Meanderings of my mind.

Warning: Not proof read and written at midnight while I was having trouble sleeping. Please ignore the spelling and grammar, I'd say I would fix it later but in all honesty I probably won't. Enjoy! 

Well, I'm laying in bed. Not my bed though, I'm house sitting. So,more correctly I'm laying in my friend Savanah's bed while she lives it up at Hume lake for the week. Anyways, I've been thinking. School starts in a bit over a month, that means I have been back almost 3 months? How crazy is that, it doesn't feel like any time has passed, yet it also doesn't feel like I ever left. Life is the same old same old here in Oregon. Strange and mudane really. I often find myself thinking. Just sitting places, letting my mind go over whatever is bothering me, or my newest interest... Or just floating around touching thoughts in the clouds of my mind. Sounds poetic, doesn't it? It isn't, not really. These moments are often interrupted by the realization that there are beads of sweat begging to roll down my nose because I seem to forget the windows in cars roll down, or as life would have it... My phone rings, or buzzes. Such is life now. My phone is always by my side. Attached to me. I hate it. I do, and yet I feel disconnected without it... Like I am going to miss some terribly important event. But, let's be honest. I know I won't... I found myself today in such a moment. Just tired of my phone, yet deeply wanting human contact. Africa had so much human contact I went crazy. Infact I felt like I could never find a moment by myself, but now... Now I feel desperately lonely. Perhaps it is because I spent 4 months surrounded by the exact same 14 people. People who I grew to love very deeply. Constant contact with my fellow travelers, and interacting with the general public of Tanzania where we would all draw attention, and our host families. Add it all up and that is a lot of contact. And now, I go to work, see my family, maybe see a friend here and there, and then hang out with my dogs. Not a bad life, Infact I consider myself beyond blessed. But I do believe I have forgotten how to stay home. I watch travel shows for comfort, and spend a lot of my time thinking how to be somewhere else, or how to get somewhere else. I have a feeling that I would be far more comfortable on the streets in India, or traveling through Egypt by camel (though perhaps not now with the whole Gaza Strip and Isreal business) but what I mean to say is... That feeling of never feeling home seems to have itself rooted in me. After about a month I always feel a pull. "Time to go somewhere else now." My brain seems to shout that at me. It's fascinating, and all too strange to realize you would feel more comfortable house hopping than staying home. It is certainly something to think about. Gotta love that wanderlust. Ha. Well, it is a new day tomorrow, in time for new adventures. For now, I must rest. 

The sky the other night at the house I'm house sitting. Firey skies are my favorite. So blessed to see them right here at home. 

Home again, home again.

I have been home for almost 2 months now, I have utterly failed in my ambitions to write about my culture shock experience and post in on my blog… So, finally after much procrastination and life getting in the way I am writing a blog about being home and culture shock. Here we go.

Holy crap, coming home was maybe more terrifying than leaving. I came back fully preparing myself to have to re-adjust to ‘normal’ life. In many ways it helped, but in many ways I could have never prepared myself for coming back. Even two months later I have noticed I still have moments of readjustment and minor panic attacks. The other day (It was actually a month ago but whatever) was a college night downtown and I was working. It was late May and the weather was nice so,  many of the young women were wearing shorter dresses and skirts. I nearly had a heart attack, all I could think was “For the love of all things decent put some clothes on!!!!”… I quickly humbled myself when I began realizing the girl I was looking at had a dress that was just as short as allof my summer garb hanging in my closet… Talk about perspective…  Here is a small list of things I noticed upon being back and or things that happened to me.

1.   I have completely lost what little sense of style I did possess. I have been told by my friends I resemble a very confused homeless person now and my style represents a combination of homeless/hippie/six year old. At least I can totally rock it.
2.    I cried when getting sick. I spent 6 weeks in Africa very ill, and yet I only had tears once for about 10 minutes… The first time I got sick at home I began to cry, I am fairly certain it is because I felt like sickness was suppose to stay in Africa. It is safe to say it didn’t and I am still readjusting and getting sick sometimes here at home.
3.  Bugs. Bugs also made me cry, and they never really had that much affect on me while abroad. I got very angry that there were sugar ants on the counter, so angry I couldn’t go into the kitchen for a while and started crying. That was weird. I think I really wanted bugs to just stay in Africa, but there are bugs here too. On the plus side I am not freaked out by bugs almost at all anymore, except for the first few weeks of being back.
4.      Nothing changed. The world went on here normal, I came back very different and yet somehow everything was so much the same. It was weird. The world is normal to you wherever you live, I came back to a normal that was so shockingly familiar I didn’t really like it.
5.        People are secluded here. The streets are empty; everyone uses cars and ignores one another. It is extremely lonely to be back.
6.      I have no qualms about walking anywhere at almost any time for any distance. I use to be scared to walk at night, now, while I still won’t go out after 11 by myself I feel rather invincible. It is kind of awesome.
7.        I have learned that people, don’t and won’t understand what I am talking about when I try to explain my trip.
8.   I couldn’t watch any violent films for quite some time upon being back. For some reason I just couldn’t stand them. I think I was just utterly overwhelmed  and it was too much to take in but it made family movies kind of difficult because all I wanted to watch was things like ‘Whinnie the Pooh’ for about a month.
9.   I cannot touch fried food; I tried some French fries because they smelled amazing, I could not stomach them. At all. Anything with lots of oil makes me instantly feel gross and like I want to gag. Also rice, rice is a total turn off.
10.  When my ears here foreign language my brain thinks “SWAHILI”… I have nearly forgotten all of the Spanish I knew, and it has been replaced with Swahili, which is extremely awkward when at a Mexican restaurant I  try to have a conversation with the waitress in English or Spanish… So soooo difficult, she looked at me like I was crazy.

I think ten is a good number to stop at right now, I will try to write more soon. But that may be a while. We shall see, until next time. Tutaonua tena. Kwaheri. 

Shameless Oregon girl clothing selfie. 

This was the day after I got back.

 I was a happy camper. 

Back in the USA.

