. It took 6.5 hours to get to Amsterdam and then 11hrs to arrive in Dar es Saalam, Tanzania. I had enjoyable conversations with a Swedish grad student and a California missionary on their way to TZ. I also watched several movies (each passenger had their own TV screen and large movie selection) knowing it would be awhile until I’d have the chance to watch movies again.
June 16, 2009
I have no idea what time we actually arrived in Dar es Salaam (capital of Tanzania), but I knew it was late judging by the darkness outside (around midnight). My stomach jumped when I realized I was in AFRICA and this country called Tanzania would be my home for two years. I had no idea what was said over the plane’s loud speakers, but knew I had just heard the foreign language, Swahili, which I was expected to know in just a few months. It was too much to comprehend and I was already so exhausted from the sleepless night of packing, the painful goodbye and already beginning feelings of homesickness, and of course, the long flight. The first thing I noticed when stepping off the plane was how unusually warm and humid the night air was. The humidity was so thick, it stuck to our bodies. We were warmly greeted by Peace Corps staff as soon as we made it into the airport. More paperwork was passed around, something or other needed signatures and we did what we were told. Then the long luggage wait was next. Each volunteer breathed a sigh of relief after claiming all of their bags. We then loaded a bus that took us to Msimbazi Center, a Dar hostel run by nuns. Apples, water, and pop were handed out and we shook the hands of Tanzanian Peace Corps staff and fumbled with repeating unfamiliar Muslim and Tanzanian names. After a brief introduction and welcome we all were given room keys and drug our luggage up the stairs. It totally made sense now why PC had warned us not to bring more than we could carry. I then crawled under my first mosquito net and drifted off into a deep sleep.
June 17, 2009
It wasn’t too difficult for me to wake up. I woke up very uncomfortable with the incredibly thick, hot humidity. I also was completely off with my sleeping schedule. Tanzania is 8 hours ahead of time in Nebraska, and it was just mind boggling to me that I was starting a completely new day while my family back home was just finishing up yesterday. I woke up first at 4:30 am due to the Muslim call to prayer. It was so foreign to me. The language and style of singing was so new to me. I don’t really remember much about the one week training in Dar. All I can remember is how thankful I was to get a preview of what the few months as a PCT held. We did do brief language training (mainly greetings), went over safety/security, and did some cultural training. We also got advice from PCVs one year before us (Peace Corps sends a new group of health/environment and education volunteers to TZ every year) about their experiences with their host families. Before we left America we were informed we would spend 3 months of training living with a Tanzanian host family and train with a group of 4-5 other PCVs living in the same village studying Swahili and Tanzanian culture every day. This style of language learning is called Community Based Training (CBT). Every Friday, all the CBTs would get together at an agriculture education center (MATI) close to our host families’ villages to go over medical, technical, and safety and security issues. I remember feeling both excited yet extremely nervous when my named was called out and I was given the name of my Baba (father) and Mama. I had no idea what to expect but I was excited to live with a Tanzanian family and experience a completely different life and culture.
June …., 2009 (by this time I had already lost track of what day it was)
Leaving Dar was the first time I actually saw Dar. When we first arrived by plane, it was too dark to see anything. Then we stayed behind the safe walls of the Msimbazi Center, a hostel run by nuns, for our first week of training. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes away from what lay outside the bus windows. The men were pulling huge baskets full of fruit on their bikes and boys scurried around stopped traffic selling newspapers, boiled eggs, water, and fruit. I saw women in cloth wraps for the first time, many with their heads covered. Yet I couldn’t get over how many Tanzanians were dressed in western style clothes. A lot of kids were wearing t-shirts with English words, a lot of times with some grammatical error…hence, why the t-shirt ended up in TZ. I noticed a distinct diversion of wealth and poverty. Men and women in business suits walked right next to people wearing only dirty rags. I also saw the odd mix of western, modern culture with traditional culture. I found it so strange to see the nomadic herders, Maasai, walk among stalled traffic and towering business buildings. The Maasai are easy to distinguish because they wear red/purple checkered sheets and tire shoes and they decorate themselves with thick strands of small beads. Most Maasai are in Dar to sell beaded jewelry to tourists. I saw advertisements in an unfamiliar language and brands and items I had never seen before. I was really surprised when I noticed how large the women were in the advertisements/billboards. I’ve been in America so long that I just assumed people all over the world thought being thin was most attractive. However, in TZ, if you’re big you’re attractive (not obese) because you obviously have wealth to eat well and you’re not sickly. I also couldn’t get over the poor living conditions. All the houses seemed so small and dirty. The amount of trash scattered around was sickening. The strong smells and pollution was too much. Cities always have intimidated me just because of the fast pace, mass amount of people, and traffic. I was so glad to get out of Dar.
The sights changed quite a bit once we got out into the country. Most villages we drove past consisted of mud huts. Bright colors of fruit and vegetable produce could be seen lined up on rickety wooden stands. The landscape was beautiful; bright green trees and tall grass, with a few big hills in the distance. I experienced my first “dig for medicine” which is how Tanzanians say bathroom break. Bathroom breaks consist of the bus pulling over to the side of the road to let the passengers find a place to relieve themselves. Often a side for men and one for women is designated and people hurriedly get their business done before the bus leaves them. It took awhile for me to get used to the lack of privacy with this sort of bathroom break. There are no convenience shops that the buses stop at for bathroom breaks or to grab snacks. Most gas stations just sell fuel, and villagers sell food to bus passengers whenever the bus slows down briefly or stops. The most common food items sold are roasted/boiled corn, fried doughnuts (maandazi), hushpuppies (bagia), fried pastry with meat or potatoes, large french fries (chipsi), fried cassava, cashews, peanuts, bananas, and a whole assortment of fruit depending on the season. At first I was really intimidated by all the people outside my bus window shouting and pushing food and other goods up to my window (clothes, jewelry, woven baskets, etc). However, now that I understand how to order and barter down the price, it’s a nice convenience that I might actually miss in America. Although, I don’t think I’ll miss the extra attention I get for being white nor the times when I get cheated by paying a much higher price because my white skin color automatically registers to Tanzanian vendors that I have money.
Finally we reached our destination, Muheza, Tanga. Lush, green, and beautiful tall mountains in the background, Muheza was breathtaking.
June …., 2009
The first day with my host family was quite interesting to say the least. I traveled with the four other PCVs in my Kibanda village CBT (community based training group), and another CBT group in a village nearby. I was so anxious, scared and excited. I didn’t know if my host family stay would be absolutely awesome or if it would be terrifying and the longest 9 weeks of my life. It was so funny watching each individual volunteer getting dropped off in front of a worn down house with a huge crowd of children, adults, and elders waiting to see what this strange white vehicle was bringing into their village. The rest of us volunteers in the van chuckled nervously at how ridiculously frightened and helpless each volunteer looked standing out as the only white person and looking completely out of place. The host families were selected by Peace Corps, and they had to go through a few trainings so they understood about food and water sanitation, healthy balance of meals, and a little background about American culture and what to expect from us volunteers. Peace Corps also did a house check with each of our families to make sure we had our own bedroom, and a decent choo (toilet).
