April 18th-24th, 2009
"Same old story not much to say- hearts are broken everyday."
- Jewel
I can remember when I used to dread coming back to my village, leaving town and my friends. That certainly is no longer the case. Somehow now coming back when I bump along the road and the village children scream to each other, "Brie Amerudi!" (Brie, she has returned.) Sometimes women shriek and run to hug me like I have been gone for years, children wave and the men shake my hand and I feel like a politician or a princess in the Rose Parade as I wave. This time upon returning I was told some disconcerting news. Juster told me that Mama Johnson was near to die. I should have introduced Mama Johnson earlier into my cast of characters but there are so many people in my life here now that it is hard for me to update about all of them. Mama Johnson I met a few months ago squished next to me in our village car. It was love at first site by both parties. For one thing, she is just someone that you want to be around. She has a huge smile with a cute gap between her front teeth. She laughs a lot and is so patient with my Swahili. She speaks no English and did not finish primary school. She is young (24, I found out today) and she has an almost 2 year old son (Johnson). Before to0day I had visited her a few times at her home. She is VERY poor and lives with her mother a younger siblings. She has come to visit me, always bearing some kind of fruit or vegetable as a gift. So naturally I was unhappy to find out that she was so sick.
I immediately set out for the 45 minute walk to her house, she lives at the far side of our village in a little thatched roof shack with no furniture. When I got there she told me that both she and Johnson were greatly improved and they might not die after all. I was relieved to hear this, of course. She was incredibly thin, however. (So thin that I was hoping to catch whatever she had as a diet plan... haha) Today we sat together on a grass mat in the shade of a banana tree and I heard her story. She decided to leave our village when she was 20. She has no education but she wanted to be in the big city, so she went to Dar es Salaam to be some family's house girl. The father of the family slept with her repeatedly and she was afraid to tell anyone and wanted to keep her job. When she became pregnant, he told his family that she was a liar and a prostitute and did not accept the child as his own. She then had no choice but to return to our village and give birth to Johnson. It is incredible to me how much she loves Johnson when this is the story of his conception. But she is so proud and loving toward him. So now she lives with her mother and has no work. The thing is that she has a building (brick and thatched roof) in our village that she owns and wants to open an mgahawa. There she is hoping to cook Tanzanian food and serve soda and chai. However, she tells me that she does not have the money to start it up and can I give her 200,000 TZ shillings (about $180 USD) to get it going. I get paid a stipend of this exact amount once a month by PC, so clearly I do not have money like that just laying around. This amount is actually a lot of money in TZ. This is the problem with being PC Africa, there are a million people like this. I can't just give her some money because I like her and I should not train Tanzanians to just take American hand outs. So I was thinking about how she could get a bank loan, but Juster says that there will be no way because she has no collateral, so I will have to sign with her and end up paying it anyways. Now i am thinking that there has to be some sort of NGO or something that is doing this because there are a million women who want to start something but have nothing. It should be said that I am not a business person and i do not have a business mind. But if you are reading this and have any idea how I can help Mama Johnson get this money without just handing it to her for nothing. Then please write to me and let me know. I don't get a lot of computer time to research these things. She is a good cause and a good person but I cannot just give her a hand-out. I need to be teaching responsibility. Please let me know if you have an idea! Thanks!
This week I was given 36 avocados. You think that i am exaggerating, but you would be wrong. Do not picture those crappy hass California avocados that are hard and then half rotten. TZ avocados are like butter and bigger than my fists put together. They are so big that when I first saw them I did not know what they were. Being a villager is great, you walk around and people give you things they are growing. So I eat guacamole everyday with a spoon, everything in it was picked that day from one of my neighbors farms from the lemon juice to that tomatoes and onions. It is all fresh. One of my least favorite things at church is people bring in produce instead of money to donate and then people bid on it at the end of church to raise money. The men are the only ones allowed to bid but they bid for there wives until now. Now all the men bid on everything for me. This week was given avocado, bananas, tomatoes, eggs, beans and pineapple. This is incredibly embarrassing when every man bids 'Kwa Brie'. I would think that all the women in my village would hate me because not only are their husbands bidding for me but I am also taking the food. This does not seem to be the case, however, I think in part because I split up what I am given. Because come on, one person cannot eat that much every week.
Everyday this week I have had to go to war... with the Siyafu, that is. I put on my uniform which is as little as I can possibly wear so that I can see when they start to attack my body. And I go in armed with kerosene. Usually there is all sorts of villagers helping me do battle but one day we lost and Kimulimuli and I had to evacuate.
I kicked off my AIDS education with the primary school students. We played a truth or false game which illustrated to me that they know nothing about AIDS. They all chose true when I asked "Wazungu have the cure to AIDS but they are just not sharing it." and "Only immoral or bad people get AIDS." What is funny about those "true" choices is that probably many of these kids parents have AIDS and a a few of them, yet they still think that bad morals is what causes it. Also when I asked why girls are infected more often then boys, the only answer that I got is that girls are more careless and more often morally bad. Really? After being here for almost a year, I would say that I strongly disagree with that statement.
