Welcome home?

After 72 long hours of traveling, I must admit that when I finally landed in NYC, I was really ready to just get on my next flight and be in Chicago already. However, JFK airport is a crazy place, and it was a bit of a shock initially when I walked in and tried to figure out where I was supposed to be going. There were also white people speaking English everywhere, so I was a bit overwhelmed…

I found myself asking a woman for assistance as to how to get to the next terminal, in very slow, broken English…and then I remembered she speaks English. And so do I. Oops.

Then I made it to my terminal and decided that the crazy madhouse of a zoo that was the current check-in process was too much for me to handle. And considering my flight was in 6 hours, I figured I could compose myself and regroup before I braved the crowds. So I found a chair in a relatively quiet corner and simply observed my surroundings. Girls in short shorts and tank tops heading to Miami, men in lavish business suits and phones with head pieces in their ears (there’s probably a name for such things, but what do I know…), young kids running around in their fancy shoes, and generally just a lot of American people everywhere.

When I started hearing complaints about cancelled flights, I figured I should probably figure out how I will figure out when/where/if I was leaving. Unfortunately, without a cell phone, quarters for the pay phone, internet access on my computer or the correct flight information, it quickly became aware that this would be tricky. Also, I was trying to maneuver with all my belongings still, and after 3 days, I was really over all of that…

And when I finally made it to the front of the line to ask the question, I got the matter-of-fact “your flight is cancelled” response. WHAT! Not possible. Shocked, I joined the next long line of people with cancelled flights to try to figure out what to do. Because there were so many people with cancellations trying to rebook, the woman told me the next flight she could guarantee was from LaGuardia at 3:15 the next day. Umm wait….WHAT?!

My next thoughts:

What on earth am I supposed to do in this city, one of the biggest cities in the WORLD, for the next 24 hours. I wanted in…and right back out!

And then the tears came…

I had no phone, and the sole pay phone was broken.

I had limited money, and didn’t expect to have to pay for a night in the city.

I needed to somehow get to the other airport and find a hotel to stay in for the night.

I was starving and needed to eat something.

I was dirty, smelly, exhausted from such a long journey.

And I was alone.

And more tears came.

The woman kindly gave me a few meal vouchers (although for a different terminal which was highly unhelpful seeing as the airport was under construction and I’d have to walk most of the way with all my stuff…oh, and I’ve failed to mention, but the wheels on my suitcase broke so I had my backpack on my back and was awkwardly trying to carry that…) She also gave me a toll free number to call for a hotel…which was highly unhelpful seeing as I don’t have a phone.

I tried the payphone again, and I swear I haven’t forgotten how to use a telephone in my year in the bush…but it seriously wasn’t working. So trying to hold back the flood of tears that was threatening to explode, I asked a man working the check-in if he knew if the phone was working. I explained my situation and he told me there was a place near the arrivals that had phones for different hotels. And then he offered to carry my bag and take me there. asante.

Then, just in case you expected this was finally my breakthrough, it wasn’t. The stand was removed because of the construction.

AWESOME!

But behind a giant sign, there was a magical red phone. You push the little red button and the man on the other end finds you a hotel! I'm not even joking...it was so great. Literally magical. He was very pleasant and booked me a room near LaGaurdia. Then I hopped into my first NYC yellow taxicab and set off. Other than the shear shock of the expense of the taxi ride and hotel room, I thankfully had a plan. I got to the hotel, got my room, sat down on my bed and literally jumped for joy…

Such comforts like this have not been in my life for a while! Literally the most comfortable bed I think I’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping in. And the water was SO HOT! I took the world’s longest shower, enjoying every splash of fresh, clean, hot water that hit my face. Then solving the problem of dinner, the hotel had snacks and soups and sodas and things, so I bought myself a cup of campbell’s soup, used the microwave in my room, and treated myself to Goldfish! Maybe not the most grandiose of first meals back in the states, but it was just what I needed. And I could avoid venturing out into the city again, which was certainly positive. I spent the evening enjoying the SUPER FAST wi-fi, catching up with friends, and fell asleep by 8pm before I even had the chance to start a movie.

And then when I woke up well rested and looked at the clock…it was 4am. What’s up jetlag. So I watched a movie, repacked my bags since they were a disaster, and took another shower! I put on my almost clean pants, new sandals that I bought in Kenya, a brand new clean tshirt that Marisa gifted me before I left, looked in the mirror, and almost felt like I fit in here. Almost…

Breakfast at the hotel had way too many options for me to decide, but I will say that the banana was not a good option. Seriously no comparison to TZ bananas and I couldn’t even eat it. The other fruit was good, as was the yogurt and wholegrain bread. I’ve missed having such things in my life! Mmm.

The hotel had a shuttle to the airport, which was very convenient, and while I got here early to see if I could get on an earlier flight (which I couldn’t), it gives me time to sit in a nice chair, reflect on my transition to American life, and write this blog. I suppose I can handle this short 4-hour wait with all the comforts of home.