The Peace Corps van then drove into my village, Kibanda, and stopped in front of a house with a beat up car stripped of its tires and a large black man in a white beater sitting down with his arms crossed. I crossed my fingers hoping it was the home of one of the other 4 volunteers in my group. Then I heard my name, and I found myself outside the van, surrounded by my overstuffed luggage bags, and big black men and children carrying my stuff inside. I was warned that the first night at homestay would most likely be the most awkward moment of my life. I didn’t know any Swahili besides ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m full’, and they did not speak any English. My host mama showed me my room and we set all my things in there. Then I sat in the living room with mama and dada (sister) Mwanaima, just looking at each other and the ground. After awhile mama went out to start supper, and I went outside to sit on the cement porch ledge. In just seconds I had a swarm of children around me. I was in the middle of at least 6 kids deep. I decided to get my pictures out to have something for them to stare at besides me. For each picture the kids pointed and told me what each thing was in Swahili. I tried to repeat the words back which greatly amused the kids and usually initiated a giggle fit. Afterwards I busted out a map, laid it out on the broken down car, and pointed to America and then Nebraska, and then traced the journey with my finger to show how I got to Tanzania. I knew no Swahili to explain anything. Instead I just used actions, facial expressions, nods, and repeated what kids told me when I pointed to something. I also played Frisbee with the kids until Baba said it was time to eat. As a welcome gesture, Baba butchered a chicken. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to watch the chicken being killed or not. We sat on a mat set on the ground, me, mama, and baba. I was relieved when they gave me a spoon and they didn’t force me to eat more than I wanted. I had heard from previous volunteers that their host families loaded more food on their plate then they could handle. My baba actually told me it was “self service” (a word I’m sure he asked one of his brothers who work in the city, therefore they know some English) so I could dish what I wanted on my plate. The meal was delicious and I instantly fell in love with mama’s coconut rice. The kids ate outside on a mat, which they did every night. That evening I had my first bucket bath in the outdoor choo (toliet). I couldn’t see if the water I was using was very clean or not because I only had a kerosene lantern. However, I was grateful mama heated up the water, which she did every time. The biggest struggle I had that first night was getting over the abundant cockroaches that crawled out from the choo hole. I used to smash all the cockroaches before I would begin to take my bath. Ha, my family must have thought I was crazy because I’m sure I made loud grunting sounds during my cockroach killing sprees. It also probably looked pretty silly with all the cockroaches mashed into the choo walls. Finally it was time to go to bed. I went into my bedroom, so happy I had all the curious eyes off me.
The next morning I woke up around 5:30 am thanks to an extremely obnoxious rooster near my window. I felt good about myself that I made it through possibly one of the hardest days, the first day of homestay. I then moved my pillow over out from underneath my head and there it was…a large, black cockroach crawling right next to my face. I made sure after that to always tuck my mosquito net tight around my mattress.
July 4, 2009
All PCTs and language teachers met up at MATI (agriculture training center) to celebrate our America Independence Day. Games of frisbee, volleyball, soccer and just laying out in the sun were a big treat. The boys had a khanga (cloth wrap worn around women’s waist) race which was very funny watching how awkward the guys tied on the khangas; probably how most of us female PCT looked like when we first learned how to wear a khanga. It was a big treat for us to have soda, cookies, watermelon and candy. Already we were sick of our daily diet of rice and beans and ugali (a thick, tasteless corn porridge). At the end of the day we got together for a group picture and sang the national anthem with the American flag flying behind us. It’s funny how a person takes more pride in their home country when they’re away from it. Many of the volunteers seemed to look at their home country with a different perspective today.
When I got back to my host family’s house, I had to apologize to Baba for being later than usual. He was worried something happened and he’s very protective of me. After we ate dinner that night I shared some pop rocks I got from the Fourth of July celebration. It was a lot of fun watching my host parents and sibling’s surprised reaction because of the popping sound and funny feeling on their tongues from the pop rocks. I also used my windup flashlight for the first time around them. They were very impressed that I didn’t need a battery and Baba really studied it for awhile.
July 7, 2009
It’s about 30 minutes before another day of school and I’m trying to prepare myself for another challenging day of Kiswahili. I have a great language training group. There are three of us girls, two guys, and our Swahili instructor. We get excellent one-on-one attention and it’s nice to have a small group to learn together. We also have the best view of the mountains and lush greenery outside of our classroom. Our school cooks, Sophia and Amina, are also great! They carry the food on their heads to feed us every day (except for Sunday, that’s the only free day) for chai at 10 am and lunch at 1 pm. Their food is delicious and they’ve slowly introduced us to all the different types of fruits, vegetables, and meat dishes.
Lately I’ve been hauling water on top of my head. It’s about a 20-30 minute round trip to the water pump and back to my host family’s house. It was quite an amusing sight for the villagers today when the five of us PCTs fetched water for our school choo. We laughed at ourselves at how ridiculously awkward we looked toting water on our heads and spilling on ourselves all the way. Oh well, it was a fun learning experience. We also watched the butchering of a chicken at school today, and we cooked tortillas over firewood. We’re not used to the sting of firewood smoke on our eyes, so we had to take turns cooking the food. It took all day to cook one meal, but it was rewarding at the end to eat the first meal we cooked by ourselves, Tanzanian style. Lack of sanitation is something I’ll have to get used to here. I cringed the first time I saw how the dishes were washed. There’s no special bacteria killing soap, just soap that gets sudsy. This same soap is also used for washing clothes and bathing. Cold water is used to wash dishes and often time the water isn’t too clean itself. Seeing that the knife used to cut the chicken was washed in this fashion was not too comforting. My body’s immune system will definitely have some adjusting to do.
During our Swahili lessons, kids from the village press their faces next to the school windows or door to observe us strange-looking foreigners. We are actually the first white people to live in Kibanda, and the first volunteers for our host families. The kids often roll oranges into our classroom while Mwalimu (teacher) Kondo is teaching. The kids greet us every day which helps us become faster with our greeting responses. We also sing Swahili and English songs with the kids whenever they stopped by to watch us.
I’ve made several funny Kiswahili errors this week. I told people at the Kibanda bus stop that I had to go back to school because I left my onions. I meant to say books. I also was reading out loud in the health section of my Swahili book and Baba was around helping me pronounce things correctly. There was one phrase I thought I just couldn’t get right because he kept giving me a confused look. I then looked at the English translation of what I was saying and realized I had repeatedly asked my Baba for a condom.
July 8, 2009
Tonight Baba mentioned he wanted to come to America to work for my dad. That explains why he had been asking me about the prices of an airplane ticket and car in America. I think he’s actually serious. He said he would just go to America and leave his family here. This was a bit unsettling to me. Life is so hard here that he’d be willing to be a continent away from his family, to work and earn money, and send it back to his family.
July 11, 2009
Here are some observations I jotted down in case I forget to mention them later on. I’m already becoming so accustomed to life here that I forget how new and unusual things first seemed to me.
• People here eat with their right hand. Left hand is for choo use only. It’s extremely offensive if you shake someone’s hand with your left or give a gift with your left hand. It’s custom to pour water over just the right hand before eating. Spoons are sometimes used in the village but most people in bigger cities use spoons.
• I’ve landed in a tropical fruit heaven. Almost every day kids bring us PCTs oranges. Most of the farmers in Muheza region (Kibanda village is in Muheza region) rely on oranges for profit. The oranges are actually green on the outside but orange and juicy in the inside. People eat oranges by cutting the rind but leaving enough skin so you can eat the orange like a small bowl. This way the orange seems much more juicy and sweeter without eating so much of the skin fibers. There are also papaya, bananas, passion fruit, sour sop, jack fruit, coconuts, pears, pineapple, mango, etc. I’ve never seen these fruit trees before, so it’s brand new for me to be surrounded by fruit trees and to be able to go outside and pick off fruit fresh from any tree. As Americans, we often have no clue where our grocery produce comes from or how it’s grown. Here in TZ, any small child can tell you how corn grows or which fruit grows on what tree.
• Today I got to observe Kaka (brother) Omari climb up a huge coconut tree near the house and hack down about ten coconuts. It was incredible how easily he could move up the length of the tree while carrying a machete in his hand.