Well as I write this, I am 38,002 feet in the air over Canada only a little over an hour from landing in Seattle. Crazy adventures have been had, sickness has been overcome multiple times, proposals of marriage from attractive men on the street have been turned down (true story), zebras, elephants, lions, warthogs, wildabeest, giraffes, and many other animals have been seen, friends have been made, Swahili has been spoken (though not always comprehensible), bugs have been killed, headscarves have been worn, participation in superstitious ancient ruins to have good luck has been done ( I crawled through a grave in Bafamoyo, historical sights that changed the history of the world have been walked through and seen, tans have been acquired (though sunburns were first), understandings of self have been figured out, papers have been written, speeches given, icecream eaten, birthdays had, dancing at bars, photos have been taken, laundry has been done by hand, bucket showers have become a life skill... I really could go on, and continue to go on... But in essence, my life has been changed... Whoop whoop #steryotypicalstudyabroadchanginlifeexperience but in all seriousness. I am very much not the person I was when I left. Thank God for that. If I was the same it would mean I would not have learned, would not have grown, would not have done what I went out to do. While in all honesty I am not sure exactly what I went out to do... But I knew I wanted something completely different. And even though I faces 3 weeks of stomach flu and then probably 2 or 3 more weeks of accumulated sickness I do not regret a moment of it... And if asked to do it again, I don't think I would hesitate in saying yes... Though I might bring more drugs that alleviate uncomfortable sickness symptoms, and probably jump on the antibiotic train sooner... I think it truly says something about my experience when I can say that even through that duration of horrid seemingly unbearable pain... I found somewhere in me to still enjoy myself, still learn, still drag myself to palace ruins, still climb through old slave caves, still appreciate the beautiful sounds of the call to prayer between bouts of throwing up... (true story) I know I found an interstrength and toleration that I had no idea I possessed... Anyways. While this trip to Tanzania is over, I have the feeling that it will not be the only time I find myself in East Africa... I mean, where else am I going to use my Swahili? For my next adventure I am not sure exactly where it will be... But I'm thinking... So, I suppose this is the last entry about this particular adventure; but that said it will not be my last entry ever. I plan to write more about reverse-culture shock and maybe catch up and fill in more about Dar and some of the other places I was... But then again, life might get all busy as it does and I might forget... But I will try. As for this entry, I think I can safely conclude it with a smile. :) and the update that we are almost home... 20 hours of flying and in an hour or so I will be headed through customs, then drive home with my mom and see my family. Looking out through the plane I can see the snow capped peaks of the Rockies. Home is pretty amazingly beautiful, so even though I already miss Tanzania, I feel blessed and excited to come back to the place I like to call my home. :) Tutaonana tena Tanzania. Until we see each other again. 

The Arusha Market...January, 21, 2014 ....Hell.

I wrote this back in January, right after we got back from our trip to the Arusha market. I would maybe be able to handle what happened now a lot better then I did then, but it is still stressful even reading it. I decided to post it and then my response I wrote the other night while avoiding a paper. Enjoy! It is written a lot like a journal entry, and I apologize for bad grammar or odd spellings... Just think of it in the context that I am extremely creative or something like that. :P

The market was crowded and dusty smelling. The heat  beat mercerlously down and reminded me of the hottest days of summer. The moment we stepped off the dala we were spectacles. Stares from all directions we fallowed our guide quickly into the collection of fabric stores. Like mosquitoes to a light they were upon us. Pushing this way and that  “madam, Madam, I give you good price!” With a hand on my shoulder one man pushed cajolingly “ Hey madam, good fabric special price!” “Hey madam!” The sound was deafening, the barrage of market men over whelming and my heart began to pound as I indecisively clung to one person or another in my group trying to make my already awful decision making skills help me pick something without being ripped off. Due to inflation the prices were fairly cheap regardless of what I was suppose to buy, I was told that kitenges for making dresses could be anywhere from 10-40 thousand shillings, but the merchants would try to rip you off as much as he could...  I am still becoming accustomed to the idea that prices are barganable, but I am not sure when it is exactly appropriate and I feel very uneducated in my idea of looking for quality things. And being pushed in so many directions by merchants doesn’t help.  I finally chose a blue fabric that I loved, though the man was so pushy it was uncomfortable and started putting it in a sack before I had even said yes. The next one I bought took a few minutes and the people were not as pushy but master salesmen. 25K seemed expensive to me but we had to leave and I was losing my patients and at this point did not want to return there.  I spent a total of 40k, which is not too much but I still feel I spent a lot. I will need to improve my Swahili, that is for certain. After practically running out of that place we walked through the crowded streets to the tailors. People stared and I kept looking at my feet so as not to trip on the bumpy roads and crumbling sidewalks.  We got to the tailors and then all decided that we should go back to Kundayo (the pace we are staying) and use the local tailor Mazo ( the owner of Kundayo)  knew.  But, on our way back someone decided we  should walk through the food market. 

Shouting, yelling, gasoline, fish, and rotting vegetables, all saturated with the smell of human sweat and covered in dust is what we were greeted by. We walked down some steps between two buildings and into a very crowded food market, the ceiling was low and the isles were crowded and we tried to make it through as quickly as we could. Pushing through people and being approached. I could feel eyes, which to be honest has become normal, but the constant barrage is not fun. We passed through an area with mounds of tiny dried fish. Mounds piled on tables, baskets over flowing on the ground; these little fish were everywhere and the smell was as foul as could be. My gag reflex is generally very controllable due to years of working in manure filled barns and such, but I was not prepared for this. This brought back memories of the meal the other night with the fish. Ugali (basically millet flour and water in a sticky cooked substance which is good… But it is often paired with a sauce made with meat and in our case… Tiny dried fish…)  I found myself thinking how being a vegetarian seems very appealing.  As soon as we were through that section we went past grains and then fruit. As we passed through the fruit a man lay unconscious, his head bleeding and in a position that represented strongly that he did not lay upon the ground in such a manner by choice. The blood dripped from a small gash in his face and a fly or two was already upon his face. Shocked I wasn’t sure what to think, and I was sure he was dead. (Apperantly he was breathing according to our professors, however I saw no movement) Lilly our guide said he was probably a thief, and thieves were not tolerated here. Obviously. While I don’t feel bad for the man’s crime I am still in a bit of shock about whole situation. Over stimulus, overwhelming, and my head racing we headed to the dala dala station. Where things proceeded to worsen. A man wanting our business kicked a dala full of people out so he could have our business, men urged us to get in but I felt sick. The people stared; my heart broke for the perhaps 80 year old woman who stood confused on the street. I tried to say “pole” as we passed but I couldn’t help but feel awful. People stared, looks of discust and dislike for “ wazungu” permeated their faces and I don’t blame them for a second. I felt like a disgusting human being.  I had been put above someone else; I had been played off as an ignorant, wealthy white girl who was above another individual, and for this matter many individuals.  I felt sick, and still do thinking about it. I feel hated today. And I never want to do that to someone again. I am not better than anyone else on that dala. Especially that poor old woman. My heart breaks.