Sometimes, in Tanzania, you have to let your morals go. Lately, I have been like a politician accepting tainted money for my campaign. Isn't the only thing that matters is that I win? Who cares where the money comes from. I know PCVs who refuse to do things with certain people in their villages because of the personal lives of those involved. I had always thought until this week that my villagers were fairly innocent in all the "bad moral" issues we heard Tanzanians practice behind closed doors. Maybe it is because I am more integrated or because each day my Swahili improves a bit, but I have discovered secrets that I wish I knew nothing about. I always knew that I disliked the school beatings but I still go to school because it is just a punishment to the students if I don't teach them. This week I discovered that most of my male teachers have gotten in trouble previously for propositioning dararsa saba girls (girls about the age of 13-14 at the school.) Still I go to school shake these teacher's hands and smile at them and in my stomach I feel disgusted. I have also discovered that Mjemah (Anna's father) does have a wife, she is in Makambako studying to be a nurse. However, while she is gone Mjemah is sleeping with Jen. So while Anna is on my back, apparently I am baby sitting for this adultery to go on. The worst part of it is Mjemah and Jen are my friends, they are two of the most educated people in the village. Yet culture runs so deep. No one is faithful in Tanzania, so while I am sitting there preaching about girls empowerment and being faithful to one partner, no one is really believing anything about this or that it is important at all. It is just me. I can teach all I want but behavior change? I cannot make anyone change unless they want to change themselves. Yet, I continue to go along, be friends with these people and yell about using condoms and having only one wife, but I wonder how effective this really all is. Am I really changing any one's mind? I feel pretty worthless.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
What Would You Change If You Could?
"There's things I'll remember. There's things I'll forget. I miss you- I guess that I should. Three- thousand five hundred miles away, What would you change if you could? I need a phone call. I need a plane ride. I need a raincoat... I wish it was a small world because I'm lonely for the big town."
-Counting Crows
Begining of April-ish, 2009
Brie in Tanzania Count: Ten Months
The last few days we have had awesome weather. I wake up and it is sunny with blue sky. It gets hotter and hotter, then around 4.30 dark clouds rolls in but somehow it is still sunny. They just encroach like a sudden night. Suddenly the sky opens up and it dumps huge drops of rain. Lighting and thunder put on a show together and unlike Oregon, we always have lightning in Tanzania. It flashes every night and sometimes all night and sometimes without rain even. It give a strobe effect to my room as I try to sleep. Rivers run down the divets in our main dirt road and I skip and jump over them on my way to run errands. The wind howels throwing water through every crack and crevice in my house- water pours through the windows and floods under the doors- until I am submerged in a wild ocean. Out the window, it is just green and grey colliding, as the grey mist sweeps through our valley having it's way with the brilliant emerald vegetation.
I am in my own wild ocean- still trying to figure out what I can do in my own little corner of Tanzania. My villagers have finally agreed to be tested for AIDS as long as I do the testing. PC prefers that we do not come into close contact with African blood and I don't know how to stab people with needles anyways, so I am working on other options. Still I am a bit floored that they prefer me to know their results insted of anyone they actually really know. My Swahili must be really bad since their main concern is people finding out that their postitive... maybe they figure that I could not tell anyone even if I wanted to. Now I am creating a short lesson plan that is going to be taught everywhere I go. I have started teaching it in a surprising way. I went to Maria's little bar one night with Anna on my back and all the village men were hanging out there. They bought me a beer and I realized that maybe forming a men's group is to constricting and formal to deal with the issues that I want to address. However, when I am at the bar with them they always want to discuss why I am there.... so now they are getting an earful. I am making an effort to go hang out with them once a week. Last week we talked about the importance of using a condom. I had nothing written out or any pictures, just sat casually with a beer in my hand and told them what I thought. To my surprise they were very open with their concerns and wanted to hear what I have to say. Maybe once they are more into it the teaching will get more formal but I felt like this was a good start to get the conversation going. I am going to try to find a way to get a ton of condoms to use as invitations to the eventual testing day. I think I will just walk around the village and give some to everyone, that way they won't feel uncomfortable having to ask for them. So now I am just getting ready for the big day, which I hope can be as soon as July.
School the other day was surprising. I went prepared to teach about AIDS transmission with all the pictures drawn. Pictures and charades work really well with the students. Also my diaherrea lesson through pictures went over really well. (PC might be the only job that you are able to perfect drawing a Tanzanian in the "Choo Position" having diaherra). Anyways, turns out that I am not teaching that day because the children are building speed bumps out of dirt on our main road. (Motorcycles are driving too fast.) So no teaching and no one told me but this is kama kawaida (Like normally). Us teachers are just supposed to supervise these activities. Then the Mwalimu Mkuu tells me that today no teacher will beat any of the kids. I am floored. I threw a big tantrum the day before in front of all the teachers and some kids where I screamed and stormed out of the school. There had already been two entire classes beaten (including Katherine's, who is now sitting next to me drawing innocently with crayons as I write this) and one little girl so much so that she heaved with tears. So apparently, I made a bit of a point and even though it is only one day, this is still some kind of progress. And my mom always told me that throwing fits never accomplishes anything. ;-)
In the afternoon, the entire school comes to my house because supposidly I am going to get bit by a snake unless they clear the surrounding area. Hundreds of students swarm my house like busy little bees armed with hoes and I wished I had a camera. Rebecca (Katherine's sister) cleans my room, including; making my bed, washing my windows, mopping and sweeping the floors and folding my clothes. Girls do dishes, plant flowers, sweep out spiders and wash clothes. All 15 of my teachers look on shouting orders from all parts of my house both inside and outside. Kimulimuli and are are both sort of at a loss of what to do. He weaves around my feet meowing and once when there are too many students in the room for him climbs into my fire place and halfway up the chimney. Now the floor is so clean I would eat off of it.
I have just discovered that 20% of my primary school students are OVCs (orphans and vulnerable children)- crazy. one fifth.