• Here are a few of the emotions I’ve been going through recently. So far I’ve been so extremely occupied with learning Swahili that I haven’t had much time to think. I’ve had moments of homesickness and wonder if I’ll ever make it here for 2 years. Going home seems so easy right now and I catch myself thinking of the different illnesses or disasters that would make this possible. Yet I try not to think of going home as an option because I know deep down this is where I belong for now. Besides, I’d never forgive myself if I gave up so easily. How else will I grow and learn if I’m not challenged? I’ve also been stressing myself out trying to learn at the same pace as my CBT peers. I need to remember what my country director, Andrea, said about all us trainees being different kinds of fruits and we will all learn Swahili at our own pace. Therefore, it is pointless to compare myself with others.
• Woman here are not afraid to expose their breasts when breastfeeding their child. Breasts are not as sexualized as they are in the states. It will take some getting used to seeing women exposed like this, but I appreciate they see breasts for the purpose of nourishing their children.
• I’ve noticed I’ve gradually adapted to sharing the choo with large insects. Now it’s just a matter of counting them to see how many will be sharing choo time with me. I dread the day when I meet my first large spider or snake. There have been rats in the house but they seem to stay on the rafters. Baba (host father) called them ‘rabbits’ in English.
• I’ve been eating fish (head, tail and all) almost every day. I never thought I’d be able to eat scales and dried fish. Now it’s just a part of a normal meal.
• I often have to use the choo during the middle of the night. Baba calls it my “emergency choo”. This is the only time I miss having a western toilet inside. However, the night sky is always so beautiful and the weather is perfect at night (it’s their cold season right now). I swear the moon and stars are much bigger and brighter than in America. Might be difference of pollution, but also because I’m right on the equator. I’ll have to do some research…
• There are no pedestrian rights here. The main highway goes through my host family’s village, Kibanda. I constantly hear honking of vehicles warning people to clear the way because the driver doesn’t waste time slowing down. David (in my CBT) thinks the bus horns sound like a noise off of Play Station Warrior Princess. The noise of the horn is high pitched and animated like a video game. About a week ago a girl was hit on the road right by the school. She lived through it but her arm was broken. I’m amazed more accidents don’t happen because the vehicles here don’t slow down at all!
• Houses are mainly made out of the dark orange soil here with a grass roof. I live in one of the few houses with actual brick and concrete for walls and floor, and metal sheet roofing. There’s almost a college dormitory atmosphere in the village because of the frequency of neighbors visiting. Most villagers don’t have the distractions of TVs or electronics, so they socialize more with people around them. Tanzanians love to greet. At least 2-5 minutes of a conversation is just greetings. People here rarely answer a greeting negatively, like ‘how are you’ by saying things aren’t okay. Even if they’re lying on the bed sick, they’ll answer ‘I’m alright’ or ‘I’ve been better.”
• Food here is about the same every day: rice or ugali, beans, spinach, and sometimes meat (fish, goat, beef, chicken, and pork). Chai is a very important part of Tanzanian custom. People in Tanga like their chai spicy. Chai is a mix of cinnamon, cardamom, and black pepper. Most Tanzanians drink chai in the early morning, and later at 10 am along with chapatti (a greasy tortilla) and mandazi (a sugarless fried doughnut). Lunch is at 1 pm and usually consists of ugali, dagaa (dried sardines), and some sort of greens. White rice is mostly eaten by the wealthy, especially during the evening meal around 7-9 pm.
• The soda here is really sweet because of the unrefined sugar cane. Soda mostly comes in glass bottles and all bottles are sent back to the pop company to refill and redistribute…and hopefully the bottle is cleaned beforehand.
• My family, especially Baba, is extremely protective of me. I always have to apologize and explain whenever I come home a little later than expected. I don’t mind having such a protective family; at least I know they care about me. I feel so well cared for, actually spoiled. I always have a kaka (brother) or dada (sister) offering me a chair or helping me with small household tasks. I hardly do any work here besides wash my own laundry, and they even help me with that. Although, after a full day of Swahili lessons, I get home around 5pm and I feel completely exhausted.
• I actually don’t even think about how I’m living without electricity or running water. It will probably be more obvious when I’m on my own and have to do house chores all by myself.
• Babies here spend most of their immobile life strapped in a khanga behind their mother’s back. Babies seem to sleep through anything even when their mama is working in the field or cooking next to the fire. The babies have access to their mother’s breasts anytime. I rarely notice a baby crying because it’s always held by someone in the family. It’s amazing how strong the women are here. I often see women balancing a large bucket of water or stack of firewood on their heads with a baby strapped on back, and sometimes even a hoe or another bucket of water in their hands. I remember being so disgusted in class one day when I watched a woman pass by with a huge load of firewood on her head and she was carrying a baby. Her husband just walked next to her….carrying nothing!
• Every morning I wake up around 6:20 am because that’s when the roosters start their morning ritual outside my window. Ducks, goats, and chickens roam the town as if they own it. However, they all seem to remember where their home is, and they return each night….unless a thief or another animal manages to grab some of the livestock.
• The walking pace here is so much slower than what I’m used to in America’s fast paced culture. I think it’s because it’s impossible to walk fast in a khanga. However, people here seem to believe they own time. There’s always tomorrow if they don’t get something done today. There is a saying “Americans have watches, but Tanzanians have time”. Tanzanians believe people are more important than work, so time is always made for greetings and socializing. TIA = This Is Africa….what my Swahili teacher always says when explaining why things are the way they are here.
• I love that I’ll hear the most random American pop or country songs. I don’t even know where they get some of this stuff. People here don’t even know what the lyrics are but they sing to it anyway. It’s so good to hear familiar music. It’s almost creepy how much influence America has on the rest of the world and we don’t even realize it living in the states. I’ve met people from all over the world, and many of them seem to know more about the US than what some US citizens know about their own country. Michael Jackson, Obama, and Bob Marley are icons here. There are t-shirts, flashlights, shoes and bags with these guys’ faces on it.
• Apparently there is nothing wrong with picking your nose here. I see people do it all the time in public.
July 12, 2009
This morning I woke up to yelling outside my window. I looked out of the window near my bed to find myself staring at a pair of long black legs of a completely naked man standing on the top of the stalled car in front of my family’s home. Apparently the man had some mental issues and just happened to strip right in front of my window. Neighbors surrounded him and told him to move or they’d hit him with a stick or get the police. They also somewhat helped the man dress himself. At first I was extremely startled and a bit scared of what this man might do. However I then realized he was harmless and I was able to see the humor in this situation.
July 15, 2009
I had my site placement interview with my Environment APCD (Assistant Program Coordinator Director), Eliguard. He asked me questions about my skills, interests, and weather and location preferences. I hope I answered these questions clearly enough so he can match me well with my site for two years. I’ve been studying like crazy for the Swahili mid exam tomorrow. I’m not too worried about not passing, but I’d rather not be last in my group.
July 16, 2009
Today was pretty good. I’m done with the Swahili mid-term oral and written exam. I don’t think I did too shabby. PC staff provided snacks as a way of rewarding us for getting through half of training. I ate cheese, crackers, and oatmeal cookies which tasted so much better than I ever remember them being in America. It’s crazy how much you crave familiar foods, even foods you didn’t care so much about in the states.
It’s pretty awesome how much my host family cares about me. They must have known how stressed I was with taking the exam today. They told me they prayed for me to do well on the exam and were all anxious to know how I did. Baba has been pushing me to improve my Swahili. Every night, after eating supper, Baba asks me to describe in Swahili my American and Tanzanian families over and over until I get it right. The rest of my poor family has to sit and listen to me stutter over the same stories, explaining each of my family members’ names and ages. My whole family is incredibly patient with my language learning process, especially Baba. Before I left this morning, he made sure I knew that he hoped I’d do well on the exam.
