here to there.

My first journal entry.

June 4, 2011

The beginning. After several days, I have said all my goodbyes, completed the epic task of packing for a month of life in Africa (everything from clothes, to binoculars, to bug spray, to rings, to headlamps to eye drops) and mentally prepared, as much as realistically possible, for such an adventure. Now, I’m drinking in the North Carolina scenes from inside a tiny commuter jet, the last glimpses of Greensboro that I will see for a while. I’m fully aware that when I set eyes on this familiar landscape again, I will be a different person.  But isn’t that our daily story? Change is constant. There really is no “different,” just a truer form of ourselves.  We’re picking up speed...

After 30 days, 1385 photos, 4 flights, and 7 rounds of goodbyes I am home. Well, one of my homes. Tanzania graciously opened its arms to me, as I opened my eyes and heart as much as I knew how. It taught me about wildlife, conservation, the environment. But, most importantly, it taught me the African way of life. This life has no worries. Time means nothing. Frustration and negativity are traded for compassion, gentleness and encouragement. We are not perfect and it is not fair to expect perfection from anyone else. Hakuna Matata, what a wonderful phrase!

I thank you for all your thoughts and prayers. It means so much to me. As I conclude this inspiring journey, I hope it has sparked your own travel bug. After all, I need companions for the next grand adventure!

Tanzania, till we meet again...

karibu.

Serengeti Safari. Nearing sundown. Zebras galore!

"Twiga, twiga, SIMBA!" (Duck, duck, goose)  at the Primary School.

Tanzania, you have blessed me so.

wrap up.

This last week, especially the five days in the Serengeti, has been so incredibly busy.  Hence, between all the activities and lack of internet access, I have not had a chance to post. As we had a program debrief this morning and I continue to pack for the journey home, a whole puzzle of emotions circulate around camp.

From our crazy time in the Serengeti (which can only properly be explained in person), to the killer bike tour of Mtu Wa Mbu and time at the orphanage yesterday to our “prom” last night, my time in Tanzania has been an absolute blast.

As extremely excited as I am to reunite with everyone at home, I will also dearly miss the people here and a lot more...

1. Well, African life in general. No hurry. No worries.

2. Hakuna Matata. (A philosophy applied to everything, at every time of day.)

3. Time means nothing.

4. Being outside, all the time.

5. Infinite stars.

6. Dirt is your friend. (Especially when both your feet sink into the muck of Lake Manyara halfway through a bike tour under the sweltering sun.)

7. Random power outages. (Okay, those I will not miss.)

8. Men with rhythm.

9. Scrumptious breakfasts.

10. Ironically, bargaining for everything I bought.

11. Bongo flava music.

12. Baobab trees.

13. Moses, Bura, Arthur, Daniel.

blue balloon.

After lunch yesterday, we traveled to the orphanage in Mtu Wa Mbu. Erica, our program director, has volunteered there for the past few years so we were able to do the same.  The building was painted with butterflies and suns, lined with a dusty porch.  Before we were even briefed about our tasks, the kids ran out to greet us, grabbing our hands and jumping into our arms.  Each one had such a beautiful personality. Michael, who stayed in Dan’s arms for half the time, was all smiles. Another little girl was full of sass, only enhanced by the array of sunglasses she snagged from us, modeling them like a pro.

I helped organize the school supplies, a job that entailed sifting through boxes and piles of random papers, utensils, toys and pictures.  A few of the guys worked on the swing outside. The orphanage was also trying to open a duka (shop) for villagers and tourists. Thus, others sorted the paintings, jewelry and other items for sale, displaying a few outside.  We painted a sign to advertise the duka as well.