My village executive officer (VEO), who I am not a big fan of, wife just died- everyone is saying AIDS (although obviously we have not been tested.) He has two more wives, but this was his first wife. Anyways, I did not realize it but his eldest son is one of my students. He is a good boy with a nice smile, one of those kids that you know will be really attractive when he is older. He always raises his hand to answer my questions in class. It breaks my heart that now he has no mother. yet he just took some standard examination and did very well on it. Today he was trimming a tree by my house- just like nothing had happened. I wanted to go to him and give him a little hug, but I have no idea what grief is like in Africa. a tweleve year old boy might not be please to have the eccentric teacher go hug him in front of the others.
My school has requested that I write a grant for new choos (holes in the ground for toilets) for the students. Right now we have seven holes which is not enough for the thousand students. It should be said that I am not passionate about the idea of building toilets, however, obviously it is health related as so many of the issues that face our community are caused from feces in water or food. So I am writing to get money to help build the new buildings for the choos. But if I have to be know for building toilets, I am putting a little bit of 'brie' into this project: one side of the building I am hoping to paint a world map and on the other side a map of Tanzania. This will provide something to look at while the kids wait in line and also adds my interests of art and geography to the project. I am also hoping to add an AIDS mural of some sort to one wall. So building toilets might not be so bad after all, if it is helpful and being used and I am able to add some flare.
-Counting Crows
Begining of April-ish, 2009
Brie in Tanzania Count: Ten Months
The last few days we have had awesome weather. I wake up and it is sunny with blue sky. It gets hotter and hotter, then around 4.30 dark clouds rolls in but somehow it is still sunny. They just encroach like a sudden night. Suddenly the sky opens up and it dumps huge drops of rain. Lighting and thunder put on a show together and unlike Oregon, we always have lightning in Tanzania. It flashes every night and sometimes all night and sometimes without rain even. It give a strobe effect to my room as I try to sleep. Rivers run down the divets in our main dirt road and I skip and jump over them on my way to run errands. The wind howels throwing water through every crack and crevice in my house- water pours through the windows and floods under the doors- until I am submerged in a wild ocean. Out the window, it is just green and grey colliding, as the grey mist sweeps through our valley having it's way with the brilliant emerald vegetation.
I am in my own wild ocean- still trying to figure out what I can do in my own little corner of Tanzania. My villagers have finally agreed to be tested for AIDS as long as I do the testing. PC prefers that we do not come into close contact with African blood and I don't know how to stab people with needles anyways, so I am working on other options. Still I am a bit floored that they prefer me to know their results insted of anyone they actually really know. My Swahili must be really bad since their main concern is people finding out that their postitive... maybe they figure that I could not tell anyone even if I wanted to. Now I am creating a short lesson plan that is going to be taught everywhere I go. I have started teaching it in a surprising way. I went to Maria's little bar one night with Anna on my back and all the village men were hanging out there. They bought me a beer and I realized that maybe forming a men's group is to constricting and formal to deal with the issues that I want to address. However, when I am at the bar with them they always want to discuss why I am there.... so now they are getting an earful. I am making an effort to go hang out with them once a week. Last week we talked about the importance of using a condom. I had nothing written out or any pictures, just sat casually with a beer in my hand and told them what I thought. To my surprise they were very open with their concerns and wanted to hear what I have to say. Maybe once they are more into it the teaching will get more formal but I felt like this was a good start to get the conversation going. I am going to try to find a way to get a ton of condoms to use as invitations to the eventual testing day. I think I will just walk around the village and give some to everyone, that way they won't feel uncomfortable having to ask for them. So now I am just getting ready for the big day, which I hope can be as soon as July.
School the other day was surprising. I went prepared to teach about AIDS transmission with all the pictures drawn. Pictures and charades work really well with the students. Also my diaherrea lesson through pictures went over really well. (PC might be the only job that you are able to perfect drawing a Tanzanian in the "Choo Position" having diaherra). Anyways, turns out that I am not teaching that day because the children are building speed bumps out of dirt on our main road. (Motorcycles are driving too fast.) So no teaching and no one told me but this is kama kawaida (Like normally). Us teachers are just supposed to supervise these activities. Then the Mwalimu Mkuu tells me that today no teacher will beat any of the kids. I am floored. I threw a big tantrum the day before in front of all the teachers and some kids where I screamed and stormed out of the school. There had already been two entire classes beaten (including Katherine's, who is now sitting next to me drawing innocently with crayons as I write this) and one little girl so much so that she heaved with tears. So apparently, I made a bit of a point and even though it is only one day, this is still some kind of progress. And my mom always told me that throwing fits never accomplishes anything. ;-)
In the afternoon, the entire school comes to my house because supposidly I am going to get bit by a snake unless they clear the surrounding area. Hundreds of students swarm my house like busy little bees armed with hoes and I wished I had a camera. Rebecca (Katherine's sister) cleans my room, including; making my bed, washing my windows, mopping and sweeping the floors and folding my clothes. Girls do dishes, plant flowers, sweep out spiders and wash clothes. All 15 of my teachers look on shouting orders from all parts of my house both inside and outside. Kimulimuli and are are both sort of at a loss of what to do. He weaves around my feet meowing and once when there are too many students in the room for him climbs into my fire place and halfway up the chimney. Now the floor is so clean I would eat off of it.
I have just discovered that 20% of my primary school students are OVCs (orphans and vulnerable children)- crazy. one fifth.