July 17, 2009
As part of our one retreat during training, all of us trainees spent the weekend at Pangoni Beach at the Tented Lodge run by a former PCV and her husband. The resort is on the Indian Ocean, only a few hours from my host family’s place. I stayed in the couple’s original house and it was amazing: electricity, running water, and the most gorgeous view of the Indian Ocean next to land full of palm trees. It felt so good to have privacy again, to not have people constantly watch and study us. The food was amazing as well. Never has cheese, omelets, and sausage tasted so good. And freshly squeezed orange juice! On the way back to Kibanda, we stopped by Amboni Cave. Our guided tour was pretty ridiculous, but the cave was cool.
July 20, 2009
Ate a record amount of oranges today…7+ I think
I’m about half way through training and I’ve realized how much I adore my host family and vice versa. Baba asked if I’d be happy to leave and I told them I know I’ll be a bit heartbroken when I have to leave the comforts of their home. I’ve gotten so comfortable with my family, I almost prefer staying at home rather than going to class everyday with other PCTs. However, I am ready for more independence and to be done with training. It’s been wonderful having these people here care for me. I’m sure I provided a great source of entertainment for my family with all my new discoveries and blunders. I think Tanzanians are generally friendly and accepting of wazungu (white foreigners) especially Americans, thanks to our African American celebrities and our president.
Today the ladies at the water pump asked if I put oil in my hair. They kept touching my hair and couldn’t get over how thin and soft my hair was. I’ve also had kids touch my skin, like they don’t believe it’s real or they think my skin might feel different than theirs. I don’t mind their curiosity. I realize I’m the first white person many of the children and villagers have seen.
July 22, 2009
It’s funny how people think the weather here is cold. The coolest the temps get is maybe 70s. Yet people still bust out heavy winter coats and stocking caps.
July 26, 2009
Last night I saw my first large rodent in the choo. I would have run out screaming but I was in the middle of bathing.
It made me feel especially good last night when Baba said I’m really one of his children. He said this because I told him he didn’t need to pay for a lantern glass that I broke because he had enough to worry about supporting his kids. Baba just laughed at this and said I AM one of his kids.
It’s strange to think about Tara (my cousin) and Jake getting married yesterday. America seems so far away. It feels funny knowing the whole family was involved in something and I was the only one not there. Speaking of weddings, I constantly get asked if I’m married or have a boyfriend. I’ve learned that the best thing to do is lie whenever it’s a guy asking. However, sometimes that doesn’t work because men tell me ‘he doesn’t have to know’.
My choo flip flops are missing. First item stolen in Tanzania…
Today I went to Muheza with Mama, Kaka (brother) Athmid, and Dada (sister) Mwanaima. We walked all the way there, about 3km and little mama carried Kaka Athmid (he’s a large 1 year old) on her back for most of the way until I realized how tired she was and then I carried him. Mama bought me 3 gifts: lantern glass, flip flops, and a scrunchy. On the way home we took a daladala (a small van with no capacity limit). I sat next to five women stuffed in the back and a chicken. Mama crammed into the seat in front of me and still found room to breastfeed Kaka Athmid.
It’s interesting how children can just run around the village and the parents don’t have to worry about their kids’ safety. The whole village is responsible for the children’s safety, so everyone helps each other. Yesterday a couple came to the house to tell my Baba (he’s a village chairman) that their neighbor was not sending his 9 yr old boy to school. Baba then documented this and went to talk to the boy’s father.
Mama is the one who does the most housework in the family. She’s usually up around 6 am mopping, sweeping, and getting chai ready. The kids help her get things done as well. I feel kind of bad because she always prepares chai and eggs early in the morning just for me because I leave for Swahili lessons. Women don’t get the recognition they deserve with all that they do for their family. The men are the ones that do “real work” because they bring the money in. Yet that’s not always true because sometimes women bring in the income.
I’ve started to realize why it’s so difficult for villagers to be open to changes and new alternatives to better their livelihoods. Most people here are stuck in survival mode, so all they can think about is today and maybe tomorrow. Many families have to worry about the most basic essential in life, such as water. There is just no extra money to be spent to experiment with new farming techniques or invest in a business. Very few farmers harvest enough to sell; most crops are used for family consumption.
June 13, 2009
Today was hopefully the hardest part of Peace Corps – saying goodbye. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to part from my family and the world I knew. I couldn’t even say the word ‘goodbye’ to Teddy (family dog) without getting all choked up. I was running on very little sleep since I spent the entire night packing, paying off credit card bills, and other last minute errands. Time went so fast from when I found out I was accepted into Peace Corps (end of April) to boarding the plane June 13th. I had very little time to really think about what I was getting into. I just busied myself with putting music and photos together and ordering shoes, bags, and solar items online. It was probably a good thing I didn’t have the time to psych myself out about living in a third world country for two years with rough living conditions and a completely unfamiliar culture and language. I had been putting off the thought of saying goodbye to loved ones because I knew it would be painful. So reality hit hard when I stood at the security entrance of the Omaha airport seeing my family lined up and knowing they couldn’t go with me any further. A lot of tears, hugs, and last minute goodbyes and I was off. I’m sure I had people in the airport and on the plane wondering what sort of tragedy happened to me because I looked like an emotional mess; bright red, swollen eyes and lots of loud sniffling. On top of these emotions, I was also nervous about flying by myself for the first time. I felt some relief when I found my second flight in Chicago airport with no problem. I then landed in Philadelphia and hopped onto a shuttle to take me to the Holiday Inn for my two day orientation with 36 of my cohorts. On the way to the hotel one man in the front seat of the hotel van became extremely interested in my role as a Peace Corps volunteer and asked what sort of projects I had in mind. He suggested looking into solar energy such as solar ovens and then he slipped me his card as he got off at his hotel. I was amazed I was already getting offers from Americans to help me with my projects even before I left the country, and this man happened to be the vice-president of Greyhound’s Safety and Security.
It was late by the time I reached the hotel and I just collapsed on my bed. After calling mom to reassure her I made it to Philadelphia alive, I took a long hot shower knowing it could be my very last real luxurious shower I’d have in two years. Just as I was about to go to bed, my roommate walked in after coming back from eating with a group of volunteers who arrived a day early as well. She introduced herself as Allison and right away I felt relief knowing I finally met another person who had the same kind of questions and uncertainty about the journey ahead of us. After we finished talking, I went to bed wondering what tomorrow would bring as my first day as a Peace Corp trainee.
June 14, 2009
The two day training in Philadelphia was mainly to clear up our fears and concerns, review Peace Corps goals, and get to know our Peace Corps family of two years. The first thing we did as Peace Corps trainees was hand in all the paperwork we had been holding onto for months and even years for some. I was one of the lucky volunteers because I sent in my essays, recommendations, references, country preferences, and overall application in October 2008 and was nominated right away. However, I didn’t find out until April 2009, just a few weeks before graduating from UNK, that I had been accepted as a Peace Corps Trainee in Tanzania, Africa. The time in between Oct 08 - April 09 was filled with medical, dental, and legal appointments. Fortunately my health and legal background was clean, so paperwork went through a lot faster. On average, it takes one year to finish the application process. While waiting in line in front of our conference room, I eagerly began introducing myself and learning new names and memorizing faces. I was glad to meet a bunch of young, enthusiastic people with similar feelings of anxiety, concern, adventure, and excitement. Everyone seemed to be flexible, laid back, and had a good sense of humor. There were 36 of us volunteers all together. Our group consisted of two extensions: Health and Environment. I was in the environment extension mainly because of my experience working on the farm. Most of the people in my group were single and in their 20’s-30’s, with the exception of an older Colorado couple and a young Wisconsin couple, and a few mid 30-40s volunteers and one older man in his 60s. Later on, after almost a month of language training, I found out that the young married guy was actually a distant cousin on my dad’s side. About a month later, I got news from my Grandma that I had yet another family member in Tanzania, Sister Andrea, a nun who has lived in Tanzania for 50 years! Talk about a small world! Knowing I had real family in such an unfamiliar and foreign country was very comforting and I felt like it was a sign from above that I was in the right place.