Not gonna lie, I’m VERY much so looking forward to landing in Chicago!

Philippians 4:10-13

"I rejoice greatly in the Lord that now at last you revived your concern for me. 

You were, of course, concerned about me but lacked an opportunity. 

Not that I say this because of need, for I have learned, in whatever situation I find myself, to be self-sufficient. 

I know indeed how to live in humble circumstances; 

I know also how to live with abundance.

In every circumstance and in all things I have learned the secret 

of being well fed and of going hungry, 

of living in abundance and of being in need. 

I have the strength for everything through him who empowers me."

~Philippians 4:10-13~

Peace OUT!

There’s nothing like a 10-hour Tanzanian bus ride to mentally prepare you leave the country. In previous posts I’ve mentioned my severe dislike of transportation here, and today was certainly no exception.

First, we didn’t leave until almost 7:30, when we should have left at 6:30.

Second, it didn’t appear as if there was any room underneath the bus, so I put my giant backpack in my seat with me and they put my smaller suitcase in the row in front of me.

Third, with my backpack in my seat with me, I literally had no room for my feet and sat curled up for the entire trip practically.

Fourth, it was blistering hot and the sun was shining on me so I now have a very pronounced tshirt tan on my left arm only.

Fifth, we stopped way too many times to pick up way too many people who all ended up smashed in the aisle.

Sixth, there were two men in normal clothes carrying very large guns sitting across the aisle from me. When they got off, actually cops with bigger guns got on. While this is a normal occurrence here, it’s something I’ll never get used to.

Seventh, we stopped about an hour into the ride, and I looked to the front to check my small suitcase, and it most certainly was not there. So instead of panicking (since I was actually completely unable to move), I asked the woman next to me if she could see it. She said no, but got off to check underneath. Thankfully we found it, however it was on the opposite side of the bus so it could have easily been taken at any point on the journey and I would have never known. And considering this was the bag with my laptop and camera and clean clothes for the next leg of my journey and nearly everything actually important, it was hard to not worry for the entire rest of the way.

Eighth, I try to avoid making myself more of a target than I already am while travelling, which meant no Kindle or Ipod. Try sitting on a hot, smelly bus without eating or drinking with your legs all jammed up for way too many consecutive hours.

Ninth, a tire blew out at one point and I certainly thought I was actually shot, but a brief pit stop on the side of the road had us patched up in no time.

Tenth, we finally got to Lake Victoria to cross via ferry to Mwanza by 4pm. At least at this point I could stand and enjoy the beauty of crossing the world’s largest lake! Until the man next to me really wanted to talk, and then come to America with me, and then asked 3 different times for my phone number. And this whole conversation was him speaking mumble-jumble Swahili, so I’m surprised I understood as much as I did.

And lately, eleventh, we finally arrived 10 hours later (should have been about a six or seven hour journey). But good news, both my bags survived the journey, the woman sitting next to me helped me get a taxi, and I easily got a very nice, cheap hotel room. Dinner next door of chips mayai and Fanta passion soda was a lovely last meal in Tanzania.

And while the prospect of boarding 5 planes within the next two days is daunting, the fact that my longest flight is 10 hours, I’ll be fed and watered, I have bathroom access that’s not the side of the road, and I can do whatever I please, whether reading, listening to music, journaling, watching a movie, or sleeping. Sounds heavenly to me! Not gonna lie, while I’m leaving part of my heart here in Tanzania, it’s certainly in the bush and not on the bus! So peace out TZ! See ya soon America! Don’t be surprised when I freak out to be in a normal vehicle again… 

Footprints on my Heart

In a few short hours, I will be boarding a bus with all my belongings and leaving a beautiful place that has captured my heart in a way that words cannot describe.

Saying good-bye is always hard, but I know this is not the end. I look forward to the day when I can return to this place I call home and reunite with people I now call family. I have been blessed beyond measure these past 10 months, and my life has been touched in a way that I will never be the same.

While I don’t know where I’m headed or what the future holds, I am certain of this: That God who called me to this place and remained faithful to the end will be with me as I venture home and begin the next chapter of my life.

Kwa Heri!

It’s nearly impossible to put into words this feeling of “Good-bye”…what can I say? It’s almost like you feel so many emotions at once that you begin to go numb. Self-preservation perhaps. Sadness, longing, anxiety, stress, fear of what lies ahead, joy for what lies behind, guilt, uncertainty, excitement. Put that all together in the past week, stir it up, and see what happens. But of course, you must still continue to mark exams, give final grades, take pictures, share meals, burn trash, clean the house, pack your whole life, throw parties, and say goodbye. 

Talk about a lot happening all at once.

And I thought moving to Tanzania was stressful! Moving back is potentially worse.