My village executive officer (VEO), who I am not a big fan of, wife just died- everyone is saying AIDS (although obviously we have not been tested.) He has two more wives, but this was his first wife. Anyways, I did not realize it but his eldest son is one of my students. He is a good boy with a nice smile, one of those kids that you know will be really attractive when he is older. He always raises his hand to answer my questions in class. It breaks my heart that now he has no mother. yet he just took some standard examination and did very well on it. Today he was trimming a tree by my house- just like nothing had happened. I wanted to go to him and give him a little hug, but I have no idea what grief is like in Africa. a tweleve year old boy might not be please to have the eccentric teacher go hug him in front of the others.
My school has requested that I write a grant for new choos (holes in the ground for toilets) for the students. Right now we have seven holes which is not enough for the thousand students. It should be said that I am not passionate about the idea of building toilets, however, obviously it is health related as so many of the issues that face our community are caused from feces in water or food. So I am writing to get money to help build the new buildings for the choos. But if I have to be know for building toilets, I am putting a little bit of 'brie' into this project: one side of the building I am hoping to paint a world map and on the other side a map of Tanzania. This will provide something to look at while the kids wait in line and also adds my interests of art and geography to the project. I am also hoping to add an AIDS mural of some sort to one wall. So building toilets might not be so bad after all, if it is helpful and being used and I am able to add some flare.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
To Those I Love...
"May God's blessing keep you always, may your wishes all come true. May you always do for others and let others do for you. May you build a ladder to the stars and climb on every rung. May you stay forever young."
-Dylan
March 29, 2009
Today is my birthday. I am now 25... a quarter of a century. My friends, Adina and Kate, threw me a great birthday party at the Kibena Club with all sorts of Njombe friends. There was even a cake. And I looked around the room at people I have known for less than a year, but somehow realized how important they have become in my life, and I felt truly blessed to have met so many beautiful caring people in the last ten months. Still though, on my birthday, I take time to reflect over the past 25 years to the people who have shaped my experience and influenced my choices and I feel thankful for everyone I love at home.
In my mind, it is easy to picture the living room of the house that I grew up in. I can visualize the wood ceiling, the oriental rug, and the stone fireplace that always reminded me of "Beauty and the Beast" when I was a child. How I loved that room. It had seen countless family movie nights, birthday parties, Christmas trees, kids falling asleep under blankets and cats, forts, yule logs, amateur theatre productions, Halloween costumes and hugs. I always go there in my mind when I really miss home. I think that everyone that I love has been in that room. That room really represented my family: it wasn't always very orderly, but it was warm and inviting and we all loved to be home together.
Sometimes when I am thinking about my life, I remember my childhood. I picture myself in 8th grade, Jessie and I sitting in the back of Penny's Jeep painting our nails and listening to Jewel. Children and adults all at the same time. I picture growing up on Pattulo. I can smell the Tualatin River in summertime. Jessie, Jimmy, Jasmine, Kyle, Rian and I jumping off the dock into the murky green depths. I think of Rian and I in high school, sitting on his porch swing at dusk in the summer as slowly the stars start to appear and the crickets begin to sound. I think of my best friend, Noora, and the first moment I saw her on our first day at college and felt some sort of pull to be her friend. Today she is someone who always reminds me who I am and who I want to become at the same time. When I am with her I feel balanced and reconnected. I picture us swimming in Maui- I remember her smile, her strength. I think about Willowbrook. The field of my childhood, where I learned the lessons of an adult. I picture my little Hannah, my friend who can always understand and relate to what I am going through. We are always on the same page. I think we could talk straight for ten hours and still have something to say. It was with her support and encouragement that this journey to Africa felt like a good life decision.
I miss Reed's family almost as much as my own. His family is warm and inviting and they give the best hugs- it is like a genetic trait in them, or something. I picture both his sets of parents and picture them happy and enjoying their large families. Reed's siblings- Pete, Kari and Clark are like the three older siblings that I never had. They let me join right into their family and all three of them are caring generous people with great senses of humor. I remember what it felt like to come "home" in Eugene to Clark, Gwen and Reed. Gwen and I would lounge on the couch in our Oregon Sweatshirts drinking wine, or put mascara on in the bathroom for a big night out at Taylor's Bar and Grill. I miss Gwen and Clark like crazy. Then there is Reed- there is always thoughts of Reed. I remember the first moment I saw him and wasn't aware how- but knew he was going to be a major factor in my life. For four years he has been my confidante, my best friend and my partner in crime. Rollin' in his Thunderbird with our sunglasses on, me in my pink sundress and Potato (Clark's dog) in the back seat- looking for some kind of adventure. Reed and I are always looking for somewhere to explore. We look for swimming holes, pumpkin patches, good vegetarian food, hot springs, wineries, caves to spelunk, live music, waterfalls, movies we haven't seen, poison dart frogs, wild mushrooms and more. We just never had to look very far for someone who shared all our same interests. Reed encourages me to push myself through my fears- like zip-lining through the cloud forest in Costa Rica, which, I guess, is why when I told him that I was going on the adventure of moving to Africa for two years he did not stop me. This is not the same though, and I miss my boyfriend. Through the ups and downs of this exploration, I always wish Reed was by my side.
I picture our family camping trips with the Normandins and the Shaws. I remember what it was like to curl up in the "girls tent" surrounded by my sisters and the girls I have known for my whole life after a long day of swimming, sailing, and roasting s'mores. I remember standing on the stairs in Kappa Kappa Gamma, my sorority house, in my black dress and heels with my pin on to go down to Monday night dinner. I remember how my sorority sisters made college a fun and memorable experience for me. I think about the girls who will be my friends for life.