June 15, 2009
After the two orientation days in Philadelphia, it was time to board the bus and make our way to the JFK airport in New York City. Before I left Philadelphia, I made a quick trip to visit the Liberty Bell. Unfortunately I didn’t have the appetite to taste my first real Philly cheese steak sandwich, although I did take advantage of savoring my last cup of Starbucks coffee before I left.
Time seemed to really blur during our several day journey to Tanzania. On the bus to NYC, it was eerily quiet. I remember studying the faces of the other PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) around me wondering whether they were thinking forward to what lay ahead or if they were replaying their goodbyes and memories from home. I could almost imagine what soldiers must feel when they go off to fight/work in a foreign country. The sense of leaving so much at home and not knowing what lies ahead is an incredibly scary yet somewhat exciting leap of facing the complete unknown. At least I knew I would never have to pick up a gun and kill anyone. All I was nervous about was the adjustment to the culture, language, and living on my own for two years. Just the drive to New York was new and fascinating to me. I had never been to the northeast, so being able to zip through several states in a short time span baffled me. I couldn’t get over the fast pace of New York and the size of the towering skyscrapers. I began to understand why so many of my fellow PCTs were surprised that a small town Nebraska girl somehow made her way into Peace Corps. I was already experiencing culture shock before I left the states, thanks to New York!
The wait at the JFK airport was uncomfortable for many of us. Several of us worried about whether we packed over the luggage weight limit and we gravely waited to hear we had to rid our bags of several heavy items or pay an additional fee. One of the girls, Megan, was told her ticket had been refunded and there wasn’t a seat left on the plane for her. After an hour, Megan’s ticket crisis was solved, our luggage all went through, and we anxiously waited to board the plane. This was the last time we could call our loved ones at home and say goodbye. A few volunteers had brought their American cell phones with them for this purpose. The volunteers who had boyfriends or girlfriends at home seemed to take the final phone goodbye the hardest. I was relieved I didn’t have to deal with that extra stress. A group of volunteers immediately found a bar in order to cheer up one of the women in my group who took parting from America pretty hard.
After boarding the plane, we soon realized we were missing another volunteer. Announcements in the plane and airport were made, but there was no sign of the volunteer. Apparently he got cold feet and decided the last minute not to join the Peace Corps. The plane was delayed two hours because this volunteer’s luggage had to be taken off and then we had to wait in a long line of departing planes to take off.
The KML British Airline flights were LONG but not too uncomfortable. It took 6.5 hours to get to Amsterdam and then 11hrs to arrive in Dar es Saalam, Tanzania. I had enjoyable conversations with a Swedish grad student and a California missionary on their way to TZ. I also watched several movies (each passenger had their own TV screen and large movie selection) knowing it would be awhile until I’d have the chance to watch movies again.
June 16, 2009
I have no idea what time we actually arrived in Dar es Salaam (capital of Tanzania), but I knew it was late judging by the darkness outside (around midnight). My stomach jumped when I realized I was in AFRICA and this country called Tanzania would be my home for two years. I had no idea what was said over the plane’s loud speakers, but knew I had just heard the foreign language, Swahili, which I was expected to know in just a few months. It was too much to comprehend and I was already so exhausted from the sleepless night of packing, the painful goodbye and already beginning feelings of homesickness, and of course, the long flight. The first thing I noticed when stepping off the plane was how unusually warm and humid the night air was. The humidity was so thick, it stuck to our bodies. We were warmly greeted by Peace Corps staff as soon as we made it into the airport. More paperwork was passed around, something or other needed signatures and we did what we were told. Then the long luggage wait was next. Each volunteer breathed a sigh of relief after claiming all of their bags. We then loaded a bus that took us to Msimbazi Center, a Dar hostel run by nuns. Apples, water, and pop were handed out and we shook the hands of Tanzanian Peace Corps staff and fumbled with repeating unfamiliar Muslim and Tanzanian names. After a brief introduction and welcome we all were given room keys and drug our luggage up the stairs. It totally made sense now why PC had warned us not to bring more than we could carry. I then crawled under my first mosquito net and drifted off into a deep sleep.
June 17, 2009
It wasn’t too difficult for me to wake up. I woke up very uncomfortable with the incredibly thick, hot humidity. I also was completely off with my sleeping schedule. Tanzania is 8 hours ahead of time in Nebraska, and it was just mind boggling to me that I was starting a completely new day while my family back home was just finishing up yesterday. I woke up first at 4:30 am due to the Muslim call to prayer. It was so foreign to me. The language and style of singing was so new to me. I don’t really remember much about the one week training in Dar. All I can remember is how thankful I was to get a preview of what the few months as a PCT held. We did do brief language training (mainly greetings), went over safety/security, and did some cultural training. We also got advice from PCVs one year before us (Peace Corps sends a new group of health/environment and education volunteers to TZ every year) about their experiences with their host families. Before we left America we were informed we would spend 3 months of training living with a Tanzanian host family and train with a group of 4-5 other PCVs living in the same village studying Swahili and Tanzanian culture every day. This style of language learning is called Community Based Training (CBT). Every Friday, all the CBTs would get together at an agriculture education center (MATI) close to our host families’ villages to go over medical, technical, and safety and security issues. I remember feeling both excited yet extremely nervous when my named was called out and I was given the name of my Baba (father) and Mama. I had no idea what to expect but I was excited to live with a Tanzanian family and experience a completely different life and culture.
June …., 2009 (by this time I had already lost track of what day it was)
Leaving Dar was the first time I actually saw Dar. When we first arrived by plane, it was too dark to see anything. Then we stayed behind the safe walls of the Msimbazi Center, a hostel run by nuns, for our first week of training. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes away from what lay outside the bus windows. The men were pulling huge baskets full of fruit on their bikes and boys scurried around stopped traffic selling newspapers, boiled eggs, water, and fruit. I saw women in cloth wraps for the first time, many with their heads covered. Yet I couldn’t get over how many Tanzanians were dressed in western style clothes. A lot of kids were wearing t-shirts with English words, a lot of times with some grammatical error…hence, why the t-shirt ended up in TZ. I noticed a distinct diversion of wealth and poverty. Men and women in business suits walked right next to people wearing only dirty rags. I also saw the odd mix of western, modern culture with traditional culture. I found it so strange to see the nomadic herders, Maasai, walk among stalled traffic and towering business buildings. The Maasai are easy to distinguish because they wear red/purple checkered sheets and tire shoes and they decorate themselves with thick strands of small beads. Most Maasai are in Dar to sell beaded jewelry to tourists. I saw advertisements in an unfamiliar language and brands and items I had never seen before. I was really surprised when I noticed how large the women were in the advertisements/billboards. I’ve been in America so long that I just assumed people all over the world thought being thin was most attractive. However, in TZ, if you’re big you’re attractive (not obese) because you obviously have wealth to eat well and you’re not sickly. I also couldn’t get over the poor living conditions. All the houses seemed so small and dirty. The amount of trash scattered around was sickening. The strong smells and pollution was too much. Cities always have intimidated me just because of the fast pace, mass amount of people, and traffic. I was so glad to get out of Dar.
