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August 23, 2008

After the 13 hour bus ride those of us in the Njombe region are finally here. We spent a pleasant evening at the Chani Hotel- even eating a grilled cheese! The next morning it was off to meet our VEOs (Village Executive Officer). Mine is a little man named Mario who smiles a lot but speaks no English. After having chai with them- my first adventure entirely alone began.

A driver pulled up in a truck and we piled my items into the back, then we proceeded to pick up more people and pile them and everything they owned on top of my stuff- I pretty much figured everything I owned would be broken upon arrival. The roads were so bad from Njombe to village that the 60k ride took over 2.5 hours and I am told that during the rainy season usually takes 6. I started to enjoy myself when the driver pulled over and bought some sugar cane that we munched on as we drove through the countryside. I started to feel like a real Tanzanian.

My village is beautiful- rolling hills with pine trees (Crazy, I know!). The people are Bena and guess what? They speak Kibena, which is really great since I learned Kiswahili (Sarcasm- something that is lost on Tanzanians) Kiswahili which I studied diligently for months. Also, I am told that Kibena is more of a spoken language, and there won't be a book to teach me how to speak it. (Awesome...) More on this later, but luckily most people in my village also speak Kiswahili (Unfortunately, I don't as well as I would like...) They are primarily farmers and are far enough removed off the beaten track that they are just in shock when they see me. Emotions ranging from complete shyness- I mean adults, hiding. Some of them cry or laugh, etc. But always staring. (I sometimes wonder if this is how Britney Spears must feel- I think they would be taking pictures, if they only had cameras...) My house is on the primary school grounds- but removed from all the rest of the teachers houses. It is one of the only houses in the village with a tin instead of thatched roof. The house is huge- the view is beautiful. I have never been so lonely in my life. After being surrounded with a 14 person host family, 50 Americans, and about 25 PCTZ staff members, this was a real shock. I thought I spoke the language, I thought I could cook over the fire, I thought I could make friends, make a difference, I thought- I thought-

I got to my house after dark- I met no one. After the VEO left I realized that the bedroom window was broken- I called my PC program director- the network cut out and lost the call. The house is filthy. I moved my bed into the living room and called my mom and Reed for a good cry (With many many dropped calls). Then there was a knock at the door- a young woman who said in English- "I am a teacher at the primary school. I think you are disturbed (Her words, but true) a window is broken so you are sleeping in the sitting room, but tomorrow you will sleep in the bedroom, because the window will be fixed." True to her word a man came the next day and fixed the window. I should mention that a broken window was not so much a safety risk as that it is freezing here. Imagine a house built of tin and cement, no insolation. I sometimes pretend that I am living in Europe over the middle ages in a dark cold castle. This is also my excuse for skipping baths. I can see through my door, so when the temperature drops below 50F, it is cold.

I slept horrendously, listening to every noise. The next day I forced myself out of the house- I had no water and idea where to get it. The VEOs were supposed to show us around, but mine was MIA. Unless you are an RPCV, (which, surprisingly, I think there are a lot of you reading this, so you can laugh to yourself about this point in the experience. I hope I am able to laugh about this soon...) you have no idea what this is like even from reading this. No other experience is anywhere similar to this or will prepare you for it. You are dropped somewhere alone, you barely speak, much less understand, you are the only person who looks like you for miles around so there is no hiding- (My closest PC neighbor is 20K away.) Walking out of the house and attempting to fit in was the scariest moment of my life. When I got home to a big lonely house, I felt overwhelmed. I thought "why did I come here?" I cannot accomplish anything- I don't want to do this anymore, it is just too hard, -the doubts began to march in. When I canvassed for Mercy Corps we used to talk about having "The Fear" this was basically the fear of putting yourself out there, being on the line for what you believed in, fear of being ignored or laughed at. We were always trying to fight the fear. This is a similar feeling. (Although it was easier on the streets of Portland, where I had Mariel smiling at me from across the street.) I let the fear overcome me in Tanzania. The disappointment in myself was overwhelming. My whole life I have thought of joining the Peace Corps. After college I worked hard to find work with an international aid organization, I quit my job at Mercy Corps to experience "the Field". I left my boyfriend, my friends, my family... Now I felt stupid, I felt lost, I felt depressed. And so so uninspired, more so than ever, I felt dead. I was coming to the realization that I don't know anything about Tanzania, aid work, or how to live in Africa. I was an young American, who likes to drink coffee and have food made for me at nice restaurants, read People Magazine and watch Oprah, and attend sorority parties, who was I kidding? Maybe I should just volunteer a few hours for the Obama Campaign and have that be my good deed. I could come home, after all it would be so much easier... or would it? I have always dreamed of Africa, and here I am staring it in the face, but could I take it?

I sent out two texts that night. One to my PCV besti, Kate, from my training class, luckily in my region. Also a sorority girl having a tough time with the rats... I let her know that I was sorry, but I thought I was going home. The other was to my friend, Jessica, a PCV who has been here for a year serving with her husband. Hers was basically begging for help and letting her know I was hating life... the usual complaints. The next morning when I woke up I got a text back from Jess telling me there was a PCV in my region who had been here for almost two years and he offered to let me stay with him for a week and then he would take me back to my site and help me get set up, what did I think? I pictured arriving back in the Portland airport- defeated but home. It sounded so nice. But of course, I texted back, "Yes, thank you!". If I have learned anything in Tanzania it is: resilience.