I think about my great uncles who I am lucky to know. My Uncle Bob and his chuckle laugh and his love of children and I picture all the love and support he would give these lonely African children. I think of my Uncle Frank and his ability to tell great stories and his example to follow your dreams and live an adventurous life. I think about my cousin Constance playing the piano and drinking wine with X and my parents. I think about her laugh which is infectious. I think about two of the women I most admire, my cousins, Tracy and Alex. They are both always working on something creative and pushing their talents to new levels. They are both beautiful and artistic and every time I am with them, I hope a little of them will rub off on me. My cousin, Janet, was the last person I saw before coming to Africa. Janet is generous, open-hearted and reminded me of the long family history that I come from.
I think about my uncle, Joe, enjoying the natural world. Finding peace in nature and I am inspired of the way he follows his own path like I am attempting to do. I picture my uncles, Scott and Thomas. Scoot is doing the "Preacher's Seat" into a swimming hole and Thomas is singing "Norwegian Wood" by the campfire. I picture them playing their instruments and teasing my sisters and I. My favorite thing about my uncles is when they would make my Dad laugh and act like a kid. I remember my Cousin, Brooke, swimming in the Illinois River. Every time I feel like giving up and going home, I hope for a little of her resilience so we can both keep strong together. I think of my cousin, Christopher's imagination as a child. I hope that one day I can write a book even half as good as one of his wild stories.
I think about my Aunt Noreen- who helped mother me through the coming of age dramas like breaking up with boyfriends and starting college. I picture her on horseback with my Aunt Jaime as girls. My Aunts who are caring women who love animals and being outside. I love to receive their letters and packages all the way over here. I think of my Aunt Lori, who always treated me like an adult as a child and listened to me like what I had to say was important and mattered even when I was a kid. She is an incredibly loving woman who has always wanted the best for our whole family.
I picture my grandparents and arriving at their house amongst the smell of pines and madrones. They get up from their chairs as my big noisy family comes in. I picture my Grandpa in his workshop and my Grandma reading quietly with a cup of Lemon Lift tea. I picture my Mom's family seated at Thanksgiving while my Grandpa says grace. After dinner my Grandma will beat everyone at a Spellbound game. Later that night, Shannon will do "beetle-on-it's-back" in the cellarium (Hilarious- if you know Shannon circa 1991) because we are too excited to be at my grandparent's house to sleep. I think about how my grandparents relationship, along with my parents, demonstrated to me what it means to love someone unconditionally, to compromise and what a good marriage should look like. Some of my happiest memories are with my grandparents who embody everything that a good grandma and grandpa should.
I think of my Bami. I picture us getting up early and burning toast and playing Monopoly. She has always been one of my best friends. I think of us trumping around London and me hauling her off to every castle we can get to. Somehow I inherited some of her adventurous, restless spirit- so here I am on my own adventure. My Bami has always believed that I could do anything- she has encouraged me to stay young, take risks and love deeply. But mostly to be myself. And I actually did come "A Zimba Zia".
I think of my little Sophie and Nicole, playing dress up together. I picture Sophie singing and dancing around. I wish I could curl up and watch "Sleeping Beauty" (our favorite movie) with them now. I miss my brothers, David and Jeremy. I miss their freckled noses and big blue eyes. I miss their excitement in the small things- snow, hot chocolate, a new toy... I miss hearing them laugh out loud at movies and watching their re-enactments of Harry Potter. I miss their bathroom talk at the dinner table and hearing them discuss how they were going to become "Planet Earth" photographers. I remember when Reed and I took them to the water park and I was terrified one of them would drown so I made us both watch them like a hawk. Being 15 years older than them is a crazy experience. They are always up to something.
Then there are my sisters- Shannon and Raeme. I was really lucky to be the oldest of three girls. I always tried to play the big sister role but it did not take me long to realize that anything I tried, my sisters were infinitely more gifted at. I loved theatre, but I will never forget seeing my sisters onstage. Shannon played King Henry and Raeme some old woman in their respective shows. In both I had to hold back tears of pride, and feel happy that in some small way they both belong to me. I watched Raeme exceed my skill at volleyball. I went to state for mock trial and then Raeme went to nationals. Shannon has always been a beautiful artist. She can do everything. I always loved to read and write but was rejected from advanced placement English in high school, where my sisters both flourished. I guess I set the bar, sometimes not all that high, for my sisters to leap passed. But with each of their leaps, I stopped to feel grateful and proud that these are my sisters. I think of Raeme as Mrs. Megason- pushing her shopping cart around and animatedly telling stories. I picture when I wrecked my car and she held me as I cried hysterically into her and she quieted me and told me she was glad I was alright. I picture the morning of my dad's heart attack, where we held hands and cried at the foot of his bed and wondered if our lives would be changed forever. Raeme and I are two peas in a pod- which wasn't always easy but I am thankful for it now. I think of the email she wrote me when I came to Tanzania telling me she was proud of me and how much she admire me and how I bawled like a baby in the internet cafe in the middle of Tanzania because I miss my baby sister. Then there is Shannon, my longest friend, I don't have a memory before she was in my life. Shannon is my partner in imaginative play. I think about how she was able to do everything crafty- just like my mom, which I envied her for. I could not sit still but Shannon could cook, knit, embroider, sew, garden and bead. She was domestic and patient. I think about playing with her- being mermaids in the swimming pool, Indians in the woods, pretending that we were famous gymnasts in the Olympics. I think about her today and how I am so happy that she has met Erik, someone who complements her personality and makes her smile. With Shannon I can be anything, but mostly, I can be myself, which wasn't always perfect, but I always knew she loved me.