The sights changed quite a bit once we got out into the country. Most villages we drove past consisted of mud huts. Bright colors of fruit and vegetable produce could be seen lined up on rickety wooden stands. The landscape was beautiful; bright green trees and tall grass, with a few big hills in the distance. I experienced my first “dig for medicine” which is how Tanzanians say bathroom break. Bathroom breaks consist of the bus pulling over to the side of the road to let the passengers find a place to relieve themselves. Often a side for men and one for women is designated and people hurriedly get their business done before the bus leaves them. It took awhile for me to get used to the lack of privacy with this sort of bathroom break. There are no convenience shops that the buses stop at for bathroom breaks or to grab snacks. Most gas stations just sell fuel, and villagers sell food to bus passengers whenever the bus slows down briefly or stops. The most common food items sold are roasted/boiled corn, fried doughnuts (maandazi), hushpuppies (bagia), fried pastry with meat or potatoes, large french fries (chipsi), fried cassava, cashews, peanuts, bananas, and a whole assortment of fruit depending on the season. At first I was really intimidated by all the people outside my bus window shouting and pushing food and other goods up to my window (clothes, jewelry, woven baskets, etc). However, now that I understand how to order and barter down the price, it’s a nice convenience that I might actually miss in America. Although, I don’t think I’ll miss the extra attention I get for being white nor the times when I get cheated by paying a much higher price because my white skin color automatically registers to Tanzanian vendors that I have money.
Finally we reached our destination, Muheza, Tanga. Lush, green, and beautiful tall mountains in the background, Muheza was breathtaking.
June …., 2009
The first day with my host family was quite interesting to say the least. I traveled with the four other PCVs in my Kibanda village CBT (community based training group), and another CBT group in a village nearby. I was so anxious, scared and excited. I didn’t know if my host family stay would be absolutely awesome or if it would be terrifying and the longest 9 weeks of my life. It was so funny watching each individual volunteer getting dropped off in front of a worn down house with a huge crowd of children, adults, and elders waiting to see what this strange white vehicle was bringing into their village. The rest of us volunteers in the van chuckled nervously at how ridiculously frightened and helpless each volunteer looked standing out as the only white person and looking completely out of place. The host families were selected by Peace Corps, and they had to go through a few trainings so they understood about food and water sanitation, healthy balance of meals, and a little background about American culture and what to expect from us volunteers. Peace Corps also did a house check with each of our families to make sure we had our own bedroom, and a decent choo (toilet).
The Peace Corps van then drove into my village, Kibanda, and stopped in front of a house with a beat up car stripped of its tires and a large black man in a white beater sitting down with his arms crossed. I crossed my fingers hoping it was the home of one of the other 4 volunteers in my group. Then I heard my name, and I found myself outside the van, surrounded by my overstuffed luggage bags, and big black men and children carrying my stuff inside. I was warned that the first night at homestay would most likely be the most awkward moment of my life. I didn’t know any Swahili besides ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m full’, and they did not speak any English. My host mama showed me my room and we set all my things in there. Then I sat in the living room with mama and dada (sister) Mwanaima, just looking at each other and the ground. After awhile mama went out to start supper, and I went outside to sit on the cement porch ledge. In just seconds I had a swarm of children around me. I was in the middle of at least 6 kids deep. I decided to get my pictures out to have something for them to stare at besides me. For each picture the kids pointed and told me what each thing was in Swahili. I tried to repeat the words back which greatly amused the kids and usually initiated a giggle fit. Afterwards I busted out a map, laid it out on the broken down car, and pointed to America and then Nebraska, and then traced the journey with my finger to show how I got to Tanzania. I knew no Swahili to explain anything. Instead I just used actions, facial expressions, nods, and repeated what kids told me when I pointed to something. I also played Frisbee with the kids until Baba said it was time to eat. As a welcome gesture, Baba butchered a chicken. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to watch the chicken being killed or not. We sat on a mat set on the ground, me, mama, and baba. I was relieved when they gave me a spoon and they didn’t force me to eat more than I wanted. I had heard from previous volunteers that their host families loaded more food on their plate then they could handle. My baba actually told me it was “self service” (a word I’m sure he asked one of his brothers who work in the city, therefore they know some English) so I could dish what I wanted on my plate. The meal was delicious and I instantly fell in love with mama’s coconut rice. The kids ate outside on a mat, which they did every night. That evening I had my first bucket bath in the outdoor choo (toliet). I couldn’t see if the water I was using was very clean or not because I only had a kerosene lantern. However, I was grateful mama heated up the water, which she did every time. The biggest struggle I had that first night was getting over the abundant cockroaches that crawled out from the choo hole. I used to smash all the cockroaches before I would begin to take my bath. Ha, my family must have thought I was crazy because I’m sure I made loud grunting sounds during my cockroach killing sprees. It also probably looked pretty silly with all the cockroaches mashed into the choo walls. Finally it was time to go to bed. I went into my bedroom, so happy I had all the curious eyes off me.
The next morning I woke up around 5:30 am thanks to an extremely obnoxious rooster near my window. I felt good about myself that I made it through possibly one of the hardest days, the first day of homestay. I then moved my pillow over out from underneath my head and there it was…a large, black cockroach crawling right next to my face. I made sure after that to always tuck my mosquito net tight around my mattress.
July 4, 2009
All PCTs and language teachers met up at MATI (agriculture training center) to celebrate our America Independence Day. Games of frisbee, volleyball, soccer and just laying out in the sun were a big treat. The boys had a khanga (cloth wrap worn around women’s waist) race which was very funny watching how awkward the guys tied on the khangas; probably how most of us female PCT looked like when we first learned how to wear a khanga. It was a big treat for us to have soda, cookies, watermelon and candy. Already we were sick of our daily diet of rice and beans and ugali (a thick, tasteless corn porridge). At the end of the day we got together for a group picture and sang the national anthem with the American flag flying behind us. It’s funny how a person takes more pride in their home country when they’re away from it. Many of the volunteers seemed to look at their home country with a different perspective today.
When I got back to my host family’s house, I had to apologize to Baba for being later than usual. He was worried something happened and he’s very protective of me. After we ate dinner that night I shared some pop rocks I got from the Fourth of July celebration. It was a lot of fun watching my host parents and sibling’s surprised reaction because of the popping sound and funny feeling on their tongues from the pop rocks. I also used my windup flashlight for the first time around them. They were very impressed that I didn’t need a battery and Baba really studied it for awhile.
July 7, 2009
It’s about 30 minutes before another day of school and I’m trying to prepare myself for another challenging day of Kiswahili. I have a great language training group. There are three of us girls, two guys, and our Swahili instructor. We get excellent one-on-one attention and it’s nice to have a small group to learn together. We also have the best view of the mountains and lush greenery outside of our classroom. Our school cooks, Sophia and Amina, are also great! They carry the food on their heads to feed us every day (except for Sunday, that’s the only free day) for chai at 10 am and lunch at 1 pm. Their food is delicious and they’ve slowly introduced us to all the different types of fruits, vegetables, and meat dishes.
