Back to the beginning - The trip Feb 4^th 2005.

I arrived at the airport in Minneapolis two and a half hours early.  Had no trouble going through security. Decided to go to McDonalds for a Big Mac and fires.  A man from the Philippines sat down and visited with me.   We talked about the Tsunami.

Once I was on the plane, I found out that the woman behind me, Shannon, was also a volunteer to Africa.  She was a surgical resident at the Mayo clinic.  She was very friendly and quite a character. My seatmete was a very nice lady named Vera She was going to Liberia to adopt two children ages 3 and 6.  She was a single mom with three kids. 

While on the plane, I could not settle down to sleep. I was too excited.  I visited with Shannon, Vera and a woman named Jane who was going to the Canary Islands on vacation.  We all decided to take advantage of the free wine and had three each.  Even that did not help me sleep.   We had a four hour layover in Amsterdam, where I spent a little time browsing the airport shops, tried to read a book, was too fatigued and excited to concentrate so I finally walked laps around the airport to enjoy the physical freedom before another long flight.

While on the flight to Kilimanjaro, I was in line for the bathroom and met a couple from Chicago who were traveling to Tanzania.  This trip was vacation for them.  They found out that I would be alone at the Kilimanjaro airport and offered to stay with me to make sure my ride showed up. That made me feel more relaxed. We arrived at the very quiet and small airport in Tanzania. My stress level increased as I attentively watched as the luggage arriving on the spinning belt.  As my anxiety level increased, I finally spotted it.  First hurdle has been crossed. 

Once I was through the checkout area, I saw the welcome sight a young African man with a sign reading Cross Cultural Solutions.  I rushed up to him and hugged the stuffing out of him - he seemed to handle the onslaught well.  Perhaps other stressed out new volunteers have reacted similarly.  There was another  volunteer being picked up at the same time. Her name is Nicola and she is an eighteen-year-old from California who is volunteering in Africa, then in India.  She was to be one of my new roomates in my new home.

It took about forty-five minutes for Simon, our driver to take us in the van to the house.  Leaving the airport, the road was paved, but when we got into Moshi, the road was dirt and unbelievably bumpy and filled with ruts.  It was very dark, so it was hard to see much.  Then as we got more toward Rau, our new home village, the road was just a single lane and looked like more of a path in the foliage than a road.  Simon gave a brief description and tour of life in Tanzania.  When we were a couple of blocks from the house, we passed a larger building. He said it was a Muslim mosque. He said that they often have their prayers at around 4:00 AM over a loud speaker on the roof.  He informed us that we might hear ththe prayers during the earlu morning.  We wound around a few more "blocks" on the road and then we pulled up to the gate of the Cross Cultural Solutions (CCS) compound.  The gate was electronic and had to be opened by the guard inside.

Let me describe my new home.  The compound is really cute.  It is kind of a West Indies style of design.  It consists of several rooms each with an outside entrance.  In the middle of it is a courtyard which is covered with a grass-thatched hut. Underneath are tables and chairs, a sink for hand washing, large electiec urn for heating water, a toaster and a water cooler to fill water bottles.  The floor is a twelve-inch clay tile.

When Nicola and I arrived, there were two other volunteers, Julie and Anna sitting in the courtyard. After we introduced ourselves to them and chatted a bit, Simon brought us into a small, indoor living area and said Karibou"  which means welcome. We were served a yummy fruit drink – could not tell exactly what was in it. At this point, I was aching and numb in mind and body. 

Simon then took us to our room. The outside door to the room is glass with panes of black iron.  It has a drape on the inside for privacy.  The room itself is about fourteen by fourteen feet with four bunk beds and a small bathroom. There are four shelves and a small area to hang clothes. 

I attempted to unpack, but was so lagged and shocked that I mainly just wondered around in circles.  I did manage to get a few things unpacked and organized.  I brushed my teeth and climbed up the ladder to the top bunk, lifted and tucked the mosquito netting and tried to settle in.  It was uncomfortably hot in the room to begin with.  With that and my sudden feeling of  "Oh my God this is my home for awhile", I had trouble falling asleep. I did take two Benadryl to help that process and at some point I did sleep.

But that solace did not last long enough.  At approximately four AM, I was awakened to the sound of a rooster crowing repeatedly. All his friends in the neighborhood answered him.  This lasted until around 6:30.  At that point, I could hear the chef making breakfast. I could hear the clatter of dishes, the sound of kitchen conversation - in a very foreign language and Tanzanian songs playing on a radio.  Also, I also could hear that a few of the volunteers were awake and visiting in the courtyard.  I battled in my mind the inevitable idea that I would no longer be able to sleep and the certainty that I would be experiencing profound fatigue later in the day.  But my bladder and excitement won out and I crept of my netting and down the creaky ladder and went out into the courtyard to my new life.