I wish I could go a day or two with a different skin color, not stared at, not a spectacle, be a person here. Not some circus show. It pains me to know that I will never fit in, even though someday I may know perfect Swahili, I will still have the mzungu prejudice. It brings to my eyes some new perspectives of the minorities in the USA. We so often stereotype and treat people accordingly, but now having been a minority myself I can certainly feel ashamed at how I so often am cruel without intention. It needs to stop. I need to be aware. Today was over whelming and over stimulating, but is humbling I need to think more. I need to be a better person.

January 21^st 2014.

April 19^th 2014

Wow, reading this I can certainly say it is true. I hated that day, and I still do. Now I know a bit more of the situation, but it still makes me sick. We almost refuse to go out in large groups now, the ideal number to be safe and not hassled is 3, but up to five is faily comfortable and here in Dar it almost doesn’t matter.  My Swahili is to the point that I can have a very basic conversation. People now smile when I try to speak Swahili and are genuinely pleased when I know more than the average white girl. I have learned a lot these past 3 and a half months. One of the biggest lessons is that people are people everywhere. It doesn’t matter if they speak differently, act differently, view the world in a way you had never thought of, speak a different language, eat weird food… I could go on and on… But people are people, all people smile, laugh, get annoyed… Everyone deserves respect, something I think we so often take for granted when we are in our comfort zones, and something we often forget to give to those who are different to us; and respect is something not just categorized as ‘not being overtly rascist’ or whatever. Respect is something that happens when you treat someone and their way of life and opinions how you would like your own to be treated. It is that golden rule, it is watching what you say, and how you say it. It is being culturally sensitive and knowing that you really are not always right no matter how educated, privileged, or cultured you all. Just because you can speak the language of a place does not mean you are better than those who do not understand your own, nor does it mean that you are any better than anyone else. Because when it gets right down to it, you are no better than the person next to you on the bus, no different than the person who cut you off in traffic, none of your important business is more important than anyone else’s. You never have a right to make someone feel like they are less than a person than yourself. I have found that throughout this trip people assume that I am a privileged white American girl with money who is here to help Africa. Which is not the case, I am privileged, I have had an amazing life by any standards. It has not always been easy, but I have nothing to complain about. And even though I was raised never worrying about food being on the table, or just because I am new to a place that is much different than the place I grew up… Really whatever it is, I have no right to be more respected than anyone else. I am just a person, and we are just all people. It seems trivial and repetitive to reiterate that, but honestly I have discovered that we as people assume we deserve so much, and that we are entitled to something just because we can justify it… But honestly we are no more entitled to anything than the next person. Whether they be male, female, from China, from Africa, gay, strait, vegan, carnivore, atheist, Hindu, Muslim, Christian… You get the picture…We are no different, and we deserve no less respect. So, just some thoughts on life… Okay, I really need to work on my paper now.

Greeted by a chorus of angels… I must be in the right place.

Wrote this a few days ago, but am just now in Wifi land sooo... Yep. 

Well the first week of Dar was a whirl wind, but wonderful despite the flooding, traffic, and expensive frozen yogurt. Traveler’s note frozen yogurt in Dar es Salaam is horrendously expensive… Just buy the Carmellos from the Azam carts. Anyways, Allie and I are roommates now and we live with Mama Christine and Baba Reverend John.  Mama Christine picked us up at the hotel and met us with the biggest smile and a warm hug, she was so excited to see us! We got to the car and loaded our things in the car, before going to our nyumba (home) we took Chris to his house. As we were dropping off Chris our driver introduced himself as Francis and our Mama insisted one of us ride in the front because we were special guests. As the traffic crawled by the sky darkened and we got home about 7:30. Upon opening the car door I was certain we were in the right place with the right family. I mean, come on… God couldn’t have yelled “ YOU WILL LOVE IT HERE!” any louder. There was a chorus of angels singing hallelujah! … Okay well apparently it was just the choir practicing, but you know you must be in the right place if you are greeted with angel’s singing… At least I would assume so, but so far that has not been proven wrong. The family here is so kind, our host mama and baba are the happiest kindest people I think I have ever met. Our baba is a priest at the Anglican Church we live at and our mama teaches primary school. Our baba’s mama also lives in our house and I am faily certain she only knows Swahili, but every morning she comes out of her room and greets us and has the biggest smile on her face… And for 83 years old she looks amazing! No walking stick, nothing! Just a little slow… But so sweet! We also have 3 dada’s (house girls) which is very common in Africa. One of the girls is our host parent’s grandchild Flora who is maybe 13ish (It is very common for relatives or grandchildren to work for family. The family generally also pays for the girl’s school and what not) There is also Jesica who is a relative in some way and also about 13ish, and a new girl who is maybe ten whose name I have yet to catch. They are a hoot, and so kind. They always come and say hello when we get home and even though they do house work (Mama is gone for work from 7 am -7pm almost every day) they are most definitely family.

  While I am not sure exactly how old our host parents are, Allie and I describe them as ‘grandparent aged’, and I already feel like a fully loved adopted grandchild. They have 4 biological children in addition to Allie and myself, all of which are already moved out. The first two are twin girls one of which has five children a set of triplets and then a set of twins.(Twins and trips most definitely run in this family!)  She was or is a teacher, I am not sure. The other twin was a teacher and is now running an NGO, and then the other ( I think a man) is a lawyer, and the youngest who is a year older than Allie and I and came to meet us the other day is finishing up his law degree at a university here in Dar. Our host parents speak English remarkably well, and seem to have an understanding of the language that even allows them to pick up on nuances of humor (Which is amazing because normally humor doesn’t translate cross lingual lines) Our baba has been an Anglican Priest for many years and spent 3 years at a parish in Venice… ( How cool is that!???) He was telling us the other night how Venice has no cars, and lots of boats with too many people. He also showed us a book about Venice churches, which makes me want to go there more than ever now.