Lately I’ve been hauling water on top of my head. It’s about a 20-30 minute round trip to the water pump and back to my host family’s house. It was quite an amusing sight for the villagers today when the five of us PCTs fetched water for our school choo. We laughed at ourselves at how ridiculously awkward we looked toting water on our heads and spilling on ourselves all the way. Oh well, it was a fun learning experience. We also watched the butchering of a chicken at school today, and we cooked tortillas over firewood. We’re not used to the sting of firewood smoke on our eyes, so we had to take turns cooking the food. It took all day to cook one meal, but it was rewarding at the end to eat the first meal we cooked by ourselves, Tanzanian style. Lack of sanitation is something I’ll have to get used to here. I cringed the first time I saw how the dishes were washed. There’s no special bacteria killing soap, just soap that gets sudsy. This same soap is also used for washing clothes and bathing. Cold water is used to wash dishes and often time the water isn’t too clean itself. Seeing that the knife used to cut the chicken was washed in this fashion was not too comforting. My body’s immune system will definitely have some adjusting to do.
During our Swahili lessons, kids from the village press their faces next to the school windows or door to observe us strange-looking foreigners. We are actually the first white people to live in Kibanda, and the first volunteers for our host families. The kids often roll oranges into our classroom while Mwalimu (teacher) Kondo is teaching. The kids greet us every day which helps us become faster with our greeting responses. We also sing Swahili and English songs with the kids whenever they stopped by to watch us.
I’ve made several funny Kiswahili errors this week. I told people at the Kibanda bus stop that I had to go back to school because I left my onions. I meant to say books. I also was reading out loud in the health section of my Swahili book and Baba was around helping me pronounce things correctly. There was one phrase I thought I just couldn’t get right because he kept giving me a confused look. I then looked at the English translation of what I was saying and realized I had repeatedly asked my Baba for a condom.
July 8, 2009
Tonight Baba mentioned he wanted to come to America to work for my dad. That explains why he had been asking me about the prices of an airplane ticket and car in America. I think he’s actually serious. He said he would just go to America and leave his family here. This was a bit unsettling to me. Life is so hard here that he’d be willing to be a continent away from his family, to work and earn money, and send it back to his family.
July 11, 2009
Here are some observations I jotted down in case I forget to mention them later on. I’m already becoming so accustomed to life here that I forget how new and unusual things first seemed to me.
• People here eat with their right hand. Left hand is for choo use only. It’s extremely offensive if you shake someone’s hand with your left or give a gift with your left hand. It’s custom to pour water over just the right hand before eating. Spoons are sometimes used in the village but most people in bigger cities use spoons.
• I’ve landed in a tropical fruit heaven. Almost every day kids bring us PCTs oranges. Most of the farmers in Muheza region (Kibanda village is in Muheza region) rely on oranges for profit. The oranges are actually green on the outside but orange and juicy in the inside. People eat oranges by cutting the rind but leaving enough skin so you can eat the orange like a small bowl. This way the orange seems much more juicy and sweeter without eating so much of the skin fibers. There are also papaya, bananas, passion fruit, sour sop, jack fruit, coconuts, pears, pineapple, mango, etc. I’ve never seen these fruit trees before, so it’s brand new for me to be surrounded by fruit trees and to be able to go outside and pick off fruit fresh from any tree. As Americans, we often have no clue where our grocery produce comes from or how it’s grown. Here in TZ, any small child can tell you how corn grows or which fruit grows on what tree.
• Today I got to observe Kaka (brother) Omari climb up a huge coconut tree near the house and hack down about ten coconuts. It was incredible how easily he could move up the length of the tree while carrying a machete in his hand.
• Here are a few of the emotions I’ve been going through recently. So far I’ve been so extremely occupied with learning Swahili that I haven’t had much time to think. I’ve had moments of homesickness and wonder if I’ll ever make it here for 2 years. Going home seems so easy right now and I catch myself thinking of the different illnesses or disasters that would make this possible. Yet I try not to think of going home as an option because I know deep down this is where I belong for now. Besides, I’d never forgive myself if I gave up so easily. How else will I grow and learn if I’m not challenged? I’ve also been stressing myself out trying to learn at the same pace as my CBT peers. I need to remember what my country director, Andrea, said about all us trainees being different kinds of fruits and we will all learn Swahili at our own pace. Therefore, it is pointless to compare myself with others.
• Woman here are not afraid to expose their breasts when breastfeeding their child. Breasts are not as sexualized as they are in the states. It will take some getting used to seeing women exposed like this, but I appreciate they see breasts for the purpose of nourishing their children.
• I’ve noticed I’ve gradually adapted to sharing the choo with large insects. Now it’s just a matter of counting them to see how many will be sharing choo time with me. I dread the day when I meet my first large spider or snake. There have been rats in the house but they seem to stay on the rafters. Baba (host father) called them ‘rabbits’ in English.
• I’ve been eating fish (head, tail and all) almost every day. I never thought I’d be able to eat scales and dried fish. Now it’s just a part of a normal meal.
• I often have to use the choo during the middle of the night. Baba calls it my “emergency choo”. This is the only time I miss having a western toilet inside. However, the night sky is always so beautiful and the weather is perfect at night (it’s their cold season right now). I swear the moon and stars are much bigger and brighter than in America. Might be difference of pollution, but also because I’m right on the equator. I’ll have to do some research…
• There are no pedestrian rights here. The main highway goes through my host family’s village, Kibanda. I constantly hear honking of vehicles warning people to clear the way because the driver doesn’t waste time slowing down. David (in my CBT) thinks the bus horns sound like a noise off of Play Station Warrior Princess. The noise of the horn is high pitched and animated like a video game. About a week ago a girl was hit on the road right by the school. She lived through it but her arm was broken. I’m amazed more accidents don’t happen because the vehicles here don’t slow down at all!
• Houses are mainly made out of the dark orange soil here with a grass roof. I live in one of the few houses with actual brick and concrete for walls and floor, and metal sheet roofing. There’s almost a college dormitory atmosphere in the village because of the frequency of neighbors visiting. Most villagers don’t have the distractions of TVs or electronics, so they socialize more with people around them. Tanzanians love to greet. At least 2-5 minutes of a conversation is just greetings. People here rarely answer a greeting negatively, like ‘how are you’ by saying things aren’t okay. Even if they’re lying on the bed sick, they’ll answer ‘I’m alright’ or ‘I’ve been better.”
• Food here is about the same every day: rice or ugali, beans, spinach, and sometimes meat (fish, goat, beef, chicken, and pork). Chai is a very important part of Tanzanian custom. People in Tanga like their chai spicy. Chai is a mix of cinnamon, cardamom, and black pepper. Most Tanzanians drink chai in the early morning, and later at 10 am along with chapatti (a greasy tortilla) and mandazi (a sugarless fried doughnut). Lunch is at 1 pm and usually consists of ugali, dagaa (dried sardines), and some sort of greens. White rice is mostly eaten by the wealthy, especially during the evening meal around 7-9 pm.
• The soda here is really sweet because of the unrefined sugar cane. Soda mostly comes in glass bottles and all bottles are sent back to the pop company to refill and redistribute…and hopefully the bottle is cleaned beforehand.
• My family, especially Baba, is extremely protective of me. I always have to apologize and explain whenever I come home a little later than expected. I don’t mind having such a protective family; at least I know they care about me. I feel so well cared for, actually spoiled. I always have a kaka (brother) or dada (sister) offering me a chair or helping me with small household tasks. I hardly do any work here besides wash my own laundry, and they even help me with that. Although, after a full day of Swahili lessons, I get home around 5pm and I feel completely exhausted.
• I actually don’t even think about how I’m living without electricity or running water. It will probably be more obvious when I’m on my own and have to do house chores all by myself.