While a small part of me is excited to be coming home, I can hardly focus on anything more than taking a hot shower or having movie night with popcorn and not worrying that my computer battery will die and I’ll have nothing to do for the next four days before it can be charged again…

Focusing on the mundane seems to be the right thing to do, because in reality, I wish I were going back to school tomorrow instead of getting on a bus. I have so much I still want to teach, so many more conversations to have, so many more things I could do here, so much more to learn. But the timing is not up to me. And it’s now time to leave the bush and re-enter the “developed world” as they say. The land of washing machines, running water, ice cubes, electricity, wi-fi, paved roads, comfy chairs, and blue jeans. I’ve come to enjoy this simple life here; it’s really not so bad. While initially I will enjoy the luxuries of life in America, I think it’s going to be difficult after awhile to deal with the guilt of what we deem “necessary” in our daily American lives.

It’s really hard to say what the shock will be like, but I’m sure it will be entertaining for those who experience it with me. I’m imagining being blinded by the abundance of white skin in the airport, inviting 17 extra people into the car for the ride home because that’s my new normal, and then possibly having a mental breakdown walking into Wal-Mart again for the first time. But as time goes on, I’ll get my haircut, take a few showers, get a pedicure to help my poor feet, buy some new clothes, and perhaps I’ll slowly but surely weave my way back into the American society.

And while this girl is leaving Tanzania, Tanzania will never leave her. I think there will be a big piece of my heart left here, which will not be easy to fill… I will say “Hodi” every time I knock on a door, when I’m cold I’ll just drape myself in colorful fabric, and I might even choose to have rice and beans for dinner occasionally. And of course, I will most likely tell anyone and everyone who will listen all about my new home in Muyenzi and my new family in Bukiriro. As I told all of my students on Friday, “I love each and everyone of you, even if you do not love mathematics…and if God wishes, we shall see each other again one day!” I have no doubt that I will one day return to Africa, and Ngara District will most certainly be on the top of my itinerary!

Although this is good-bye, I am positive that it is only good-bye for now! 

Bukiriro Secondary School, Form 1 Class

Bahati's Story

Life here is difficult. Not so much for me. But certainly for so many of my students. Education is not valued in this community, and it is difficult to instill the importance of learning in a community where the worth is not present and often not applicable. For a very select number of students, their education will take them places, while the rest will generally continue village life as parents, farmers, or herders. This is something I’ve come to accept, because there is only so much that I could do in a short amount of time. It will take years, even generations, to truly promote education at a new level in these communities. And such is life.

However, for the few students who are gifted, driven and devoted to their studies, it becomes imperative that their education is encouraged. These are the few who will make it out of the village to pursue higher degrees, hold government positions and make more of their lives. These are the bright stars of Tanzania’s tomorrow…

When my headmaster came in to share the story of one of my students this past week, a huge wave of emotion crashed down on me. Bahati is by far the top Form 1 student at Bukiriro. He is incredibly smart and a natural leader in class. His English is better than many Form 4 students. In class, he would raise his hand to answer any and every question I posed during our lessons. He scored nearly 100% on every assignment, quiz and exam I gave, and was always eager to ask questions and assist any of the teachers when needed. Needless to say, he is certainly going places.

But then, come to find out that his mother is not supporting his education. She told him if he was going to study in secondary school, then he would have to leave the house. So he did. And for a while he was living with the nuns in the community, until they decided they couldn’t support him because he is now a grown man. Sure, he is tall, but he is still a young, growing boy in need of a place to say and someone to support his education. With no other alternative, he returned home to his mother, who threatened not to feed him if he continued attending school. I can personally say that Bahati has never missed a day of school all term….which unfortunately means he has missed several meals in the past few weeks. Imagine if we didn’t serve the students porridge in the mornings? My heart aches….My headmaster found him studying at school late in the evenings a few days in a row, and when he heard the story became determined to find Bahati an alternative.

For now, that alternative is to stay with my headmaster and his family, who will care for him while he continues learning. My headmaster is one of the most loving, kind, and generous men I have ever had the pleasure of working with, and I am happy to hear that at least for now, Bahati’s basic needs of food and education will be taken care of. And as Marisa and I are moving out of our house, we were able to provide him with a mattress, sheet, pillow, blanket and bicycle. Knowing that he will also sleep soundly at night and that he’ll have a bicycle to travel, support the family, and potentially begin earning some money of his own, makes me confident that we will be hearing more of Bahati’s story in the coming years!

I am reminded of God’s unfailing love and provision. I am reminded that sometimes life is really difficult, but that this can be overcome by the power of persistence, the pursuit of your dreams, and one or two people who truly believe in you. I have been reminded of how blessed I am to have the untiring support of my family and friends, and I hope that in some small way, I was able to show the same love and support to Bahati and the rest of my students. They are all facing a daunting uphill battle, and unfortunately many of them will not make it to the top. But for Bahati, the boy whose name means “Luck,” there is a unique drive and unparalleled resolution to receive his education. Thoughts and prayers for Bahati, as he continues his education in a community that is continually trying to prevent him from learning…

“Do not conform to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…” Romans 12:2

I'm going to miss him!