They feed us here ridiculously well and thus far the food has been far healthier than anywhere else we have been. Less oil, more options, and less bread and flour (Thank God!) Everyday mama asks us what we would like for dinner, and what our favorite foods are and she says she is very excited to learn how we cook. Allie and I are trying to figure out a good time to make American food for the family, Dar has so many options it seems we can get anything we would like!  So we are trying to make our food unique food that our family wouldn’t be able to get otherwise which is a harder feat than we had originally anticipated… But I am sure we will figure it out!

Allie and I have our own beds (first time since being here in Africa) and a fan… J J J (You have no idea how amazing those things are.) The church is a good ten meters from our room and every night from about 5-8 sometimes later or earlier there is the choir singing.  To be perfectly honest I pretty much feel like I live in an African Anglican twist on the sound of music… Without the 7 children, the nuns, and Julie Andrews…  So, I guess more of I feel like I live in an African Anglican Sound of Music Church… But anyways, Allie and I love it here, our host mama and baba seem to really love us to and love asking questions about our lives in the US and about our families. Our driver Francis is awesome and always happy to see us. He picks us up at about 8 am every morning and picks us up between 3 and 5 every afternoon depending on traffic. The only annoying part about Dar is the traffic… But traffic is universally annoying and generally found in big cities… So it is only to be expected… But in Dar it is especially bad, and with the flooding lately it is awful.  Oh, story time!!!

 So last week we were stuck in traffic for 4 hours (our normal commute can be as quick as 15 minutes) with some other students and at about hour 2.5 we were all starving so our professor bought us and Francis ice cream from one of the carts that are driving through the grid locked traffic… We also watched the Hunger Games on Allie’s Ipad while we waited and munched on our ice cream. A while after that Francis bought us cashews from another street vender (which are way better than cashews in the US… Just sayin) and in another hour or so… we were home. I must admit, it was probably one of the most enjoyable 4 hour traffic jams I have ever been stuck in.

Well, I think that about sums up what I wanted to say… and to be more honest… I am avoiding writing one of my papers for class… So really this is a nearly justifiable way of procrastinating on homework and a way to keep the world updated on my trip… Which only has I think what, 18 days left? Time moves too quickly…. :p

African Easter Sunday

I would be lying if I say I didn’t miss the Easter Party and copious amount of chocolate and pie from back home… But Easter in Africa is pretty amazing. We attended the church service at the church by our house, and it is probably one of my favorite services ever! Not only was the coir music incredible, but the church was beautiful, and listening to hymns and choir pieces in Swahili is so interesting. From what I got from the message and from what our host mama interpreted for us it was a similar message to your average Easter service sermon, but with more of an emphasis on how Easter is also a time to spend with your family. Allie and I also got to introduce ourselves to the giant congregation… Somehow I wound up going first and in front of about 4 or 5 hundred people I stumbled through very basic introduction…  Habari za asabuhi. Jina langu Andrea, ninatoka Mericani, sijui Kiswahili… I am a student  and here in Tanzania I am studying African culture, history, politics, and Kiswahili…. Right after I said it I realized I know all of those words in Swahili… *facepalm moment* But my host family and the church secretary later told me and Allie that they were so happy we tried, so I guess it is the thought that counts! Anyways, after church we hung out with our host family and low and behold… THE TV HAS CARTOON NETWORK, DISNEY CHANNEL, AND OTHER CHANNELS WITH HAWAII 5-0 AND FRIENDS! Allie and I were thrilled and our host parents thought it was hilarious. We only found this out because our host parents eldest daughter was visiting with her family and the kids were watching tv shows… Also, I was wrong before… She has a set of twin boys, a single boy, and triplets 2 girls and a boy… All under the age of ten… If there were ever super parents… Those were them. I commend and am in awe of those parents… Though in all honesty the kids seemed really well behaved, as most African children are. Mama says we will be visiting them on the 1^st of May, which I am very excited for! Before the family left Allie and I ran into our room and got the few little gifts we had for children, when we came out everyone was looking at us… We then attempted to explain that in America we have an Easter bunny (probably the most confusing tradition to explain)… Thank goodness our host parents had had the explanation last night and their daughter already knew about it, other-wise that explanation could have been terribly long and awkward. The kids loved the bubbles and toy cars and everyone was thrilled with the gifts. When the family left, Allie and I spent an hour or two planning our lives and getting everything in order and making lists… And watching friends and Hawaii 5-0… After the 1960’s Jesus’s life and works special dubbed in Swahili of course. After that we had lunch… Pilau and nyama… Aka PIlau ( a mix of seasonsings) seasoned rice, and meat. With a tomato and red onion salad. Traditional African Easter food!!! Soooo good! The rest of the way was filled with homework… Which we still have not finished… It is looking like it will be another day of hunkering down and essay writing, job applications, and movies… and sleeping. Not a bad day if you ask me but I am looking forward to Tuesday and moving and walking. At dinner we came out and chatted with our host brother who had come to visit, he is a 21 year old law student and was really interested in the school system in the US, and was wondering if things were really like in the movies. It was great, after dinner which was pilau and ndizi mbichi ( raw banana stew.. I promise it is nothing like it sounds… It is amazing) we talked for a while until he left and then Allie and I stayed up late working on applications…. We also each got a little hershey’s Minnie that Allie and saved from her America candy stock pile and was kind enough to share, we also got to read Easter letter’s from family. It was an amazing day! 

Story Time: Natural Disasters, Refugees, and Peanut Butter

… My intro to Dar es Salaam.

So, I have been in a rural village since the 5^th of April, so I must admit I am a tad totally confused as to what day it actually is, and when exactly everything happened in the last 3 days… Wait, what happened? Oh, right, I didn’t mention that yet… Well, I kind of got to witness first hand a natural disaster… I also got to get a taste for what refugees feel like… and I may or may not have eaten almost an entire jar of peanut butter for dinner… Also as of this moment have been unable to have any internet communication for about 10 days now, which to be honest I absolutely love… Though, I really needed to post another blog post or two and get caught up on emails for housing situations next year for school… So blah, oh well anyhoo… Here we go.

I will explain the rural village in another post but will currently write about our experience getting from Lushoto to Dar es Salaam, so now… Story time.