• Babies here spend most of their immobile life strapped in a khanga behind their mother’s back. Babies seem to sleep through anything even when their mama is working in the field or cooking next to the fire. The babies have access to their mother’s breasts anytime. I rarely notice a baby crying because it’s always held by someone in the family. It’s amazing how strong the women are here. I often see women balancing a large bucket of water or stack of firewood on their heads with a baby strapped on back, and sometimes even a hoe or another bucket of water in their hands. I remember being so disgusted in class one day when I watched a woman pass by with a huge load of firewood on her head and she was carrying a baby. Her husband just walked next to her….carrying nothing!
• Every morning I wake up around 6:20 am because that’s when the roosters start their morning ritual outside my window. Ducks, goats, and chickens roam the town as if they own it. However, they all seem to remember where their home is, and they return each night….unless a thief or another animal manages to grab some of the livestock.
• The walking pace here is so much slower than what I’m used to in America’s fast paced culture. I think it’s because it’s impossible to walk fast in a khanga. However, people here seem to believe they own time. There’s always tomorrow if they don’t get something done today. There is a saying “Americans have watches, but Tanzanians have time”. Tanzanians believe people are more important than work, so time is always made for greetings and socializing. TIA = This Is Africa….what my Swahili teacher always says when explaining why things are the way they are here.
• I love that I’ll hear the most random American pop or country songs. I don’t even know where they get some of this stuff. People here don’t even know what the lyrics are but they sing to it anyway. It’s so good to hear familiar music. It’s almost creepy how much influence America has on the rest of the world and we don’t even realize it living in the states. I’ve met people from all over the world, and many of them seem to know more about the US than what some US citizens know about their own country. Michael Jackson, Obama, and Bob Marley are icons here. There are t-shirts, flashlights, shoes and bags with these guys’ faces on it.
• Apparently there is nothing wrong with picking your nose here. I see people do it all the time in public.
July 12, 2009
This morning I woke up to yelling outside my window. I looked out of the window near my bed to find myself staring at a pair of long black legs of a completely naked man standing on the top of the stalled car in front of my family’s home. Apparently the man had some mental issues and just happened to strip right in front of my window. Neighbors surrounded him and told him to move or they’d hit him with a stick or get the police. They also somewhat helped the man dress himself. At first I was extremely startled and a bit scared of what this man might do. However I then realized he was harmless and I was able to see the humor in this situation.
July 15, 2009
I had my site placement interview with my Environment APCD (Assistant Program Coordinator Director), Eliguard. He asked me questions about my skills, interests, and weather and location preferences. I hope I answered these questions clearly enough so he can match me well with my site for two years. I’ve been studying like crazy for the Swahili mid exam tomorrow. I’m not too worried about not passing, but I’d rather not be last in my group.
July 16, 2009
Today was pretty good. I’m done with the Swahili mid-term oral and written exam. I don’t think I did too shabby. PC staff provided snacks as a way of rewarding us for getting through half of training. I ate cheese, crackers, and oatmeal cookies which tasted so much better than I ever remember them being in America. It’s crazy how much you crave familiar foods, even foods you didn’t care so much about in the states.
It’s pretty awesome how much my host family cares about me. They must have known how stressed I was with taking the exam today. They told me they prayed for me to do well on the exam and were all anxious to know how I did. Baba has been pushing me to improve my Swahili. Every night, after eating supper, Baba asks me to describe in Swahili my American and Tanzanian families over and over until I get it right. The rest of my poor family has to sit and listen to me stutter over the same stories, explaining each of my family members’ names and ages. My whole family is incredibly patient with my language learning process, especially Baba. Before I left this morning, he made sure I knew that he hoped I’d do well on the exam.
July 17, 2009
As part of our one retreat during training, all of us trainees spent the weekend at Pangoni Beach at the Tented Lodge run by a former PCV and her husband. The resort is on the Indian Ocean, only a few hours from my host family’s place. I stayed in the couple’s original house and it was amazing: electricity, running water, and the most gorgeous view of the Indian Ocean next to land full of palm trees. It felt so good to have privacy again, to not have people constantly watch and study us. The food was amazing as well. Never has cheese, omelets, and sausage tasted so good. And freshly squeezed orange juice! On the way back to Kibanda, we stopped by Amboni Cave. Our guided tour was pretty ridiculous, but the cave was cool.
July 20, 2009
Ate a record amount of oranges today…7+ I think
I’m about half way through training and I’ve realized how much I adore my host family and vice versa. Baba asked if I’d be happy to leave and I told them I know I’ll be a bit heartbroken when I have to leave the comforts of their home. I’ve gotten so comfortable with my family, I almost prefer staying at home rather than going to class everyday with other PCTs. However, I am ready for more independence and to be done with training. It’s been wonderful having these people here care for me. I’m sure I provided a great source of entertainment for my family with all my new discoveries and blunders. I think Tanzanians are generally friendly and accepting of wazungu (white foreigners) especially Americans, thanks to our African American celebrities and our president.
Today the ladies at the water pump asked if I put oil in my hair. They kept touching my hair and couldn’t get over how thin and soft my hair was. I’ve also had kids touch my skin, like they don’t believe it’s real or they think my skin might feel different than theirs. I don’t mind their curiosity. I realize I’m the first white person many of the children and villagers have seen.
July 22, 2009
It’s funny how people think the weather here is cold. The coolest the temps get is maybe 70s. Yet people still bust out heavy winter coats and stocking caps.
July 26, 2009
Last night I saw my first large rodent in the choo. I would have run out screaming but I was in the middle of bathing.
It made me feel especially good last night when Baba said I’m really one of his children. He said this because I told him he didn’t need to pay for a lantern glass that I broke because he had enough to worry about supporting his kids. Baba just laughed at this and said I AM one of his kids.
It’s strange to think about Tara (my cousin) and Jake getting married yesterday. America seems so far away. It feels funny knowing the whole family was involved in something and I was the only one not there. Speaking of weddings, I constantly get asked if I’m married or have a boyfriend. I’ve learned that the best thing to do is lie whenever it’s a guy asking. However, sometimes that doesn’t work because men tell me ‘he doesn’t have to know’.
My choo flip flops are missing. First item stolen in Tanzania…
Today I went to Muheza with Mama, Kaka (brother) Athmid, and Dada (sister) Mwanaima. We walked all the way there, about 3km and little mama carried Kaka Athmid (he’s a large 1 year old) on her back for most of the way until I realized how tired she was and then I carried him. Mama bought me 3 gifts: lantern glass, flip flops, and a scrunchy. On the way home we took a daladala (a small van with no capacity limit). I sat next to five women stuffed in the back and a chicken. Mama crammed into the seat in front of me and still found room to breastfeed Kaka Athmid.
It’s interesting how children can just run around the village and the parents don’t have to worry about their kids’ safety. The whole village is responsible for the children’s safety, so everyone helps each other. Yesterday a couple came to the house to tell my Baba (he’s a village chairman) that their neighbor was not sending his 9 yr old boy to school. Baba then documented this and went to talk to the boy’s father.
Mama is the one who does the most housework in the family. She’s usually up around 6 am mopping, sweeping, and getting chai ready. The kids help her get things done as well. I feel kind of bad because she always prepares chai and eggs early in the morning just for me because I leave for Swahili lessons. Women don’t get the recognition they deserve with all that they do for their family. The men are the ones that do “real work” because they bring the money in. Yet that’s not always true because sometimes women bring in the income.
I’ve started to realize why it’s so difficult for villagers to be open to changes and new alternatives to better their livelihoods. Most people here are stuck in survival mode, so all they can think about is today and maybe tomorrow. Many families have to worry about the most basic essential in life, such as water. There is just no extra money to be spent to experiment with new farming techniques or invest in a business. Very few farmers harvest enough to sell; most crops are used for family consumption.
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