After the dust from our organizing cleared out and everything was in place, we were able to play with the kids. One little girl ran over and jumped in my lap, singing away.  I began bouncing my legs and playing along. She kept singing and bouncing way past the point of my legs aching. But, she loved it!  All the kids loved our camera, too!  When they weren’t smiling for pictures, they were taking them.  Some of us played soccer with the kids, some did puzzles.  One little boy found a recorder while we were organizing, so his attempt at a musical masterpiece was quite entertaining! Right when we were about to leave, another precious girl with a big, blue balloon ran up to me. I lifted her into the air and twirled her around in my arms. I couldn’t let her go. But, alas, it was time to leave.  With one last hug, I let her down and watched as she bounced off with her blue balloon.

As we drove away, kids were already lining up for the newly constructed swing! Energy. Charisma. Joy. All things that I’ve said before, but such interactions never cease to amaze me. Even though our return there is uncertain, our time spent with the children was positively delightful.

when in tanzania...

The only update from yesterday concerns the power. Thus, I would like to extend an emphatic thank you to my parents who made sure that I had everything suggested on the list of packing supplies. Today’s choice equipment was the very flattering headlamp...

We were without power for half the day.

Luckily, we all finished our papers before the power outage. The kitchen cooked over fire in the back, so dinner was not interrupted by this somewhat routine occurrence. After a few minutes we adjusted to it and went about our night, clad in our headlamps.

More exciting, a few of us walked to the tailor’s house this morning. After buying beautiful fabric in Mto Wa Mbu, I gave him the pieces to make a wrap-skirt and bag. He works from a sewing machine on his front porch, with piles of fabric surrounding him and rows of pants hanging overhead. His efficiency is incredible. Both of my pieces are perfect, completely handmade in Tanzania.

Up next: Ngorongoro Crater. But for now, studying for our exam tomorrow.

meet the maasai.

Recently, we were lucky enough to visit a Maasai Boma. The Maasia settled in this area around 200 years ago. Daniel, the Swahili professor and one of our drivers, is Maasai, along with a few other staff members. The group at this Boma greeted us with cultural singing and dancing—clad in their traditional, colorful fabric and large beaded necklaces.This lasted for quite a while, as they even pulled a few of our group into the dancing.

The Maasai traditionally practice pastoralism and have a large coral, lined with thorny bushes, where their livestock stay at night. The thorns are only minimally effective though, because wildlife still occasionally attack their animals. (This is one area of our research: their attitudes toward wildlife and proactive ways to alleviate the tension). As for their living space, mud houses suffice. A traditional Boma is made with sticks and mud, sometimes a thatch roof. Inside it  is dark and fly infested, no larger than my room at home.  After the boma, we had a chance to pass by their preschool, nothing more than a square mud structure- no books or blackboards in sight.

However, through the dust and the relentless flies, the fact that we had a chance to meet a Maasai tribe was quite eye-opening. Their resources are clearly limited: the closest water source was 6 km away. Their houses are tiny. Their livelihood is laborious. But these observations are all by my Western standards. This certainly does not make them any less joyful or welcoming. From our brief experience, all of these traits are more than plentiful resources.

footprints.

During my phone interview for the SFS program, I was told that there was a running path around camp. Perfect!

Running trail reality: dusty, sandy, rocky, hilly, horribly uneven.  Not the ideal situation. 

Nonetheless, after a few times walking it with a small group, I decided to take a break this afternoon from my report and brave the menacing trail. Without a doubt, the scenery trumped the terrain. 5:20 pm. Beaming African sun overhead; scattering red dust beneath. Winding through a jumble of small houses and fields overflowing with sunflowers. Rolling hillsides in the distance.

I was at the crest of a steep hill when I spotted five young children jumping, screaming, and waving from the bottom. Two little boys ran to meet me, each grabbing one of my hands and falling into step with me. I slowed down at the bottom of the hill to exchange with them as much Swahili as I knew, but somehow language didn’t seem to matter.  Dancing, smiling, jumping and singing were the only languages we needed.  Our little troop gallivanted along the path a little farther.  We were soon met by another towering hill, equal in caliber to the one I just sauntered down. But then again, how could I stop now with this jubilant parade surrounding me? We ran, and we ran...