We set out from the Mountain View Lodge ( or whatever it was called… Basically, hotel like place in the most spectacular mountains I have ever seen… J  ) at about 8 am in a hope to beat the rain and with prayers that the bus would actually be able to make it out of the mountains on the muddy roads… With only one problem hill and three or four tries we made it to the pavement… Where we blew another tire. Now, I say another because the previous day the bus had been attempting to pick us up from our hike, wound up in a ditch and with the help of some amazing people (African’s are seriously some of the most helpful amazing people ever!) The bus was fine, excluding the fact that one of the tires was flat. So now here we all are a bunch of wazungu and a bus with two completely flat tires and an amazing bus driver (I say amazing because he seriously helped protect our lives)… Some kind people stopped their public transport bus to help us and after the jack was working, the tires were rotated, and many laughs were had at the fact that we were stuck in the most beautiful place possible and that it could be much worse ( Someone really should have knocked on some wood…) We all headed down to town. Once in town we bought some sodas and meandered around trying to get really good deals on fruit while the bus was in repair. Once on the road again we were all in happy care free moods… Even us sickies (Yes! Big surprise… I was sick... Again... Though this time it was a horrible cold… Which was new…) were fairly happy. We were all excited for the infamous Dar es Salaam and one of the final journeys on our trip. I am so thankful now we were so light hearted with the situation. What would turn into the next 12 hours in the car together would be probably some of the most tolerant waiting that I would experience in my life. Anyways so we carried on, we watched horrible Swahili soap operas, Matilda, and had some pretty interesting conversations. As we got closer to Dar we began to see giant public transport buses pulled over to the side of the road, not just one or two either. There were at least 15 or twenty in this one small area. Our bus driver found out that the road to Dar was flooded, near the one bridge over the river. Apparently the flooding was bad enough that no one was being allowed to cross, we figured that the best thing to do would be to carry on even though we figured we might get stuck. Which we did. Not more than an hour out of that town we hit a wall of traffic in grid lock. People were all getting out of their buses and walking around, the small town next to the road was partially flooded, but among the mud and puddles people were selling food like mad, bananas, cashews, soda, clothes… It was a bit crazy. At about hour 1 we decided to go out in search of bathroom facilities… We found some bushes that over looked a flooded field that were sufficient for our needs… On the slight downside it was right near the road… So that was a little awkward, but non the less very manageable. A while after that a few of us crossed the road to walk around, it was amazing, we were stared at a lot but I think I remember only one person calling “ Wazungu!” at us, and it may even had been a child. Everyone was being kind to one another, everyone was on the same playing field, ex-pats, Africans, Indians, Asian, and us… We were all waiting for the road to be passable… At about hour 2.5… Or maybe 3… I am not exactly sure due to my benedrill induced sleeping like state (in an attempt to make my cold allergy symptoms go away I took some benedrill) trucks and buses began to come from the other direction… An hour or two later our life finally began to move. There was so much commotion, people were yelling, they were so happy! We found out later that some had been waiting since 8 am that morning to cross… We were able to drive for maybe another hour or so until we were stopped again. This time for only an hour or so, but due to a lack of bushes we made a handy makeshift bathroom out of blankets…

 It was about 12 am then… and it was at about this time I ate a good portion of the jar of peanut butter I had had in my bag… No shame. Anyways, we would be stopping once or twice more before we actually got over the bridge and into the ‘Danger Zone’ ( Cue song) as we got closer I could begin to see the magnitiude of the flood. The road was raised slightly and to either side water was within a meter of the pavement. Trees and houses were partially submerged and as we drove closer to Dar I noticed that there were portions of the water that seemed to be rushing from under the road… It took a moment for me to realize that we had long since passed the bridge and this surging water was coming from one side of the road to the other… By way of UNDER THE ROAD…. What may have once been small drain pipes under the road had now become eroded water channels. The water gushed right under the pavement… We got a call from the Vintons ( The family we stayed with at the Lodge) who said they were watching it all from their TV, it was a huge disaster people were lined up for miles and miles and the situation was just looking worse and worse. As time went on the nervous tension among us and among all of the drivers on the road seemed to be rising. About a half hour driving at a stop and go pace on this road that seemed to be quite literally having its foundation of dirt washed away as we drove on it we arrived at what I would call the pinnacle of the adventure… The road before us was covered in 6 inches ( or more) or rushing water. The sides of the road could be marked by the eroded broken concrete jutting up as the water poured over it. To the right of the road I could make out 2 trucks (There was also a car, but I guess I didn’t see it) I am not sure how long that part of our drive was but I knew that I was wide awake and completely alert. Being from Oregon I have seen flooding before, but I have never really been so nervous as to question if I would make it out of a situation… We were in actual danger, the road could actually be washed out at any moment… Even though my mind was rushing with the possibilities… I was stunned. It was so like nothing I have ever seen that I don’t think my words here can do it justice… Thanking God, we made it out safely and about 2 hours later we arrive at our hotel at about 4 am and after unloading the bus and carrying luggage up 5 flights of stairs I was passed out in a bed…  In Dar es Salaam, the biggest city in Tanzania… We later calculated how long we had been traveling and we figure dthat we actually spent more time with that bus than we did in the air getting to Africa… It was crazy… But an amazing experience. Even though we had 4 fairly sick people, and 12+ hours of sitting waiting for the road to be clear enough to proceed we have 0 complaints, no bickering, no snapping, no whining… It was amazing. Kudos to all the people on this trip, I really don’t think 3 months ago we would have been able to handle such an event… Our patience and tolerance astounded me… And not just ours, most every person I saw with the exception of one bus driver rushing and pushing passed other cars were patient and supportive. There was no fighting, no rioting, no violence… Somehow I don’t think it would have happened like that in the U.S… It certainly makes you think. It also gives me some more faith in humanity…

Here is a picture of the flooding we walked through today in town. More pictures to come. 

Spring Break Safari...

This past week we embarked on a journey. A safari actually, which means journey in Swahili, but for all you who don't know Kiswahili you probably just think of lions, cheetahs, and zebras.... Oh my! ... My apologies for the really cheesy wizard of Oz reference there. Anyhoo, it was an amazing experience. We saw countless birds, animals, and plants. Gorgeous scenery, and met some amazing people. We went to a few different places, Terengera, lake manyara, Oldupai gorge ( also known as Olduvai, but the actual name is Oldupai) and Ngorongoro crater. I will write about each of these places separately because if I tried to write about them all now I would miss the beautiful scenery passing by my window as we head back to Arusha for about 2 more weeks of work and then a rural village stay, and then off to Dar Es Salam for the remainder of April... And then home. Crazy really, you always here time flies, and everything is gone before you know it... And to some existent it is totally true. But on the other hand it isn't. I'm finding that trips are what you make of them, as seem to be many instances in life. I feel like I have certainly been making the most of this trip, or at least trying too, especially with spending a quarter of it rather ill. So, I think I will be ready to go back to the US when May rolls around, but then again maybe not. Talking with one of my professors revealed to me that I could stay and extend my ticket... She said this is because once the plane leaves the ground the university is no longer responsible for me. I wish I would have known that earlier, a pit stop in Europe might be nice. ;p but maybe I am best to just save some more money and comeback soon. I can certainly see that in my future, traveling that is. And Africa. I think I would like to come back here someday. After all, I never did get to see a leopard... 