Lastly, there are the two people who I love more than anything- my two best friends, or also, my parents. I still remember when I realized that my mom was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was in her garden clothes, kneading bread dough with flour on her face and trying to help Raeme with homework. She was doing it all flawlessly and now I realize that I should have told her right then. My mom is one of the most multi-talented people I know. You can ask her anything and she will know something about it. In college, I would call my mom everyday. My friends were rebelling (but I got this out of the way in high school) and I was cultivating an adult relationship with the woman I most admire. There are too many things to list that I have learned from my mom and no one in my family would be anywhere without her. She always has everyone else's best interest at mind. I realize now that she spent 25 years trying to make me happy. She is the kind of person who packs cherries on a picnic because she knows you like them best, or says tonight let's get bundled up and go see Christmas lights because she wants my little siblings to have the complete holiday experience. She would pop popcorn and make a movie night or suggest a family game. She worked hard for all of us and to keep us all happy and together. She was always realistic when I would call her with boyfriend problems and is never like many moms who automatically take their daughter's side. She would listen to me complain and then say- "Well what did you do to make him do that?" Which is proof that my mom knows me better than anyone else in the world- of course, her feisty, dramatic daughter is never innocent. My mom is a prime a example of someone who is everyday making the world a better place then when she got here. She lives through compassion, sensitivity and kindness.
Then there is my Dad. In a million ways I am a "daddy's girl." When Reed and I started dating, I remember telling Reed while we were carving pumpkins that my Dad is the best pumpkin-carver ever. Reed said sweetly, "I don't think I will ever be able to live up to your dad." I shrugged and told him that no one could. My Dad and I have some sort of common thought process. For one thing we like and are interested in many of the same things. For music we mostly like classic rock- from Tom Petty to Led Zeppelin, Janice to Dylan. We both find archeology interesting, as well as, Celtic Pagans, folklore and old poetry, Shakespeare and good movies- basically, we both "nerd out" on the same things. I think our undergraduate transcripts probably look very similar- both covering a wide range of humanities and arts topics and both very unfocused. My sisters and I adore our Daddy- he was the perfect dad for three daughters. He was willing to sing along with "The Little Mermaid", and to throw us in the pool while we screamed in our little girl high pitch voices. My Dad is smart. He is thoughtful and reflective. He is someone who can say to me out of nowhere "What are you thinking?" and always catch me in deep thought. While working at my dad's law firm, I realized that it is not just our family that loves him, but everyone he works with too, and all his friends. He is a great storyteller and people always like to be around him. My parents both have so much going on that I always felt a bit sorry that I came along to mess it all up for them, before they could fully realize all their talents. My parents talk intellectually, and they work in the dirt side by side. They have shown me what real love looks like, as they work hard on their relationship and on building our family. I think as you get older you are supposed to stop thinking your parents can do anything- apparently I still have not reached that point.
So on my birthday, I remember all these people who have shaped my life and taught me what I know today. For each of them I have learned lessons that have helped me to be strong in Tanzania and helped me continue to attempt to influence the world and make it a better place one small step at a time. Thank you, thank you, loving friends and family.
"Half-wrecked prejudice leaped forth 'Rip down all hate', I screamed Lies that life is black and white spoke from my skull I dreamed Romantic facts of musketeers Foundationed deep somehow Ah, but I was so much older then, I am younger then that now."
-Dylan
-Dylan
March 29, 2009
Today is my birthday. I am now 25... a quarter of a century. My friends, Adina and Kate, threw me a great birthday party at the Kibena Club with all sorts of Njombe friends. There was even a cake. And I looked around the room at people I have known for less than a year, but somehow realized how important they have become in my life, and I felt truly blessed to have met so many beautiful caring people in the last ten months. Still though, on my birthday, I take time to reflect over the past 25 years to the people who have shaped my experience and influenced my choices and I feel thankful for everyone I love at home.
In my mind, it is easy to picture the living room of the house that I grew up in. I can visualize the wood ceiling, the oriental rug, and the stone fireplace that always reminded me of "Beauty and the Beast" when I was a child. How I loved that room. It had seen countless family movie nights, birthday parties, Christmas trees, kids falling asleep under blankets and cats, forts, yule logs, amateur theatre productions, Halloween costumes and hugs. I always go there in my mind when I really miss home. I think that everyone that I love has been in that room. That room really represented my family: it wasn't always very orderly, but it was warm and inviting and we all loved to be home together.
Sometimes when I am thinking about my life, I remember my childhood. I picture myself in 8th grade, Jessie and I sitting in the back of Penny's Jeep painting our nails and listening to Jewel. Children and adults all at the same time. I picture growing up on Pattulo. I can smell the Tualatin River in summertime. Jessie, Jimmy, Jasmine, Kyle, Rian and I jumping off the dock into the murky green depths. I think of Rian and I in high school, sitting on his porch swing at dusk in the summer as slowly the stars start to appear and the crickets begin to sound. I think of my best friend, Noora, and the first moment I saw her on our first day at college and felt some sort of pull to be her friend. Today she is someone who always reminds me who I am and who I want to become at the same time. When I am with her I feel balanced and reconnected. I picture us swimming in Maui- I remember her smile, her strength. I think about Willowbrook. The field of my childhood, where I learned the lessons of an adult. I picture my little Hannah, my friend who can always understand and relate to what I am going through. We are always on the same page. I think we could talk straight for ten hours and still have something to say. It was with her support and encouragement that this journey to Africa felt like a good life decision.
