Getting Personal

Well, It’s time for an overdue blog post about an overdue topic. This word document has been started so many times but just couldn’t figure out how to get into what I’ve wanted to write about for so long. But today, I’m doing it! Be warned, as I reread this post I think it feels a bit negative, but I’m okay with that. Not every minute of every day here is happy. I don’t love everything about Arusha, just almost everything. Every day has really high highs and really low lows. I don't like to tell y'all that, but I think it's time to dive a little bit deeper.

You all know by now how much I love being in Tanzania, how happy my kids make me and how excited about the project I am. I glow in pictures here, and I know that I am a completely different level of happy than I had ever experienced before I came here. Overall, I am happiest when I’m consumed by chaos and dirt, and wrapped up in sweet hugs from my Hill Crest kids. But I have my bad days here; my sad and/or angry days. It’s hard to explain just how physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting it can be to live in a developing country, so I tend to keep that part of my life to myself. Physically, because there’s just a lot of walking. A lot of walking. And if it’s a Thursday night, then there’s a lot of dancing. A lot of dancing. Okay, maybe that wasn’t so hard. But bear with me for the other two.

As I walk through town or the village during the day, I’m constantly scanning the people around me. I watch the shadows of passersby and people behind me, listen to the speed of people taking steps behind me, I hear the tones of conversation and listen for whispering behind me, constantly keeping my guard up and minding the side of my body that my purse hangs on. I calculate every step before I take it, trying to eliminate as much risk as possible.  Arusha isn’t a dangerous town and I don’t feel threatened at all, but I’m paranoid. On these daily walks through town or the village to school, these precautionary thoughts have become routine and stay on repeat in the back of my mind. At the front of my mind is the “x” in a math equation, a variable that I can’t avoid; an unknown I have to solve. How am I going to give these kids the best future possible? Trailing x is y and z. How can I make a difference, truly make a difference, a sustainable, lasting difference, to not only my kids but to these people? Will things here ever change? Between the precautionary thoughts and the unsolvable equation are the observations. The deep, beautiful wrinkles on an old man and how interesting his life story must be. That thirsty dog, the emaciated, tied up cow, those guys who just sit outside a vegetable stand all day, every day. How much I love Mama Junior yelling my name from across the dirt path as she comes to greet me with a huge hug and drags me to her house for a small cup of tea. Those poor women who have to sit and crack rocks into gravel all day. I hope those kids running in the streets can go to school someday.  These observations always take me back to the equation; it’s a vicious cycle that has consumed me for over two years. My mind never gets a rest.

As someone who doesn’t process emotions well to begin with, who either feels too much or not at all, who has no “grey area,” this is an incredibly difficult part of the life that I’ve committed myself to. And even more difficult to write about, I realize now, as I’ve spent the four hours downloading music, playing on my phone, reading about Zanzibar, and walking around while trying to figure out the words that will do justice to the daily emotional roller coaster. Little things, a kid saying the respectful greeting to an elder, someone giving me their seat on the public transportation van so I don’t have to stand, Noella’s sister running to me with her sandals on the wrong feet, a little kid carrying a toddler on his/her back, hearing kids laugh, someone helping me find the right van to my house when I’m at the station, or the guy who helped me when I got lost on the way to my second day at Hill Crest yelling “you’re still here!” every time he sees me. These are the small things that give me so much joy, daily, that I never want to give up my life here. They have played an integral part in my happiness in Arusha. And then there are my friends here who take me in and always know how to keep me smiling. I think the joy Hill Crest gives me is a given, so I won’t bore you with that again ;) If you could physically see how happy these little things make me, you would think it would all be enough to counter what makes me sad or angry, but every day I am tested. Whether it be someone trying to rip me off, or walking a Hill Crest student home to their small and/or empty house. Usually empty of belongings, people, food. Sometimes it is finding out that the father of a student who abandoned the family years ago has returned for a few days and beat his wife and who knows what else before leaving again. Sometimes it’s seeing the kids in their after school clothes, tattered and torn, so dirty that the picture or pattern on the clothes can barely be seen anymore. Then there is going to town and being constantly touched, stared at, over charged, or yelled at. These are all things that build up inside me over time and eventually make me explode. When this happens, I have to take a day or a couple of days to myself. I let myself be upset about what people here endure on a day to day basis. I let myself be angry and annoyed that I can’t take two steps without someone yelling “mzungu” (white person) at me. I cry for my kids while I lock myself in my house and dread the thought of even stepping out of my gate, wishing I could snap my fingers and be back in the US. It’s times like this that having no washing machine benefits me because hand washing my clothes is surprisingly therapeutic. I also have come to understand why people like to have a cold beer after a long day. For someone who spent years joking about not having feelings or emotions, in the last two years, I’ve realized that is far from the truth.