Oldupai Gorge - The Cradle of Mankind.

Some old tools and fossils

The cast of the footprints.

The surrounding area near the Gorge

Oldupai Gorge

Oldupai Gorge, more commonly known as Olduvai Gorge (Due to a misinterpretation of a local Maasai word  for the Seizle plant by the German entomologist who named it)  and was one of the first stops on our Safari. On the edge of the Serengeti, Oldupai and the Laetoli archaeological site which is the place where the Mary Leakey  found the footprints of Australopithecus afarensis. Australopithecus afarensis was a small-brained upright walking hominid creature that was alive 3.6 million years ago and the same species as the famous ‘Lucy’ skeleton found in Ethiopia. These creatures didn’t use tools, and were only about a meter and a half high. Mary and Louis Leakey are also credited with finding that 4 other types of hominids in the area as well. They confirmed that the area was inhabited by Homo habilis about 1.9 million years ago, Parathropus boisei 1.8 million years ago, Homo erectus 1.2 million years ago, and Homo sapiens 17,000 years ago. The Leakey’s spent 28 years of their life in the area and their old campsite is now used today as a research center. There is also a museum, with detailed exhibits giving all the information, fossils of animals, partial skulls, tools, and a cast of the footprints Mary found. Outside the museum there is a covered area where you can look down into the gorge and get a short lecture from a guide. Oldupai is located in the Eastern Serengeti, west of the Ngorongoro crater, in the Great Rift Valley. ( Side note: Every time I heard Great Rift Valley all I could think of was the Land Before Time and all of the dinosaurs looking for the Great Valley if you don’t know what I am talking about you may not have had a proper childhood.)

It was an amazing place to be and I wish we had more time to really take it all in. As we listened to the guide we could hear the roar of thunder coming in. I could hear the wind passing through the canyon and it began to softly rain. It was amazing, to be in a place where people, and pre-people like creatures walked, lived, hunted, ran away from lava… (Haha, I made myself laugh when I imagined that…Now you’re probably laughing too, or you’re not and you think my sense of humor is weird… Which it is, oh well…Anyways…) It was almost surreal, actually, no it was surreal and I found myself zoning out and just listening to the weather and wondering what it might have been like for those so long ago who walked there. I wondered how different it looked, or how similar. In English I really don’t have the words to describe how I felt, and I certainly don’t have them in Kiswahili… But it was amazing; it was like the realization that human kind is much bigger, and more complex and somehow more connected than I ever really understood before. I really wished we had more time than the 5 minutes of quiet post-presentation to just take it in. I hope to someday come back here and if I can hike through the canyon, and do more research so I can really appreciate it more. Ha, I guess this is just another reason I need to come back. :P 

Thunder on the roof tops.

Here is a picture of Kristin my lovely roommate and our host sister Sharon. 

Kristin's blog is here: http://kristinswanderingheart.wordpress.com/

Well, it certainly sounds like that. Though I am very aware that thunder is a sound and not something that can physically be on a roof… But tin roofs and African rain are a combination that will be hard to forget. It is rainy season now, and the skies lately have been dark and gloomy and rain can come at any moment, which is a bit disconcerting news for someone who has to walk a mile or so to work everyday. And when I say rain, I do not mean the rain we have in the Northwest U.S.A, even in the areas where we get lots of rain. No, the rain here is more like God turning on the garden hose right on top of Africa. The raindrops are HUGE, and within about 2 minutes of downpour one can go from fairly decent looking, to week old drowned rat. Luckily the rain seems to only last 15-30 minutes on average and then all that is left is the aftermath. By aftermath I mean mud. Walking becomes an exciting adventure of sliding here and there and not falling.  As an Oregonian I pride myself in my ability to navigate mud, but the mud here is made from dirt that is so fine and so dry that it becomes these multi-layers of slippery goo that are quite difficult to keep ones footing on. Though, thus far I have not fully fallen flat on my face from slipping on mud… There have been other times though where I have fallen, but in those instances I am generally tripping over my own feet or falling up the stars… But if you know me at all you will know that that is quite an average occurrence in my everyday life… Clumsy I may be, slipping in mud I do not. Ha, not thus far anyways.*knocks on wood*…

Anyhoo, the rain here is certainly something to behold. It is beautiful, even though it is quite destructive. When it rains the entire world hides, people stop what they are doing and run for cover…  And I am among them, because by drowned rat I literally mean soaked to the skin, which is fine unless you need to spend the entire day in your clothes… And since everything runs on ‘Africa Time’ it is perfectly reasonable to say you were late from the rain. While the rain is fierce, I would be lying if I say I didn’t somehow love it. All of the weather here is extreme and exciting, the skies are beautiful, and the clouds… Don’t even get my started on the clouds. All of the other students make fun of me and my obsession with the clouds and sunsets. But I have no shame. They are so beautiful, and seeing lightning gash through them and then listening to the roaring thunder is something to behold.  If it wasn’t for anything else I could probably stay here in Africa just for the skies. 

Some thoughts on life... and other meanderings of my mind.