I miss Reed's family almost as much as my own. His family is warm and inviting and they give the best hugs- it is like a genetic trait in them, or something. I picture both his sets of parents and picture them happy and enjoying their large families. Reed's siblings- Pete, Kari and Clark are like the three older siblings that I never had. They let me join right into their family and all three of them are caring generous people with great senses of humor. I remember what it felt like to come "home" in Eugene to Clark, Gwen and Reed. Gwen and I would lounge on the couch in our Oregon Sweatshirts drinking wine, or put mascara on in the bathroom for a big night out at Taylor's Bar and Grill. I miss Gwen and Clark like crazy. Then there is Reed- there is always thoughts of Reed. I remember the first moment I saw him and wasn't aware how- but knew he was going to be a major factor in my life. For four years he has been my confidante, my best friend and my partner in crime. Rollin' in his Thunderbird with our sunglasses on, me in my pink sundress and Potato (Clark's dog) in the back seat- looking for some kind of adventure. Reed and I are always looking for somewhere to explore. We look for swimming holes, pumpkin patches, good vegetarian food, hot springs, wineries, caves to spelunk, live music, waterfalls, movies we haven't seen, poison dart frogs, wild mushrooms and more. We just never had to look very far for someone who shared all our same interests. Reed encourages me to push myself through my fears- like zip-lining through the cloud forest in Costa Rica, which, I guess, is why when I told him that I was going on the adventure of moving to Africa for two years he did not stop me. This is not the same though, and I miss my boyfriend. Through the ups and downs of this exploration, I always wish Reed was by my side.
I picture our family camping trips with the Normandins and the Shaws. I remember what it was like to curl up in the "girls tent" surrounded by my sisters and the girls I have known for my whole life after a long day of swimming, sailing, and roasting s'mores. I remember standing on the stairs in Kappa Kappa Gamma, my sorority house, in my black dress and heels with my pin on to go down to Monday night dinner. I remember how my sorority sisters made college a fun and memorable experience for me. I think about the girls who will be my friends for life.
I think about my great uncles who I am lucky to know. My Uncle Bob and his chuckle laugh and his love of children and I picture all the love and support he would give these lonely African children. I think of my Uncle Frank and his ability to tell great stories and his example to follow your dreams and live an adventurous life. I think about my cousin Constance playing the piano and drinking wine with X and my parents. I think about her laugh which is infectious. I think about two of the women I most admire, my cousins, Tracy and Alex. They are both always working on something creative and pushing their talents to new levels. They are both beautiful and artistic and every time I am with them, I hope a little of them will rub off on me. My cousin, Janet, was the last person I saw before coming to Africa. Janet is generous, open-hearted and reminded me of the long family history that I come from.
I think about my uncle, Joe, enjoying the natural world. Finding peace in nature and I am inspired of the way he follows his own path like I am attempting to do. I picture my uncles, Scott and Thomas. Scoot is doing the "Preacher's Seat" into a swimming hole and Thomas is singing "Norwegian Wood" by the campfire. I picture them playing their instruments and teasing my sisters and I. My favorite thing about my uncles is when they would make my Dad laugh and act like a kid. I remember my Cousin, Brooke, swimming in the Illinois River. Every time I feel like giving up and going home, I hope for a little of her resilience so we can both keep strong together. I think of my cousin, Christopher's imagination as a child. I hope that one day I can write a book even half as good as one of his wild stories.
I think about my Aunt Noreen- who helped mother me through the coming of age dramas like breaking up with boyfriends and starting college. I picture her on horseback with my Aunt Jaime as girls. My Aunts who are caring women who love animals and being outside. I love to receive their letters and packages all the way over here. I think of my Aunt Lori, who always treated me like an adult as a child and listened to me like what I had to say was important and mattered even when I was a kid. She is an incredibly loving woman who has always wanted the best for our whole family.
I picture my grandparents and arriving at their house amongst the smell of pines and madrones. They get up from their chairs as my big noisy family comes in. I picture my Grandpa in his workshop and my Grandma reading quietly with a cup of Lemon Lift tea. I picture my Mom's family seated at Thanksgiving while my Grandpa says grace. After dinner my Grandma will beat everyone at a Spellbound game. Later that night, Shannon will do "beetle-on-it's-back" in the cellarium (Hilarious- if you know Shannon circa 1991) because we are too excited to be at my grandparent's house to sleep. I think about how my grandparents relationship, along with my parents, demonstrated to me what it means to love someone unconditionally, to compromise and what a good marriage should look like. Some of my happiest memories are with my grandparents who embody everything that a good grandma and grandpa should.
I think of my Bami. I picture us getting up early and burning toast and playing Monopoly. She has always been one of my best friends. I think of us trumping around London and me hauling her off to every castle we can get to. Somehow I inherited some of her adventurous, restless spirit- so here I am on my own adventure. My Bami has always believed that I could do anything- she has encouraged me to stay young, take risks and love deeply. But mostly to be myself. And I actually did come "A Zimba Zia".
I think of my little Sophie and Nicole, playing dress up together. I picture Sophie singing and dancing around. I wish I could curl up and watch "Sleeping Beauty" (our favorite movie) with them now. I miss my brothers, David and Jeremy. I miss their freckled noses and big blue eyes. I miss their excitement in the small things- snow, hot chocolate, a new toy... I miss hearing them laugh out loud at movies and watching their re-enactments of Harry Potter. I miss their bathroom talk at the dinner table and hearing them discuss how they were going to become "Planet Earth" photographers. I remember when Reed and I took them to the water park and I was terrified one of them would drown so I made us both watch them like a hawk. Being 15 years older than them is a crazy experience. They are always up to something.
