Monday, August 31, 2009

Book of the Month: September

Most people know that I am a crazy reader. I am going to guess that I read 12-15 books a month. Most Americans don't have much reading time, but I figured that every month I could post my favorite book for that month, because when you live alone in the middle of nowhere you have got a lot of time. I will post a book and a brief synopsis and if you read it than let me know what you thought. Sometimes the book might be old because we have limited book access. But the best book I read this month was....

"Learning to Breathe" By Alison Wright

Key Words- Photojournalism, Travel- Nepal, Thailand, Laos, India, Tibet, Tanzania, the Amazon and more, Buddhism, overcoming chronic pain, help to developing countries, meditation and natural medicine.

If you liked 'Eat, Pray, Love' than this book is way better. It has none of the chick flick qualities but is applicable to everyone. A fascinating true story about a female photojournalist who travels the world and her near death bus accident in Laos that lead her to re-evaluate her life and eventually climb Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. A beautiful story about perseverance in the face of all odds, helping people around the world and finding peace within ones self. Highly recommended by me... Thanks, Mom, for the gift. I love you.

Never Chose an East African For A Running Partner

"I was born a rebel, Down in Dixie on a Sunday morning, Yeah with one foot in the grave, And one foot on the pedal, I was born a rebel." -Tom Petty

August 24, 2009

So I am what would be categorized as slightly overweight or what I prefer as "curvy". This is a body type that is considered ideal in E. Africa. But after a visit to America I could not shake the feeling that I was hoping to Punguza (reduce) a bit in Tanzania. So I try to explain this concept to Mama Lau, Mama Latifah, Juster, Mama Johnson, Jen, and Mary this morning when we are all having chai together. I explain that I am actually hoping to be attractive to Americans when I return (which dashes all their hopes that I will marry and live in Image forever). I try to explain my unrealistic goals of hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, learning to rock climb or (yikes!) competing in a triathlon. Mama Lau stops me here. She doesn't understand: Are you looking for food? What is the point? That seems like a lot of wasted energy for nothing... I try to explain athleticism... they don't really get it but finally agree to stop stuffing food down my throat at every possible minute. I also suggest that I want to start running. No village Tanzanians run unless there is a hurry or something to get away from. But since I am always the weird girl anyways I decide to start. Since I will get stares anyways, I think I will feel better with someone else, so I ask Jen because we are of similar size and I figure it might be more fun to do with someone else. Let's just say that I must have forgotten that this is the same woman who can dance for 5 hours straight, carry a sack of potatoes on her head uphill and be not even fazed, this is a Tanzanian woman who apparently even though we are the same size is solid muscle. The Brie/Jen running date practically killed me. Plus I felt like it was unfair to be trying to lose 50lbs. while she should not lose an inch to stay beautiful in this culture.

So I decide to start helping with the farming on a more regular basis. The farms are on the outskirts of the village so the walk is long and I even go with Anna on my back for added weight. I dig until Mary notices that my palms are bleeding and my legs are covered in thorns and tells me that no American would want me looking like that and forbids me to continue digging. So I try to exercise by running around like a little ivory fairy gathering the potatoes that are being dug up into sacks. I am still set on farming but Mama Latifah suggests that we have an all female dance party for exercise instead.

So that night under the thatched roof of Juster's house I am instructed on how to move my behind in ways that an exotic dancer could not even imagine. The women can move every body part independently and I am like their little apprentice. Finally Mama Johnson tells me that I better not lose any weight because I am perfect now and if I lose anything there will be nothing left to shake and I will dance poorly. So I am what I am... so much for the triathlon, because if I can shake it than I am in with the Tanzanians.

Friday, August 28, 2009

A Year in Image Village

"When we walk to the edge of all light we have and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown we must believe one of two things will happen- There will be something solid to stand on.  Or, we will be taught how to fly."
-Patrick Overton

August 22-23, 2009

Tonight is my first night back in my village since I returned from America.  Coincidentally, tonight as the sun sets, it is also my one year anniversary since coming to Image Village. This makes it impossible for me not to reflect on what one year ago today was like.  

