The Gift of Love

"He saw that Fatima's eyes were filled with tears. 'You're crying?' 'I'm a woman of the desert,' she said, averting her face. 'But above all I am a woman.'"
-Paulo Coelho

May 25, 2009

Sometimes, this blog may get too personal when i have no idea who is reading it. It is supposed to be about a Peace Corps in Tanzania but I find it really difficult to separate myself from that. Who I am is intricate to the experience. PCV life is not a great and blissful life, but it is also not a life of complete and utter despair. It is just a kind of life, with it's own ups and downs. Last week I coped okay with this life. This week I did not. And I committed the "great PC sin" of crying in front of Tanzanians. Tanzanians don't cry and are generally uncomfortable when Americans do. We are told to hold it in at all costs until behind the closed doors of our home. Unfortunately, I have never been one to hold much in...

This week I was just plain sad. I did not shirk on my work and showed up for everything I was supposed to, although usually I can be found hanging out with the village in my free time, this week I spent time alone. However, the other night I experienced that greatest act of love from practical strangers. I was home alone when there was a commotion at my door and I opened it to find my female teachers gathered. They told me to come with them and I tried to make excuses for why I couldn't go, but ended up following them to Jen's house. They had heated water for me to bathe and I took the bucket bath in her courtyard while they waited for me. Then Mama Latifah brushed my hair and they told me that we were headed to Mwalimu Mledwa's. I really didn't feel like going to the bar but they said that it was closed and that the Mwalimu Mkuu was waiting for me. When we got there, it turned out that all my male teachers had gathered. Mama Maki had been cooking and there was about every kind of Tanzanian food for us to eat. My Mwalimu Mkuu starts by telling me that they all feel that I am suddenly unhappy and did they do something because they are afraid that I will go home and not come back. I look around at these people who have made my life livable here. Who all look so sweet, so worried, so loving. I tell them everything- in a mixture of Swahili and English with someone always translating for someone else. I try to tell them what I have lost here, what I have gained, that I have thrown so much away and was it worth it?

They listen and nod and let me cry. They let me miss America, a country and a culture they don't understand. They let me miss my family, my friends, my "real" life... They let me miss myself. When I am finished, Mwalimu Mwalango says, "I guess we did not realize how hard it would be to come here. Thank you for coming. We are happy you are here." Then Mwalimu Mledwa talks to me, in a strange way channelling my Dad. He tells me that I should not have lost anything by being here to help people. He tells me about the need to risk it all to gain much. He tells me I am brave. Then he tells me that every morning his ten year old daughter, Maxillia, who is in my Darasa sita class, asks him if I will be teaching that day. Finally, the other day he asked her why she wants to know and she tells him because I am a good teacher (which is a total lie). He asked her what makes me so good. She told him, "Because she looks at me like I can do anything I want." (Which is a look I have tried to perfect with my students.) I tell him, "Well, she can do whatever she wants. Maybe she will be a teacher or a doctor or something." Then he says, "But Brie, what if she just gets married and has kids?" I look at him and tell him, "Well, I think she is going to be a pretty good wife and mom then, one who believes in herself and her choices, don't you think?" Mwalimu Mledwa just smiles at me and says "Yes, she will be, but take your own advice. I think you will be too. Believe in your choices, you are a special person and we are so lucky to know you." The next day my village chairperson comes to my house and tells me that it is mine and I can live in it for as long as I want to live here. Then I get a text from Juster that says, "Brie Mama, Please be brave and courageous. Our village loves you. We are with you for each and everything."

After that night, things changed. I made dates with everyone. I cooked with different Mamas, and learned to make Tanzanian dishes. A bunch of my women friends and I had a dance party. I played with kids. I went and drank beer and watched football with my guy friends who are my age. I helped Mama Lau who I have just found out is pregnant again and I could not be more excited. I helped people, I smiled at people, I made people food, I held people's hands, I told people that I loved them and they were important to me. I found resilience and I found love. Everywhere I looked, it was there.