Moshi and that shithole we call our capital...

"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose..."
-Janis

November 27- Now (December 4)

I went to Moshi (means "Smoke") for Thanksgiving. Moshi town is much bigger and more bustling than Njombe because it is the setting off point to trek Kilimanjaro. I like Moshi town although I am glad it is not my banking town as prices are high as it has tourism (unlike Njo, where the only reason why you would come down here is to visit me.) Moshi area looks a lot more like I pictured Africa looking. It is hot, green, mountainous and tropical-ish. I am only able to go on this vacation because Josh pays for everything- staying, eating, traveling, etc. Since I have no money. But I am relieved to not be left in Dar during Thanksgiving. So I walk around like a child, no phone, bag, money except when he gives me an allowance.

We go to another volunteer's site for Thanksgiving. Leigh is an Ed volunteer from Boston who has been in country for a year now. She lives a few hours outside of Moshi in a beautiful little village. Her house is adorable and has given me many ideas for how to decorate my own. There are about 15 volunteers from the region at her home and meeting them re-affirmed my belief that PCVs are great people on all ends of this country. We slept on mattresses covering every floor space of her house but one night we were awoken with one of the PCVs yelling because a scorpion had just stung him. It was pretty big and didn't live long with that many freaked out PCVs. Leigh had a big oven built in her yard. It is made of bricks with tin flaps for doors. There is a chamber to shovel charcoal in under where you can put food to cook.

On Thanksgiving we keep this oven blazing all day. Celebrating a holiday like Thanksgiving is a lot of work in Africa. People were up around six to start preparations and we didn't eat until maybe 8.30 pm. A volunteer had gotten a turkey, which some volunteers slaughtered while I hid in the house pretending it was not happening. It is pretty easy for many not eat meat here when you have to butcher the animal yourself. We eat dinner on the floor by the light of many candles (no electricity) and we go around with everyone saying what they are thankful for. (The common denominator is: each other.) We end up having to eat the pies first because they are ready and nothing else is. We have made pumpkin, mango and pineapple pies. Then we feast on green beans, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and many many things. Doesn't quite seem exactly like Thanksgiving, but it was pretty close under the circumstances that we live. There is a huge rainstorm that day and Leigh and I run outside and dance in the mud puddles barefoot. We slide through the mud on cardboard and are soaked immediately. Her village might think we are a bit crazy :-) But she is awesome and we were enjoying the change in our seasons here.

I feel much better after spending some time in a village but it is time to go back to Dar es Salaam. I don't know if it is clear yet, but I hate the Port of "Peace". Let me paint you a picture of Dar: It is unbearable. The heat is oppressive. The mosquitoes are ruthless. It is dirty. It is crowded. You cannot walk two feet without someone yelling at you. Cars don't stop for pedestrians anywhere in Tanzania but with the traffic and crowds in Dar getting through town by foot is risking your life. But worse is riding a dala... crammed together with some people standing up or hanging out the door, the few traffic lights are only a guidelines. It should be said that the cars and roads are set up like England on the wrong side but in Tanzania every oncoming car is like a game of chicken: who is going which way? I close my eyes. I picture my village. One positive things that can be said about Dar is that the food is amazing. I ate a ton of Indian food- this is pretty much Dar's only redeeming quality. I hate being back there as I have to face that many of my friends are COSing and heading back to the states and the fact that I have no money and now have to go to the PC office to deal with this.

Turns out PC wants a copy of the police report... great... back to the Police Station. Josh goes with me and it takes over an hour to retain this "copy". The central police station in the biggest city in this country is sort of a joke. Of course there are no computers and room after room we are lead into just has stacks and stacks of yellow, crinkled papers- some filing system. They finally find mine, but the guy has to hand write the "copy". Efficiency is something that is lost in this country. While he is writing he stops often to chat with people, check his phone, talk to us about nothing related... it is an experience.

My last night in Dar we decide to go all out as it has been a rough time. Josh, Benja, and Jonathan (All heading back to America), Tom (an SPW volunteer), Patrick and Megan (RPCVs who have stayed and work in Dar) and I all go out to celebrate. We go to the nicest hotel in the city. It has fountain and pools in front and a red carpet. I can't even believe it is in Tanzania. We have dinner in this private banquet hall with a rose petal centerpiece. We drink chilled white wine. The staff thinks we are really important, little do they know they are catering to a bunch on PCVs. After dinner we go up to have drinks on the roof. It is really a beautiful night but difficult as I say goodbye to so many of my friends.

The next day I am on a bus back to Njombe. As we climb the last hill to get into town and I see the pine trees swaying in the never ceasing wind. It begins to pour rain as the sky darkens and turns into the biggest lightening and thunderstorm I have ever seen. To an extent I have never felt more lonely or depressed as I return to my banking town alone just in time for the sky to open up. I have nothing. Though, somewhere inside there is a sense of peace. Recognition of what is familiar. I am alone, but I am the only constant.