Everyday on my commute I walk through my little neighborhood to the main road. There I join the other commuters on their way to work, I hop on a Dala Dala (the public transit) and try to sit as near to the front as possible. I hug my bag and try to not be too much in the way. To date I have yet to take a Dala where I am the only non-African, but it isn’t so bad. I am use to the stares and just try to ignore it as much as possible. After signaling the conductor that I want to get off, I get off pay my 400 shillings and walk the remaining 30 or so minutes along the main road to work. On your average day I will have about 10 or 15 people try to talk to me and un countable stares, the people that talk to me generally just  say a quick “Habari” or “ Jambo!” But this week the common them has been the annoying call of “ Mzungu! Madame Mzungu! Lady Mzungu! Hey you MZUNGU!”… To which I generally just keep walking, head down, no eye contact. *Cue Les Mis song “Look Down”* Saying Mzungu to us may seem very rude as it literally means “White person” or more historically means “One who walks in circles, or is dizzy.” Because when the white settlers came here they were all over the place and kept walking in circles and getting lost. So, now today white people are called Mzungu. To the local people here they don’t seem to think it to be terribly rude, or impolite. Though at first I was fairly certain it was rather rude… and I still wonder… But Se La Vi. The annoying thing for me is how it is said; it can be genuinely kind, friendly, and in the case of a little kid very excited (There is nothing cuter than a 3 year old trying to pronounce M-zun-gu with a giant smile on their face.) But sometimes it sounds derogatory, rude, and generally makes one feel very uncomfortable. I can’t help but think “Yes, yes I know I am white, thank you for pointing it out… I might have forgotten… OH WAIT, I CAN’T. YOU ALL STARE AT ME!” The worst is when it is younger men… or creepy old men… “Mzungu pendeza!”… I think, “White girl is pretty? Really that is all you got? How often does that actually work for you?” … Maybe I should try that next time I find some white guy attractive… “ Hey, hey you man. Man with less melanin in your skin than people with dark skin. Hey, you’re attractive…” Yeah, because that is gonna work. HA! Well, I guess its best I keep my sense of humor to myself. All that said it has occurred to me just how much I didn’t know about how it feels to be a minority. Growing up as a middleclass white girl really sheltered me from the perspective I have now. It also really makes me empathize with those who are not a majority. Even though I dislike all this attention, I am trying my best to embrace it and learn from it. Those of us in the majority never really think of the whole minority thing. But now, I know how it feels to have people assume things about me, they assume I am rich, I am American, I will pay way more for anything in the market, I will probably give them money, I am only here to buy things and go on Safari, and I don’t understand or know any Swahili or cultural customs. It is frustrating, but very eye opening. And I have a whole other level of respect now for those to deal with that on a daily basis.  It is a different world here, and I am not just speaking form the fact that it is a developing country.  Don’t get me wrong, I am loving my experiences here and my personal growth.  But I am in a place so different it is impossible to describe how different it is. I have found that my inner strength is far greater than I would have imagined possible, for example while in Zanzibar when I was on day 10 or so of being very sick I was in the bathroom, trying desperately to keep down the food that I had just eaten and between bouts of throwing up I was looking up at the moldy mildew covered walls and listening to the call to prayer and honestly the only thing that came into my head was how beautiful I thought that sound was. I am not Muslim nor do I know any Arabic but a greeting or two, but I found that I could truly appreciate the significance of the words being sung. They were words that had been sung for thousands of years… And I had the opportunity to experience it firsthand… Pretty amazing… And all of this wonderful revelation was had while doubled over a half broken European toilet in 100 degree weather with 90% humidy on day 10 of being violently ill… I figured out rather early on that I was going to feel sick for most of my time there and that regardless of how horrible I felt I was going to enjoy my experiences and learn. Which is much easier said than done.

I don’t think before this trip I would have been able to appreciate such things. But thank goodness the anti-biotics seem to be working and my month or so of feeling horrible appears to be over. I highly suggest that if anyone comes to Africa that you come prepared with  anti-diarrhea, anti-gas, anti-acid, laxative, and the knowledge that YOU WILL USE ALL OF THESE at some point. Just face it, it will happen. If I have gained anything from this trip (and I have gained a lot thus far and I am just at the halfway point) It is a giant dose of perspective, humility and appreciation. 

On a lighter note I have also discovered that Snickers candy bars seem to be the best cure for homesickness… And really good coffee… As I am typing this I am drinking probably the best coffee I have ever had grown right here on the farm where I work.  Life is good. J

Birthday in a Boma...

Wow, such a crazy past few weeks. I am now back in Arusha and interning at Shanga Shangaa (www.Shanga.org/) There I am working on marketing and looking for possible prospect customers in the U.S and Europe. I spend many hours on the computer, but it is fairly interesting and the business is an amazing place. The rough overview of the Shanga mission is the idea of employing and empowering disabled Tanzanians. The business currently employs 57 workers and creates jewelry, clothing, glassware, greeting signs; the list goes on and on. Most of the materials used to make products are recycled, meaning not only does Shanga employ and empower but it is also ecologically responsible.  They also have amazing food and coffee that is to die for.

This past weekend my group headed out to Longido to stay at a Maasai Boma, there we learned about Maasai culture and how the Maasai people live today.  The Maasai are a group of people who traditionally live in huts made of sticks and cow dung with a giant surrounding fence made of bramble. One Boma houses an extrended family, uncles, aunt, fathers, mother’s, etc. The Maasai don’t have chiefs but rather have age sects that people are born into and grow up with. These sects have stages of initiation and help govern and protect the traditional Maasai way of life. The Maasai raise sheep, goats, and cattle and are known for their beautiful jewelry and traditional clothing (and more uncommonly known for their terrific knowledge of where things are.)  There are of course Maasai that live in modern houses and dress modernly, but there are also Maasai who still live the same way their ancestors have for 100s of years. No electricity, no running water, no cars, no modern conveniences… Well,except cell phones. They do have cell phones,  which is a bit puzzling to me because they have no power outlets to charge them, I am wondering if they might have solar chargers or something like that. Anyways, the weekend was amazing despite the lack of warm blankets, soft beds, and actual bathrooms. It was like extreme camping, with cows. Not too bad if you ask me, we watched them slaughter a goat, and as we ate it the sun went down leaving us a spectacular African sunset.  That night we sat around the fire and taught the kids camp songs and looked at the stars.

The next day I woke up to watch the sunrise, which seemed only like the appropriate thing to do on my 20^th birthday, and the only reason I would ever really want to get up before 6 am.  Ohh wait, did I not mention that yet? I am 20 now, and I spent most of the first day of my 20s in a Maasai Boma surrounded by donkeys, cows, lambs, and baby goats…  If any of you don’t know me too well I should probably tell you that this was probably the most perfect and ideal way to spend my birthday due to my strong affection small ruminants and adorable ungulates. We also attended a Maasai church and held 2 week old puppies. Kristin also saw a Giraffe, but I was too engrossed in looking at the hills during the bus ride and missed it entirely, but oh well. This next weekend we are going on Safari, so I suppose I will make up for my lack of giraffe seeing there.

