Malaria Strikes.

Sometimes the irony of life kills me. Literally.

This past Tuesday, August 13, was my one-year anniversary of my move to Tanzania. I really wanted to write a blog post wrapping things up, give you my thoughts on reverse culture shock, and give you all of my life updates to commemorate!

What happened instead?

I got malaria.

Now if that’s not impeccable timing, I don’t know what is. But before I can describe to you the joys of having malaria, I should probably give you a few updates. Most importantly, I was hired a few weeks after I returned home to be a math teacher at St. Anthony High School in Milwaukee. While I had a few other interviews, I was excited for this opportunity in particular because it is a relatively small school, it is Catholic, the students wear uniforms, and during my interviews, the administration was excited about the possibility of connecting with my school in Tanzania. The school is also growing, expanding, and enhancing their curriculum, which are all very exciting opportunities to be a part of!

After I was hired, I was able to find myself a new car, a roommate and a place to live! Wonderful blessings now that it has all come together…because to be completely honest, these were all quite stressful at the time (ask anyone who was around me this summer, they’ll tell you the ugly details). I learned a lot about patience and trust in the process, which again seems ironic to me because I thought I learned all about that while I was actually IN Tanzania. I guess there will always be more to learn in life.  This summer was certainly no exception. Just as some things fell into place, other things fell apart. Some days were great, some days were miserable. Sometimes all I could see was joy in the world around me, other days I could hardly get off the couch because everything around me felt wrong. Call these feelings “reverse culture shock,” or “missing Africa,” or “resisting change,” or whatever you wish. All I know is that I am happy and grateful that at the end of this summer, I have a job, a roof over my head, a shower in my bathroom, and wonderfully supportive family and friends.

Which brings me back to Tuesday…

I started training on Monday at St. Anthony, where I am excited to say I will be teaching freshman Algebra 1! YAY! I was exhausted after my first day, but in a good way. Slightly overwhelmed by the amount of information presented in training, the number of people I could actually interact with, and the fact that the school has so many systems in place. I know, all normal things here in America, but it’s going to take a little getting used to again. Tuesday was much of the same, but at the end of the day, all the staff was meeting at a local restaurant to hang out and enjoy each other’s company. I was planning on going, since I skipped out on Monday, but by the time I made it to my car I felt a headache coming on and I was chilled. I sat there for a few minutes, started to shiver, and figured I should probably just head home so I could put on a sweatshirt. Stopping at Target on the way so I could pick up a few things for my classroom, I basically felt like a zombie. My teeth were chattering, my body was shaking, and I could hardly focus on what I was doing. People must have thought I was crazy. I blasted the heat in my car the rest of the way home, telling myself that my body just must not be used to 64 degrees or being so busy. When I got home, I put on as many clothes as possible, wrapped myself in a blanket, and ended up in bed by 7. Waking up two hours later sweating to death, I jokingly said to my roommates, “I bet this is malaria.” Fever, headache. Chills. Sweating. Aches. Classic symptoms. But I just went to bed, thinking how impossible it would be since I’ve been home for three months now, and typically symptoms occur one or two weeks after being infected by the lovely mosquito.

Waking up Wednesday morning, I felt good as new! Must have just been lack of sleep, I told myself.. I had a great day at school, got some things done, set my classroom up, wrote my syllabus, and felt perfectly fine the whole time. Thursday, same thing. A little sleepy, but nothing to complain about initially. However, sitting in mass to celebrate the Assumption, I started to get freezing cold and really faint. Probably didn’t eat or drink enough…maybe it’s all the incense…maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night. On my drive back to school, I once again had to turn my heat on because I was so cold, I couldn’t even bring myself to ask other teachers where they were going for lunch to see if I could join them, and I sort of felt like death. By the time I made it back to school, my teeth were chattering, my head was pounding, and I couldn’t stop my body from shaking. This is when I googled malaria and the CDC told me that symptoms can occur up to a year after returning, and to see a doctor immediately if you have a fever or flu like symptoms. GREAT!

At this point, I’m boiling hot again.

No denying the symptoms anymore, I hopped in the car with my assistant principal and off to the ER we went. After way too many blood tests, they confirmed that I did in fact test positive. I had to talk to several different doctors and specialists, all of whom were very intrigued about my case. I’m pretty sure the doctor from Ethiopia was actually thrilled to see someone with malaria…Glad I was able to bring some excitement to their jobs, since apparently they don’t see malaria cases everyday. No surprise there! They didn’t even have the medicine I needed at the hospital, it had to be rush ordered from somewhere else. In the meantime, I was hooked up to an IV, admitted for the night, and thankfully after I got the medicine my fever of 103 dropped to normal before bedtime.

Friday morning I woke up feeling perfectly fine, stuck in a hospital bed, which seriously no fun. I talked with the infectious disease doctor who was hopeful for a speedy recovery since my parasitic levels are very low, and he even got me out of the hospital yesterday afternoon! He actually seemed slightly more concerned when I told him we were living with bats in our house that occasionally found their way inside, in our dishes, in our food, etc…. Fun fact, rabies can live dormant in your body for up to two years before symptoms occur. I’ll be getting the vaccine, no worries. I would prefer to not write you all from the hospital room telling you about the joys of having rabies.

And that’s my life. Never a dull moment! Unfortunately, I will be missing the first day of school on Monday, but I suppose I’ll have the coolest story to tell when I get back. And in all my resting this weekend, I can hopefully get ahead on lesson planning and what not. While I can’t say that I enjoy the timing of this malaria strike (seriously, I did NOTHING all of July...), I suppose all I can do is take life as it comes.

And you know what, this is just solidifying the facts:

Africa will ALWAYS be part of my heart.

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