Life in Arusha is exhausting, but I really do love it.

There was an article trending a few months ago about the part of travelling that nobody talks about, which is coming home. This is the hardest part. It’s a completely different kind of hard when you have two homes. When your heart is cut right down the middle, when you’re with your family but missing your family. When you’re home and longing for home. Are you confused? I am. There is a constant weight on my shoulders that I know is here to stay. It’s loving being in Arusha but having a little voice in my head reminding me how much I miss North Carolina, then getting back to North Carolina and the little voice reminding me how much I miss Arusha. It’s being in Arusha when my family members have passed, some friends have battled and are battling huge illnesses, my family has been together, or far away college friends were a little bit closer so we could meet after so long, things I want to be there for, then being in North Carolina when the project that I’ve missed these “events” for is finally coming together and I am wanting to be there to finish it so all my absences haven’t been for naught. Coming home is the hardest part of travelling, especially when by coming home, you’re simultaneously leaving it. But leaving home means I’m always going home. I leave my family only to be greeted by my family. I know it doesn’t get better than that. I love my homes and I love my families. Winnie the Pooh says it best, "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." I’m the luckiest person.

Contacts and relationships!

Hi everyone! It’s been a while since my last update, but not too much has changed. Things have settled down at Hill Crest as new teachers have been hired to replace those we had last year. I’ve been hard at work with a handful of things for the school which will be revealed soon, and my mom and friends have been working hard for another fundraiser at home! The past couple months have been filled with computer work and building relationships with people I’ve met here who will be very, very valuable to both my current project and my future plans. 

There is one cafe I frequent to do my work and by going there, I met a man in his 50s who is also from North Carolina. His name is Bernard and he has been coming to Arusha for 8 years now and knows so many people. He has been looking for a project to get involved in, so Hope for Hill Crest will welcome him!  A handful of conversations with Bernard have ended with him getting me in contact with Nick Cannon (Mariah Carey’s husband), and eventually the owner of Starbucks. He’s very enthusiastic about my project and has already spoken to Nick about me, as Nick has been asking him to find a project to fund. So, Hope for Hill Crest will be getting support from Nick Cannon!!! Once I’m home, I’ll have to go to San Diego to meet with Nick and his dad about the project- oh darn! ;-) Bernard’s involvement in Hope for Hill Crest will be minimal but very important. He knows people who will give me discounts on desks, doors and windows which will be a huge help. Later this week he will introduce me to a man named Mosses, who works with the President of Tanzania. Mosses’ status with the government will make changing our registration from a Nursery school to a Pre-Primary school much easier once the new campus is done. Everyone Bernard has introduced me to thus far has shown great interest in the project and appreciation towards me and I’m thrilled to know him. 

At another cafe, I met a man who is an engineer in Kenya designing sustainable water pumping and warming systems. He asked what I was doing here, and I told him about the project. He came to my table and started explaining all these ways we can heat water cheaply and a couple of ways we can save some money on the design. He works with SIMTANK also, which is a water tank company and he said he can provide us with our water tanks when it’s time. I believe we will ask him to come down to install the water pump system when we are at that step as he’s very enthusiastic about young people coming here to make a difference.  

A whole world of opportunity has been opened up to the project over the last month and I’ve worked hard to build these relationships so that when I leave and come back, these people will remember me and want to continue working with me. When it comes to Nick Cannon, that makes me very excited for both Hope for Hill Crest and my future plans to do community projects in Africa. I’m really missing home, but this last month has opened a whole world of opportunity! 

I’ll do an update after I meet with Mosses and get in contact myself with Nick. I can’t wait to see what this will bring to the project and fundraiser! 

xoxox