It is amazing to me how complicated we live, I mean I am currently writing this post because the internet at my work is not being compliant to us employees, and I just had a coke and texted my roommate about meeting for coffee after work… Anyone who is reading this is at a computer, on a smart phone or some other internet capable device and is actually spending their time reading about my current life in Africa. I have grown up with no worries about food, water, clothes, housing, I mean financially my family has not always been on the bright side, but we have never been in need. I attend an amazing University and have access to knowledge, opportunity, clothes, and freedoms I didn’t even know I had. I have been coming to the realization that my entire life I have been blessed beyond belief and have taken for granted and even complained about things I didn’t like. It baffles me now that I use to beg my parents for channels on our TV and not just movies. Many of the people here in Africa, not just the Maasai live with much less than electricity let alone a TV with channels. Power outages are common; nearly everyone takes some form of public transportation that varies in safety from type to type but as a general rule is high-risk, and rather dangerous. People don’t have closets of clothes, or lots of furniture, they just have what they need. In the US we are always told we have so much, but I cannot emphasize enough the reality of that truth. We live in such abundance that some people cannot even imagine and we have no clue. All that said, the Maasai (and in general many of the people) I met/meet are the kindest, happiest, people.  They are far more grateful than anyone I have met before this trip and have more integrity than many people I know. It astounds me.

To be honest even though we didn’t have bathrooms, blankets, running water, electricity, or really anything that would be normally conducive to “normal life”  I could probably have lived in the Boma much longer then a night, I would have really liked to study the culture more closely and been able to ask more questions. Maasai still have their native Maasai tongue, and  only a few that we met knew Swahili and none in the Boma we stayed at knew English. But I can learn right?

 It was a bit like stepping into National Geographic, very un-real feeling. But very very cool, while I am only 20 and have no idea where my life is heading as a social science/ art major I have a feeling that I would quite enjoy staying in a Boma for a time and learning more about the Maasai culture and society.  So, maybe someday I will be back. J

SHEEP AND GOATS!

The head of the family in the boma. I didn't catch his name but he was very kind and knew a little Swahili. 

Me and a day or two old baby goat! :) I kept getting flashbacks from my earlier sheep raising days. :) 

Most of the area looked like this, red dirt, Lion King trees... And yes, in my mind they are called Lion King trees. Some areas had more shrubbery but for the most part this is what it looked like all around the boma. 

The outer wall of the boma and Longido mountain. 

A hut inside the boma. 

Beautiful sunset. 

Walking into History.

This morning we attended an Anglican service in a beautiful very very old church.  I am not sure of the dates so I will have to do some reasearch when I remember to bring my computer with me while wifi hunting. But here are some pictures. It is a pretty incredible place, beautiful grounds, old building, narrow hallways and very old copper and mosaic images. It was like walking through history, I am hoping to stow away in a coffee shop this weekend and do more history research about Stonetown and the buildings. Many of them were built by the Portuguese when they controlled the island in the 16th century, but then the Omani Arabs took over a while later. So the culture here is crazy cool and the architecture is stunning. 

Peponi-paradise

Hey all! Sorry it has been a while since I wrote on here, I got really sick and then just as I was recovering we headed to Zanzibar! So now that I'm in Zanzibar I can officially say I'm never coming back. Just kidding, sadly. I would stay here in a heartbeat if the opportunity presented itself. It is about 90 degrees and has a really high humidity percentage but it is gorgeous. I have gone swimming nearly everyday and have seen ever sunset. It is all absolutely breathtaking. My host family  and new roommate are both amazing and my Swahili is improving rapidly. My days are mostly filled with class and exploration, with a bit of homework. :) I will post more later as of now I'm off to my home for the month to get lunch and then to the fabric market to get some lighter clothes and scarves. 

Rain in Africa!

What a glorious day! :) We all had class then Chris, Kristin, Jacqulin, Jax, Amia and I all walked down town to look around. We almost got hit by a car as we were walking a cross the road from Kundayo Apartments, but other than that our walk was amazing. :) It is so nice to just get out and move! We spend most of our time in class or studying so for me anyways exersize is a precious opportunity. It was hot ( about 90) and dusty, the city was bustling and as always packed with pedestrians. We stopped in at a store and bought some water and then headed to the bank and then a crafts market. The market overseer knew English but he let us try our Swahili with basic conversation, he was impressed and told us to come back soon. On our way back it began to rain just as we got to the road to Kundayo. As the small storm blew in the winds picked up and the rain began to downpour. I will shamelessly admit I danced in the rain. Kristin and Chris did too. Kristin was taking pictures of us all and ran up and posed us... So titanic moment. This is probably the only photo we have that we arn't contorting our faces with rediculous laughing. :p 

Mama Sharon and Baba Sharon's house.

We made it safely to our host families house! They don't know a lot of English so communication is pretty difficult but I am certain it will improve quickly. The scenery is beautiful. Mt. Meru is apart of our walk to our ride to school! The roads in the neighborhood are dirt and very uneven and rocky. Goats, chickens, cows, and dogs are all running about. Each house is surrounded by tall cement/cinder block walls and have large metal doors that can open for a car, or a person can just open a small door within the large gate and go inside. I will post more picture and write more soon! Kwaheri! 

Host families.

In just a few minutes we will get to meet our host families! Eiik! Kristin ( girl in the center) and I will be rooming with the same family until the beggining of February when we change locations! :) can't wait! Or maybe I can. I am so nervous! .... By the way the photo here is of us three roommates while we were at kundayo apartments. Kwaheri!

Dinner!

They feed us so much here we are all realizing we are going to have to pace ourselves! The fruit here is to die for, the avacados are phenominal! Here is tonight's dinner (Jan, 12, 2014). Curries vegitables, some kind of beef?, chicken broth and pea soup, chipati bread, chicken, and seasoned rice with bananas and chocolate for dessert. Yum! :)

Our back yard.

Here is the back yard area of the place we are staying! :) those are banana trees and pommagranet trees! 

All safe in Africa!

If I do the math correctly I have been up for 28 some odd hours with very little sleep. Traveling was tedious and too cramped, but it is over. I think that will be all I shall write for now because I am having a hard time forming thoughts let a lone writing sentences. So, I am off to try to figure out the shower, get settled a bit, maybe attempt some yoga, and go to sleep! I will post more tomorrow! Kwaheri!

I will post pictures tomorrow but here is a link to the apartments we are staying in for a few days!
http://www.kundayoapartments.com/