I met Japhet, one of the staff members. A gracious happy man who as it turned out owned the set of feet I heard stepping patrol outside our door all through the night.  I met Dana, a physician who specializes in rehabalitive medicine who has been Tanzania for three months. She is here on a grant to establish a clinic, which can be run by lay people to help people with disabilities. 

Andrew, from Canada who will be twenty in a few weeks.  He is a very interesting kid with quite a story.  I do not know exactly what his story is, but there is definitely one there.  A wisely, wounded soul.  He was the most experienced of the volunteers and was awesome about giving us insight about the country and getting around.  I also met Andrew and John who just arrived yesterday, are both Georgetown University students who are here for 11 weeks.

After breakfast, we just chatted and it appears that everyone is very wide open and very nice.  After we socialized awhile, we decided to walk into Moshi.  I decided that since I had not had a shower in over thirty-six hours, it was time to refresh a bit.  Since water is kind of scarce, I had decided to take a quick shower.   I learned that there was very minimal water pressure and I was not able to get the water to come out of the shower spiket.  It turned out to be nothing but a birdbath, but I came out cleaner none the less. 

We met in the courtyard and walked as a group into the neighboring, larger village of Moshi.  We visited an internet cafe and here is the email I sent to my friends and family:

Back to my journal entry for Feb 6th: 

In the afternoon were awaiting a supposed orientation at 3:00.  In Tanzanian time, that actually materialized into five PM which was then rescheduled for tomorrow, Monday morning.  So, we had a whole afternoon with nothing scheduled.  As we were sitting out in the courtyard around the table, I had a sudden inexplicable urge to check my cell phone for messages.  It was then realized that I needed to throttle back into a different pace.

Dana, the physician offered to take us to see some baby goats.  It turns out they live at the house next door. We walked through a stable containing a huge cow with the floor slick with a mud, urine, shit mixture.  That explained why I constatntly sensed the vague scent of manure – but in a pleasant earthy way.  As we passed the cow, who mooed loudly, then urinated in a strong stream in our path.  We proceeded into a little yard/pen containing several goats.  There was a baby goat that was the size of small cat.  It bleated in a little mini-goat voice as we took it away from its mom.  The two little girls who live in the house were very amused with us mzungu (Swahili for white person) for thinking these serviceable animals were so cute.  The girls were about five and seven, named Irene and Hosseana.  They both had radiant smiles, shaved heads and bare feet – walking through the urine and goat pellets like little American kids walk on the beach.  We were also introduced to their mom, Mama Nelson.  She was very gracious, telling us Karibou – welcome.

Feb 11, Friday

I am really frustrated with my computer because I have lost some of my journal – argh.  It will be hard to recreate it, since I don't remember what I said in it. But, fortunately, I have a few e-mails I have sent family and have them saved.

Today, Friday was the end of my first week.  It has been a combination of difficult and good. Yesterday, I had a kind of down day – thinking that I was lonely and why the hell did I decide to do this?

Last night, we volunteers had a nice dinner and then walked over to see crafts which were made by the young men who live in a room in the back of Mama Nelson's house. The guys also work in Dana's workshop. Their names are Antoine and John and are in their twenties.  Their room is very small and they do their cooking and sleeping in it.  There was a futon which once we were in the door, they invited us to sit on to look at their crafts. Anton was chopping some fresh vegetables into a pot for his dinner. They showed us batiks – paintings on cloth for wall hanging, bracelets, rain sticks and other misc things.  They gave us rafiki price – friend price. So, I bought 2 bracelets for my daughters, one for myself and a batik painting for home.  While we were visiting, a cow mooed loudly right outside their window.  Anton said "That is miserable when I am trying to sleep."

After that, We walked down to Deos, the little bar slash grocery store. It is just a short, dark, bumpy walk from home.  We took a flash light to illuminate ruts, stones and turns in the road. At Deos, there were a few volunteers and several local people.  The village chief was there  also.

I had a nice visit with a local man named Ernest.  He is about mid-thirties and has a sweet face.  His English is good, but a little hard to understand for me.  He showed me pictures of his wife and children – they were all really beautiful.  Ernest is very knowledgeable about the local and national government and it turned out that he is an assistant to the village chief.  

We were discussing religion and we found that we are both Catholic. He said that he would like to have me over to his house eat breakfast after church some day and meet his family. This is a little bit of a dilemma because in Tanzania, it is a big honor to have guests in the home – especially a foreign visitor. But, we have to be careful about what we eat and they do not understand this. But I also thought I might be out on Safari, so I could not come this weekend.

Okay, about daily life here.  First, the room.  It is small, but cute. The floor is red cement and the bathroom is tiled with an open shower with glass walls and a curtain for privacy.  We are not supposed to put paper in the toilet due to low pressure, but forget and do it anyway and it seems okay.  There is low pressure in the shower so water does not reach the shower head.  So, I have to kneel into a yoga position to get under the faucet which is about 2 feet off the ground. I have tried filling the bucket with water to rinse, but find that I miss gettingthe water effectively on me, and I do better with the shower - yoga pose.