First, let's look at what happened today.  I navigated the way to my village car with ease, complete with a supply of toilet paper, coffee and candles.  Hopped into the car and directed Stan, my driver, where to place my bags so that my bought items would not break.  Then Stan goes "So what did you bring?"  which is my cue to pull out bananas, oranges and passion fruit... Stan has brought sugar cane and pineapple cut into little pieces.  We look over our goods like fifth graders in the lunch room ready to share what our moms have packed us. This is our ride home tradition talking and bonding over our common love of fruit as we bump along.   Upon arriving to my house it is in tip-top shape with no break ins at all, which is sort of amazing since my entire village knew I was gone and for how long.  There is a welcome back party complete with villagers from a few months old to Mzee Ngoda.  I finally get to be alone and turn my house into my own romantic oasis, which I have learned to do every night to make myself happy, even though I am alone in the middle of nowhere.  I effortlessly build a fire in the fireplace, make soup, heat water for me to bathe with my favorite lavender soap, put my clothes into my wardrobe and light about 18 candles (although I have supposedly had electricity for months, in reality it has worked for maybe five nights.) I put on a Tom Petty cd and settle into the evening sounds of Image- children laughing, owls hooting, bugs chirping, something scurrying through my ceiling boards- rats? snakes? bats? lizards?  I don't know and I don't care as long as I can't see it.  Someone walks by singing in a foreign tongue.  And I think about a year ago- how these very same sounds terrified me.

I remember climbing into the car with Stan and being afraid.  unable to say more than a greeting to him and he generously slid some sugar cane across the seat, (which really started the whole tradition.)  When I got to Image no one was there to greet me, no one cared.  I think about how I couldn't build a fire, I didn't know how to get water to bathe, I had no furniture to set up, no candles and only a flashlight to shine into the dark recesses of my house at the spiders laying in wait.  I didn't eat.  Instead I curled into a ball on the cement floor and thought what have I done while I cried myself to sleep.  Who knew that only one year later my life would be like this?  My house would be this beautiful?  I would have a million Tanzanian friends?  And although today I love Image, they really gave me a sink of swim option, a fall or fly- and I am very glad that I CHOSE the latter.  And I must stress "chose" because being here was the hardest choice I have ever made, especially when the former could have been so easy to give up and go back to America.  A year ago I took a step into the unknown and even though I still have a lot of time left, today I feel like I am on the top of the mountain and can see the other side.  Next year at this time, I will officially be a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer after 27 months of service... It will feel good.

" 'Come to the edge' 
         'It is too high'
'Come to the edge'
         'We might fall'
'Come to the edge'
So they came, and they pushed and they flew..."

(PC's unofficial motto in my opinion... drop me off in a village alone with nothing and I'll show you...)

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Going Home... Again

Dad and I
Wedding Day: Me, Mom and Raeme

Shannon and Erik's Wedding: Erik, Raeme, Shannon, me


"Life is the art of drawing without an eraser." -Unknown

August 21, 2009

So after almost a month in America, endless plane rides re-routing all through Europe, a twelve hour bus ride ride Dar es Salaam, I am finally back to Njombe. It is amazing how easily you forget things and as I climb off the plane the smell of Africa hits me and I get the feeling of home. It is impossible to describe things like this smell. But as I get into the Tanzanian residents line, somehow Swahili comes back to me, and I look out into Dar es Salaam and the sea of beautiful dark faces that stare into mine with an innocent curiosity and I remember why I love this country. The Njombe air hits me like ice as the cold wind blows over the Southern Highlands and I once again greet in Kibena and America feels like a dream.
Less than a week ago, I was walking down Hawthorne, I was driving through the Dutch Brothers drive through, I was in a gown watching my sister get married... I saw people I love, people I have known my whole life who remind me of where I come from, which is important. For some reason it is easy to get caught up in who this "African Brie" is, and being in America, being with friends and family reminded me that I can be as tough as I want, I can be as "African" as I can be, but at the heart of it, I will never be a Tanzanian. I will never understand why men are allowed to beat their wives, why children do all the work, why nothing runs on time, at the real heart of it, I will never really understand Swahili and Bena, my skin will never be a beautiful chocolate color and I will never be able to think that the fatter you are the more beautiful you are. At the real depth of it, I am only a white girl from West Linn, Oregon. I am an American. No matter what I do, I will never be Tanzanian. I love this country. I love these people but going home reminded me where I belong.
Tanzania has changed my life. I will never be the same. This country's people will be important to me for as long as I live and will always be intertwined into my life no matter what I do. So today as I head back to my village, which happens to be the year anniversary of when I first moved into Image Village. I realize, how far I have come. And I return with love in my heart for my Image family, my African house and my annoying little cat. I remember a year ago today, the fear I felt, the loneliness... the unknown. Now I get to go back knowing. So "Brie's Tanzanian Vision Quest" continues as I begin my second year, living alone in the middle of nowhere, with people who have a culture and a language that are not my own, experiencing a life that most Americans wouldn't choose. But somehow, today, I feel at peace with it. Secretly, I know, I was always meant to do this, to put myself through this. And when you are following what you are supposed to be doing your heart is always at peace. Whatever happens will happen.