Then there are my sisters- Shannon and Raeme. I was really lucky to be the oldest of three girls. I always tried to play the big sister role but it did not take me long to realize that anything I tried, my sisters were infinitely more gifted at. I loved theatre, but I will never forget seeing my sisters onstage. Shannon played King Henry and Raeme some old woman in their respective shows. In both I had to hold back tears of pride, and feel happy that in some small way they both belong to me. I watched Raeme exceed my skill at volleyball. I went to state for mock trial and then Raeme went to nationals. Shannon has always been a beautiful artist. She can do everything. I always loved to read and write but was rejected from advanced placement English in high school, where my sisters both flourished. I guess I set the bar, sometimes not all that high, for my sisters to leap passed. But with each of their leaps, I stopped to feel grateful and proud that these are my sisters. I think of Raeme as Mrs. Megason- pushing her shopping cart around and animatedly telling stories. I picture when I wrecked my car and she held me as I cried hysterically into her and she quieted me and told me she was glad I was alright. I picture the morning of my dad's heart attack, where we held hands and cried at the foot of his bed and wondered if our lives would be changed forever. Raeme and I are two peas in a pod- which wasn't always easy but I am thankful for it now. I think of the email she wrote me when I came to Tanzania telling me she was proud of me and how much she admire me and how I bawled like a baby in the internet cafe in the middle of Tanzania because I miss my baby sister. Then there is Shannon, my longest friend, I don't have a memory before she was in my life. Shannon is my partner in imaginative play. I think about how she was able to do everything crafty- just like my mom, which I envied her for. I could not sit still but Shannon could cook, knit, embroider, sew, garden and bead. She was domestic and patient. I think about playing with her- being mermaids in the swimming pool, Indians in the woods, pretending that we were famous gymnasts in the Olympics. I think about her today and how I am so happy that she has met Erik, someone who complements her personality and makes her smile. With Shannon I can be anything, but mostly, I can be myself, which wasn't always perfect, but I always knew she loved me.
Lastly, there are the two people who I love more than anything- my two best friends, or also, my parents. I still remember when I realized that my mom was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was in her garden clothes, kneading bread dough with flour on her face and trying to help Raeme with homework. She was doing it all flawlessly and now I realize that I should have told her right then. My mom is one of the most multi-talented people I know. You can ask her anything and she will know something about it. In college, I would call my mom everyday. My friends were rebelling (but I got this out of the way in high school) and I was cultivating an adult relationship with the woman I most admire. There are too many things to list that I have learned from my mom and no one in my family would be anywhere without her. She always has everyone else's best interest at mind. I realize now that she spent 25 years trying to make me happy. She is the kind of person who packs cherries on a picnic because she knows you like them best, or says tonight let's get bundled up and go see Christmas lights because she wants my little siblings to have the complete holiday experience. She would pop popcorn and make a movie night or suggest a family game. She worked hard for all of us and to keep us all happy and together. She was always realistic when I would call her with boyfriend problems and is never like many moms who automatically take their daughter's side. She would listen to me complain and then say- "Well what did you do to make him do that?" Which is proof that my mom knows me better than anyone else in the world- of course, her feisty, dramatic daughter is never innocent. My mom is a prime a example of someone who is everyday making the world a better place then when she got here. She lives through compassion, sensitivity and kindness.
Then there is my Dad. In a million ways I am a "daddy's girl." When Reed and I started dating, I remember telling Reed while we were carving pumpkins that my Dad is the best pumpkin-carver ever. Reed said sweetly, "I don't think I will ever be able to live up to your dad." I shrugged and told him that no one could. My Dad and I have some sort of common thought process. For one thing we like and are interested in many of the same things. For music we mostly like classic rock- from Tom Petty to Led Zeppelin, Janice to Dylan. We both find archeology interesting, as well as, Celtic Pagans, folklore and old poetry, Shakespeare and good movies- basically, we both "nerd out" on the same things. I think our undergraduate transcripts probably look very similar- both covering a wide range of humanities and arts topics and both very unfocused. My sisters and I adore our Daddy- he was the perfect dad for three daughters. He was willing to sing along with "The Little Mermaid", and to throw us in the pool while we screamed in our little girl high pitch voices. My Dad is smart. He is thoughtful and reflective. He is someone who can say to me out of nowhere "What are you thinking?" and always catch me in deep thought. While working at my dad's law firm, I realized that it is not just our family that loves him, but everyone he works with too, and all his friends. He is a great storyteller and people always like to be around him. My parents both have so much going on that I always felt a bit sorry that I came along to mess it all up for them, before they could fully realize all their talents. My parents talk intellectually, and they work in the dirt side by side. They have shown me what real love looks like, as they work hard on their relationship and on building our family. I think as you get older you are supposed to stop thinking your parents can do anything- apparently I still have not reached that point.
So on my birthday, I remember all these people who have shaped my life and taught me what I know today. For each of them I have learned lessons that have helped me to be strong in Tanzania and helped me continue to attempt to influence the world and make it a better place one small step at a time. Thank you, thank you, loving friends and family.
"Half-wrecked prejudice leaped forth 'Rip down all hate', I screamed Lies that life is black and white spoke from my skull I dreamed Romantic facts of musketeers Foundationed deep somehow Ah, but I was so much older then, I am younger then that now."
-Dylan
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