The top bunk has been mine, though  2 of my roommates are leaving tomorrow, so I will take over the bottom bunk.  When I get into bed, I untie the mosquito netting from over my bed and pull it down and tuck it in around the perimeter.  I have not seen any major bugs in my room yet, but I guess they come out in droves during the rainy season.  In a way, the accomodations are like really nice camping.  The walls are paper thin so if there is anyone in the courtyard visiting in the evenings, it is like being in a tent.    My room is right next to the kitchen, so I can hear the chef and his assistants getting breakfast ready. Also, the dilemma about closing the bedroom windows is that if you don't, you hear the bark fests of the wild dogs as if they are in the same room or the famous rooster who crows starting around 2 AM.  Bastard!!!  But, if the window is closed, it is blazing hot.

The morning routine consists of all four of us roomates getting up at the last possible moment, then trying to get bathroom time and dress in the cubicle of a room.  Breakfast is served in the courtyard which our rooms surround.  It has a water cooler which is always full for us to keep our bottles full.  There is a serving table and several tables pushed together with red checked table cloths and white plastic chairs.  Breakfast is buffet style and consists of porridge which can either be oatmeal, which is good or a purple stinky smelling substance which I avoid.  We also have a frozen mango mixture fruit juice, toast – you have to hold the toaster down to get it to work – eggs, and sometimes a bread wrap with some type of filling.  I am always rushed during breakfast and rarely have time to drink more than a fourth of my cup of coffee.  Maybe I can get off the stuff.

At 7:30, Simon our driver rings the bell for us to load the van. The van is supposed to hold 9-10 people, but ours is a Tanzanian Dahla-dahla style which translated means "Never too full for one more".  So we are packed into this van for the hot, dusty, bumpy ride to all our jobs.  I am the last to be dropped off at the orphanage and the first to get picked up, so I have a lot of van time.

I get to the Upendo orphanage at around 8:00 and at that time the kids and nurses are on the playground.

This afternoon I and some fellow volunteers, Anna, Sonja, aand a lovely young Tanzanian girl named Jesca went into town and went to lunch at the Chris Burger. They have these delicious filo wrapped beef or veggie filled things for about 40 cents.  Coca Cola light is a dollar because only we wzungu drink it.  After lunch we went to Kebo House which is a nice, westernized restaurant coffee/internet café.  We e-mailed for about 2 hours, then had chocolate ice-cream.  It was delicious and especially on this 90 degree day.  I needed to get service for a cell phone I bought from another volunteer and make photo copies of my passport .  Jesca walked with me to help me find the copy center, prevent me from getting hit by a cab and to interpret if needed. Then we took a cab home and between all of us it was only 500 schillings which is about 50 cents.

After we got home, I went running with Lindsey, a 23 year old volunteer from No Carolina who wants to go to med school. She took me down some little neighborhood roads.  There were a lot of people walking home form work, school, etc, so it was crowded.  Between that and the very bumpy surface, it took a lot of concentration to negotiate my way.  And in Tanzania, it is important to greet everyone, so it is very unlike running at home. At home, you can get into your own world – zone, but here, there is no way to do that. It is really refreshing in a way that everyone has time to greet everyone they encounter. I came across a little boy dribbling a soccer ball which was worn out and deflated.  He started running next to me and passed it to me. I'm not sure how, but in my hot, dehydrated, fatigued state, I was able to summon my old and not very good soccer skills and run along the bumpy, hard dirt road and pass the ball back and forth.  All the time, he was coaching me in Swahili.  Then it was time for him to turn back toward home, and he told me goodbye in English.  After that, a bit hot and winded, I decided to take a break and walk.  I encountered a group of teen-aged boys. They had seen me running and now walking and started signaling me to start running again - they were teasing me.   I signaled back that I was tired and they just laughed.  The other funny thing was some people would see us running and say "pole"  which means sorry and Lindsey would reply "asante" which is thank you.  I asked her why that conversation took place and she told me that when a Tanzanian sees someone having a hard time – carrying a heavy load, or working hard, they say "sorry" as a gesture of support or sympathy.  I was glad to hear that explanation because I thought they meant that I looked sorry or that they felt sorry for me because I looked like I was struggling.

After 30 minutes or so of running, I needed to walk so Lindsey got me to a place where she could give me the rest of the directions home so she could keep running.  But of course being directionally challenged, I missed my turn and wound up lost.  I realized it when the scenery just did not seem at all familiar.  I stopped a group of 3 women and said "Shikamoo" – a greeting used for older people and then I tried to introduce myself.  "Mi mi ni Kristy"  They seemed pleased that I was attempting to speak Swahili, but then I tried to ask if they knew where Deos (the bar-grocery store near my home)  was. They looked puzzled, I became a little worried, but then a young guy came by and I knew he probably spoke English.  He did and he walked me to the turn I thanked him and said goodbye.